Karel was now fast asleep, his snores barely audible. Booza kept staring at him—his wrinkled face, his hair full of grays—all showing how worn out he was from the weight of life.
But somehow, watching Karel sleep peacefully brought Booza a sense of calm. It was a rare sight for someone like him, who had lost his parents since childhood.
That's why Booza wanted so badly to save Karel's life. He wished he had some overpowering magic, strong enough to fight off any enemy without effort. But in reality, that hope was nothing more than a fantasy.
Rumor had it that powerful abilities—like controlling fire, lava, or lightning—were only granted to nobles. People from the outskirts like Booza? They'd get nothing but trash-tier powers. If they were lucky. Sometimes, it was so pathetic it didn't even count as a real ability.
Now Booza could only sit with his knees hugged close to his chest. His heart might be calm, but his mind was racing, drifting to what might happen once the sun rises. Would he live, or would he die?
"Damn it."
His thoughts were spiraling into fear, especially with the oxygen in the bunker running low. In this cramped space, he had to share every breath of air with Karel. It was getting hotter and harder to breathe. Sweat poured from both their bodies like a flood.
It was clear that the old woman—wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and skirt—was struggling to breathe. She coughed a few times, finally woke up, and waved her hand to get some air. It was scorching.
"I told you we shouldn't have gone into the bunker now. It's torture."
Booza took the initiative to open the bunker door. He climbed the stairs and pushed the heavy metal door wide open. Fresh air rushed in through the opening. It was still hot inside, but it wasn't as suffocating as before.
"Just hang in there a little longer. The slaughter is only a few hours away. After that, we can come out and survive," Booza said as he climbed back down and sat beside Karel.
Karel looked at him. She stayed silent for a moment before speaking again.
"Forgive me. An old woman like me keeps being a burden to you."
"It's fine."
Booza had helped Karel more times than he could count. Not only by preparing a hiding place, but also by meeting her daily needs. Karel was more than a grandmother to him—she was a mother too. In fact, it was Karel who raised Booza when he was just a boy.
In truth, this was a debt he was willing to repay until the day he died. Karel survived the previous massacre thanks to Booza's mother.
She would often talk about how Booza's mother died with honor. She fought desperately to protect her eight-year-old son and an aging Karel. Booza's mother had a surprisingly powerful magic—she could manipulate chili powder.
Magical powers are typically awakened based on the skills someone has mastered. Since Booza's mother was an exceptional cook, her ability reflected that—she could control chili powder.
When the massacre began, ten years ago, she scattered chili powder in a fifty-meter radius around their home. That alone kept anyone from getting close. If they dared, their eyes would burn, and in that moment of distraction, other participants would kill them.
Her strategy worked—at least until the final hour of the slaughter. But then a young noble appeared with the power to manipulate wind. In an instant, the chili powder was blown away. Booza's mother was caught and stabbed through the chest. Booza and Karel, hiding under the bed, could only watch and silently cry.
So what about Booza? What magic would awaken in him? That remained a mystery—until morning came.
"I'm curious about your magic power. Can a lazy guy like you even get something useful?" Karel teased, her face expressionless.
Booza just smiled at the jab, knowing it was just a joke.
"My dream is to be a writer and scientist. I bet my magic will be awesome."
Now the two of them sat quietly, waiting for the sun to rise. Above ground, all was silent. It seemed everyone from the outskirts had gone into hiding. The chirps of insects and hoots of owls echoed back and forth. The stillness itself was terrifying—because the slaughter was coming.
Just as Booza was starting to drift off to sleep, a loud trumpet blast pierced the silence. That was the sign—the sun had risen in the Kingdom of Luzia. The massacre was about to begin.
"Booza! Close the door!" Karel ordered, prompting him to move quickly.
He had just finished locking the door when suddenly a transparent cyan screen appeared. Booza was so startled that he fell off the stairs.
> [Welcome. Prepare to receive your magical power.]
>
> [Loading System...]
>
> Name: [Booza]
> Rank: [Candidate]
> Attributes: [Illusion], [Mind], [Imagination]
> Aspects: [Slave], [Paralysis Inflictor]
> Aspect Power: [Illusion]
> Magic Fragments: [0/1000]
> Memories: -
Thud!
Booza's body hit the bunker floor hard. He didn't care about the pain—his eyes were fixed on the cyan screen.
"What… is this?"
"What… is this?"
Karel noticed his confusion and calmly explained the magical system.
"That's your magic status. You can summon it or dismiss it anytime. Only you can see it."
Booza was still stunned, his eyes wide, breathing erratically.
"Calm down. You need to stay focused and centered to welcome your power. The Queen will be here soon."
Booza tried to steady his heart and thoughts. Technically, the royal palace was five kilometers from the outskirts, but somehow the ground was already rumbling, and distant booms echoed through the earth.
Despite trying to remain calm, fear gripped both Karel and Booza. Their heartbeats quickened with the growing tremors. Booming sounds followed—like massive stones slamming into the city's edge where the massacre would begin.
The rumbling grew closer, now joined by shouts of excitement.
"That must be the city folk chasing after the Queen. So eager to kill us outsiders," Karel said, laughing bitterly, disgusted by them all.
Booza was terrified. But deep down, he also hated this ritual.
"Why is it always us who are forced to die?" he asked earnestly, hoping Karel would give him a satisfying answer.
"That's how the world works. The weak are always sacrificed for the powerful."
The rumbling was now dangerously close—maybe just 500 meters away. The ground above was teeming with life, and city voices were roaring. Booza felt the hairs on his neck stand up. It was terrifying.
Suddenly, a glowing magic circle appeared beneath Booza, sitting cross-legged. Cyan light surrounded him like floating crystal shards dancing in the air.
"What… what is your power?" Karel asked, her tone serious.