Awakening Of The Forgotten World

The moon hung high over Eldrin's Hollow, casting long shadows across the thatched rooftops and narrow dirt paths. Inside his small, dimly lit home, Dain sat hunched over, staring at the glowing message before him.

[New Quest Unlocked: The Forgotten Path]

Objective: Uncover the secrets of the lost system.

Reward: ???

It felt impossible. The system was real—alive—and it had chosen him. But why? Why now, after so many years of silence?

His fingers tightened around the handle of his pitchfork, now cleaned of goblin blood but still bearing the nicks and dents of battle. This weapon, crude as it was, had saved his life. But it wouldn't be enough—not if more creatures lurked in the wilds beyond the village.

He exhaled and closed his eyes.

What did it mean to "uncover the secrets of the lost system"?

Did it mean searching for ancient ruins? Studying forgotten texts? Or was there something more… immediate?

He glanced at the notification again, half expecting it to vanish. It remained, a faint glow against the dark.

He had heard the old stories—how adventurers of the past had been guided by these quests, gaining power, wealth, and knowledge. But those were just legends. No one in living memory had ever received one.

Until now.

Dain's heart pounded.

He had to start somewhere.

And there was only one place in Eldrin's Hollow that might have answers.

The library stood at the edge of the village, a lonely stone structure overgrown with ivy. It was old—far older than any of the homes surrounding it. The village elders claimed it had been built centuries ago, back when scholars still traveled the land, back when knowledge was as valuable as gold.

Few visited it now.

Most of the books had decayed over the years, their pages crumbling at the touch. But some still remained, buried beneath dust and neglect.

Dain hesitated at the entrance, glancing around. The village was quiet at this hour, save for the occasional bark of a stray dog or the distant hoot of an owl.

He stepped inside.

The scent of aged parchment and mildew filled the air. Wooden shelves, warped with time, stretched from floor to ceiling, their contents hidden beneath layers of dust.

Dain moved cautiously, running his fingers over the spines of forgotten tomes. Most were farming records, trade ledgers, or religious texts. Nothing useful.

He pressed on.

His eyes scanned the rows, searching for anything—any mention of the system, of quests, of the lost powers.

Then, in the farthest corner, he found it.

A book, its leather cover cracked with age, its title barely legible.

"The Era of Power"

His pulse quickened.

He pulled it from the shelf, brushing away the dust. The pages were brittle, but intact.

Flipping through, he found passages detailing a world long past—a world where men could shape reality with a thought, where warriors carved their names into history with steel and sorcery.

Then, a particular section caught his eye.

"The Fall of the System"

He read quickly, his eyes scanning each word with growing urgency.

"It is said that the system was not merely lost, but sealed. The great calamity of old did not destroy it—it merely locked it away, hidden from the world. The gods, fearing the rise of another age of war, shattered the pillars that bound the system to mankind. The quests, the skills, the power—they were not erased. They were buried, awaiting the one who could break the seal."

Dain's breath hitched.

Sealed?

Not gone?

A chill ran down his spine.

He read further.

"The key to unlocking the system lies in the trials of the forgotten. Those who walk the path will face challenges beyond comprehension. To seek power is to seek danger, for the system does not grant strength freely."

Dain swallowed hard.

The system had chosen him.

And now, it was testing him.

He shut the book and leaned back against the wall, his mind racing.

The system is returning.

And he was at the center of it.

A deep sense of responsibility settled over him. This was no longer about survival. If the system was truly awakening, then everything would change. The balance of power in the world, the monsters that lurked in the shadows, the very way people lived—it would all be reshaped.

And he had no idea what came next.

A soft chime echoed in his mind.

[Quest Progress: 5%]

Dain blinked.

He was on the right path.

But he still had a long way to go.

The next morning, the village was already stirring when Dain stepped outside. Smoke rose from chimneys, the scent of fresh bread wafting through the air. Farmers loaded carts with sacks of grain, preparing for the long day ahead.

It was an ordinary morning.

And yet, everything felt different.

Dain moved with purpose, his mind still replaying the words he had read. If the system was truly sealed, then his awakening was no accident. He had been chosen.

And that meant he had to be ready.

His first priority was clear—he needed a real weapon.

The pitchfork had served him well, but against stronger foes, it wouldn't be enough.

And there was only one man in the village who could help with that.

The blacksmith's forge stood near the center of Eldrin's Hollow, its walls blackened with soot, the air thick with the scent of burning coal. Inside, the rhythmic clang of hammer against steel rang out in steady intervals.

Torren, the village blacksmith, was a bear of a man, his arms thick with muscle, his beard singed at the edges from years of working the forge.

He barely glanced up as Dain entered. "What do you need?" he grunted, wiping sweat from his brow.

Dain hesitated, then spoke. "A weapon."

Torren arched a brow. "A weapon? You planning on fighting more goblins?"

Dain met his gaze. "If I have to."

The blacksmith studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I heard what you did. Fighting off four goblins alone… that's no small feat."

He turned, grabbing a bundle of cloth from a nearby rack. "I don't have much in stock. But…" He unwrapped the bundle, revealing a simple, well-crafted short sword. "This might suit you."

Dain reached out, wrapping his fingers around the hilt. The weight felt good—balanced.

"How much?" he asked.

Torren exhaled. "Normally, a blade like this would cost more than you have. But after

what you did… take it. Consider it a gift."

Dain's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

The blacksmith shrugged. "You're going to need it."

Dain nodded, gripping the sword tighter. "Thank you."

Torren smirked. "Don't thank me yet. That blade won't swing itself."

Dain chuckled, then turned to leave.

As he stepped outside, another message appeared before him.

[New Equipment Acquired: Iron Short Sword]

 • Attack Power: 15

 • Durability: 100/100

He let out a slow breath.

The journey was just beginning.

And he was ready.

That night, as Dain sat by the small fire in his home, another message appeared.

[Quest Progress: 10%]

He exhaled, staring into the flames.

The system was awakening.

And he was just getting started.