Have you ever been abandoned twice? Astor sat outside of the orphanage. Depression sunk in and he couldn't care to explore the world again.

  The orphanage would often move at irregular intervals, probably to avoid the troubles. Astor knew they'd be gone one day, but still stuck around, as long as he could.

  Every so often, his friends would give him some food and water. Bypassers came too and asked him if he needed help. He'd refuse, wary of others. They'd give him things regardless: a blanket for the cold nights, some coins and a book: “A beginner's guide to the System.” He could understand it partially, at least enough to use the System.

  To invoke the System you'd need to say “System” first. As an example, the very basic “status check” would go as “System, status check.”

  Astor

  Class:

  Level: 0

  Skills mastered: 0

  Mana: 100/100

  The next step would be choosing a class, it wasn't obligatory, but it held an immense advantage.

  “System, class check.”

  No class selected.

  Classes available:

  [Warrior] / [Priest] / [Mage]

  Astor looked up what each class was, but due to a lack of vocabulary, he didn’t grasp much, eventually the words “create water,” was all he needed to read to make his choice.

  [Mage] class selected.

  Some weeks passed as he camped outside the orphanage. Many Helpers recognized him. They gave him coins, a lot of coins. He didn't know why. He didn’t even know what they were used for, only that his caretakers liked counting them. And the coins kept piling up. It was cumbersome.

  However, thanks to the book, he learned how to use his inventory: five slots in a dimensional pocket where any items could be stocked. He could put as many coins as he wanted, but for other items he hit the limit of five. It felt satisfying to stack the coins into the inventory. At that time, he thought his caretakers liked the number of coins going up. And to be honest, they might still like it.

  ***

  Cayn expected a reaction from Astor. Or rather, a decision. Go for the World Boss or not? What if he got crushed during the fight and die? Should he risk his life? And for what?

  “Do we need to?” Astor asked Cayn.

  “I fear the World Boss might be able to destroy the world, as its name suggest,” he replied. “It’s a matter that concerns everyone, including us.”

  He might be right. He might be wrong too.

  “Can’t we just let the others fight it? We’re just level ten.”

  “We could, but I feel the need to go and I was hoping you would too.”

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  Cayn needed him?

  Ovid spoke, “I’d like to insist too. Your trio managed to restrain my wolves, and, for info, they accompanied me during my Journey.” It meant his pets could deal with level 100 monsters. “They were dumbed down due to mana corruption, but still.”

  So now both Cayn and Ovid needed him? How was he supposed to refuse? He’d never thought about being a pushover before but the smile on the tingle of happiness in his heart didn't lie.

  ***

  One day, while camping in front of the orphanage, the caretakers forced him to pack his things. They stared at him as he did so. Not an ounce of affection nor compassion could be felt. Just hostility. It must have been the day the orphanage would move out. And they didn’t want Astor to follow them.

  They started to push him, forcing him to stand up. Then they walk up to him to make him back up. Again and again. And whenever he’d stop, for whatever reasons, they’d try to hit him, with success or not. He couldn’t defend himself. He didn’t want to either. Bypassers would look at the scene, confused. Astor wanted some help but didn't want to anger the caretakers any further. And so they continued that way, until he was far enough.

  “Don’t ever come back.” Those were the last words he heard from them.

  He sat down in a corner, somewhere no one would find him. Because he was on the verge of crying and didn’t want anyone else to see him in that state. It was shameful. He felt ashamed of himself. Do not display emotions, others will use it to hurt you even more. Do not let yourself to feel anything, you’ll get hurt. You are not needed, you only need to survive. For yourself, to protect yourself. In that dark alley, while the azure moon watched over him, tears came down anyway.

  He cried himself to sleep, waking up at any noise. The birds, the locals, the people checking up on him, the sound of his internal sobs. Any noise. He wanted to forget everything again.

  He reenacted what he did when he was five years old again. One hit to the forehead against the wall. A blue screen appeared.

  [...]

  He ignored it. Not caring about anything at all. Second hit. Blue screens multiplied.

  [...] [...] [...]

  And again. And again. And again. Until his vision was comprised of blue screens only. He fainted.

  ***

  Astor woke up. He was in a warm and soft bed. The ceiling was high. Windows were clean. A tranquil, sweet, perfume relaxed him.

  He touched his forehead. It hurt. Someone bandaged it. Who? He looked around him. There were many other beds, all vacants. He started to feel uncomfortable. Why was he alone in such a nice and big room? He panicked, feeling like something bad would happen to him if he stayed too long.

  He checked himself. Clothes: intact. Injury: not so bad. Feet: able to run. He opened a window and got out, just like when he was seven years old.

  A woman saw him and tried to stop him. She looked like one of the caretakers for a second. He panicked even more and started sprinting away. To any place other than here. He went to a street, followed the road, dodging people as he ran.

  Exhausted, he stopped. His heart never beat so hard before. And he never felt so distressed either. What was he supposed to do now?

  Sitting in the street, he observed. It’s been a while since he had seen this many persons before. The orphanage’s surroundings didn’t have people around. It was pretty desert bar some bypassers and Helpers.

  He saw a kid with a coin in his hand. The kid handed it to someone, and that person gave him a book in return. Astor compared his book and the kid’s. Different. They were different. He thought there was only one of those and they were all the same. It meant that other writings existed, not only in this book or the drawings his friends made but also those. Now he knew what his friends were talking about when they explained what books were.

  He copied the kid. The vendor asked him which book he wanted, he picked a random one. He read it in one go then continued and took another book. It would go on until the vendor ran out of stock, that person would then indicate him where he could find more. “Library,” he called it.

  The whole world opened to him as he stepped into the building for the first time. He’d read day and night, whether in the building or outside in the street nearby. He’d catch up and slowly integrate society thanks to his ever-expanding knowledge.

  He’d soon reach the age to go on a Journey and make what he hoped would be two friends, just like when he was ten.

  ***

  Due to peer pressure, he agreed to fight the World Boss, or at least be on the front lines. Before they went, Ovid said some words, “Thank you for everything.” A blue screen appeared.

  [Druid] class acquired.

  So that’s how you got more classes. Good to know.

  They quit the camp and joined the main road, going back to the First Land.

  “What’s the plan?” Astor asked Cayn on their way.

  He replied, “Let’s regroup with Bel first, then we will gather information to define the course of our next actions.”