u/Alienofficer

Our city is famous for metallurgy and even houses a major factory outlet of sail which my father tells me manufactures train wheels and Russians living in our city is so common(from the time of the Soviet union)that the municipal corporation has a separate building for russian officers (quarters) and I currently study in the most prestigious school of the city so her father enrolled her here and she doesn't even know a bit of bengali and only speaks in broken russian

In a chain of IGIRF (Intergalactic investigative raiding force) found out that the user actually processes a monstrous height of 9 foot 12 inch

His residence also contained several plans to eliminate homo sapiens below his height

Aliens are completely safe but the Intergalactic council still advises sapiens to be cautious and wary of their surroundings and to move in groups

In a shocking torn of events the well known mod was spotted having onions and playing monopoly this casts a very difficult to answer questions

Who do we trust and what is real ?

Even we are not sure how many mods would be exposed like this but the Intergalactic council advises the masses to remain vigilant and ever watchfull of everything

Episode 1 – Awakening Day

The air over the outskirts of Kolkata still carried the weight of the monsoon. Thick, warm, and clinging, it pressed against the skin like a damp cloth that refused to lift. Dark clouds hung low and heavy, refusing to break, while the ground of the open ceremony field remained soft and dark from the earlier rain. The smell of wet earth mixed with the faint metallic tang of the temporary barriers that marked the edges of the Power Allocation Ground.

Saptarshi stood in the front row.

Even among the other trainees he looked out of place. At eighteen his body had already grown into something massive — broad across the chest and shoulders, thick through the arms and neck, the kind of frame that made the standard grey training uniform look too small no matter how it was tailored. People had been calling him a prodigy for years. Strongest in every physical evaluation. Fastest recovery. The one the instructors pointed to when they wanted to show what proper training could produce. Most expected him to walk away with a solid B-rank combat class. A few of the braver ones whispered that an A-rank was not impossible.

Today was supposed to confirm all of it.

One by one the others stepped onto the raised circular platform. A soft blue light would rise from the floor, wrap around them, and then a glowing window would appear above their heads for everyone to see.

C-rank. Elemental Mage.

B-rank. Heavy Warrior.

D-rank. Scout.

Polite clapping followed most of the results. When an A-rank finally flashed, the crowd actually cheered. Saptarshi watched it all without expression, hands loose at his sides, waiting.

When his name was called he walked forward without hurry. The wooden steps of the platform creaked under his weight. He planted his feet in the centre, rolled his shoulders once to settle the tension, and waited.

The blue light rose.

It climbed his legs, his torso, his shoulders, and for a long moment nothing else happened. The field had gone quiet. Even the distant sound of traffic seemed to fade.

Then the window appeared.

[Class Awakened: Raktabīja]

Rank: F

Status: Unique / Unregistered

The silence that followed was different from the earlier quiet. It was heavier. Someone in the back let out a short, disbelieving laugh that died almost immediately. Instructors turned toward one another. A few of the trainees who had stood near Saptarshi only moments before shifted half a step away, as if the rank itself might be contagious.

Saptarshi stared at the glowing letters. His jaw tightened until the muscles along the side of his face stood out, but his face remained otherwise still. Four years of training. Broken records. Endless early mornings and late nights. And the system had answered with an F.

An unknown F.

The rest of the ceremony continued around him as though he had already been removed from it. The remaining trainees finished their awakenings. Names were read out for provisional guild recommendations. His was never spoken.

When the crowd finally began to break apart, one of the instructors approached him. The man’s smile was careful and thin.

“Saptarshi… the evaluation board will need to run additional tests. An unregistered class is rare. Until then you are cleared only for F-rank solo content. Party requests are… unlikely.”

Saptarshi gave a short nod. He did not trust his voice.

He left the field alone. The humid air stuck to his skin as he walked past the rows of vehicles and the small clusters of newly ranked hunters were already laughing and comparing results. No one called after him. No one offered even the empty comfort of a hand on the shoulder.

At the edge of the ground a sharp sting cut across his right palm. He had clenched his fist hard enough to drive his own nails into the skin. A thin line of dark blood welled up and a single drop fell onto the damp concrete.

The drop hissed softly.

Then it moved.

A small, incomplete shape — the rough outline of a human torso — flickered upward from the blood for less than a second before collapsing back into a dark stain. Saptarshi stopped walking. In the corner of his vision the system window he thought had already closed reappeared.

[Raktabīja – Blood cloning]

Passive: Spilled blood may generate temporary clones.

Current sustained limit: 3

Additional function detected: Clone Absorption

converts remaining clone mass into host vitality.

He closed his hand slowly. The cut was already sealing itself.

Around him the ordinary sounds of the city continued — the distant blare of a horn, a street vendor calling out in Bengali, the low rumble of a local train passing somewhere beyond the trees. Somewhere far from the urban sprawl a low-level rift was probably opening on an empty stretch of land, the same way they always did.

Saptarshi stood alone at the edge of the ceremony ground and looked down at the bloodstain on the concrete.

For the first time that day the corner of his mouth moved.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

---

End of Episode 1.

Awakening Day

The monsoon had left the air thick and heavy over the outskirts of Kolkata. Dark clouds still hung low, but the rain had stopped just long enough for the Power Allocation Ceremony to begin.

Saptarshi stood in the front row of the open-air ground, taller and broader than every other trainee in his batch. At eighteen he already looked like he had been carved out of solid stone — thick neck, heavy shoulders, arms that strained the sleeves of the standard grey training uniform. People had been calling him a prodigy since he was fourteen. Strongest in hand-to-hand, fastest recovery, highest physical evaluation scores three years running. Instructors whispered that he would awaken at least a B-rank combat class. Some even said A-rank was possible.

Today would prove them right.

One by one the trainees stepped onto the raised circular platform in the centre of the field. A soft blue light swept over each of them. A holographic window appeared above their heads, visible to the entire crowd of instructors, family members, and junior hunters who had come to watch.

“C-rank – Elemental Mage.”

“B-rank – Heavy Warrior.”

“D-rank – Scout.”

Polite applause followed each result. When a rare A-rank flashed, the crowd actually cheered.

Saptarshi’s turn came near the end.

He walked up the steps without hurry. The platform felt small under his boots. He planted his feet, rolled his shoulders once, and waited. The blue light rose from the floor and wrapped around his massive frame.

For a moment nothing happened.

Then the window appeared.

[Class Awakened: Raktabīja]

Rank: F

Status: Unique / Unregistered

Silence.

Someone in the back row laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. The laugh died quickly. Instructors exchanged glances. A few of the trainees who had been standing near Saptarshi only minutes earlier took a half-step away.

The system window remained floating above his head, cold and final.

F-rank.

Saptarshi stared at the words. His jaw tightened, but his expression stayed flat. He had trained every day for four years for this moment. He had broken training records that were supposed to last a decade. And the system had given him an F.

An unknown F.

The ceremony continued around him as if he had already been erased. The remaining trainees finished their awakenings. Names were called for provisional guild recommendations. No one called his.

When the crowd began to disperse, an instructor approached him with a forced, careful smile.

“Saptarshi… the evaluation board will need to run additional tests. An unregistered class is rare. Until then, you’re cleared for F-rank solo content only. Party requests are… unlikely.”

Saptarshi gave a short nod. He didn’t trust his voice yet.

He left the ground alone. The humid air clung to his skin as he walked past the rows of parked vehicles and the small groups of newly ranked hunters already celebrating. No one stopped him. No one offered congratulations or even empty comfort.

At the edge of the field his right palm suddenly stung.

A thin cut had opened across the meat of his hand — he must have clenched his fist hard enough to break the skin with his own nails. A single drop of dark blood fell onto the dusty concrete.

The drop sizzled once.

Then it rose.

A small, incomplete shape of a human torso flickered into existence for less than a second before collapsing back into a stain. Saptarshi froze. The system window he thought had already closed reappeared in the corner of his vision.

[Raktabīja – Blood cloning]

Passive: Spilled blood may generate temporary clones.

Current sustained limit: 3

Additional function detected: Clone Absorption – converts remaining clone mass into host vitality.

He closed his hand slowly. The cut was already sealing.

Around him the ordinary sounds of the city continued — distant traffic, a street vendor shouting, the low rumble of an approaching local train. Somewhere far beyond the urban sprawl, a low-level rift was probably flickering into existence on some empty stretch of land, the same way they always did.

Saptarshi, former prodigy of his batch, F-rank anomaly, stood alone on the edge of the ceremony ground and looked at the bloodstain on the concrete.

For the first time that day, the corner of his mouth twitched.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

---

End of Episode 1.

I am currently writing a story about an appocalypltic world infested with dungeons and rifts while there are academies pumping out awakened hunters to deal with them