The Crystal's Diagnosis.

Asimil had a dream. He dreamed of the school hallway, but the walls bled a crimson red. The laughter of his classmates distorted into the flat beep of a medical monitor. At the end of the hallway, a faceless figure held something that shone like the edge of a blade…

Upon waking, Asimil felt a sharp pain in his side, a pain so real it made him sweat and curl up in agony.

Little by little, the memories of that dream faded at the same moment the pain in his side subsided, until he could slowly rise from his bed, wondering what that had been.

Asimil saw that dawn had already broken. It was just a dream he had experienced moments ago, yet it had felt so real…

Once that incident was forgotten and he was fully awake and refreshed, he took advantage of the first morning light to head to the clan headquarters. "This journey," Asimil thought, would mark the beginning of his new, disciplined routine, a commitment he undertook with a mix of nervousness and determination.

This would be his new routine, and with Sacres by his side, he knew everything would be alright.

He stopped at the entrance to the citadel of Aethel. The digital sky of the Altverse was a canvas of electric violets and blues with floating crystal islands. The citadel's lights, golden globes suspended like fireflies, emitted a warmth he would never find in any other world, where there was only screaming and chaos.

He took a deep breath and smiled.

As Asimil walked through the market, everything felt so warm and familiar, though he didn't understand why. Then, a feminine voice, clear but slightly distorted, whispered his name right into his ear: "Asimil…". The voice sounded desperate, but also familiar in a way that chilled his blood.

Upon hearing those words whose source he couldn't identify, Asimil froze. "Huh!? Who was that? Did someone just call me?" Asimil thought, looking all around, but there was no one nearby who had called him. However, there was no response, so he decided to enter the Harmonia Clan.

The interior of the clan was a castle of dark wood and neon lights; it looked like a great medieval tavern full of life: voices arguing, laughter, and the clinking of tankards. Asimil saw Sacres at a table near the fireplace and sat across from him, trying to process the voice that had called him minutes before, the name, and the strange familiarity of this world.
"Hey, Asimil!" he called out to Asimil. The man, with ebony skin and imposing musculature, radiated an unshakable calm. Asimil approached and sat across from him. An identical glass appeared in front of Asimil.

"How did your aptitude exam go?" asked Sacres. The question, so direct, drained the color from Asimil's happiness.

"Normal, I suppose," replied Asimil without enthusiasm, pushing a small bag of coins across the table with his finger. "I completed the task I was assigned, I checked the entire perimeter of the forest, and I drove off a few lesser beasts. The reward? Barely this."

Sacres followed his gaze to the meager bag of coins. His expression revealed a hint of understanding. "Listen, Asimil... I know people say a lot about newcomers like you. However, without those novices helping us with daily tasks, the roads wouldn't be safe. Without those 'errands,' the high-ranking adventure teams wouldn't have supplies."

His words shook Asimil. Sacres always said the right thing, what he needed to hear. "Remember this," he added in a serious but warm voice. "Let your smile change the world, don't let the world change your smile."

Asimil wanted to cry, but his pride wouldn't allow it. Nevertheless, that bubble of paternal calm vanished.

Before they could speak further, a young elf from the clan with a professional demeanor approached them. "Excuse me," he said. "A name is missing from the new recruit's register. What is your name?"

It was the administrative elf. Asimil looked at him with confusion. "Didn't I already tell Sacres?" Asimil asked himself. "A-ah… yes, my name is Asimil," Asimil answered while looking in another direction.

"Very well, Asimil," replied the elf. With precise movements, he activated the resonator crystal. The stone, the size of a human head, began to emit a low hum and project holograms of runes that spun in concentric layers.

"To integrate you into the Harmonia Clan's register, you must understand our order," said the elf, as if reciting a manual. "Every adventurer in Aethel possesses three fundamental parameters. The first is Rank, which demonstrates your combat experience:

-Novice (White): Newcomers, access to basic equipment.

-Adept (Blue): Master one class skill, can form teams.

-Veteran (Violet): Team leaders, access to lethal and more complicated missions.

-Elite (Gold): Clan masters, can form their own legions.

-Harmonizer (Crystal): Reserved for the Legion of the Firmament.

"Legion of the Firmament?" asked Asimil with total curiosity.

Sacres looked at Asimil and crossed his arms. "They are the strongest adventurers in all of Altverse. It's rumored they could defeat entire armies if they set their minds to it. But luckily for us, most of them are misfits and isolate themselves a lot from others... Needless to say, you're still in the white ball."

The elf continued explaining. "The second parameter is the class of adventurer you would be:

-Guardians: They are Tanks in every sense of the word. Optimized to absorb damage and maintain stability in critical zones.

-Theurges: They are Healers. Specialized in damage restoration and purification of corruptions.

-Arcanists: They are fast-damage mages. They control energy flows to alter the environment.

-Exterminators: They are fast-class warriors. They execute rapid eliminations of entities.

-Aulics: Support. Buffs and crowd control. They manipulate the emotional states of adventurers."

Asimil felt confused by so many explanations, but at the same time, he felt a certain intrigue to know what class of adventurer he was. However, as if the elf had read his mind, he answered: "Hmm, judging by your skills, you are an Exterminator with slight Arcanist traits."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" asked Asimil, but Sacres answered instantly. "It means you have fast movement abilities and perhaps you can do a bit of magic."

"And now, the third parameter is the Special Ability. It's like your adventurer's signature, a unique ability that defines your interaction with the world. It manifests upon reaching the Adept rank. Although we cheat a little and can see it beforehand." The moment the elf said that, the three of them fell silent, awaiting the crystal's response.

But then, the crystal flashed red. Elvish letters began to appear on the orb, with a corrupted, glitching glyph font: ERROR/UNCLASSIFIED.

"What? UNCLASSIFIED?" The elf stepped back, confused. "That's not in the skill tree. The system doesn't recognize the pattern."

The hall fell silent. The few present looked at Asimil with a mix of fear and fascination.

"It says here it's an ability... that grows from trauma itself," said Sacres, not with alarm, but with deep interest. "It's not a common class, it seems."

Turning toward Asimil, whose face reflected pure bewilderment, the elf explained: "Your ability, Asimil, is a parasitic class that feeds on pain. In this world, you can use it to absorb the pain of others: the corruption of monsters, the hatred of an enemy, and convert them into power. But each time you do, you risk having your pain infect the reality around you, or remembering something you're not prepared for."

"Is it... is it dangerous?" asked Asimil, his voice trembling.

"Extremely," affirmed Sacres. "But it's also the only reason you might be able to save others like yourself. For now, the system marks it as ILLEGITIMATE, however we cannot rule out it being a crystal error. Do not use it in front of other clans for the time being."

The crystal turned off. The registration was complete. Asimil not only had a name now; he had a stigma and a monstrous potency rooted in his very trauma.

The silence that followed was dense, so the elf decided to leave, feeling the discomfort.

However, a growing murmur arose from the main entrance, charging the atmosphere with intense curiosity. "Did someone arrive?" asked Asimil.

Sacres narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze toward the clan's entrance. "A new girl, it seems…" he murmured.