SSS-RANKED Awakening: Supreme Fate-breaker System

For a moment, Ethan didn't move.

The reality of what had just happened washed over him like a crashing wave.

A Sanctum.

Not just a temporary base—not just a shelter—but a domain. A place of power and permanence within the Great Labyrinth. Something most Awakened dreamed of… and few ever attained.

He clenched his fists slowly.

It felt surreal. Like everything he'd struggled for until now had begun to shift. The tides of fate themselves were changing—bending to his will.

'This is only the beginning…' he thought.

But even as the sense of triumph swelled in his chest, Ethan's eyes remained cold and sharp.

Still… he couldn't help the slight smirk that crept onto his lips.

Kaeryx gave a low growl of approval, his massive head lowering beside Ethan, as if to acknowledge the moment.

The two stood side by side, bathed in the pale glow of the Rune Stone—master and beast—having taken their first step in claiming dominance over the Great Labyrinth.

****

Ethan stood before the Sanctum Rune Stone, his palm still faintly glowing with the imprint of ownership. An invisible thread now bound him to every living being within Grosh'ka—one forged not by choice, but by the absolute authority of the sanctum's will. With a mere thought, a pulse of intent surged through the stone, resonating across the entire territory.

The command was simple.

Assemble.

Within moments, the sanctum began to stir.

The low clang of gates opening, the nervous shuffle of feet, and the guttural barks of goblin chatter echoed from every corner. From the shanty-like buildings cobbled together from stone and bone, to the deeper tunnels within the sanctum's walls, inhabitants emerged—some warily, others with cautious curiosity.

Goblins of various ranks—hunters, guards, even a few minor shamans—were the first to arrive. Then came the others: a line of Minotaurs with worn iron cuffs still clamped to their wrists, their eyes filled with quiet hope. A few battered Orcs followed behind them, followed by beastmen, scaled folk, and finally…

Humans.

Emaciated, exhausted, but alert. They looked at Ethan as if he were a ghost of salvation or a trick of fate.

And standing apart from them all, David Fangblade. Though his clothes were torn and his body bore the scars of cruelty, he stood tall, back straight, arms crossed.

The plaza was filled.

Every eye now turned toward the black-haired human standing before the sanctum rune stone, flanked by Kaeryx—the winged beast who radiated sovereign authority.

Ethan surveyed the crowd, his expression unreadable. He could feel it.

The resentment of the goblins.

The disbelief of the oppressed.

The unease that hung like a mist.

He took a single step forward. His voice, when it came, was calm and steady—but sharp enough to pierce through steel.

"From this moment forward, I am the master of Grosh'ka."

The air rippled with the weight of the truth in his words. Even the goblins clenched their jaws, fists tightening—but none dared speak.

"This place—this sanctum—is mine. And by extension, you all now fall under my rule. Whether you like it or not."

A low murmur spread among the crowd.

"But I'm not here to slaughter everyone," Ethan continued, his tone softening only slightly. "If I wanted to do that… believe me, I would've already."

Kaeryx growled low, a flash of golden light pulsing through his mouth for emphasis. Silence instantly fell again.

"I see this sanctum for what it is. Weak. Underdeveloped. Broken. And full of enemies that need not be enemies."

His eyes locked onto the goblins.

"You—yes, you goblins—have been lording over others because the sanctum allowed it. But now?" Ethan spread his arms wide. "The rules have changed."

The oppressed races—especially the humans—leaned forward slightly. Something was changing. Tangibly changing.

"I won't tolerate chaos. I won't tolerate cruelty. But I'm not here to crush the working system either… not yet." He smiled faintly. "I'll use the carrot when needed, and the stick when necessary."

The goblins exchanged wary glances.

"I am offering order. And opportunity."

He began pacing slowly. "You obey the rules, you are rewarded. Food, protection, a place to grow stronger—even become more than you are."

His voice turned colder.

"But step out of line… and you'll understand exactly why I stand here today as your ruler."

A moment passed. The words settled like iron into their minds.

Then, turning toward the crowd, Ethan called out, "David Fangblade."

The name echoed loud and clear. David stiffened, stepping forward without hesitation.

"To those who know him, David was once a proud fighter, and even now, despite the chains and the dirt—he still has that fire."

Gasps echoed, especially among the humans.

"From today onward, David will be my second-in-command. He'll be overseeing this sanctum in my absence. Disrespect him—and you disrespect me."

David's eyes widened slightly, shocked.

Ethan looked straight at him, and for a moment, there was only quiet understanding between them. Ethan didn't explain his reasons, and David didn't ask. But deep down, Ethan knew—David was someone who still had a spine in a world trying to break his back. That was enough.

"Goblins. Humans. Minotaurs. Orcs. Beastfolk. Whatever race you are—if you want peace, strength, and survival—you follow the rules."

He let that last sentence hang in the air like a final decree.

"You are dismissed."

Slowly, the crowd began to disperse.

Some looked hopeful. Some, skeptical. Some still glared with hidden hatred.

But all obeyed.

And as the plaza emptied and the sun above the sanctum's dome began to dim toward artificial dusk, Ethan remained by the rune stone—his expression unreadable, but resolute.

This was his territory now.

And this was only the beginning.

Though Ethan's declaration had sent a ripple of change through the sanctum, the air still felt heavy.

Tense.

Strained.

Not because his words lacked power—but because trust was a different beast entirely.

The promise of order, fairness, and structure was appealing, but no one there was naïve. Especially not those who had lived under the cruel lash of goblin rule. Words were wind. Only action proved truth.

Still, amidst that caution, those of the other races couldn't help but feel a tinge of satisfaction. The goblins—those vile, sadistic tyrants who had lorded over them with brutal impunity—now stood on the same ground. Forced to listen. Forced to submit.

It was vindication. Small, but real.

Among the humans, there were those who longed to approach Ethan—to speak to him, to seek kindness, perhaps even pity. He was, after all, one of them. A human who had not only survived but thrived. A miracle in this twisted world.

But not a single one dared approach him now. Not yet.

The weight of authority hung around him like a cloak, and none of them were foolish enough to break the order he'd just established. They scattered like the others, casting backward glances full of curiosity, hope… and awe.

They'd wait for the right moment.

Ethan watched them leave in silence, then raised a hand and subtly signaled.

David approached.

He walked slowly, still half-expecting this to be some sort of illusion. The Ethan he remembered—quiet, reserved, unassuming—was now a figure of power, with the bearing of someone who'd carved a throne out of chaos.

David stood before him, words caught in his throat for a moment.

"…I didn't expect this," he finally said, voice low. "You're… a lot stronger than you were back at Gareth Drakethorne Academy."

His fists clenched at his side.

"I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you earlier. But now…"

He dropped his head slightly, then made the motion to bow, heart full of gratitude and guilt at the same time.

But before he could lower himself fully, Ethan stepped forward and lightly pressed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't," he said softly, a faint smile on his face. "This is the least I can do… for a friend."

David looked up, eyes stinging faintly, caught off guard by the sincerity.

He suddenly moved as if to hug Ethan, but Ethan took a quick step back and raised a brow with a teasing grin. "Not yet."

David chuckled, the tension finally cracking for a moment. That was the Ethan he remembered—at least, a part of him.

Then Ethan reached into the leather satchel at his side and pulled out a tightly-wrapped bundle.

A clean set of clothes. Folded neatly. Practical and durable, but still clearly new—something that hadn't seen the grime of the sanctum's oppression.

He handed it to David.

"Go take a bath," Ethan said, the smile still lingering in his voice. "We'll talk later. I'll be waiting."

David took the bundle with both hands, clutching it as if it were a treasure.

"…Thank you," he said, quietly.

Then he turned and walked off, shoulders straighter than they had been in days.

And Ethan stood there, alone again.

Waiting. Watching.

Planning.

Because now, Grosh'ka was his.

And this was only the first step.

****

A/N

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