My Clan Cultivation System: Only My Clan Can Cultivate

​There were four of us. Just four kids trying to hold the world together after our parents passed away.

​My eldest brother, Marcus, carried the heaviest burden. He worked grueling, endless shifts just to keep the lights on and put food on the table. Most nights, he would just come through the front door, his eyes bloodshot, and collapse onto the worn living room couch, completely dead to the world. That left me, Kael, in charge of our two younger sisters. I didn’t mind it. I loved them. I was the protective middle brother, the one who brushed his messy, overgrown black hair out of his eyes just to make sure he was keeping a close watch on everyone.

​I thought I was doing a good job. I thought our cramped, quiet little apartment was a safe haven.

​I was wrong.

​My immediate younger sister, Maya, was beautiful, kind, and unfortunately, too trusting. A friend of hers had fallen in with the wrong crowd, and through that connection, a guy from the local underworld noticed her. He wanted to date her. Maya told him no. I knew about it because she told me everything; we had the kind of bond where secrets didn’t exist. I told her not to worry. I told her I would protect her.

​The night my world ended, our youngest sister, Lily, was away, having a sleepover at our auntie’s house. Marcus was working a double shift. It was just the two of us at home.

​I was in my room, staring at the ceiling, thinking that I should start doing part time to reduce the burden on my older brother, when a scream shattered the silence.

​It was a sound of pure terror. I didn’t think. I sprinted down the narrow hallway, my bare feet slapping against the cold door, and threw Maya’s bedroom door open.

​A man in a dark ski mask had her pinned to the floor. The room was a mess of torn bedsheets and shattered lamps. But even with the mask, I recognized him. I recognized the bulky, heavy structure of his shoulders, and more importantly, I saw the distinctive, jagged tattoo peeking out from the collar of his jacket. It was him. The guy who had been pestering my sister none stop.

​"Get off her!" I roared, throwing myself forward.

​I didn’t even make it two steps. Something hard and heavy—a baseball bat or a metal pipe, I never found out which—slammed into the side of my head from a blind spot. The world exploded into white-hot pain, and then, absolute darkness.

​When I finally regained consciousness, the agonizing throbbing in my skull was secondary to the burning friction on my wrists. I was tied to a radiator. I blinked the blood out of my eyes, my vision blurry, only to see Maya covered in blanket in the corner of the room.

"sniff..sniff"

She was crying, a hollow, broken sound that I will never forget for as long as I live. Her clothes were ripped. She was covered in dark, ugly bruises, shaking uncontrollably against the peeling wallpaper. I didn’t need anyone to explain what had happened. I knew.

​Tears of absolute helplessness streamed down my face, mixing with the blood from my head wound. I had promised to protect her, and I had failed. A dark, venomous anger took root in my chest that night, wrapping around my heart like barbed wire. I wanted that man dead.

​The days that followed were a blur of flashing red and blue lights. The police crawled everywhere, asking the same sterile questions over and over. I told them everything. I gave them his description, the tattoo, the connections. But I could see it in their eyes—the apathy. He was connected to the local gangs, and the police were either too scared or too paid-off to care. They went through the motions, acting like they were investigating, but we all knew it was a dead end.

​The lack of justice destroyed whatever was left of Maya’s spirit. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. The vibrant girl I grew up with was replaced by a ghost.

​A month later, she took her own life.

​I blamed myself. I was weak. If I had been stronger, if I had been faster, she would still be here. I was suffocating under the weight of my own uselessness.

​And then, fate handed me an opportunity.

​I was walking home late one night when I saw him. He was casually strolling through the park, laughing, his arm wrapped around some new girl. He was happy. He was breathing the crisp night air while Maya was in the ground.

​I didn’t think about the consequences. I didn’t think about Marcus, or little Lily, or the law. My mind went entirely blank, leaving behind only raw, burning fury. I sprinted to a nearby convenience store, grabbed a heavy hunting knife from the display case, and walked back out. I didn’t even care if the cashier yelled. Nothing mattered anymore.

​I approached him from behind. I didn’t announce myself. I didn’t offer a dramatic speech. I simply raised the blade and drove it into his back with every ounce of strength in my body.

​He collapsed with a wet gasp. The girl next to him started screaming murder, a high, piercing sound that echoed through the park, but I completely tuned it out. I pulled the knife out and brought it down again. And again. And again. I didn’t stop. My black hair clung to my sweaty forehead, and my face was splattered with crimson, but for the first time in months, I was smiling. Maya could finally rest in peace.

​The police arrived minutes later. They yelled orders, but I couldn’t hear them over the roaring in my ears. I kept swinging until a gunshot rang out. A bullet tore through my hand, shattering the bone and forcing me to drop the knife.

​I was tackled to the pavement, handcuffed, and dragged away.

​The trial was quick. I pleaded guilty. I went to a maximum-security prison, fully expecting to spend the rest of my life rotting in a cell. Honestly, I thought I could rest easy. The monster was dead. I had done what needed to be done.

​But I had been a fool. I had let my reckless anger blind me to the reality of how the world worked.

​He was heavily connected in the underworld, and blood demands blood. Two weeks into my sentence, three inmates cornered me in my cell. The guards conveniently looked the other way. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t fear death; in fact, I welcomed it. I was ready to close my eyes and join my sister.

​A sharp knife slid between my ribs, piercing my lung. I fell to the cold concrete floor, gasping for air.

​The man who stabbed me knelt down, bringing his face close to my ear. He smiled.

​"You really thought you won, Kael?" he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "The boss says hello. And he wanted you to know... since you took his favorite nephew, we’re taking the rest of what’s yours. Your older brother, that little sister of yours, Lily right heh, even your auntie. No one is left alive. They’re already on their way." the man said this while smirking

​My heart stopped.

​The pain in my chest was nothing compared to the absolute, crushing agony of his words. Marcus, who worked himself to the bone for us. Innocent little Lily. They were going to die, and it was entirely my fault. My reckless, stupid revenge hadn’t saved anyone; it had doomed my entire family.

​I tried to scream, but only blood bubbled from my lips. I tried to reach out, to choke the life out of the assassin, but my body wouldn’t move.

​No. Please, no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

​My vision faded to black, swallowed by an endless, suffocating abyss of regret. I died drowning in despair, cursing my own weakness, cursing my lack of foresight, and begging any god listening for a second chance to protect my family.

​Then, in the endless dark, a strange, mechanical voice echoed in my mind.

​[SYSTEM ALERT: SOUL COMPATIBILITY 100%. INITIALIZING CLAN SYSTEM...]

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