ã€ŠUniverse&#x27;s Endã€‹


 1. The Prologue that is technically an Epilogue

    ¡°We welcome everyone to the final day of the Origin Verse¡¯s Final tournament of the thousandth Generation of the Grand Ascension Tournament! This tournament is a once-every-thousand-year event for those of you just watching now. With a thousand tournaments per generation, it has a history older than nearly every existing Cosmos! Even with a thousand years between tournaments, you do not often get over a hundred participants in the immortal tier of the tournament, much less three hundred and eighty-four who participated this year! Alas, even with three hundred and eighty-four Ascenders who have fought, trained, and tested themselves for untold years to reach the point they have, only two could make it to this final precipice, the final day!¡±

    Enthralled by the announcer''s words, a colossal crowd, numbering in the tens of trillions, erupted in a thunderous cheer. The sheer magnitude of their excitement was such that, were it not for the stadium being one massive magical artifact, the gathering of people would have extended far beyond the horizon, larger than some moons. Encircling the arena, several majestic thrones were strategically placed, some vacant but many occupied by figures of all shapes and sizes, each one a testament to the diversity of the realms represented.

    ¡°If you turn your attention to the arena floor, you will find our two final contestants entering!¡±

    The crowd''s cheer reached a crescendo as the first finalist emerged, a woman who appeared in a dazzling blue sparks display. She bore the appearance of someone in her early twenties, yet an undeniable aura of agelessness set her apart from any true twenty-year-old.

    ¡°First to appear, Alice Eternamane of the Flaircon Dominion!¡±

    At the mention, a figure in one of the majestic thrones raised their hand, what looked to be a cross between a dragon and a man.

    ¡°A top ten finisher of the last tournament, Alice was ranked a high favorite to come out on top this tournament after her endorsement and adoption into the Flaircon Dominion last tournament! Never disappointing, she has looked to crush her opposition, cruising through those who would be recognized as her peers.¡±

    Once more, a cheer erupted as the woman flicked her coils of curling red hair over her shoulder, a devastating smile swooning the hearts and minds of many a young boy who¡¯d never seen an Immortal Tier Ascender before.

    ¡°And now, for her opponent! A dark horse challenger, few knew his name coming into this tournament, if in part due to his young age, only a few thousand years old!¡±

    A young man appeared in the same flurry of blue sparks that had marked his opponent''s entrance. He was of fairly average height, with black and grey speckled hair and a nose that, for whatever reason, appeared as if it had been punched one too many times, a strange blemish for someone standing amongst the Immortal Tier.

    At his appearance, a murmur escaped the crowd. To those who understood what it meant to be an Immortal Tier Ascender, the man reminded them of their shortcomings and a statement of impossibility. Tens of thousands of years were required to reach the pinnacle of the mortal tiers. With each ascension achieved, an Ascender could expect a longer and longer life span, with the looming threat of conventional death rebuked upon the fifteenth ascension, the oft-dreamt of Immortal Ascension, otherwise known simply as the immortal tier. Few reached it; the raw commitment and challenges required to crest that mountain claimed most who ever tried. For a young man, only a few thousand years old, reaching that point was as confounding as the many Cosmoses themselves flipping on their heads.

    ¡°Perhaps such an achievement should have been expected from a member of the Spear¡¯s Familia, a hidden genius!¡±

    A raucous explosion of noise erupted from those watching. Few had known of the connection between the young Ascender and the Spear¡¯s familia; only those who had done the due diligence and, more importantly, expended quite a few resources had uncovered the truth before the reveal.

    ¡°Now, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all wondering, for a member of the Spear Familia, the question remains: Where has the spear been?¡±

    It was a question that had floated through many a mind now that the revelation had been made. The young ascender had never been seen using a spear throughout the tournament. As if waiting for that moment, the man slammed his hand downward as a simple-looking spear manifested, the butt of the shaft slamming on the ground.

    ¡°And there it is!¡± The announcer roared. ¡°Give it up for L¡¯yante Dosor of the Spear Familia!¡±

    If the cheers had been loud before, the combined noise was now of a new scale; loud enough, it could have shaken a low-tier planet to pieces through the sheer force of the vibrational acoustics.

    Waiting until the noise had died down, the announcer spoke once more.

    ¡°And now, unlike prior rounds, the round to declare our champion is rather straightforward. Approach each other, shake hands, and prepare for battle. The battle shall ensue until surrender, or in the absence of a surrender, until death! Now, combatants, ready yourselves!¡±

    The young man strode forward, shaking his opponent''s hand, her face a mask of impossible-to-read thoughts. After formalities were finished, the two separated, striding far enough apart as they prepared. Watching his opponent, the young man took a deep breath, though breathing hadn¡¯t been strictly necessary for a long time now, as his grip on his spear tightened.

    ¡°And¡­. begin!¡±

    <hr>

    A single figure remained standing as the dust cleared from the final exchange. Shattered spear still held in his hand, he pressed the jagged edge to the woman¡¯s throat.

    ¡°Do you yield?¡±

    For a moment, the fiery-maned woman appeared as if she would say no, but her face softened, and she shrugged.

    ¡°Fine.¡± She said with a sigh.

    The moment the surrender was uttered, the two combatants were whisked away, now standing upon a shining white obsidian crystal column. Several others were standing on other pillars, for a total of ten.

    ¡°And with the final round concluded, we have the top ten finishes of the final tournament of the thousandth generation!¡±

    Of the ten, only a few appeared human. Second place, Alice Eternamane had appeared purely human until she had revealed scale-like armor as she¡¯d gotten serious, revealing her true nature as a Dragonoid, a surprise race change since the last tournament she¡¯d participated in. Another appeared human until one glanced toward their ears, sharp and elongated, the clear signs of an elf genotype. Three of the ten finalists were all of the same race: short, four-armed, and stout, the obvious features of Deep Dwarves. Another two finalists had skin the color of gold, likely since it was gold. Aside from their gold skin, they had appendages that appeared to be composed of solid light. They were Raiden¡¯s, a rare but powerful race. Finally, the last two contestants were split between a very short figure whose skin was as white as snow with piercing green eyes and what looked like nothing more than an ordinary turtle.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Now, with their place amongst the top ten, each will be gifted personal boons from the gathered Prominence, with varying degrees of uniqueness based on their finishes. So, give it up with one final cheer for our top ten finishers!¡±

    The crowd roared, but the champion already had his mind elsewhere, thinking of what he was after. For a minute longer, the cheering continued until the scene changed before his very eyes. No longer was he standing on a pillar in front of untold cheering fans. Now, he was in what appeared like nothing he¡¯d seen before. Or, well, he had seen rooms made for gathering, but something about the room seemed strange, an aesthetic taste that seemed odd to him.

    ¡°Congratulations on your victory. Total domination can only be expected from those I¡¯ve personally accepted into my familia.¡± A voice purred from nearby, a woman seated on one end of a round table surrounded by chairs with wheels on each leg''s bottom for whatever reason.

    His eyes widened for a moment. The woman was unmistakable. Her hair was a deep shade of purple, nearly black, falling to her waist in a bound ponytail that appeared like it could be utilized as a natural whip if she were ever desperate enough.

    This was unlikely, given that she was widely accepted as the most powerful straight-up combatant in every Cosmos and Verse and one of the oldest. Not only was she a member of the Prominence, the most well-connected and influential throughout their respective Verses, but she was also a True Immortal, the uppermost of the four Ascension tier groupings.

    There were four groupings of Ascension Tiers; the first was the mortal realm, tiers one through fourteen. They were named as such because the claws of time would claim any who remained within those tiers. Following that was the Immortal Tier, which he had just stepped into not long ago, the realm in which death from the passage of time no longer laid claim to all living beings, tiers fifteen through twenty-four.

    Ascension tiers Twenty-five through forty-nine, the ¡®largest¡¯ grouping, was known as the Immortal Totality, or simply Totality; it was the realm in which death became all but impossible, and destruction of mind, body, soul, and essence was often required to put someone of the Totality realm down for good.

    It was the final grouping of Ascension tiers that was perhaps the most mysterious, but also unsurprisingly the most powerful, the True Immortals, tiers fifty and above, though how far above was unknown, those who had reached such heights were only limited by resources to continue their advancement. While the death of someone in Totality was difficult, sometimes neigh impossible, True Immortals were quite literally impossible to kill. Upon reaching such a level, it was as if their existence became Law, immutable and eternal. It had been recorded that in the past, there had been attempts to assassinate a True Immortal with tools born through costly usage of Major Laws, para-causality tools that should have been capable of erasing, at the minimum, things as abstract as concepts from existence, and that was at their weakest.

    And yet, the True Immortal who had been ¡®assassinated¡¯ eventually returned only a mere millennia later. The proof was that she was seated nearby in her chair, clearly having fun rolling around at the end of the long table.

    ¡°Would you quit scooting around so much?¡± Another voice spoke up from the opposite end of the table, dismissing the legendary warrior and figure of mythical strength as if she were an annoying child. Turning to look at the second voice, the young Immortal felt his throat clench. The second figure was a man who appeared in his mid to early forties, though any high-level being could easily control their appearance. For a moment, the young immortal felt a scan examine him; the man had just analyzed him. Typically, such an act would be considered rude, but for a True Immortal to do as much could only be viewed as an honor; not only could a True Immortal have hidden their analyze if they so pleased, but the fact that he was worthy of the analysis was a reward beyond praise.

    ¡°I greet the Honored Architect.¡± The young immortal bowed before the True Immortal, who sighed.

    ¡°Yes, yes, honor and all that.¡± The man rolled his eyes. ¡°Allison, what sort of practices do you let your familia teach one another?¡±

    Allison? The young immortal paused, realizing that what he had just heard was something most scholars and historians would gladly die or sacrifice entire planets to learn: the name of one of the eldest True Immortals.

    ¡°Honor, something you wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you say.¡± The man, known only as the Architect, sighed again. ¡°Well, on to business. At the request of your familia head, or more specifically at the request of an old acquittance-¡±

    ¡°Friend.¡± The Spear, True Immortal and progenitor of the Spear Familia, Allison, as the Architect had called her, corrected.

    ¡°- I have taken the time out of my busy schedule to have an audience with you, a member of her familia.¡±

    ¡°Busy schedule my ass.¡± The Spear scoffed. ¡°You were probably in some remote workshop tinkering on some little project.¡±

    The Architect narrowed his eyes. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a little project I¡¯ll have you know. But that¡¯s beside the point. I was informed that you wished an audience with me of all people for your reward. I can see why you felt confident asking for that specifically if you won; you¡¯ve got a rather rare Vocation, after all.¡±

    Without intending to, L¡¯yante¡¯s interface flickered open, information on skills, vocation, and other such usually private details began to scroll past for everyone to see.

    ¡°Spear of the Precursor¡¯s. For more then the billion years I¡¯ve been alive, only a handful of individuals have managed that, the first being your Family Head there.¡±

    Finding his voice, the young immortal finally spoke up; the pressure of two True Immortals, even without exuding any of their normal force, felt like it was suffocating him from the thought of who they were alone.

    ¡°I requested to converse with you for my reward specifically because of my Vocation.¡± He said.

    ¡°Oh? Just a conversation, not a petition for some mythical class weapon or such? How your spear exploded tells me you could use an upgrade after all.¡±

    The young immortal shook his head.

    ¡°No. A weapon can always be found or crafted or bought, but what I want is something that few, if any, know about.¡±

    ¡°And that is?¡± The Architect leaned forward.

    ¡°History.¡± The young immortal said. ¡°Because of my rare Vocation, I¡¯ve learned things that most never learn, even some of the greatest historians. It made me curious. Everyone knows how powerful the True Immortals are. Less know just how old some of you are, just that between you, the Spear, and several others, you¡¯ve seemingly been around since¡­ Well, ever. But that¡¯s what I want to know. Of the True Immortals who haven¡¯t gone into self-enforced exile of more than ten million years, you¡¯re the most likely to have any records of your long history.¡±

    ¡°So, to sum it up.¡± The True Immortal chuckled. ¡°You want our story?¡±

    The young immortal¡¯s eyes shimmered as he nodded confidently. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And you aren¡¯t trying to find our weaknesses somehow? Because I could tell you her weaknesses easily enough, half of them consist of tricking her into a trap by saying you found a strong monster and-¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to recount that story.¡± The Spear snapped.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not looking for any specific weaknesses. Simply put, my path forward is a long and winding road; I have no need or desire for specific gifts; in fact, some of my bonuses specifically prohibit obtaining too much help from others. So, all I want is to learn.¡±

    The True Immortal leaned back in his office chair, an item from a history long lost.

    ¡°Well then, buckle up because this story is as old as time. Or perhaps I should say it¡¯s older than time. And it all starts in a universe that no longer exists¡­¡±

 2. The End

    In 2038, humanity discovered that it was not alone in the universe but part of a larger collective.

    It was a monumental event for humanity. Several delegation ships appeared in orbit, broadcasting a universally translated message: ¡°We come in peace.¡±

    Of course, there were those who did not believe the message, but humanity, surprisingly, welcomed its visitors with open arms.

    It¡­ well, it ended fine.

    Sort of.

    The meeting itself did, but the news it brought¡­. That was a different story, but that¡¯s skipping ahead.

    Jubilant, humanity''s leaders met with their alien visitors, who looked shockingly human, aside from being half their height, with bleach white skin and uniform-colored eyes, a shockingly rich shade of emerald.

    While many expected the aliens to bring messages of their intention to aid us or even take over, no one expected them to come asking for help.

    The explanation was simple. Humanity had cleared several hurdles and been deemed a species that could be worthy members of a more extraordinary coalition. The hurdles themselves were relatively straightforward.

    <ol>

    <li>The functional construction of a fully operational and non-proof-of-concept fusion reactor. It was also explained that while it didn¡¯t necessarily have to be fusion energy, one requirement was the establishment of a high-yield, fully renewable energy source. While many species had energy sources far more advanced than nuclear fusion, fusion was considered one of the baseline energy sources to meet the requirement.</li>

    <li>An exceptional quality or characteristic of the species as a whole. Without being as advanced as other species that called the cosmos their home, for contact to be made, the species in question had to offer something that stood out from the rest. In humanity''s case, it was a surprisingly robust and resilient physical makeup. Earth¡¯s gravity was considered near the extreme end for a sapient species not just to develop on but also reach past the gravity of their planet. As energy yields required to leave anything with much higher gravitational fields would generally prevent otherwise intelligent species from ever escaping their cradle-turned-prison without access to technology that only space-faring races tended to have.</li>

    <li>Establishment of a long-term space colony. It mainly was a technicality that humanity had qualified, something that the alien delegation told the leaders of Earth outright, but the ISS counted. Originally planned to be decommissioned earlier in the 2020s, it was given an extra twenty years to operate after the political tidings of several countries led to a surge in funding for its continued usage. Having lasted forty years, the ISS was qualified as a ¡®long-term colony.¡¯</li>

    <li>Lastly, perhaps more importantly, was the discovery of extraterrestrial life through entirely self-progressed means. A research paper only three months prior had conclusively established that, without a doubt, humanity was not alone in the stars. Of course, the discovery was nothing more than microbial life on a celestial moon in Alpha Centauri. Still, while the form of life discovered was minor, it had primed humanity to the conclusive idea of no longer being alone in the universe.</li>

    </ol>

    And thus, with those four requirements met, humanity was finally enlightened and brought into the fold.

    It was only too bad that it wasn¡¯t under better circumstances. In normal circumstances, an extra twenty years would have elapsed before contact. Then, the gradual ascension of technological progress would have been shared as humanity broke free of its old-world thinking. Becoming a member of a galactic community required a more sophisticated and civilized mindset, after all.

    This was not normal circumstances; what was needed wasn¡¯t civilized and sophisticated thinking.

    What it needed was soldiers to fight the war to end all wars. For that reason, humanity was contacted, skirting several of the qualifications through a technicality, for the simple reason that point two of the four-point system made humanity exceptionally useful during a crisis.

    As for the crisis itself?

    It was the War of Everything, a trans-galactic war in which member civilizations of the Galactic Union, spanning across fifteen galaxies, were waging a battle against a species known as the Sensen. Located in a distant corner of the universe, they had kept to themselves, considered an unfriendly if not hostile race; they had partaken in the purging or assimilation of contending races within their galaxy, but after completing their task they had seemingly been content to exist in their self-imposed isolation with little to no interaction with the other civilizations and races that belonged to the Galactic Union.

    It was perhaps the greatest folly of the Galactic Union that more effort wasn¡¯t made to stamp out such barbarism, as one fatal scanning from a backwater planet in the next nearest galaxy showed readings that made no sense. The wavering of dimensional reality was possible only in the extreme environment within the singularity predating the Big Bang. The same Big Bang would go on to create standard reality and countless parallel dimensional layers, but how many exactly was unknown. The last estimate had the count at over two hundred.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    What mattered was that for a wavering dimensional reality to be detected at all could only mean the creation of something capable of ripping through reality itself and in a vast area. While some civilizations used Skip-Drives to skip along the closest alternate dimensional layer, they were like dropping a pine needle in an ocean for the overall ripples they created. What was being detected was like the tectonic plates beneath a sea being gradually stirred into motion.

    The Galactic Union was brought to an emergency meeting, where further investigations were held, leading to the discovery of a gigastructure at the center of Sensen localized space. Their very galactic core was in the process of being encapsulated by the most massive construction project in known universal history. An enormous device that could cause the breakdown of the laws of local physics. If initiated, it would lead to a cascading effect that would inevitably destroy the operational function of gravity.

    In simple terms, under the new laws of physics unleashed by the Sensen gigastructure, any object of notable gravitational mass would collapse into a black hole. When Sensen envoys were contacted, rather than denying it, they reveled in their grand vision, explaining that unleashing the cascading effect of the reality collapser would not just cause every massive celestial object to be forcibly collapsed into a black hole. It would collapse the universe, projecting the Sensen into a higher plane of existence.

    All it would take was the death of a universe and all the lives inside.

    When the entire story was laid bare to the leaders of humanity, it was later reported that few could speak for some time until the President of Argentina asked a question, the question they were all thinking.

    Why humanity? Why earth? If they were as advanced as they were, crossing not just the space between solar systems with ease, not just from one side of the galaxy to the other, but spanning entire galaxies worth, what worth could humanity, a single race on a single rock, have in this trans-galactic war?

    The answer was surprisingly simple. They needed bodies, and the harder, the better. When asked why AI-based war machines had not been utilized, it was explained that AI, even amongst the Sensen, had been fundamentally banned. It was just too risky; all it would take was a single run-away program, a single glitch or mistake, for the emotionless task managers to head down a warpath against all life. The worst part was that it wasn¡¯t likely to be any ¡®evil¡¯ machine like humanity often envisioned in their movies, but simply a program that concluded the most efficient way to complete their task, say creating paper clips, was to create more of itself, cannibalizing all universal mass until there was nothing less than a universal cloud of paperclip making machines.

    Without being able to rely on true AI to help in their war efforts, the task of the war efforts would be split into parts. Already widely colonized galaxies and members of the Galactic Union would become their foundries of war to use against the Sensen, vast fleets of space armadas protected by shield generators powerful enough to withstand the full force of a nearby star exploding. Smaller members of the Galactic Union would search for potential allies to join the effort, those who could provide some unique benefit that the already established members couldn¡¯t.

    What humanity brought to the table were their uniquely hardy constitutions. To combat the Sensen, experimental ships were created that wouldn¡¯t just skip across the nearest layers of dimensional reality like a Skip-Drive; they would ricochet across the differing layers, covering real space magnitudes faster than even the fastest ships the Galactic Union could offer, the normally weeks-long travel to cross-galactic space, by standard human time, could be reduced to mere days or even hours. The issue was that species capable of withstanding the forces on those experimental ships were few and far between.

    Humanity just so happened to be one of those species, and thus, humanity was brought into the fold, even after only passing the requirements on mere technicalities.

    When everything was said and done, humanity did what humanity loved to do in its history: It blared its horns of patriotism and a greater cause, and the war effort began. For humanity, a single planet race, this largely meant recruiting men and women alike into intense training programs to prepare them to become the backbone of the most advanced crafts in universal space.

    This would make you think this story is going to be about some dashing young hero enlisting, climbing the ranks, proving his worth in space warfare, and finally helping strike down the vile Sensen threat. Unfortunately, that isn¡¯t this story. The Galactic Union was too slow to act, and the only reason they ever found out was that the Sensen were gloating. Had the Sensen wanted, they would have left their system jammers in place, and the universe would have been none the wiser until it was too late.

    So, in the end, try as the Galactic Union might, there wasn¡¯t enough time to get the bulk of their space armadas through the meat grinder that was Sensen space. Billions, trillions, died in the effort as billions of Galactic Union ships failed to pass through the fortress systems. In the end, the only ships that had a chance were a measly one thousand of the experimental Ricochet Ships that managed to reach the galactic core of the Sensen galaxy. The battle was broadcast for all to see; the ships, sixty percent of their crew sourced from humanity alone, were the pride and joy of Earth.

    And they were ripped apart by the literal bastion that the Sensen Galactic Core proved to be. It wasn¡¯t some sci-fi movie where the united races of the galaxy, spearheaded by the finest crews of Earth, broke into the deepest parts of enemy territory only to find their most crucial sector woefully undefended.

    No, the galactic core was, in fact, the most heavily defended sector in all known universal space, and as such, the thousand brave ships were ripped apart before they could cross even half of the space from the outer rim of the sector.

    Rowan, though he preferred to go by Rory most of the time, shrugged as he watched the battle for universal survival conclude, lowering his phone and returning to his morning jog.

    It is what it is. Rory thought to himself as he went about his jog, ignoring the faces of his fellow humanity, many sobbing, many collapsing without a word, and many still simply staring out in silence at nothing as the fact that they were all about to die broke their minds.

    Not Rory, though. It wasn¡¯t that he was exceptionally brave, tough, callous, or any such descriptive word. It was simply that, in the end, what did it matter? From what he understood, the structure at the center of Sensen''s space, when activated, would instantly destroy the known universe, the collapse of everything traveling through time and space in ways that his comparatively simple human mind couldn¡¯t process.

    So, he continued his jog. It was a lovely autumn morning, and the birds were chirping, and Rory found himself smiling. The sun felt warm on his face, and his body really did feel in excellent shape today. Rory still had the smile on his face when, over a billion light years away, a single Sensen pressed a confirmation button on an interface, and like an old TV being turned off, all of reality winked off into nothingness.

 3. And the Beginning?

    One moment, Rory had been out for his run, enjoying the fine autumn day; the next, it was as if the world blinked back on, like how he remembered his grandparents'' old TV when he turned it on. Looking around, he was no longer out running in the park; instead, he was¡­

    Where am I? Rory questioned, startled, filled with cautious confusion.

    ¡°Ahh, so it appears I am not alone. I had assumed this was the figment of my mind, a last desperate hallucination as I attempted to grapple with what was doomed to occur. It was a bit strange for someone like me, but stranger things happened. But I suppose with another appearing here, that¡¯s not the case.¡±

    Rory looked across the -

    Lobby. I think this is a lobby. No, wait, it definitely is a lobby. In fact, this looks like the lobby of Dr. Smith from when I was twelve.

    -looked across the lobby, but rather than another human patient, there was a man, only approximately half his height, with skin as white as snow and piercing green eyes.

    ¡°Ackaestar. Professor Ackaestar by human reckoning.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Rowan. Though most call me Rory.¡± Rory nodded to the short alien. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised, I must say.¡± Ackaestar nodded at Rory. ¡°You seem to be taking this in stride, considering the universe collapsed.¡±

    Rory looked around before shrugging. ¡°Either I¡¯m dead, in which case this is some weird afterlife, or¡­ well, I don¡¯t know what else really.¡±

    Professor Ackaestar seemed to chuckle; even for being an alien, he shared many human characteristics. ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe this is the afterlife at all, and in fact, I have my own theory for what is going on, mostly due to your appearance.¡±

    ¡°My appearance? Did I do something?¡± Rory questioned. He was afraid he¡¯d somehow broken the afterlife. Whoever was in charge would be awfully crossed with him if that was the first thing he did upon dying.

    ¡°No, nothing of that sort. Simply put, you are far too detailed for you to be a figment of my imagination, and while not impossible, the possibility of my mind forming a mental construct in the form of a human rather than my own species to cope with the mental stress of our imminent universal extinction seems odd to say the least.¡±

    ¡°Right. I could say the same¡­ Or, with fewer words, at least.¡±

    The alien chuckled, shaking his head slightly. ¡°So, Rory, may I ask as to the nature of how you found yourself here? Were you perhaps one of our brave crew aboard one of the Ricochet ships?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Rory shook his head in denial. ¡°I was just a normal man from Earth. I watched the fleet as it was eviscerated if that matters.¡±

    ¡°I suppose not.¡± Professor Ackaestar sighed. ¡°I¡¯d been hoping that perhaps they would have been saved as well, but it appears their deaths were a final one.¡±

    ¡°About that.¡± Rory wasn¡¯t generally an overly curious person, but he couldn¡¯t deny the oddity of where he was stirring questions within himself. ¡°You said you had a theory as to this.¡± Rory waved at the strange lobby from his childhood they found themselves in.

    ¡°Ahh, yes. How well versed are you in the ¡®Canopy¡¯ theory regarding the structure of existence?¡±

    ¡°I saw a movie with parallel universes once.¡±

    ¡°Good enough.¡± Professor Ackaestar snapped his fingers. Notably, there were six fingers instead of a human''s standard five. ¡°My species, and many others of the galactic union, have been studying this for longer than humanity has been building their first cities. If you know how the Ricochet Ships, and Skip Drives for that matter, work, it will greatly speed this up.¡±

    ¡°They skip along some sort of parallel dimension.¡±

    ¡°To borrow a phrase from your kind, Bingo.¡± Professor Ackaestar seemed to have settled into his groove, at ease lecturing.

    I guess he really was a professor, or whatever the equal was for his race. Rory thought to himself.

    ¡°Now, to give it further depth, those Skip Drives, and by extension the Ricochet Ships, only interact with the closest dimensional layers by our reckoning, what we refer to simply as the ¡®Cogitation.¡¯ As for what exactly this dimensional layer is, every thought ever had by any living thing in the entire history of our universe, regardless of how big or small, minor or grandiose, all created potential. This potential would form an extra-dimensional energy that eventually settled into its plane of existence just above our own, inherently linked to us through its origin as a byproduct of the potential energy of thought.¡±

    Rory didn¡¯t understand how that could work; he was nothing more than a physical trainer. Sure, he had an associate''s degree in sports science, but it was still only an associate''s degree, and it wasn¡¯t as if it was from some Ivy League university, either.

    The professor wasn¡¯t finished, though, just getting started as Rory¡¯s attention returned.

    ¡°Now, to continue, our universe is part of, as of our last count, a multi-verse consisting of over two hundred dimensional layers. This is important because the device the Sensen constructed was meant to collapse our local universe into a singularity, and using the ensuing energy, they would propel their species, contained within dimensional crafts, to a higher dimensional layer. It was a rather rude gesture towards the rest of the sapient life, but they didn¡¯t seem bothered.¡±

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The alien professor took a moment to breathe in, glancing around as if expecting a classroom full of students and not a single twenty-seven-year-old human.

    ¡°My theory is that both the Sensen and the rest of the universe must have had some poorly understood notion of how the mechanics of this dimensional pancake stack operated, as when the Sensen activated this device, something went wrong. ¡®Wrong¡¯ is the operative word here, as it worked perfectly well; those who built it failed in their understanding. Rather than collapsing our singular universe into a singularity and projecting themselves ¡®upward,¡¯ the rest of the dimensional layers collapsed onto us.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Rory acted as if he understood before finally shrugging. ¡°So, uh, how are we still here? Sounds like that¡¯s not something you could walk off.¡±

    ¡°Normally, no; I¡¯d reckon it would cause an omni-singularity, a singularity composed of every single dimensional layer, except we¡¯ve been saved by chance.¡±

    ¡°Saved? How?¡±

    ¡°Do you remember the layer I referred to earlier? The Cogitation. Being the closest layer, when all of reality was superimposed upon one another, it was the ¡®first¡¯ to collide with our local universe. This is nothing more than a theory, but considering we are having this conversation in the first place, I believe there is some credence to this theory. When the Cogitation collided and merged with our local universe, being that it was born of the energy of thought, the very same beings who had those thoughts were encapsulated. Imagine, if you will, a bubble. Did you know some species of insects on many planets can travel up and down the depths by entering a bubble? Those bubbles protect the fragile insects from the water just outside.¡±

    ¡°So, this is a¡­ bubble?¡±

    ¡°Exactly, you catch on quick. For whatever reason, living things such as us with thoughts were encapsulated by ¡®dimensional bubbles¡¯ formed via the remnants of the Cogitation during the dimensional fusing. Even now, I¡¯d bet outside of this protective bubble, the universe we knew and understood is a writhing mass of chaotic energy, countless dimensional layers fused and burning each other up; I¡¯d imagine in an event much like the singularity that predated the big bang, albeit to an exponentially greater degree.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. I see.¡± Rory lied. ¡°So¡­ what now?¡±

    ¡°That is the question, young man.¡± Professor Ackaestar frowned lightly, scratching at his chin, which was more angular than humans typically had. ¡°Perhaps we remain within the bubbles until whatever dimensional integrity they hold fails, and we meet our end, albeit a little later than initially expected. Or perhaps we cannot escape these bubbles, and we will cease to exist from within. Or, perhaps, the bubbles begin to float to the surface after the greater dimensional universe has stabilized, an event which may take trillions upon trillions of eons if we had to witness the passing of time from a relative standpoint rather than from within our localized reality where I¡¯d imagine our understanding of time no longer holds any importance.¡±

    ¡°You sure know a lot about this, all.¡± Rory scratched at his chin, which suddenly began to itch, in response to the professor scratching their chin first.

    ¡°Well, that was because I was one of the leading scientific minds working to stop the Sensen. Not that it paid off anyway. It was why I questioned if you were perhaps a human crew member from the Ricochet ships; perhaps we were sorted through some tenuous connection, but as you were but an ordinary man from Earth, I can¡¯t see that being the case.¡±

    Rory felt like he should have some response to the revelation that the alien man before him was some form of major big shot, a leading mind in the entire universe. Still, considering that the universe had ended, Rory couldn¡¯t find it in himself to be moved.

    Perhaps a life of utter insignificance does that to a person, Rory questioned. He was smart but not significantly different from the average. He was healthy and active, but only to the degree of someone caring for themselves. He wasn¡¯t breaking any Olympic records anytime soon. He¡¯d gotten his degree but was not motivated by dreams of grand success; he¡¯d been more than content to find a relatively ordinary job.

    For all the mundane, average, and uninspiring nature of his life, the grand scale of the universe, of what humanity belonged to, had never felt real. He was just a single, ordinary man, and feeling fear or apprehension about what could happen, what was out there, or even the people who stood head and shoulders above him, was pointless when he was of such ordinary stature.

    Thus, Rory could only nod as he listened to the most brilliant mind in the ex-universe.

    ¡°Without that tenuous connection, any theories I could propose as to why this localized space is home to only the two of us would be nothing more than wild guesses. Perhaps if you were to share more of yourself, I could come up with something.¡±

    ¡°Not much to say,¡± Rory said truthfully. ¡°I worked at a lab researching how the body''s mechanics could be stimulated externally. Usually, that meant sending electrical signals through chicken wings and pig legs, though occasionally, we got our hands on human cells or cadavers. I only had an associate degree, so I wasn¡¯t one of the ones coming up with the big ideas. Outside of that, I worked at high schools with the athletic programs.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Professor Ackaestar turned up a slightly purple eyebrow at him. ¡°You were a mentor of sorts then.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you put it that way.¡± Rory shrugged.

    ¡°Hmm, perhaps that is the answer. Albeit a rather weak one.¡±

    Rory was about to open his mouth to ask a question when a glance down at his hands caused the words to wither, a strange sense of morbid curiosity taking over.

    ¡°Any ideas about this?¡± Rory asked after a moment, poking at his body that was rapidly turning transparent.

    ¡°Two or three.¡± The professor admitted. ¡°First, our bubble is collapsing, and we are about to join the multiversal dimensional energy soup. I put the odds of that low as you¡¯re the only thing affected here.¡±

    Rory nodded; it seemed simple enough.

    ¡°Option two. I have no recognition of this room, so I suppose it was formed from your mind. That excess energy required to manifest this room within our bubble has led to your existence being bled dry sooner than I, and whatever anchors you here are quickly fading. Odds aren''t terrible, but I cannot say whether it is truly the case.¡±

    Rory nodded once more, unbothered. His general philosophy was not to fret about something he couldn¡¯t control.

    ¡°Finally, the last option is that our little bubble has begun to surface.¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I have barely a scant idea. But, if I had to guess, fading away as you are means that this bubble, while it houses both of us, is not equal in how it views us or how we interact with it. Thus, whatever the reason, you are to be the first to be spat out into what now exists beyond this small dimensional bubble.¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡± Rory asked once more, hoping for a more straightforward explanation.

    ¡°Like the claw picking up the toys from a game, you have been chosen first.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Rory understood that, surprised the man was so well versed in human culture and games that he even knew of crane games. ¡°So, I¡¯m about to end up¡­ somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Yes, precisely, assuming you aren¡¯t simply fading from existence.¡±

    ¡°Any advice?¡± Rory asked, figuring it was worth seeing what the far more intelligent man might suggest.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say, given the unknown variables. At best, I can propose to you one idea. As the Sensen activated their dimensional crusher from our localized reality, I reckon this new super-reality you may find yourself in will take much inspiration from our own. How exactly? Well, only you will be able to say.¡±

    Rory felt it was a reasonable enough conclusion, especially given that it came from a genius. Another glance at his body showed he was nearly transparent, the process of his fading existence only moments from completion.

    ¡°On the chance you are entering some strange new reality, I must say it was a pleasure to meet you. At best, I hope that if I, too, eventually escape this bubble, we may somehow meet again.¡±

    Sticking out his hand in what was meant to be a customary human handshake, Professor Ackaestar gave Rory a fond smile.

    As subdued as Rory may have been in external emotional reactions, he wasn¡¯t unfeeling. Giving the professor his best attempt at his own smile, he met the alien''s hand, giving it as firm of a shake as he could without imposing on the diminutive alien.

    ¡°Likewise.¡±

    With that final shake, everything went dark as Rory vanished.

 4. A new home

    Like a lamp suddenly illuminating a dark room, Rory stood in what looked like a forest, his arm still outstretched mid-handshake, eyes blinking in surprise at the sudden brightness. As if that wasn¡¯t an oddity enough, simply appearing and disappearing wasn¡¯t exactly a regular part of Rory¡¯s life; the forest itself was almost as strange. It was unlike any forest he¡¯d ever seen; rather than grass beneath his feet, there was what looked to be an endless sea of purple-hued clovers with a dark gold outline around its dusky petals. As for the trees themselves, it was as if an artist somewhere had the creative inspiration to imagine what the fusion between classic midwestern autumnal woods and the lush green rainforest of South America would look like when smashed together, thrown in with a distinctly alien shape language, everything slightly more angular than the natural growth inclinations of Earth, and orange vines absolutely everywhere.

    Looking up, Rory released a relieved sigh. At the very least, the sky was a familiar blue, ignoring the fact that two suns hung overhead.

    ¡°Not in Kansas anymore.¡± Rory huffed, amused by his reference. It was from before his time, and he was met with blank stares whenever he said it around his colleagues. Even most of his generational cohort largely missed it, but his grandparents had made him watch the movie enough times that it had ingrained itself in him.

    ¡°Now then.¡± Rory sighed as he looked around, still taking stock of his surroundings. The uncertainty of his situation weighed on him. ¡°What first?¡±

    He was pretty sure that if you found yourself lost in the woods, you were supposed to stay put and wait for a search party to find you. However, as the rules of their old universe had been thrown out, he figured it was probably best to assume no one was about to find him.

    I could be alone, for that matter. Rory thought to himself. It was minorly distressing, but there was nothing he could do about the matter, so he promptly pushed it out of his mind.

    If you can¡¯t wait for rescue, what next?

    Having seen quite a few films as a child, his grandparents had been quite the cinephiles; he was pretty sure the next best thing to do was find water, or at least that was what the movies had made it seem like.

    That begs the question.

    He was no longer a part of their old universe; instead, their universe had become a building block for some grander esoteric existence. He wasn¡¯t even sure what rules of Earth still existed. For that matter, water could no longer exist, and whatever remained inside him was the last of the precious lifeblood of Earth.

    It''s a matter for later. Does gravity still exist?

    He wasn¡¯t floating off into space or whatever the equivalent of space was in this new universe, so at the very least, something like gravity existed. Just to be sure, mustering up a small amount of moisture in his mouth, Rory spat out a single gob on a nearby obsidian boulder, which was also a rather unusual-looking rock. Landing, he watched intently as the small amount of moisture began to roll down the boulder much like water ordinarily would.

    All right, so it seems like liquids still travel down. Good to know.

    There weren¡¯t many other things he could think of to test. He was only a single man, after all. At the very least, the air he was breathing seemed fine. In the same vein, there was also the question of whether two suns were irradiating him with deadly amounts of solar rays. Still, much like his uncertainty of whether gravity was holding him down or some similar force, he couldn¡¯t even say what the overhead suns were.

    I could use the professor now.

    ¡°No point focusing on what woulds and coulds.¡± Rory reminded himself.

    Liquids still flowed down. Rory nodded as if it were an exceptionally clever discovery. Next in movie survival tips: Travel to lower elevations where water may collect.

    The issue of whether water even existed anymore aside, it seemed as good an idea as any. Rory stood atop a rather large hill overlooking an endless sea of the strange fusion of tropical jungle, autumnal woods, and alien foliage. It was impossible to see through the canopy cover, but from what he could see, there seemed to be a low point in the trees, as if they were surrounding some sort of dip in the land about five miles away, give or take.

    Which is going to be me hiking for most of the day. Unless days are longer here.

    If he were lucky, it would be a small pond or basin, potentially filled with water, which he was beginning to feel the necessity of. Perhaps it was whatever the rays of the maybe-suns were shining down on him with, but his skin felt a strange tingling as a layer of static electricity clung to him. It wasn¡¯t painful, but it was an odd sensation, if not at least a little concerning.

    With nothing else in his power to control, Rory did the only thing he could do, mentally preparing for the long trek ahead. Five miles may not have been a lot in a straight shot on a track or pavement, but it was through thick jungle vegetation and shrubbery. That was a different story entirely.

    I dope hope it''s something I can drink. Surviving all this to die of dehydration would be at least a little disappointing.

    ------------------------------------------------------------

    The strangest thing about the eight-hour hike, or what Rory estimated as around eight hours, was that the forest was entirely silent the entire time. He¡¯d seen enough horror films to have assumed some monstrosity was about to drag him away to devour him, but hours passed without a single peep of sound from anything aside from the gentle rustling of the leaves overhead as the wind passed through.

    There appears to be no life, aside from plant life, whatsoever. Rory thought to himself.

    At the very least, not being harried by blood-sucking insects or even just harmless flies made the hike far more bearable, even enjoyable. The feel of static still clung to his skin, but after hours of trekking, it was more of a background sensation, one he¡¯d stopped paying attention to. Trying to fill the empty air with some noise, he tried whistling until three attempts later, when he was reminded that he¡¯d never actually learned to whistle.

    With that, he¡¯d spent the rest of his journey in silence until hours later, when he finally arrived at the spot he¡¯d seen from the large hill far in the distance.

    ¡°Well, looks like I was right.¡± Rory wet his lips as he spoke, the first words he¡¯d spoken out loud in some time. With nothing but a vague sense of direction and the gentle downward slope of the land, he¡¯d managed to find a pond as he¡¯d hoped.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Except whatever was inside the pond, it was clearly not water. Rather than the clear, refreshing liquid humanity had evolved to depend on, there was a liquid somewhere between yellow and pink, only slightly less transparent than natural water, like watered-down strawberry lemonade.

    ¡°Well¡­ That sucks.¡± Rory sighed.

    Now what?

    Searching for water at this point would be risky. He¡¯d spent hours hiking in the sun, and even with the forest canopy to protect him; he could feel the familiar feeling of sunburn beginning to flare up along his arms and neck, the mildly hot climate now itching towards outright discomfort. At this point, looking for another water source could be his end, assuming any existed in the first place; who knew how long it would take to find some?

    So then¡­ What now?

    The answer was obvious, if not exactly appealing. He¡¯d have to risk it on the mystery fluid. It could be a poison that would cause his entire body to bleed from every orifice, or it could be an acid that would melt his flesh.

    In the end, his choice was simple. Either it would kill him, or it wouldn¡¯t, a fifty-fifty shot. Not drinking at all would only kill him, a one hundred percent guarantee.

    ¡°I¡¯d greatly appreciate it if you didn¡¯t melt me,¡± Rory muttered at the strange pond as he kneeled before it. Taking only a second to hesitate, he cupped his hands before dipping them in.

    Whatever the liquid was, it felt cool, even colder than water. It was slightly denser than water, but barely. And best of all, it didn¡¯t dissolve his hands.

    ¡°So far so good.¡±

    Bringing his cupped hands towards his face, Rory gulped the mystery liquid down before he could decide against his better judgment.

    Oh. That¡¯s¡­ interesting.

    The mystery fluid was like liquid pop rocks, crackling the entire way down. Aside from the strange crackling, he couldn¡¯t deny that it was quite refreshing, instantly cooling his slowly overheating body. Even the developing sunburns had begun to itch less as if protected by a cold compress. It was so significant that Rory felt the need to inspect his arms. What he saw surprised him. It hadn¡¯t just felt like the sunburn had eased; it had receded in front of his very eyes.

    Strange sunburn healing not-water that crackles like pop rocks. I can¡¯t say I expected that.

    Even the strange static that he¡¯d felt clinging to him eased.

    Given he hadn¡¯t started to bleed from the eyes, Rory could only assume the liquid wasn¡¯t some strange poison.

    Hydration obtained. Rory half-smiled to himself. It had been ages since he¡¯d done anything he¡¯d felt as noteworthy as trekking through an alien forest and finding a magic healing pond.

    ¡°After hydration comes¡­. Right, shelter.¡± Rory sighed, cracking his back as he did. The dual suns had begun moving closer to the horizon, indicating that they at least were some celestial light sources that existed in some variety of space. It was best then to get some shelter fashioned before they finished setting.

    ¡°The reward for work is always more work.¡±

    ---------------------------------------------------------

    Surprisingly, propping up a shelter took less effort than Rory anticipated. He was wise enough first to set about creating rudimentary tools. Luckily for him, the rocks of this¡­ planet?

    Is this even a planet?

    Whether he was on a planet or some endless flat world aside, the stones were nearly identical to earth-based obsidian. Taking care not to nick himself on the alarmingly sharp flakes, he first started by simply banging stones one against another until he had pieces that could, if one squinted, vaguely resemble a knife. After that, he tore down some nearby vines, thick orange ropes of a strange chord-like fiber. Wrapping it around his knife-like flake, he soon had his first tool, a rather shoddy impromptu knife. After that, the rest of the tools weren¡¯t much more challenging to make. He sawed through a branch slightly less thick than his forearm using the knife. Stabbing through one end of the would-be shaft of an ax, he wedged open a large enough slot for a sizeable obsidian-esque flake to be jammed through. Twining it with the same strange vines, he was left with what someone who¡¯d never seen an ax themselves might qualify as an ax. Using the knife and ax combo alongside picking up loose branches on the ground, it was only another hour or two of work before he stood proudly before this world''s most remarkable feat of architecture.

    The shelter was likely the first piece of architecture, but Rory ignored the technicalities of his achievement.

    It was a lean-to, or at least what he remembered a lean-to to look like from his elementary school days reading about them in history class. His feet would stick out, but between the mass of twining vine, slathered mud-like substance, and a large helping of shrubbery placed atop the structure, at the very least, if it ¡®rained¡¯ he wasn¡¯t going to find himself soaked to the bone.

    Except for his feet. Baby steps were necessary.

    I won¡¯t be winning any awards, Rory mused, but it¡¯s something.

    His timing couldn¡¯t have been any better either. The suns had finally set, leaving a darkness hanging over the forest. Not quite ready to sleep even after all the day''s physical labor, he laid down on the ground, staring at the heavens overhead.

    Rory wasn¡¯t generally an emotive or expressive person; if he had to grade his emotions on a scale, he was confident he was a six or seven. He could get happy, sad, angry, annoyed, frustrated, and every other emotion under the sun, but even as a child, he¡¯d always been even-keeled. There had been few and far between moments where he¡¯d found himself overtaken by emotion.

    One such time was his junior year of high school when, after putting in hours and hours of extra practice and training for the track season, he¡¯d just barely managed to squeak his way out of regionals and make it to sectionals, where he was promptly beaten but at least he¡¯d made it. He¡¯d been unable to hold back the tears of vindicated joy, blood, sweat, and tears having paid off to at least some degree.

    The next time he had even close to as strong an emotional reaction was nine years later, watching one of the athletes he¡¯d worked with at the local high school receive the gold medal for the men''s two-hundred-meter dash at state. He wasn¡¯t the kid''s coach, just an athletic trainer who came by three times a week, but seeing the kid nudge out a victory had left him hollering and pumping his fist in joy.

    After that, well, the highs and lows of life had been rather middling lows and rather unassuming highs. Even when faced with the end of the universe, it was stakes so far above his paygrade he couldn¡¯t be bothered to dredge much of an emotional response forward.

    But staring up at the heavens, for the first time in four years since he¡¯d watched one of the athletes he¡¯d worked with win at the state championship, he felt a surge of emotions.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ beautiful,¡± Rory announced to no one, unable to find any other way to describe it. Dominating a large portion of the sky was a gas giant, eight rings encircling it. It was close enough that in the old universe, they would have collided; gravity would have been too powerful to keep large celestial objects so nearby from being drawn one toward the other. There were two other major celestial objects in the sky: a red moon that he could see the craters on and what looked like a planet half covered in seas and the other half covered in a thick layer of green, whether that was vegetation or not was anyone''s guess. Growing up, he¡¯d only ever known a night sky masked by the city''s light pollution; Chicago wasn¡¯t precisely rural. Going from Earth''s sad night skies to this was almost too much for him. One final surge of emotion washed through him, the wind breezing past his ears.

    ¡°Like a scene right out of someone¡¯s imagination. Beautiful.¡± Rory sighed.

    The entire time, Rory hadn¡¯t considered how odd it was that he could feel the breeze gently flowing past his ears, even while the nearby leaves remained still.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± A voice spoke up from behind him, sighing in agreement as well.

    Jumping up, his admiration for the beautiful night sky turned into surprise. He spun around, brandishing his diminutive knife.

    A woman stood behind him, beside his sad excuse for a home. Her hair was a deep purple, her eyes looked like a pulsing quasar, and her skin could be mistaken for scales if you peered hard enough.

    ¡°W-who are you?¡± Rory questioned, staring at the woman, clearly not human or any other alien life that humanity had been introduced to that he could remember.

    The same sensation of wind sweeping past his ears returned only to fade a moment later, the strange woman tilting her head for a moment before nodding.

    ¡°I am the soil beneath your feet, the sky above your head, the air you breathe. I am of the first Animus. You may think of me as the World Spirit of this planet. And more importantly, just as I am among the first Animus, you are amongst my first.¡±

    Rory nodded as if any of that had made sense before opening his mouth a moment later.

    ¡°Come again?¡±

 5. World Spirit Aelia

    ¡°Come again?¡± Rory asked, doing his best to take in the clearly not-human stranger.

    ¡°I am the world spirit of this planet.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least I heard you correctly.¡± Rory folded his arms one over the other, nodding to himself as he did. ¡°So, like from a fantasy novel or movie?¡±

    The now familiar feeling of wind gently whispering past his ears lasted for only a second as the world spirit smiled.

    ¡°Yes! And while you¡¯re at it, you should really make some of those-¡±

    The strange woman floundered for a moment, apparently at a loss for words.

    ¡°Movies? Books?¡± Rory offered.

    ¡°Yes, books! Vessels of information are the perfect way to nurture those upon my soil.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly a librarian or a bookmaker.¡± Rory frowned slightly, suddenly curious about how one went about making a book in the first place. ¡°But that¡¯s not the point. You¡¯re a ¡®world spirit.¡¯ What exactly does that entail?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ difficult.¡± The world spirit mimicked Rory¡¯s slightly downturned frown. ¡°I¡¯ve only just begun to understand thoughts, concepts, words. I must say, words are tricky things. Things, phrases that make no apparent sense, and yet, at the same time, they do. That''s why I must keep borrowing them.¡±

    ¡°Borrowing them?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I borrow what you all have to offer up here.¡± The world spirit pointed toward her head.

    ¡°Wait, you all?¡± Rory nearly shouted, not missing the weight of what she just said.

    ¡°Why yes. You and the other seven. One for each of my continents.¡±

    Eight people total. So, I¡¯m not alone. And this is, in fact, a planet, a planet with eight continents, though how large is unknown. Rory thought to himself, pleased he¡¯d managed to uncover more truths.

    ¡°What exactly do you mean by borrowing?¡± Rory found his lips moving before he¡¯d even registered his own question, half his mind still considering that he wasn¡¯t alone.

    ¡°You eight, yourself included, are my first. My¡­. Hmm, I¡¯ll have to think of a name for you all. Regardless, as my first, you all share an intimate connection with me. For a budding world spirit such as myself, it can take horrendously long to learn things, which is why I borrow from you. I feel through our bonds the shape of your thoughts and minds, and from there, I gain what I lack.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± Rory lied. ¡°So, you¡¯re reading our minds or something?¡±

    ¡°Reading minds? No. Imagine you begin to ponder a question, but before you can even give proper phrasing or thought to your question, the answer appears before you.¡±

    ¡°Like picking up a book and knowing everything that happens without reading it?¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± The world spirit beamed, extra happy at the reminder of books. ¡°I knew I made the correct choice in picking you.¡±

    ¡°Picking me? I was picked?¡±

    ¡°Well, of course.¡± The world spirit said. She reminds me of some of the more¡­ eager clients I worked with as a trainer. ¡°At first, there was nothing. Then, from nothing, something began to appear. Those somethings began to gather, forming-¡± The world spirit paused again, once more looking lost.

    ¡°Stars, planets, galaxies, etc.?¡± Rory offered, having a feeling he knew what she was about to explain.

    ¡°Exactly! Yes, I was nothing more than a barren rock, barely a sense of anything when I first formed. Time passed; I had no proper perception of time as I was, but I can only imagine it was a long time before it happened.¡±

    ¡°It?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it. You have a word for it, but it doesn¡¯t match the scope either. It encompasses everything.¡±

    ¡°The universe?¡±

    The world spirit nodded vigorously. ¡°Your universe, or how you once understood it, is merely a shallow reflection of what you now exist within.¡±

    ¡°Apologies if I¡¯m rude.¡± Rory offered in advance, aware that offending an entity that referred to itself as a world spirit might be a mistake. ¡°But how exactly do you know all this? You said you only just began to understand thoughts?¡±

    ¡°Call it instinct, plus filling in the blanks with some of the knowledge gleaned from you eight.¡± The world spirit seemed content to leave it at that, or perhaps she simply had no better way to explain it.

    ¡°Fair, I suppose.¡± Rory wished he had someone smarter with him, someone, who would know the exact things to inquire about, but there was nothing he could do about it; wishing wasn¡¯t about to conjure up the professor. ¡°So, ¡®it¡¯ refers to this super-universe, and something important happened.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. From the ¡®universe¡¯ that was cold and lifeless, the first ascension occurred, and energy raced across all of existence. It was what allowed us barren rocks, planets devoid of anything, to gain the capacity for life. Another outrageously long period of time passed -I had only a smidge better sense of time as I was then compared to my existence as a barren rock- but over that time, using the energy permeating everything, I was able to foster growth from nothing but the dust of the universe that had settled upon my crust.¡±

    ¡°Then what?¡± Rory questioned.

    ¡°I ascended.¡± The world spirit seemed immensely pleased with herself. ¡°One of the first to ascend as well.¡±

    ¡°Ascend? What does that even mean?¡± Rory asked.

    ¡°Ascend, to uplift, to-¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, I didn¡¯t mean the literal definition.¡± Rory coughed awkwardly. ¡°I mean, what does this¡­ ascension pertain to?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s simple; it¡¯s one of the first innate Laws, something we world spirits have an instinctual understanding of.¡±

    ¡°Laws? Like the laws of physics?¡±

    ¡°Laws of physics?¡± The world spirit scrunched up her face; a moment later, the sensation that Rory had come to recognize as her probing of his thoughts lasted for only a split second before she nodded. ¡°Ahh, yes, something like that. Many of those still hold true, but as I am not a being from the past, I can¡¯t say that I can explain which of those Laws still hold true myself. At the very least, there seems to be something like that ¡®gravity¡¯ binding things, but perhaps not as tightly.¡±

    Rory was finding himself thankful that the world spirit could seemingly snatch the explanations for things she was unsure of from his own mind, else there¡¯d be a lot more pausing to explain things he himself wasn¡¯t sure he could confidently explain.

    ¡°So, these¡­ Laws, whatever they may be, you instinctively know some of them? Such as this ascension thing?¡±

    ¡°Yes! And Ascension is the most important of them all!¡± The world spirit clapped her hands, the trees nearby trembling as if sharing her excitement. ¡°Our existence is made of countless smaller, less significant universes becoming one. The base was formed from your original universe, but the energy and many of the things you wouldn¡¯t understand come from the other dimensions of your past reality. The most important point is that countless universes'' infinitesimal energy wasn¡¯t simply added; they were multiplied one against the other. All the energy of your universe put together couldn¡¯t compare to the energy you¡¯d be able to find in a single system. That much energy can¡¯t simply exist in perpetuity. Hmm, perpetuity. I like that word!¡±

    ¡°Focus, please.¡± Rory snapped his fingers in front of her, a trick he¡¯d picked up for getting scatterbrained colleagues back on track.

    ¡°Right, right, sorry. All that energy begins to make us more. Gather enough, and you can achieve an Ascension, where you break through your former limits and potential. For us planets, you can think of it as starting from zero. No thoughts, emotions, or anything other than the barest sense of potential. The first ascension allowed us to begin to cultivate that potential, which turned out to be life itself. From the first forms of life, we gained the ability to gather more of that same energy, a cycle of give and take, harmony. After long enough of that, the veil lifted. Suddenly, I wasn¡¯t just a planet; I had become part of that potential.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a lot.¡± Rory wasn¡¯t sure how else to respond, trying his best to wrap his mind around the entirely alien concept, so unlike the universe of hard science he¡¯d once known.

    ¡°This planet formed a world spirit, but not as I am currently. With just a hint more awareness, I was sentient more than I was sapient; I was preparing to start seeding the smallest forms of complex organisms as far across my lands as I could when I sensed something. Within the energy permeating everything, I could feel things like me. Infinitesimally small, yet they didn¡¯t escape my awareness once I¡¯d felt it. So, rather than seeding myself with more advanced life, as I figure many of the other early ascending planets did, I spent that excess energy looking deeper, curious as to what this feeling was, until I found something marvelous. Like gems hidden within the depths, there were tiny troves of energy that screamed of life, thought, of potential. I spent even more time and energy exploring this potential new curiosity when, at last, I uncovered, uncovered, well....¡± The world spirit gestured vaguely at Rory, who simply pointed at himself.

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Well, not you, not at first. I found those who had been ferried over from the before. At this point, I had wasted nearly three billion years of head start, and so I had to act if I wanted to catch up. Whereas the others have likely been cultivating their capacity, making steady progress towards their next ascension, I had remained as I was, stagnant as I searched for what had caught my attention; the only thing I¡¯d developed in that time was my ability to think, though not in the human fashion. Spending another half a billion years, I gathered all the strength I could muster to begin peering into these life capsules of the before, feeling for those who felt right. And that was how I found you and the seven others. Four other humans, two osferians, and one varasay.¡±

    ¡°Why so many humans? Wait, how do you even know the names of us all?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t know what you beings were called until after I¡¯d begun growing through our shared bonds. As for why so many humans? That is simple enough.¡±

    Rory waited patiently as she once more gestured vaguely, this time all around.

    ¡°Humans were¡­ interesting. You were by far the least abundant being out there, but what made me so inclined for your kind is that while rarer than the other races, your constitution more than made up for it; only a few others, such as the Osferian and the Varasay, felt like they would work as well.¡±

    It reminded Rory of why humans had once been enlisted to aid in the universal war. Sure, humans hadn¡¯t had as much time to grow as a civilization, and human tech and understanding of the universe at large were barely considered adequate compared to the races that had expanded across the stars. But coming from a planet that was nearing the absolute gravitational limit for intelligent life, humans were one of the sturdiest and most adaptable species out there while also still having room for intelligence.

    Rory decided he¡¯d had enough of standing, so dropping to the ground, he leaned back, hands behind his head, as he continued his interrogation of the living embodiment of the planet.

    ¡°So, the other planets have had an extra few billion years¡¯ worth of time on you to cultivate energy for this¡­ ascension. They did this by seeding life on themselves as soon as they could after their first ascension. But you decided not to because you were¡­curious?¡±

    ¡°Essentially.¡± The world spirit joined him, lying casually on the ground a few feet from him. ¡°But my gamble has paid off. Even with three and a half billion years¡¯ worth of gathered energy, it was only enough capacity for eight of you. Your form of life is exponentially more advanced than the simple microorganisms the other planets have been slowly advancing to more ascended forms of life.¡±

    ¡°Forced evolution,¡± Rory said. ¡°Darwin would be proud.¡±

    ¡°Whose Darwin?¡±

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Not important.¡± Rory shook his head in dismissal of the question. ¡°So, you plucked eight of us. Then what?¡±

    ¡°As I said, it paid off. In fact, in just the time since you eight have been active, you¡¯ve gathered me enough energy to ascend again.¡±

    ¡°A few hours were enough to overtake a three-and-a-half billion year deficit?¡±

    ¡°You must understand something. This isn¡¯t the universe you once knew, even if it may have a passing resemblance.¡± The world spirit pointed at the stars overhead. ¡°It¡¯s raw and unshapen and volatile; Laws are being made and even broken; the planets, as we became world spirits, simply knew that through Ascension, we could be the ones to dictate Laws going forward. It¡¯s a race of sorts, one that is woven into our existence for reasons even we do not understand. I¡¯m currently explaining this very same thing to three of the others; another two are attempting to refute me, and finally, the last two have accepted it as is. The point is this universe doesn¡¯t follow straightforward, concise rules and logic. Significance plays just as important a role in everything as do the particles that makeup everything. Sure, the others have had three and half billion years to press the microorganisms they seeded to advance into more complex life, but they still are far less than what you eight are. And most importantly, for all that, none achieved the monumental task of creating the first home in all the universe.¡±

    As if to drive the point home, the world spirit turned her gaze to Rory¡¯s lean-to.

    ¡°That thing?¡± Rory, acting very unlike himself, spluttered. ¡°That was enough for you to gather the energy to ascend?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it was. It was a universally significant act, but don¡¯t treat it too highly either. As I was only in my first tier of ascension, the energy required for my second ascension was exceptionally small. Your home, the first home, was a source of enough significance that the greater universe responded by feeding me the energy to ascend and then some, but I reckon there are others out there who noticed the life that lay hidden within the very energy of existence and have their own humans or such who will soon likewise finish their own homes. While the act of building a home isn¡¯t as significant as building the first home, it itself is still probably enough to reach the second tier of ascension.¡±

    Rory¡¯s head was beginning to pound, nearing the limit of what he could intake before his brain would simply refuse anything else. Holding up a hand to stop the world spirit from launching into any more explanations, Rory sighed.

    ¡°You are a world spirit. You are responsible for us being here. You grow, er, ascend, as we do things here. This makes you more of yourself, or whatever that exactly means. Anything else I should know?¡±

    ¡°There isn¡¯t much more I know.¡± The world spirit laughed. It sounded more like the whistling of the breeze so much then it did an actual laugh. ¡°I¡¯ve explained everything I, as a world spirit, understand by the simple nature of my existence. You¡¯ll have to figure everything else on your own, or at least wait until my next ascension, which may be¡­ unwise.¡±

    ¡°Unwise? Why?¡±

    ¡°My dear¡­ hmm, I still don¡¯t have a name for you eight. Founder¡­ no, that doesn¡¯t sound right.¡±

    Rory snapped his fingers, not even bothering to say anything.

    ¡°An issue to settle later, you¡¯re correct. What I was saying is that now that I¡¯ve reached my next ascension, I will be taking steps forward as my own capacity has increased yet again. That means I will be able to seed life more complex than what my brethren could, though not as complex as you or your seven peers. That means you must be ready. Part of my own path forward is through your growth, as with your growth, I achieve my growth, so I cannot and will not coddle you. You will have five days while I channel the energy of my ascension, and in those five days, I suggest you attempt your own ascension, or you will find surviving difficult; you will not last to see my next ascension if you remain as you are.¡±

    Oh, a warning, or perhaps a threat? Rory mused. He found himself rather unphased, perhaps because he¡¯d not expected things to have been this easy to have begun with.

    Rory hadn¡¯t even begun to consider what even went into this so called ¡®ascension¡¯ when the world spirit began standing up, dusting herself off like Rory would expect from a human.

    ¡°I enjoyed this conversation with you, my most successful one of eight so far, but I must leave and concentrate my mind inward. So, I leave you with one more message. Do not attempt to find the other seven; as I mentioned, they¡¯ve each been placed within their own continent. It would take you approximately seven hundred and eighty-six thousand years to reach them on foot. In due time, you will come together, but much as I must race with my brethren to ascend, you must race with the others. You will grow far faster through struggle and competition against one another until one unifies the rest. I ask that you not kill each other, but once I allow you all to find each other, you will seek to defeat each other, after which you shall be brought under a single banner before you seek out beyond the stars. Now, there is no specific reward for being the one to unify the rest, but I believe each of you shall find an intrinsic enough reason to push yourselves against each other. Now, I must bid you farewell.¡±

    Rory didn¡¯t miss that over the course of their discussion the world spirit seemed to grow more and more eloquent, likely the result of exposure to eight minds worth of information, and so he simply bowed his head in farewell. That was until one last question piqued his curiosity.

    ¡°Do you have a name?¡± Rory asked.

    ¡°Ahh, that is where another beat you to the punch if you were intending to be the one to name me. I am the world spirit, Aelia, of the planet Aelia.¡±

    And just like that, she simply vanished, the trees rustling quietly as a slow wind petered through.

    Well. Rory thought to himself as he gingerly flexed his hands and feet before slowly making his way into his shelter and dropping down into it, exhaustion hitting him like a bullet train. That was eventful.

    -----------------------------------------

    He couldn''t deny it as Rory stood with his hands on his hips, taking in the sight before him.

    The world spirit had been right, and the proof was right in front of him. His lean-to of all things.

    Or rather, what had happened to his lean-to. Perhaps it had been during the darkness of the night that he hadn¡¯t noticed, or perhaps it had happened while he was asleep, but there was no denying that it had been changed. When he¡¯d finished his lean-to originally, it was barely a functional shelter, bound together by excessive amounts of the twined vine and plastered obsidian-colored mud filling the gaps between the chopped branches.

    Now, it looked as if the shelter had grown out from the ground itself, a single continuous wooden shelter, a tree that had been forced to grow into such an irregular form. It wasn¡¯t any more furnished or extravagant than before, which was to say it was completely empty, but that hadn¡¯t changed the obvious reality before him.

    ¡°Ascension, eh?¡± Rory let out a quiet whistle. His only guess was that given his shelter had been the source of the world spirit¡¯s second ascension; his small shelter had benefited as well.

    ¡°Or.¡± Rory began to pace slowly, sorting his thoughts. ¡°Maybe anything that¡¯s made on purpose can ascend if it¡¯s exposed to¡­ well, whatever the ¡®energy¡¯ that causes such a phenomenon is.¡±

    It was a distinction that was irrelevant for the time being, but it was one he¡¯d make sure to investigate later. For now, he had more pressing concerns.

    So¡­ How does one cause an ascension?

    He¡¯d been warned by the world spirit that he had only a few days to undergo an ascension, or else the creatures she would soon release upon the planet would tear him apart.

    Well, she hadn¡¯t said the ¡®tear apart¡¯ thing herself, but Rory could fill in the blanks.

    I have no intention of dying now of all times.

    When the end of the universe had come, Rory had accepted it, for there was nothing in his power to do, so there was no point fretting. Being turned into monster food? That was something he could fight, something that he¡¯d do his very best to avoid.

    ¡°What do I know about Ascension?¡± Rory mused aloud. ¡°First, the energy for Ascension can come through natural means, though I¡¯m not sure if that is only for planets. Otherwise, it comes from ¡®significance.¡¯¡±

    Saying it out loud, Rory couldn¡¯t ignore how silly it all sounded, but given everything he¡¯d seen, he wasn¡¯t about to start doubting now.

    ¡°So¡­ what is significance anyways?¡±

    No one answered Rory. Part of him had been hoping the world spirit might pop out and explain, but she had said she¡¯d be busy and that she also wouldn¡¯t be looking to coddle him or the seven others.

    Right. I¡¯m not alone.

    The thought was hardly comforting given they were literally continents away, not to mention that the world spirit had made it a point to explain how they would not be acting as a team to start.

    If I can¡¯t do anything about them, and they can¡¯t do anything about me, no point putting energy into that train of thought.

    ¡°Right, so, back to the topic at hand, Ascension and Significance. Significant feats¡­ Significant accomplishments?¡± Rory tested his thoughts out loud, sounding them out as he sought any glaring errors in his logic.

    Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it, there simply wasn¡¯t enough reasoning or evidence to give him a more concrete idea as he considered it.

    ¡°Do, then question after,¡± Rory mumbled, a phrase he¡¯d preached often.

    Pacing in a circle, Rory thought his current theory over. It seemed logical enough, so for the time, he¡¯d act in a fashion that assumed he was on the right track. The only problem was if what mattered was significance, surely being the one to make the very first structure in the universe, he should have ascended from such an accomplishment as well.

    Unless? Rory stopped, picking at a new thought avenue.

    He was assuming that he hadn¡¯t, but what if it was just a matter of how that energy divvied up? The world spirit Aelia had explained how his accomplishment had provided her with the quasi-mystical energy needed for ascension, as it had also done with his structure, the direct epicenter of the accomplishment. It could have simply been that the ascension energy had primarily gone elsewhere, the world spirit getting ninety-nine percent of it, his little shack getting nine-tenths of a percent, and finally, himself only receiving the last little dredges.

    If only I had a way to see just how much I gained and how much I need.

    Chuckling quietly, Rory shook his head. After all, this wasn¡¯t a video game he could pull up the menu screen to see his progress. Amused, perhaps more so than was warranted, Rory played into the thought, squinting his eyes and imagining a menu appearing. After several seconds of nothing, he returned to pacing, snorting once more at the childish thought.

    ¡°Of course, things don¡¯t work that way¡­¡± Stopping mid-sentence, he shook his head before blinking vigorously. He wasn¡¯t sure what, but something seemed off, like a darting fly constantly fluttering around his peripheral vision.

    Except, as the world spirit had informed him, there was no other life on the planet discounting the other seven, at least not for a few days.

    So why could he not shake the feeling of something barely visible hanging out at the corner of his vision?

    Rory stopped shaking his head, focusing on the spot in his vision. Like something slowly gaining resolution on a blurry screen, there appeared what looked an awful lot like a loading bar, three quarters full.

    No¡­ Unless?

    Thoughts turning back to his silly attempt at levity from seconds earlier, Rory closed his eyes, focusing his attention and imagination as strongly as he could. Opening his eyes a ten count later, Rory was greeted with something that clearly wasn¡¯t normal.

    No, it wasn¡¯t a full-on menu screen showing stats, not nearly anything so gaudy. Rather, the loading bar had two sets of numerals. On the left side, there was a simple ¡®A0¡¯. As for the right side, marking full completion, was ¡®A1¡¯.

    ¡°A0, and A1¡­ Ascension zero, and Ascension one?¡±

    It was the only thing he could think of that seemed to make sense. If it were really what he suspected, then it also would reinforce his thought that he had gained energy from the creation of his shelter, just not enough to personally ascend with the scraps he¡¯d been left with.

    An idea popping into mind, Rory rushed over to look at where he¡¯d left his makeshift tools, only to feel disappointment as he examined them. They had remained unchanged.

    Meaning it¡¯s not just as simple as ¡®make stuff.¡¯

    It was a disappointment but not a setback.

    Another idea came to mind, and reaching out, he swiped two fingers to the right, like he was closing an app on his phone. Responding to his intention, the tiny interface vanished.

    Interesting, Rory thought. He had doubts that the universe was operating on video game logic. If anything, it was more likely that it was simply how his mind had processed and understood information that it instinctively knew, much like how the world spirit seemed to know things as well.

    Flicking his fingers back and forth, he tested summoning and dismissing the interface and could even do it with a mere thought, but the act of physically flicking his fingers seemed to have the best results, not requiring him to imagine the interface appearing like when he did so mentally.

    ¡°Well, seeing as I have some time, and I¡¯m not starting from nothing¡­¡± Rory said aloud. The lack of living creatures meant it fell on him to break the silence occasionally, lest he start to go stir-crazy.

    Taking a seat next to his shelter, he flicked his fingers, resummoning the interface as he sat cross-legged with his eyes closed.

    And now I wait.

    If his theory that he¡¯d only gotten the dredges of the ascension energy for building his shelter were true, it meant that the energy required for the world spirit to ascend was exponentially greater than he as an individual, a tier zero ascension human. If that were the case, then perhaps the latent background energy that permeated the planet would be enough to finish the job.

    Not wanting to flounder cluelessly for the next few days, though, he¡¯d pulled up the ascension progress bar with the intent of checking it for any changes. If after two or three hours he¡¯d seen no changes, he¡¯d give up on the idea, searching for clues as to how to gather the rest of the energy needed for his first ascension later.

    With nothing to do but wait patiently, that¡¯s exactly what Rory did.

    The first half an hour was a rather boring slog. With no distractions, his mind simply wandered.

    Half an hour after that, his wandering mind slowly returned to his immediate sense of self. Without the normal concerns of his old life and world and an exceptionally small understanding of this new world, there were only so many things for his mind to wander to. Mind back to himself, he sat there, head empty, the only occasional thought being a wandering mental glance to the progress bar.

    It wasn¡¯t until roughly an hour and a half after he¡¯d first settled down and half an hour since his mind had emptied of excess thoughts that he began to feel the familiar buzzing field of static electricity from when he¡¯d first appeared. Thinking it was a sign he was thirsty, Rory nearly opened his eyes to quench his assumed thirst when he froze. The progress bar, which had been unmoving for the last hour and a half, had flickered. It was only a slight bit, but it was the first sign of movement since he¡¯d sat down. No longer sparing a thought to moving, he remained frozen like a statue. It was how he finally found his first breakthrough. As the itchy, buzzing static seeped deeper and deeper into him, the speed at which the bar filled increased. He remained locked in place for a full half an hour more before even his excitement at seeing progress was overwhelmed by what felt like a colony of ants crawling under his skin, the primal part of his brain no longer capable of being silenced when it screamed at him to move.

    Jumping up, he ran over to the pond of mystery liquid, taking several deep gulps as the itchy static faded away into the background until it was no longer noticeable.

    ¡°So that¡¯s what that feeling was.¡± Rory sighed as he leaned back, resting his hands behind his back. He had assumed it had been caused by the two suns burning him with whatever rays they produced, but he''d been wrong.

    The static had something to do with the ¡®energy¡¯ that existed all around him. There seemed to be a distinct difference in the rate at which it gathered within him depending on whether he was moving about or actively attempting to gather it as he had just been. The severity of the discomfort it spurred on was a dilemma, but nothing that couldn¡¯t be acclimated to and overcome with proper discipline.

    What was more intriguing was that whatever the mystery liquid was, it didn¡¯t just quench his thirst. Almost as soon as the liquid had hit his stomach, the still slowly climbing progress bar had instantly stopped, as if it forcefully expelled whatever concentration of energy had remained lingering.

    ¡°Baby steps. Crawl first. Worry about running later.¡± Rory itched at his nose as he spoke, a lingering response to the static that had clung to him so tightly. Glancing at the progress bar, he noted that for as much progress as it had made, there was still a substantial chunk remaining, perhaps a full day''s worth of sitting. If he were continuously disrupted by his own body''s instinct to shake away the scratchy static crawling along his skin, he¡¯d cut it close, even with the extra day or two he¡¯d have before the world spirit had a consummate grasp of mastery over her new ascension.

    ¡°Already survived the end of the universe, what¡¯s a little itch?¡±

 6. The First Ascension

    Rory took a deep breath, double-checking the progress bar at the bottom of his vision.

    It was time.

    He¡¯d managed to fill the rest of the bar up over the next day and a half; it had been a stretch of stopping and starting as he did his best to acclimate to the sensation of drawing in ascension energy-

    There needs to be a better term for that. Rory shook his head, mentally fumbling over the words ¡®ascension energy.¡¯

    -but even as he¡¯d steadily adjusted, he couldn¡¯t fully clear himself of the damnable itching like bugs were crawling beneath his skin after spending long enough in his near mediation. ¡®Near mediation¡¯ only because Rory wasn¡¯t sure what mediation actually encompassed. He¡¯d never been the kind to subscribe to all that ¡®self-introspection¡¯ and ¡®inner peace¡¯ stuff.

    Regardless, he¡¯d reached the pinnacle of the mountain, one step away from crossing out of what was into what he would become. Rory couldn¡¯t deny the tiny budding kernel of excitement forming within the pit of his stomach. It reminded him a tad of when he¡¯d been younger, during his high school days as an athlete. The seconds right before the start of a race where all that was left was to give everything he had, after which what would happen would happen, nothing more he could do to prepare. That¡¯s what he was feeling now, staring at the progress bar.

    Who knows what will happen?

    He¡¯d only seen the effects of one ascension, his little hut evolving from a barely standing excuse of a lean-toto to the sturdy, almost organic-looking structure he had now.

    Only one way to find out.

    With one final breath in, he ¡®broke¡¯ the seal he¡¯d begun to sense within his mind, the barrier between ascensions. All at once, he felt the accumulated energy flooding through his body, but more than that, something else was preoccupying his mind.

    Pain. Rory collapsed instantly, writhing on the ground. If gathering the energy had felt like ants crawling under his skin, now it was as if ants made of searing embers were ravenously ripping through him, chewing apart his body as his mind whited out, blocking the pain that threatened to shatter his mind. He was being unmade, a scarf pulled apart a thread at a time, before those same threads were re-woven into something new.

    He couldn¡¯t say precisely what as that ''something new'' was, though, as darkness stole away the last few specks of conscious thought.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°Ow,¡± Rory grumbled, his entire body aching as if he¡¯d had a full-body workout devised by the devil. He was curled up in a ball, several feet from his shelter and covered in muck as if he had been rolling around in the dirt.

    What happened?

    The last he had recalled, he had been about to breach the barrier between ascensions when-

    ¡°Oh, righth.¡± Rory sighed, his sore body protesting as he stretched out and rose to his feet even more slowly and unsteadily.

    Pain. His world had become pain, and then he¡¯d blacked out.

    Rubbing at his eye, Rory began slowly running through some of his more favored stretches, massaging the worst aches with a liberal application of deep, circular movements of his thumbs digging into his muscles.

    ¡°Hurths,¡± Rory mumbled, tasting blood as he realized he¡¯d bitten his tongue at some point, explaining the lisp. Opening and closing his jaw slowly, he carefully pushed out words, enunciating slowly.

    ¡°The quick cat called carefully quivering cockroaches cowards.¡±

    Nodding to himself, satisfied that he didn¡¯t have a permanent speech impediment and that it was just a temporary injury that only forced him to slow his speech, he took a moment to examine his surroundings.

    Whatever he¡¯d been expecting, it hadn¡¯t been for nothing to have happened. Sure, he was sore as hell, but that aside, his body felt mostly the same, and he hadn¡¯t seemed to have physically changed much, if at all.

    So, what then?

    If the changes weren¡¯t outward, perhaps they had been directed inward.

    Gesturing with two fingers like he was swapping tabs on a touch screen, he pulled up his progress bar, pausing momentarily as he took in the changes.

    First, the progress bar was surprisingly not empty, about ten percent filled.

    Either I did something by ascending and gained more ascension energy, or, alternatively, rather than displaying progress as a zero to complete per ascension, it shows a cumulative progression.

    In simple terms, if each ascension required a tenfold increase in total energy, he¡¯d always start at ten percent at the start of the subsequent ascension.

    Seems like a solid enough explanation.

    Moving on from the partially filled ascension bar, he took stock of several new interfaces. First, there was a diagram of his body. Acting as if he were tapping on a screen, he selected the diagram, which pulled up more detailed information. First, a large eighty-seven percent hovered above the entire diagram.

    Eighty-seven percent? Percent what?

    Curious, he mentally selected the diagram¡¯s head, corresponding with what he assumed was his actual head. It instantly zoomed in, displaying a ninety-five percent hovering over it. Two sets of words were displayed next to the diagram of his head. The first clearly said ¡®Lacerated tongue¡¯. The next was just a few sets of question marks.

    Interesting.

    Rory tsk¡¯ed his tongue, wincing as he was reminded of the pain.

    I think I¡¯ve got an idea.

    The first eighty-seven he¡¯d seen was an average weighted estimate of his overall health, and the ninety-five was the estimated well-being of his head specifically. The lacerated tongue was an obvious enough explanation; he¡¯d bit his tongue when he had blacked out earlier.

    So, what are the other question marks?

    ¡°Perhaps from hitting my head when I fell?¡± Rory asked aloud, testing if perhaps the world spirit would appear and explain. She did not, but what did appear were several more words that replaced the question marks.

    Head contusion- minor.

    So, it could report what was affecting him, but with the caveat that he either needed to figure it out himself or someone else would have to diagnose him; otherwise, they would appear as nothing more than question marks. Furthermore, while the interface was inspired by his imagination of a video game interface, it was clear that the world wasn¡¯t suddenly operating purely off of such trite rules as a video game would. He didn¡¯t appear to have any health points that one might expect from a game; while the interface could give him an idea of his overall well-being, it still seemed to matter where and how he got hurt.

    Easy enough.

    It was a convenient little addition, if not directly useful. While he¡¯d successfully ascended, he¡¯d gotten himself decently banged up in the process, so it wasn¡¯t without risk.

    Apart from the body diagram, one other major thing stood out to him: what appeared to be a list of sorts with a two-word title.

    ¡°Significance Triumphs.¡± Rory pondered the meaning and, specifically, what was listed beneath.

    The first was one he was aware of already¡ª Creation of the Original Shelter.

    The world spirit had informed him that his shitty little lean-to had been not just the first shelter built on the planet, but it had been the very first built within the entire universe. Beneath it, something else was listed that raised his eyebrows.

    First Ascender*

    It wasn¡¯t just the proclamation that he had been the first to achieve their ascension, world spirits notwithstanding, that was striking. It was that there was an asterisk indicating that wasn¡¯t the end of the story. Curious, he tapped on the asterisk. Instantly, an arrow branched off with a tiny blurb of text.

    ¡°Law creation permitted for the achievement of First Ascender.¡± Rory read the words aloud, tapping his foot on the ground.

    Law creation permitted. What does that mean?

    Now that he thought about it, he could vaguely recall the world spirit mentioning how the world spirits could dictate the creation of new Laws for the universe through Ascension.

    Apparently, that wasn¡¯t limited to just the world spirits, judging by what his little display indicated.

    Does it have something to do with the instinctual knowledge the world spirit mentioned she had?

    Much like how all living things came out instinctively breathing, within this universe, there were certain things one knew, such as when they¡¯d earned the right for a Law creation. Now that he¡¯d framed his understanding through the lens of a video game interface, it was how his mind was interpreting it, something unique to himself if he had to guess.

    A twinkle lit in his eyes as what could almost pass by for a smirk appeared on his face. Rory typically wasn¡¯t one for silly jokes or pranks, but the idea he¡¯d just had amused him something fierce, such a ridiculous notion that he had to test it. It was the perfect chance to learn more about what a Law creation entailed anyway. Making certain that he was sure of what Law he wanted to create, he felt a static shock at the back of his neck the moment he decided. The display interface winked out of existence, replaced by five words and a spinning circle.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Updating: Please check again later.

    Satisfied with his stupid joke, he settled against a tree with a rather perfect groove for leaning against. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift, yawning. He could have attempted to gather energy for his next ascension, but based on his progress bar, he¡¯d need nearly ten times as long for the next ascension, something like a week and a half or two weeks straight of pure meditation. If he wasted an hour or two dozing, he was confident it wouldn¡¯t be the end of the world.

    And if it was, well, he¡¯d lived through one already.

    Remaining where he was, eyes closed, he half-napped until, perhaps half an hour later, the sound of a soft ping notified him. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by two things.

    First, his interface, which had opened on its own, except now it was displayed upon what looked to be a softly toasted gold-colored display.

    Second was the world spirit, Aelia, staring at him several feet away with her arms crossed over her chest.

    ¡°Can I help you?¡± Rory questioned. He was sure she was meant to be out of commission for at least a little longer, so seeing her standing there was somewhat of a surprise.

    ¡°I think I should be the one asking questions.¡± The world spirit frowned, flicking two fingers in his direction. ¡°Care to explain this?¡±

    A second display had flickered into existence, a display that wasn¡¯t his display; instead of being on a soft golden-hued screen, it was a rich duo-toned fusion of arboreal green and earthly brown.

    ¡°Oh, it worked.¡± Rory nodded stiffly, suppressing an amused snort.

    ¡°It worked? That¡¯s it?¡± The world spirit shook her head, frowning even more deeply. ¡°What even is it?¡±

    ¡°I was permitted a Law creation, so I used it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I can see that. I¡¯m not sure you understand the scope of your law creation, though.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®the scope''?¡± It was Rory¡¯s turn to frown, his amusement at his universal prank beginning to fade. ¡°All I did was set a rule that everyone would interpret things in a way fashioned after video games.¡±

    ¡°Ignoring that I don¡¯t know what a video game is.¡± Aelia scowled. ¡°Your Law reached further than you intended. The ramifications of it had so much backing energy that it instantly kicked me out of my ascension progress prematurely.¡±

    That explains why she seems annoyed with me.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky I was nearly done anyway. Perhaps I should thank you; your completed ascension and the others initiating their ascensions gave me enough residuals to finish early, the effects of which you¡¯ll see shortly. That aside, something as simple as what you thought you did wouldn¡¯t have that much of an energized effect on the entire universe.¡±

    ¡°So, what did I do?¡± Rory asked with a hint of unease in his tone.

    ¡°That is what several of your peers and I are investigating. To speed things up, I will peek into your mind.¡±

    ¡°I thought you said you don¡¯t read minds.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t, but I won¡¯t be as gentle about the process as I have been.¡±

    As soon as she finished speaking, Rory felt when she began hunting for answers from within his mind. She hadn¡¯t been lying either. Whereas before, it was like a gentle breeze caressing his ears, now it felt as if a savagely cold winter breeze was scouring the grooves of his brain. It held him clamped in place for several minutes before it vanished as abruptly as it had started.

    ¡°Well, I think I have a better understanding now.¡± Aelia sighed; her frown had lessened, but she still didn¡¯t seem entirely pleased with him. ¡°I don¡¯t think it would have been possible under average circumstances, but as the universe is still young and the number of Laws established are still so few, you managed to sneak in a major Law addition.¡±

    ¡°Major Law?¡±

    The world spirit was silent, her display reappearing as she tapped something a few times before looking at Rory.

    ¡°Take a look at yours.¡±

    Doing as he was told, Rory opened his interface. In addition to the fact that it was now on a proper display that anyone could see, there were some changes and additions that hadn¡¯t been there before. Most glaring was the flashing red exclamation mark next to what appeared to be an envelope.

    Information exchange initiated by World Spirit Aelia. Accept?

    Direct beneath the notification was a simple Yes/No prompt, and with a mental nod, the envelope opened as a small block of text appeared.

    Information pertaining to Laws. Classification: World Tier and above.

    ¡°What¡¯s a world tier?¡± Rory paused, looking at the world spirit.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! I figure it means it is information that normally only those on the level of a world spirit would be permitted to learn automatically.¡±

    Being one of the first life forms comes with its perks then.

    Pushing the thought aside, he glanced back at the information, quickly reading it.

    Laws. Universal rules that form the basis of existence. Minor Laws: Laws that can be created through standard ascension achievements from a top ranker. Major Laws: Laws that can only be made through a monumental ascension tier up from the leading Ascender of any given classification. Major Laws have a universal scope and breadth of potential growth possibilities.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Rory understood why the world spirit was so worked up. Laws were the ¡®reward¡¯ of the universe, something allowed to those leading the Ascension rat race, meant to be boons that, while impactful, were limited in their scope, Minor Laws. Whatever he¡¯d done had crossed into the Major Law territory, and furthermore, it had come far too soon; ascending from zero to one was hardly a monumental accomplishment, after all.

    ¡°So, why was I awarded a Major Law?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got one idea.¡± The world spirit curled her wrist as a large thicket of bushes instantly sprouted, twining around each other until they formed a living chair she promptly sat upon. ¡°It¡¯s because you, as well as the others, did achieve a monumental ascension, given that you weren¡¯t of this universe. Aside from planets which began at ascension zero, living things all begin at ascension one, if they¡¯re born of this universe.¡±

    ¡°But we aren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and you were the first to ascend. I might add that you were the first by only half an hour. Regardless, you led the pack and achieved a major ascension milestone.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Rory raised his hand, feeling like a student again for a moment.

    ¡°Yes?¡± The world spirit raised an eyebrow at him. It was impressive how much she¡¯d changed in only a few days. Their first interaction, she¡¯d given him the impression of an eager teenage girl, and now she had the poise and grace of a woman well into the prime of her life, no longer held back by lack of life experience and raging hormones.

    I guess that¡¯s what exposure to the conscious life experiences of eight collective individuals would lead to.

    ¡°Are all ascensions supposed to be that painful?¡± Rory was worried that they''d only get worse if that were only the first ascension.

    ¡°No, I highly doubt that. What you all experienced, or as three of your peers are currently experiencing, was the physical matter of your body being replaced, atom by atom. You were all effectively exotic matter life forms. The nature of your exotic matter bodies would result in your bodies rejecting the larger amounts of ascension energy needed to reach higher, which would likely lead to you all dying a rather gruesome death as the quantum forces holding your atoms together finally gave out, rejecting the incompatible energy of this universe.¡±

    Clearly, someone on the planet is feeding her more advanced knowledge than I can.

    ¡°Got it. Back to the matter at hand. What does this Major Law actually entail? Obviously, it¡¯s gotten a little larger in scope than I meant.¡±

    ¡°You imposed a Law that interweaves Every. Single. Living. Being. Of the universe under one encompassing system. A self-learning, self-adjusting system that can create and apply micro-laws at whim, gathers insight and furthers itself in the same fashion as I, a world spirit, can do with you eight, except to an even more expansive degree.¡±

    Aelia stood up, walking over to stand next to him.

    ¡°Dismiss the notification. I¡¯ve already established with several others that others cannot directly interfere with your interface unless explicitly allowed.¡±

    Again, doing as he was told, he dismissed the notification message regarding Laws.

    ¡°There, you see that?¡±

    The world spirit was pointing toward the Significance Triumphs, under which only a single thing was listed now.

    ¡°Architect of the Precursors?¡± Rory looked at the world spirit, hoping she might have answers.

    ¡°Select it.¡± She commanded.

    Rory did so as an off-shooting arrow opened a sub-section.

    Architect of the Precursors. Formally ¡®First Ascender¡¯ and ¡®Creation of the First Shelter¡¯. Status increased with the foundation of the System.

    Rank: Unique. Parallel Vocation created. Those by the name of Architect are regarded as the progenitors of monumental accomplishments, both literal and metaphorical.

    Rory folded his arms, taking in the message. ¡°It¡¯s a little more¡­. Flowery in description than I expected?¡±

    ¡°It has to do with your Law establishment. You painted the universe in a new color; everything will be markedly dramatic, as you might expect from those ¡®video games¡¯ that existed within your universe, specifically your species. That means even simple descriptions will be vague and largely unhelpful, as you can see.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Rory nodded. He hadn¡¯t played many games in the last few years, but he could at least remember his college years, where he¡¯d occasionally spend his nights playing whatever game had caught his attention. ¡°So, what does it mean? Is it just a fancy way of saying that I built a shelter, was one of the first here, and established a Law?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s impossible to say for now. It¡¯s too new to be certain. I¡¯m more curious about this mention of a ¡®Vocation.¡¯ Two of the others have also earned a Vocation.¡±

    Rory only just noticed another new area upon his display, titled, rather unsurprisingly, Vocation. ¡°Architect of the Precursors. Unique. Ascendance: Zero. Talent: Minor.¡± Rory felt like he was speaking an alien language. While the words individually made sense, strung together, he was lost as to what was being conveyed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what any of this means.¡± Rory finally sighed.

    ¡°And neither are the rest of us.¡± The world spirit said flatly. ¡°As I¡¯m bound to the system as well, thanks to you, I seem to have my own distinct version.¡±

    Twisting her hand like she was turning something around to show him, her display swiveled. He noticed that, unlike his display, which showed a diagram of a body, her display showed a slowly spinning globe of a planet he didn¡¯t recognize.

    So that¡¯s what Aelia looks like from a space-eyed view.

    Not only that, unlike how he had a section for Vocation, the world spirit had a section labeled ¡®Expansion.¡¯ Under it, it read ¡®Settlement status: Zero Percent. Population: Eight. Dungeon Count: Zero. Rift Count: Zero. Solar status: Independent.¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand yours any better than mine,¡± Rory admitted with a shrug.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to.¡± The world spirit sighed. ¡°Your little ¡®Joke¡¯ was far-reaching, and now who knows what it may mean. I expected grand things from my chosen eight, but I didn¡¯t expect it quite so¡­ soon.¡±

    ¡°So, now what?¡± Rory questioned honestly.

    ¡°The same as before. Ignoring that there is now some new element to account for, the overall goal is pursuing my ascension, and your ascensions to fuel that growth, remains the same. Within the next twenty-four hours, you will begin to see the fruits of my ascension labors. Your goal is to overcome them and use them to push yourself to grow even more. How and in what direction do you take it? Well, that is your prerogative. I¡¯ve reached the limit of my intellectual growth possible through the osmosis of the eight of you. At the very least, with the establishment of this System, if you have questions, you can direct them there instead. I can focus my attention inward rather than fragmenting my consciousness to interact with the eight of you, as the System connected with all living beings, I and the other Worlds spirits included, means it has a more expansive web of interactions than even I do. Now, that may not mean it will be direct, but as you all, or rather as we all learn more, it will grow right alongside us.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Um, sorry?¡± Rory offered.

    ¡°Never mind.¡± The world spirit brushed his half-hearted attempt at reconciliation aside. ¡°I¡¯m not angry; it is what it is, and it¡¯s not exactly harmful from what I can tell. I just wasn¡¯t expecting to be ripped out of my work in the fashion I was. Can you imagine what it feels like to be an existence as broad as a world spirit, only to be handled as easily as you might a child? That¡¯s what your System foundation was; it reminded me of how small I am in the grand scope of things.¡±

    To hear the living embodiment of a planet refer to itself as being small was an irony that wasn¡¯t lost on Rory. Still, he decided it wise to refrain from mentioning as much to the world spirit, who he¡¯d already annoyed by his attempt at a stupid little joke meant to test what a Law was.

    And people wondered why I rarely cracked jokes. Always fell flat.

    Rory had known people who were funny enough to get someone like himself cracking up.

    Rory was not one of those people.

    In fact, often, when he made attempts at humor, he¡¯d only receive blank looks. It was almost as much of a Law as the one he¡¯d just created: humor was not his wheelhouse.

    Well, there goes the dream of being a stand-up comedian. The trees would probably offer about as much laughter as my co-workers did in the past.

    ¡°Everything isn¡¯t all serious and black skies, though.¡± The world spirit interrupted his side-tracking thoughts. ¡°As much as your Law creation came out of left field, the fact remains that all eight of you have achieved your first ascension, with the last two who just came out of their little pain-induced blackout just now, all before the deadline I¡¯d presented. For that, a reward is deserved. As for how long it takes you to benefit, well¡­ That¡¯s up to you.¡±

    Rory stared at her, uneasy, as the planet¡¯s manifestation smirked like a child who¡¯d told a rather clever joke. She clearly thought herself far funnier than Rory thought himself, at least. Still uneasy, Rory opened his mouth, intending to interrogate the World Spirit about what she had in store. However, before he had the chance, the spirit of the world vanished without a trace.

    ¡°That was eventful.¡± Rory wasn¡¯t sure if eventful described it, but it was the best he had for the moment.

    What is this reward, then?

    Sighing, Rory shuffled over to his little shelter, laying down on a pile of moss and leaves he¡¯d bunched together in imitation of a cot. Closing his eyes, he let the aches of his body win out.

    Whatever the reward was, he could investigate it tomorrow.

 7. The Reward

    When Rory awoke, he could instantly tell something had changed, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

    That¡¯s not good. Not good at all.

    He¡¯d seen enough movies to know that there was no possibility he was imagining it. Tense, he clambered out of his small shelter as he took stock of the immediate surroundings for anything out of the normal.

    Trees. Pond. Clover grass is still purple and gold. Bunny. The sky is blue, as always. Wait, bunny?

    Doing a double take, Rory whipped his head back around, focusing on the small animal he¡¯d all but overlooked. It was, all things considered, an ordinary bunny.

    Given there had been no other signs of life until now, it was strange enough, but the world spirit Aelia had mentioned her new creations would appear soon.

    ¡°So, she went with a bunny?¡±

    Tension easing from his shoulders, he began smiling at the cute little creature as it tilted its head at him.

    Which, of course, was when the bunny lunged at him, revealing rows of aggressively pointy rodent fangs.

    ¡°Ack!¡± Rory yelped as he dodged under the small fur missile. The bunny from hell continued lunging forward, landing against a nearby tree before kicking off all in one fluid motion, tearing chunks from the force of its rebound.

    I do NOT want to be hit by that thing.

    Once more flashing through the air like a white arrow, Rory managed to intercept the creature, snagging it by its back leg as he flung it as hard as he could against the ground. The bunny monster hissed a rage-filled squeal as it hit the ground hard; Rory had used its momentum against it. Staggering upright, it focused on Rory, scrambling away toward where he had left his tools. While the bunny didn¡¯t seem exceptionally sturdy, it had torn trunks from a solid-looking tree with relative ease; he had no desire to see what it could do to his rib cage. Hand grasping the handle of his makeshift knife, he spun around just in time for the bunny to slam into him like a cannonball. The impact was like a professional football player had struck him; he saw stars instantly, but his self-preservation instincts kept him moving even when everything else desired to curl up in a ball and puke up his guts. Crashing into the small pond with his assaulter, he thrashed about as he snagged the back leg of the bunny once more. This time, rather than fling it away from him, he dropped the knife he¡¯d just grabbed so that he could re-adjust his grip. Now holding the bunny monster by the neck, he braced himself as he forced the creature beneath the false water, where it thrashed with all its strength. Freakishly strong as it may be, it was still only the size of a bunny, and without anything to leverage itself against, its strength meant nothing. Rory kept the bunny submerged for nearly a minute before it finally stopped thrashing, and at that exact moment, he felt a wave of energy crash into him.

    Snatching his shoddy knife from the bottom of the small pond, he tromped out, soaked and grumbling, dragging along the monster bunny.

    ¡°...Sick sense of humor.¡±

    Killer rabbits weren¡¯t precisely what he had been expecting; he wasn''t sure anyone would expect that, but at least he had survived with a trophy of his triumph to boot.

    ¡°Still need to come up with a name for the not-water.¡± Rory continued his grumbling as he began wringing the liquid from his shirt. His interface opened as if responding to his comment, showcasing a picture of the false water and a few quick sentences.

    ¡°Aisormba.¡± Rory read off. ¡°Life-sustaining and cleanses excess ascension energy upon consumption. Huh. So, someone else gave it a name already.¡±

    Rory paused for a moment, glancing at the rabbit he currently held.

    ¡°System, do these have a name?¡± Rory asked aloud. When nothing appeared on his interface, he shrugged, smiling briefly. ¡°All right. Caerbannog.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t sure how many others would get the reference; after all, it was an older Earth movie, but it still brought a near smile to his face. Half-smile still on his face, a new pop-up appeared on his interface.

    ¡°Founder-Privilege applied. Species name: Caerbannog. A rapidly reproducing monster with a vicious streak a mile wide.¡± Rory scratched at his chin, thinking.

    So, she went with calling us Founders after all. Or maybe the System named us that.

    Thoughts of what Aelia had decided to call them aside, Rory scowled as he examined the bunny.

    For all the talk of putting effort into shaping life, this sure feels like she just pulled a bit of plagiarism and stole the idea.

    Ultimately, he severely doubted any IP lawyers were on the loose, so he highly doubted the World Spirit was about to be sued. Regarding creatures, Rory couldn¡¯t deny that rabbits were a good choice. Exactly as his interface had said, they were rapidly reproducing little beasts, perfect for the propagation of life. They could quickly spread across the planet while providing an obstacle for himself and the seven other ¡®founders¡¯ as they had been called.

    ¡°Surely it¡¯s not just the rabbi- the caerbannogs.¡± Rory mused. The world spirit had made it seem like she was planning to seed multiple types of life, and the caerbannog was just one. While it took an initial amount of energy, or whatever it cost to make life, she was a tier two planet; surely, she could do more than just the little white murderer.

    Much as he wanted to continue mulling the train of thought over, from the corner of his eye, he saw motion. Something fluffy and white had entered the small clearing of his camp. Turning slowly, he came face to face with not one but three more of the caerbannogs. Letting the carcass drop from his left hand, Rory slowly rocked back and forth, arms raised as his right hand clutched his knife tightly.

    When it rains, it pours.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Stabbing forward, Rory swiped his knife through the jugular of another small white body before whirling around. He was covered in muck and gore, thankfully none of it his own, though he had a not-quite-minor collection of bleeding cuts and bruises all over his body. There was a frenzy in his eyes as he searched his surroundings, expecting yet another wave of killer rabbits to lunge at him as they sought to tear his throat out, but when nothing appeared for the first time in the last two hours, he let himself relax, every muscle shaking.

    ¡°Fuck me.¡± He finally uttered, collapsing in a heap next to the pile of corpses, at least fifty of the little terrors piled up. ¡°What the hell was that about?¡±

    Wave after wave had come after him. It had started with the single rabbit, then three, then five, then seven, nine, eleven, and a final wave of thirteen beasts. If it hadn¡¯t been for the surges of energy that flooded him after each kill, he would have passed out long ago from exhaustion. It had been a brutal struggle, even after he¡¯d begun understanding how they operated. Turning his back to them, he could force a lunge out from the little terrors; they would scramble over one another, desperately looking to attack him in a disorganized mass of fur and fangs. Had they attacked as an organized mass, he would have died after the third or fourth wave, that much, he was sure.

    Pulling up his interface with a tired wave of his hand, he was greeted with the sight of his ascension progress, which was roughly eighty percent complete. What would have taken him around two weeks of ten-hour days of deep meditation, he¡¯d achieved in a single day¡¯s worth of a desperate fight for survival. He wasn¡¯t sure whether he should be happy or annoyed, but at the very least, he¡¯d made progress.

    There¡¯s no shot that was an accident, either.

    If he were a betting man¡ªnot that there were any casinos to bet at anymore¡ªhe would have put money down that the world spirit had intentionally ensured that the caerbannogs were nearby.

    A notification appeared as if confirming the thought, distracting him from looking over his worryingly low health percentages across the board.

    ¡°Caerbannog colony cleared. Wilderness territory secured. Establish settlement? Y/N.¡±

    Rory took a deep breath, tremors wracking his body as the adrenaline receded. Steadying himself, he gave a curt nod, confirming his intent without needing to interact with the interface directly.

    It¡¯s a good thing the interface doesn¡¯t require physical interaction, and that intent alone is enough because I don¡¯t think I can lift my arms more than a few inches right now.

    Instantly, for a few feet in every direction ¡ªwith his shelter as the epicenter¡ª the wild underbrush began to compress and shirk away, leaving his small camp in a proper clearing devoid of tripping hazards. A notification appeared only a second after his encampment had been cleared of significant foliage.

    ¡°Founder-Privilege recognized. Apply monster beacon? Y/N.¡±

    Rory stared at the words, trying to process them.

    ¡°Monster beacon?¡± Rory finally laughed, an exhausted cackle. ¡°As in, I can subjugate myself to more of that? Why the hell would I want that?¡±

    He hadn¡¯t expected an answer, but another notification appeared, which Rory took his time reading aloud in case he missed something.

    ¡°Monster Beacon application: Once a week, attracts monsters from a correspondingly appropriate distance. Allows for rapid expansion by drawing monsters toward established outposts or colonies. It can be used in place of standard search and extermination methods.

    Rory paused, considering the idea. If it weren¡¯t constantly drawing monsters, he would have time to recover between assaults.

    Hopefully.

    It was also much more efficient than scouring the land in pursuit of monster dens. Hell, he hadn¡¯t even known there were monster dens. The only caveat was that there would be no retreating. It was do or die.

    Well, I could always try running away.

    That was an option if things got out of hand, but that raised a question of what would happen to the settlement if he ran, even if said ¡®settlement¡¯ was nothing more than a single shelter and small clearing. On the one hand, it might lead to nothing, just some monsters that would need to be cleared out if he wanted to be able to sleep in his shelter again.

    On the other hand, he could potentially lose the settlement, and Rory could not know if he could establish more. If it was solely up to the world spirit, he couldn¡¯t see why he wouldn¡¯t be able to. As much as she wanted to push them, she also needed them to advance her ascension, so preventing them from trying again would be against her self-interests.

    But

    But there was a chance that the establishment of settlements was an ability that the System itself had taken over, something that would irk the world spirit, no doubt, as she had lost total autonomy over her planet.

    So, what should I do?

    Rory mentally paced back and forth as he weighed the benefits against the negatives before finally flicking his hand out and tapping the interface, which had no physical form but still reacted at the touch.

    ¡°Monster Beacon Applied. Countdown timer until the next wave is created.¡±

    Rory read the words, and just as indicated, a timer appeared in the corner of the interface.

    ¡°Six days, twenty hours. What gives, aren''t I being shorted four hours?¡± Rory snapped at the System, almost imagining it snickering at him.

    ¡°Timer applied based on initial contact with the first monster defeat.¡±

    Rory frowned again, something he¡¯d found himself doing a lot lately. It meant that rather than basing itself on when the waves were defeated; the timer was started from the first appearance of the monsters.

    ¡°So, the timer started when I first saw one of those rabbits?¡±

    This time, the system did not provide further clarification; the only movement on the interface was the slowly ticking timer and the occasional change in his health status.

    ¡°Is this the reward we were promised?¡± Rory bemoaned as he poked one of the corpses with his barely functional knife, flakes chipping off after a prolonged battle. ¡°Death by monster rabbits?¡±

    He wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the world spirit really did think this was some reward. As much as she took the mannerisms of a human ¡ªand, to some degree, the few other races on the planet¡ª she was still, at the end of the day, an inhuman existence. She cared first and foremost about her ascension; she¡¯d said so herself; it was quite literally an innate part of who she was as a world spirit. Forcing her ¡®founders¡¯ to grow through monster assault was just her way of speeding along her ascension.

    It didn¡¯t help that she wasn¡¯t wrong. The waves of caerbannog had pushed his ascension rapidly. Instead of requiring two weeks to reach his second ascension ¡ªtechnically, his first proper ascension¡ª he could be there in only two or three days.

    ¡°At which point ascension won¡¯t be plausible through ordinary energy gathering, will it?¡± Rory suddenly questioned, running the math in his head. From a rank zero ascension to rank one, it took several days of mediation. Rank one to rank two required what appeared to be around ten times as much energy. Simple pattern recognition suggested that the difference between ascension rank two and ascension rank three would need a hundred times as much energy as zero to one. A process that had initially only required a little over a week had become a process of years.

    ¡°Fight monsters, grow. Use that growth to fight stronger monsters. It does sound like a video game.¡± Rory exclaimed. Not to mention, that wasn¡¯t even an aspect created because of his Law creation; ascension had likely been intended to function as such from the very start, Rory could only assume. It could be said that his System creation had made it a more¡­ complex matter, though.

    Rory was beginning to regret that he hadn¡¯t played more games in the last few years, but perhaps that was for the best. If he¡¯d had a more solid image for a game system when he¡¯d created the Law, it likely would have mimicked it in much closer detail.

    ¡°No point thinking about things that can¡¯t be changed.¡± He huffed as he slowly rose, wading over to his small pond. He was dirty and gross, and he absolutely wanted to cleanse himself of the filth, but there was the little issue of the pond also being his only drinking source. Debating back and forth about the best solution for the predicament, he settled for stripping down and scooping handfuls of the aisormba with his hands and scrubbing himself outside the pond. It wasn¡¯t a perfect option, but he felt marginally better by the end.

    Clean ¡ªor as clean as he could get for the time being¡ª he was left with a new consideration. Part of him wanted to crawl into his shelter and sleep for the next forty hours. His body had been badly abused several days in a row now. He could tell he hadn¡¯t recovered even without his interface showing as much, but he only had a week until the next attack.

    He needed to be ready. Not to mention the small hill of bunny corpses stacked outside his shelter.

    Food.

    The miracle liquid had sustained his body, but he wasn¡¯t sure if that was sustainable itself, ignoring the fact that the pond was only so large. Eventually, he had to eat.

    Eating raw meat may not be wise.

    Fire. What he needed first, then, was a fire.

    Cautiously exiting his camp''s perimeter, he searched through the forest for any fallen branches that looked appropriate for a fire. As he did, he kept his head on a swivel, not enthralled by the idea of being assaulted by more killer rabbits. Thankfully, none appeared. The system hadn¡¯t been mistaken when it said that he¡¯d killed the nearest colony of murder bunnies, which meant that as long as he didn¡¯t wander too far, he should be safe from the rodents from hell.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Limit the scope,¡± Rory muttered, scrunching his nose. It was a good thing no monsters had existed on the planet until recently; if they had, he was confident he would have died on his first day.

    He returned to his camp with that cheery thought, dropping the wood he¡¯d gathered next to the corpse pile. Getting on his knees, he grabbed a rock and used it to shovel a small basin into the earth. Satisfied, he piled the branches and twigs together before grabbing a rather sturdy piece between both hands, a small log nestled between his legs. While Rory wasn¡¯t exactly a survivalist, he at least knew the basic principle of friction and heat. Getting as comfortable as he could, he began to twirl the stick between his hands as he rubbed it against the log. It took nearly twenty minutes of splinter-inducing work before he saw something for his efforts: a few small plumes of smoke. Reinvigorated by the clear sign it was working, he spun the stick with even more intensity until he had the beginnings of a flame only a short bit later. Blowing gently, he stoked the fire until he was confident it wouldn¡¯t die without constant vigilance. A speck of a flame secured; Rory took the small flame and gently placed it within his woodpile as he watched the flame slowly spread. Within seconds, the fire roared to life, and he sat in awe of his creation. Hopeful that the reinvention of fire would benefit his current situation, Rory opened his interface, searching for anything new in the Significance Triumphs. Alas, Rory was met with the same results as earlier.

    ¡°Either someone beat me to it, or creating fire isn¡¯t recognized as much of an achievement.¡±

    Perhaps creating fire would have been a more significant accomplishment at the dawn of humanity. Still, at this point, it was a well-understood science that also seemingly translated into this new universe.

    With a sigh that his efforts hadn¡¯t been rewarded with a shortcut to his next ascension, he accepted the consolation prize of having a cozy fire to bask in. Rory silently sat there, doing nothing more than take in its cozy warmth for several minutes. After several minutes of silent comfort, he stood up, grabbed his knife, and cut open one of the fluffy monsters. Not exactly sure what to do, he opted to pluck out anything that didn¡¯t look recognizable as things he¡¯d normally eat, mainly organs and bones. Content he¡¯d done as good a job as he could, he proceeded to remove as much of the fur as he could before, at last, stabbing a sharp branch through the rodent and thrusting the entire thing into the fire. Waiting until the whole thing looked fairly burned, the only way he knew it had been cooked well enough that he wasn¡¯t about to die of dysentery, he tore a bite out of the carcass.

    It wasn¡¯t good, not by a long shot, but it was food and the first bite he¡¯d had in¡ª

    Days? Or billions and trillions of years? Does this count as relativity? Whose timeframe is the correct one?

    Suddenly ravenous at the thought of billions of years since he last ate, he tore apart the small morsel, shredding it as he eyed the next one.

    Nearly an hour later, Rory finally reclined, content with his feast. The meat, speaking frankly, was chewy, flavorless, and burnt all at the same time. Still, it filled him with energy that had nothing to do with metaphysical force. It was just pure and simple nutrition that he had been sorely missing. The pile of monster rabbits was reduced by a fifth, yet he had more than enough food for the next few days.

    Even if they would last him several days, Rory wasn¡¯t sure if he should keep them that long. First, it was possible they would rot. Technically, the bacteria responsible for rot and decay might not be present, but it wasn¡¯t something Rory specifically wanted to discover. The next, more immediate problem was the possibility so many corpses would attract other monsters, and maybe even more dangerous ones.

    So, what do I do instead?

    Uncertain of the best course of action, he sat numbly for several minutes before a spark of inspiration hit him. Getting up in a rush, he found several of the largest leafy plants, ripping off the massive leaves as he began to wrap them around a few of the kills. Once wrapped, he secured them with some vines before, at last, burying them nearby. Beneath the soil and protected by the earth, they would hopefully last longer in the colder, less exposed environment. As for the rest of the bodies, he began to toss them into the fire, burning them. Burying them without protection could also attract monsters, much like food left out at camps could attract bears or raccoons.

    ¡°Call it an offering,¡± Rory said, half joking as the flames consumed the small bodies. Tossing them in one at a time, he remained there until the last of the monsters had been well and truly cremated.

    By that point, the day had begun to blend into the night, and the sun was nearly below the horizon. Letting the flame slowly wither, he soon retreated to the ¡®safety¡¯ of his shelter.

    I just hope I¡¯m not attacked during the night.

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Rory, much to his pleasure, was not attacked during the night. Instead, he slept like the dead; having a full stomach for the first time in days had caused him to pass out as soon as his body relaxed on his mossy mat. Waking with a somewhat exaggerated yawn and a long stretch, the first thing Rory did was flick open his interface.

    His body''s bruises and aches had finally begun to fade, supported by the improvement in his physical health readings.

    All in all, Rory almost felt like a new man, ignoring the few persistent deep body aches from where a caerbannog or two had managed to tackle him. Stretching, or as much as he could in his cramped shelter, the first thing Rory did was flick open his interface, checking for anything new. When nothing immediately jumped out at him, aside from the timer now eight hours shorter, he closed it with a thought.

    ¡°Rise and shine.¡± He huffed quietly, noting a chill in the air, his breath lingering.

    Does this planet have a winter season? He questioned inwardly, praying that it would be mild if it did. He¡¯d spent enough harsh winters buried under the treacherous Chicago snow.

    And that was with the benefit of snowplows.

    Brushing the thought aside, he crawled out of his hovel. Nothing had changed outside from what he could see, except a few already thawing flakes, suggesting that some winter may not be out of the question. Confident, or as confident as he could be, that he wasn¡¯t about to be jumped by some monsters, he started the day of productivity by scavenging branches, twigs, and other flammable-looking material before settling in to get another fire going. Once it had been reignited, he quickly unburied his hidden trove of caernabbog bodies, unsealing them and skewering them on sticks that he planted into the ground so that the gradually growing flames and smoke would slowly cook them.

    ¡°Now then.¡± Rory was about to settle on the ground until, on second thought, he walked off a short way from his camp, returning minutes later with a log dragged behind him. Dropping it in front of the fire, he sat himself on his impromptu wooden coach as he considered his plan of action.

    ¡°Where was I?¡± Rory said, hands over the fire. The earlier chill had already faded, but there was something supremely satisfying and human about warming your hands by a campfire. ¡°Right. Plans.¡±

    Holding up one finger, he glanced at the sky.

    ¡°First. The issue of the next wave.¡±

    He had around six days until the second wave came, and without much information to reliably utilize, he could only assume it would likely be even more difficult.

    That¡¯s what you¡¯d expect from a video game, and it fits with the logic of the world spirit. Seed the weaker monster close by so that we can grow steadily.

    It probably hadn¡¯t been in her plan to have a method of forcibly drawing the monsters to themselves; that was an aspect the system had likely created itself, but it didn¡¯t change the overall trajectory of his thoughts.

    ¡°Second.¡± Rory held up another finger, watching the monster rabbits slowly cooking. ¡°My next ascension.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t far off, and the reason the first wave had been such a shit show was likely the fact that he was tackling it an entire tier under what the planet was currently operating at.

    Unless that¡¯s supposed to be the norm?

    It was hard to say, given he was one of the first intelligent life forms in the universe; he was operating off assumptions and guesses more than anything else. His first ascension, technically his ¡®zero¡¯ ascension since it only brought him up to where he was supposed to start, hadn¡¯t significantly changed his physical capabilities. Still, that was because it had been entirely focused on remaking his material body into one that belonged to their current universe. It wouldn¡¯t be out of the question that his first proper ascension could bring more benefits than the zero-ascension had.

    ¡°And third.¡± Rory grabbed the first stick he had planted near the fire, the charred bunny all but beginning him to take a bite. ¡°The others.¡±

    Taking a hearty bite of the rabbit, which was considerably less appetizing than the day before when he¡¯d been ravenously hungry, he slowly worked his way through chewing the tough meat as his fingers danced through the air, his interface flickering to life. Mouth full, he let his intent control the direction of the interface as he flicked open a new ¡®page¡¯ on the interface.

    Contacts.

    There was only one listed.

    -World Spirit Aelia. Contact availability: Limited.

    Makes sense.

    Usually, one would expect the spirit of a planet to be an existence that would be talked about as nothing more than a rumor or a once-in-a-lifetime sighting. His current perspective was only that of what it was due to being one of the first founders of the planet. Even then, he couldn¡¯t simply call her up as if on speed dial.

    Still, the option is there if the need arises for whatever reason.

    Question of his ability to contact the world spirit aside, the more important point was that no other contacts were listed.

    Another thing to consider.

    Like it had sensed his thought, which it likely had, a grey question mark bubble appeared. Tapping in instantly, a small pop-up window appeared.

    Contact details: Contact capabilities are limited by direct face-to-face interactions with other participating members of the System. Contact range is further limited by the level of individual planetary spirit, degree of interplanetary infrastructure, and planet-by-planet variables.

    Rory nodded along, making sense of the information. Assuming he wasn¡¯t mistaken, what it was saying was that you had to meet a person first to be able to send a message, and the second part, while perhaps a little less clear, seemed to indicate that the message still obeyed relative space. You couldn¡¯t simply send a message to someone halfway across the universe without an established communications network established first.

    Now that I think about it, it also indicates that space travel is feasible, or at least some sort of travel between planets.

    Had it been a good five or so years earlier, that would have been a hard pill to swallow, the universe limited by the constant of light. But, even before the multiverse collapsed into some super-universe, humanity had been informed that FTL travel was possible, if indirectly. So, it was no surprise that such a thing was the same in this new, stranger universe.

    Well, that assumes that the speed of light is even the limit here.

    Another interesting possibility, but not one Rory was qualified to question, his understanding of physics began and ended with documentaries he had watched on Netflix.

    ¡°Nothing to do about the others for the time being. Better to focus on the first two priorities of the next wave and my next ascension.¡± Rory announced after he forced down another mouthful of the overly charred meat.

    The question of his ascension wasn¡¯t a difficult one to answer. Close as he was, he only needed to meditate for a day or two to obtain the energy required. It might even be a tad faster now that his body was made up of naturally occurring matter that wouldn¡¯t react so unfavorably to being forced to make space for the ascension energy. The more significant issue of his two priorities was how to best prepare for the next wave.

    Rory snagged another of his monster rabbit kebabs, chewing thoughtfully as he considered the quandary.

    If the next wave had even more caerbannogs, there was a good chance he would be overrun. He¡¯d nearly been crushed under their numbers and speed in the last wave, and without any direct improvements gained from his ascension, he¡¯d be in a far worse situation.

    So.

    If direct conflict were likely to end in failure ¡ªif not death¡ªhe would have to do what humanity had always done when faced with natural predators who were far superior with their claws and fangs.

    Tools.

    The most obvious and perhaps oldest of humanity¡¯s weapons would be the spear, but as small and quick as the caerbannogs were, a spear''s length would prove more of a hindrance than a boon. A knife was small and fast but too small and fragile. His current knife was about one bad swing from breaking apart.

    So, something sturdy enough not to fall apart but not too large as to slow me down.

    Contemplating the idea, he poked at the ground with a stick. Absentmindedly, he began drawing a small sketch into the dirt, but given his relative lack of artistic skills, the best he managed was a ball.

    It might pass as a baseball with the threads stitching it together.

    Rory almost chuckled, staring at the badly drawn circle, until the thought gave him pause.

    Baseball. That¡¯s not a bad idea.

    Baseball bats were made explicitly for pummeling high-speed objects repeatedly, with enough force to send them flying out of the ballparks. They also weren¡¯t exactly tricky designs to replicate.

    I could probably improve upon them.

    He¡¯d seen in history books how Meso-American civilizations, specifically the Aztecs, had once used weapons that looked like wooden paddles with shards of obsidian embedded into them, the obsidian so sharp that they could slice individual cells. While he wasn¡¯t sure of the claim''s validity, it was worthwhile for the fact that almost all the stones he¡¯d seen looked nearly identical to obsidian; he was in no shortage of the stuff.

    ¡°Obsidian bat it is.¡± Rory poked at the burning logs with his stick, readjusting the coals so the flames would burn more evenly. ¡°I can do more than that, though.¡±

    Intimidating walls had once protected ancient fortresses, only becoming obsolete as the weapon advancement far outstripped the defensive prowess of such walls. Here in this unsettled world, with the most advanced technology being a piece of obsidian tied to a stick with some vines, that wasn¡¯t a problem. The issue was that if he wanted to push his capabilities, he would need a new set of tools that were more precise than his mucked-up recreations of an ax and a knife.

    ¡°That settles it. The first order of business is to make new tools.¡± Rory stood up with a sudden burst of vigor. While not one for energetic outbursts, he wasn¡¯t so laid back as to waste his day away in lethargy when he had things to do.

    For the better part of an hour, Rory sifted through the undergrowth and low-hanging trees, snatching any branches or sticks that looked as if they might be suitable for his needs. He needed strong-looking pieces of wood, but not too thick as to be unwieldy. Furthermore, they needed to still be young and green on the inside; without proper craftsman skills, he wasn¡¯t confident in his ability to reliably create tools with both rigidity and flexibility without relying on the greener, still-living pieces of wood.

    With two large bundles of branches under each arm, he returned to his camp, dropping into a seated position atop his log as he let the branches hit the ground into a pile. Sorting them by size, he soon had five piles at his feet.

    First, something to make a new knife.

    A knife would be perhaps the most essential tool, allowing him the precision shaping of branches or logs as well as the ability to slice through vines more easily. Sifting through the pile of handheld-sized twigs and branches, he weighed his options before reducing the pile to three finalists. The first was thinner than the other two, but it had a shape that seemed to fit his grip to a shocking degree. The next was a thicker, sturdier piece of nearly the same length but without the natural grooves that seemed to fit his fingers. The final piece was somewhere in between the thickness of the first two pieces of wood but nearly twice as long. It was still comfortably within the size range of a knife hilt, but it allowed a two-handed grip. Taking a minute to mull it over, Rory finally grabbed the second piece of wood, chucking it into the fire as he saved the first and third. He¡¯d intended to make a single knife, but both sticks seemed too valuable to stop at only a single knife. The first could be a simple carving knife; the more fitting grip but the thinner piece would fall apart in short order if forced to be used in a fight, but it would be perfect for precision cutting. The second piece of wood would be ideal for a combat knife, solid and sturdy but not too large so that it might prove unwieldy.

    First, the carving knife.

    If he wanted the rest of his tools to be made well, he should start with the tool that would allow him to make higher-quality tools. With the knife''s hilt settled upon, next was preparing a blade for it. It was a relatively simple, if tedious, process. Grabbing large obsidian-like stones, he began bashing them against each other, chipping off flakes and shards. After two or so hours, he¡¯d gotten the hang of bashing them together in a way that would result in the chipped-off shards being roughly the shape and shape he was going for. However, it wasn¡¯t until another two hours later that he finally gingerly picked up an obsidian shard approximately three inches long. It was thicker than nearly all the other shards he''d produced, good so that it wouldn¡¯t shatter or snap suddenly but not too thick that it would be unable to do precision work. There was even a gentle curve to one edge of the stone blade. He wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d managed that, but it was perfect for his needs. Grabbing his old knife, he was about to whittle a small groove for the obsidian blade of his new knife when he paused.

    I can do better.

    It wasn¡¯t the blade or handle that he felt he could improve, but how he attached them. His first tools had been obsidian shards jammed into roughly hewed grooves and twined with the nearby vines. While they got the job done, they were hardly sturdy; every jostle or bit of friction would dislodge the blades a bit more than previously. What he needed was a way to prevent any shifting from occurring.

    If only I had glue.

    It was a shame, but he couldn¡¯t exactly run to the store and pick some up. Picking the blade and hilt up again, he could only grumble before setting it down.

    ¡°No. That won¡¯t do.¡±

    Perhaps it was a bit of perfectionism in him, but settling on worse quality tools when his life could depend on them didn¡¯t inspire confidence. Unsure what to do, Rory stared at the fire for half an hour, tapping his foot on the ground.

    Glue. Or a paste of any sort. Mud maybe?

    Sure, hardened mud was suitable for sealing gaps in a wall, but it wasn¡¯t precisely craft-quality sealant.

    Cement then?

    He had no limestone on hand, but the idea was worth considering.

    Can I do something like cement or concrete?

    Again, he wasn¡¯t sure of the exact science behind it. The gist was that a porous and sturdy material could be made when limestone, or calcium carbonate, was ground, heated, and hydrated. It would be the best material in this stone-age world he could find.

    More confident that concrete or something like concrete was the way to go, Rory still could only guess how he could get the materials for it.

    Eyes locked onto his fire; the answer was all but staring him in the face.

    ¡°Ash. That¡¯s it.¡± Rory said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-baked attempt at a smile.

    Ash was, as he¡¯d heard about from the history books regarding the ancient civilization of Rome, a rather impressive binding agent-

    I think it was a binding agent. Honestly, does it matter?

    -A rather impressive ingredient in creating strong concrete. It had largely been useless to a planet-wide civilization but limited to small usage; it was perfect. Not just that, while he didn¡¯t have calcium carbonate in the form of limestone, he did have plenty of charred caerbannog bones intermixed within the ash at the bottom of his makeshift firepit. Suppose he took that ash and ground-up bones and mixed it with the naturally occurring soil already infused with large amounts of obsidian dust for extra structural strength. In that case, it might result in something akin to cement.

    Getting up from his log, he grabbed a large, roughly oval-shaped chunk of obsidian before grabbing a smaller piece and banging the two together methodically. It was slow, exhausting work, but an hour later, he had a crude-looking obsidian bowl.

    Perfect.

    Using a thicker branch, he began shoveling some of the ash from the bottom of the small pit, along with as many caerbannog bones as he could, toward the edge, before scooping them up with his bowl. Filled up, he slowly ground the material down with another stone until it was as fine of a powder as possible. Pleased with the mix, he gently placed the bowl directly in the center of the fire, where the heat would dry out any remaining moisture from the powder.

    While that cooked, he began slowly fashioning a second bowl, the entire process faster now that he¡¯d done it once. Once complete, he gingerly withdrew the first bowl from the fire using two nearly even-length branches, setting the red-hot bowl down on the dirt. New bowl in hand, he quickly scooped several handfuls of dirt into it, grinding it down into as fine of a silt-like powder as he could before sticking it into the fire. Turning to the retrieved bowl, he carefully hovered over it, crushing the now dried-out mix into an even finer powder. Once that was done, he sat around for several minutes, waiting until his dirt had been adequately dried out. Giving it another ten minutes ¡ªtime he was able to conveniently track now that he had a timer counting down until the next wave¡ª he retrieved it shortly after. Tipping the contents into the same bowl, he slowly pulverized the two together until it became a uniformly gray-colored dust.

    Perfect. I think.

    That would be the basis for his faux concrete; all that was left to do was rehydrate the stuff. Glancing over at his pond, Rory felt the beginning of disquietude taking over.

    What if that doesn¡¯t work in the mix?

    He didn¡¯t know enough about the false water to say if it would work, but he couldn¡¯t afford too much time to experiment. While six days felt like a lot, he¡¯d already used up most of the day just producing the small amount of powdered maybe-concrete he had.

    I need something I can be sure of.

    Water no longer existed; without it, the only liquid he knew of was the Aisormba.

    ¡°No.¡± Rory corrected himself, eyes darting to his wrist, already cringing. ¡°There is one other liquid I know of, one that I know for a fact does allow for thickening.¡±

    Wincing inwardly, he raised a shard of obsidian toward his arm.

    This isn¡¯t going to be fun.

 8. Preparation

    Bloodletting was, shockingly, not fun, as Rory learned over three days of self-harm, collecting his blood into a jar. During those three days, he spent his excess time slowly gathering everything he needed, mostly snapping branches no thicker than his arm from trees, until he had a large pile half his height. The rest of his time was spent meditating, gathering as much ascension energy as possible. It was both practical for his ascension and good for his body, and the downtime was necessary for his aching and tired body.

    The good news was that the meditation seemed to stimulate his body''s healing ability. The cuts he¡¯d carved into his flesh scabbed over in record time as the gathered ascension energy seemed to activate his body''s natural healing rate to one hundred twenty percent effectiveness.

    The bad news was it didn¡¯t do much more than that. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was due to his ascension and changed body or his body becoming acclimated to the ascension energy. Still, his ability to continue his ascension through simple mundane mediation slowed dramatically, even if he no longer suffered from the rampant itching. Three days should have been enough to cover his last ten or fifteen percent, but he only managed another meager three.

    Well, that¡¯s shitty.

    Grumbling but unable to change the reality, he used the time to continue his planning. There wasn¡¯t much else to plan, but at the very least, the unmoving time was good for his depleted stamina.

    Finally, three days later, checking his jar of blood, an admittedly morbid thing to have in his possession, he was satisfied with how much he¡¯d managed to gather.

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to have to bleed anymore, nor should I risk it as close as I am to the wave date.

    With only three days and some hours left, he wanted to be in peak shape for the wave, which meant letting himself fully recover without gaining any more injuries, self-afflicted or not.

    Taking his potential concrete powder replacement and the jar of blood, he began pouring the blood into the powder. Stirring vigorously but steadily, he soon had a concoction that reminded him of concrete, if it was horror-themed.

    Taking the butt end of the blade meant for his carving knife; he dipped it into the mix before carefully fitting it into the groove he¡¯d cut into the knife handle. It thankfully fit, a rather snug and tight fit that he mentally pat himself on the back for. Knife put together, he then used a rather crappy imitation of tongs he¡¯d thrown together with vines and thick twigs to hold the blade over the fire, centering it so the heat was most directly focused on where the blade had been ¡®glued¡¯ into the handle of the knife.

    Waiting until the wood there had charred lightly, something he¡¯d also heard was good for the strength of a handle, he pulled it away from the heat. Taking more of his concrete paste from hell, he gently lathered a thin layer around where the blade and hilt were conjoined before slowly twining it with strands from a vine he¡¯d painstakingly stripped down into individual fibers using his old knife. Once bound, he applied an even thinner layer of the paste atop the fibers before holding the knife over the fire again, only a few seconds this time. Inspecting the knife, he placed it atop a stone platter hoisted over his fire with vines hanging from the closest trees. This way, the heat could still work on the tool without burning the fibers that now helped hold it together.

    Hopefully, that works.

    Done with his jar of blood, he covered it before placing it in a small hole he¡¯d dug near his firepit, where it would be kept warm and liquid. He¡¯d run out of powder to make more of the faux-concrete mix, but since he had to wait for his knife to finish drying and hardening, he had time to go about preparing more.

    Hours passed while he worked, grinding more ash and bone that he was running concerningly low on. Halfway through, he checked on his knife, gingerly touching where he¡¯d twined the fibers around the conjoint point. Unsurprisingly, it was hot to the touch, but what was promising was that there was a certain amount of solid rigidity to it that the fibers had lacked before.

    Almost there.

    He worked on preparing his dehydrated dirt next, and once he had finished, he mixed the two concentrations of dehydrated and pulverized dust, a larger batch meant for his combat knife and a new ax. Putting it aside, the moment of truth was at hand. Lowering the hoisted stone platter on which he¡¯d placed his crafting knife, he withdrew it using his makeshift tongs. Visual inspection showed no outward blemishes or apparent signs that the method had failed, but he would have to wait for it to cool to know for sure. Looking up at the sky, Rory grimaced as he noticed the suns were already heading toward the horizon.

    ¡°I swear it was just morning.¡±

    The days almost felt like they were contracting in on themselves, less and less time until the destined wave date.

    I¡¯m going to have to work through some of the night. Rory admitted to himself, frowning. There was too much to do with only one person to handle it all, and he was hardly a craftsman to begin with. Looking for confirmation of his fears, he pulled up his interface, the timer reading under three days.

    He would have to pick up the pace, meaning he would have to skip testing to see if his cement paste substitute had worked and instead assume. Aware of his time shortage, he drew out the last few bones from the bottom of the pit, adding a matching volume of ash.

    I¡¯m not going to have enough blood.

    Rory stared at his powdered mix with growing apprehension. After preparing two other batches worth of the stuff, he had a solid idea of how much blood it would take, and it was obvious he didn¡¯t have enough.

    Damnit.

    He had wanted to avoid the possibility, but there was no getting around it. He grabbed the jar from where he kept it stored and approached the pond of false water. Scooping up some of the false water, he covered the jar once more, shaking and stirring it into a grotesque slurry. He had diluted the blood, but he would have to pray that it wouldn¡¯t weaken the mixture too much.

    A weakened mixture is better than nothing.

    No reversing what he¡¯d done, he took his large batch of pulverized ash and bone and placed it into the fire, removing his second batch meant for his combat knife and ax. Mixing it with pre-dried obsidian-colored dirt, he sifted the two powders together until they were a wizened grey.

    Ingredients are prepared; now all that¡¯s left is to prepare the handles.

    Grabbing the pieces of wood he had decided upon for both the handle of his combat knife and the haft of his ax, he placed them nearby. Then, testing the temperature of his crafting knife, he picked it up carefully at first. Seeing that it had cooled off enough, he firmly grasped it.

    It feels good. Honestly, it¡¯s shockingly well done.

    He tested it lightly, pressing the blade into a piece of wood and slowly carving a whittle away from the rest. The blade didn¡¯t even budge once; it was firmly locked down.

    Good, because I can¡¯t afford a re-do.

    Reasonably confident his crafting knife would survive; he began whittling away at the two pieces of prepared wood. His new knife was far better for carefully sculpting the wood as he desired than his previous knife. Working until well after the suns had set and the campsite was lit only by his fire, he finally raised his finished results in front of his face, inspecting them closely in the dimmed lighting.

    They look good. Or I think they do. What do I know?

    Grabbing the obsidian shards he¡¯d chosen, he¡¯d had plenty to choose from with all his stone bashing; he slid them into their respective grooves, testing first to see if their sizes were correct. Only needing to adjust the ax handle a small amount, he finally grabbed his jar of blood.

    Technically, it¡¯s a blood-based solution now, not just pure blood.

    Pouring what he reasonably estimated as the correct amount into his second prepared mix of ash, dirt, and bone, he stirred until it was the desired thickness. It was noticeably lighter in color than the original mix, being less concentrated in blood volume, but he ignored it. Dipping his chosen obsidian shards in, he slowly inserted them into their prepared handles. Repeating the same process as with his crafting knife, Rory placed them over the fire with his makeshift tongs before pulling them back out, applying more paste over their conjoint points, before further binding it with vine fibers. Again, he briefly held them over the fire before applying a final layer of the mixture directly atop the fibers. With the tools nearly complete, Rory placed them atop his drying rack that hung over the fire where the heat could work on them without the fire scorching them and ruining his work.

    Absolutely tired, Rory finally left his work at the fire, retreating to his shelter. The fire would die out over the rest of the night, meaning he¡¯d have to restart it in the morning, but he needed sleep. He could afford to waste some of his nights preparing, but going entirely without sleep was perhaps the worst thing he could do. Curling up on his cot, but not before placing his knife safely away from himself so he wouldn¡¯t gore himself on the knife, he quickly passed out.

    -------------------------------------------------------------

    Rory awoke to a buzzing sound imitating directly inside his skull. Eyes snapping open, he found himself staring at a yellow wall.

    No, not a wall.

    Wiping his eyes of any nighttime remnants, he corrected himself as he made sense of his interface floating above him. It was obvious why it had buzzed him awake; the timer until the next wave was slotted just under two days.

    Looks like I slept a little too long.

    Rising as quickly as he could, he exited his shelter. When nothing immediately attacked, the first thing he looked out for every day, he quickly shuffled over to where his new tools had been placed upon the drying rack over the nearly dead fire, a sparse few glowing embers.

    I¡¯ll get that restarted in a bit.

    First, he grabbed the knife and pressed his thumb against the flat of the blade, slowly applying more pressure as he felt for any wiggle in the blade. When it didn¡¯t seem to budge, he slit the blade into a loop of his pants.

    Not exactly safe, but I don¡¯t have anything better for now.

    Next up was the ax. Repeating the tests, he did an extra test by giving it a single solid chop against his sitting log. The axe bit solidly into the wood without so much as a budge.

    Good.

    They performed well enough, even if, for whatever reason, he didn¡¯t feel the same sort of pleased resonance with his newest creations as he did with his crafting knife.

    ¡°Fickle feelings aside, they work,¡± Rory announced, partially to ease any worries as to why he didn¡¯t feel the same sense of resonance in them as he did his crafting knife. ¡°And that¡¯s what matters.¡±

    With only two days left, they needed to work for the last part of his preparations. Grabbing stray branches and twigs was one thing, but if he didn¡¯t want to be overrun by monsters, he needed some form of defense to prevent them from simply battering him down from every direction. That meant chopping down sturdy-looking logs and smaller trees and dragging them around his camp. His estimates had such efforts taking most of his working hours for the next two days, so he wouldn¡¯t have time for his tools to break down on him. That, and he still had to get his battle-bat made.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    The only reason he didn¡¯t take care of making his weapon first was that he intended to use whatever breaks he took from dragging logs and small trees around to instead work on that, making the most of his time while he could. He¡¯d wanted to also prepare some personal protection for himself, but with how few workable hides he had from the caerbannogs and how hard they could kick, he had tossed the idea out as nothing more than a waste of time.

    Tools prepared, Rory slid each one into a loop of his pants, firm in his decision that once this wave was defeated, he¡¯d make something to more appropriately carry them around. Tools secured, Rory picked up a second jar he had made in his free time. It was hardly a ¡®jar¡¯ so much as a sort-of bowl-shaped piece of wood that he¡¯d managed to fashion a cover for. Filling it with aisormba, Rory trudged out into the forest at large, leaving behind the relative safety of his camp. He had two days of hard labor ahead of him, with no time to waste.

    ------------------------------------------

    ¡°Damn heavy,¡± Rory grunted, dragging a heavy tree behind him. It wasn¡¯t even that large, but for whatever reason, the freshly cut logs and trees seemed far denser than they had any right to be; he felt more like he was dragging a piece of metal behind him rather than living wood.

    ¡°Really damn heavy.¡± He grunted once more as he neared his camp, a faint flicker of a smile briefly resting upon his face. His camp, in a matter of two days, had come a long way. First was the obvious, the ring of logs around the camp. They weren¡¯t large, and the caerbannogs could still clear them in a single bound, but they were there at the very least. It also didn¡¯t hurt that they were further improved by the rows of sharpened branches he had dug into the ground on either side of his small wall. At the very least, if the bunnies returned in the next wave, they wouldn¡¯t be able to rush in and overwhelm him. The log he was currently dragging behind him was the final one, or at least the final one he had time for. He dragged it over to its designated spot and firmly shoved it into place. Once there, he entered his camp through the single opening within the small walls before grabbing a jar of what looked like mud.

    Which was because it was mud mixed with a small amount of ash. Taking the thick mixture, he began lathering it into the cracks of his walls, a practice he¡¯d been doing over the last two days whenever he had an opportunity. Rory wasn¡¯t sure if it would be enough to stop the charging rabbits, but it was better than letting them freely smash into his unsecured walls and toppling them in a single hit.

    Because then I¡¯d die. And I¡¯d prefer not to die if I can prevent it.

    After nearly an hour of back-breaking work, he finally wiped his forehead of small amounts of sweat that had begun to gather. It was strange; without any actual water, he wasn¡¯t sure what the sweat was made of anymore, as it looked the same, but he was reasonably sure that it wasn¡¯t water.

    Thoughts to contemplate when I have a chemist around.

    Now, that was an interesting question. He wasn¡¯t alone on the planet; there were seven others. Yet, meeting them wasn¡¯t likely any time soon. The other issue was that they weren¡¯t precisely allies. While they weren¡¯t allies, nor were they enemies.

    Competitors, there, that¡¯s the word I¡¯m looking for. They¡¯re closer to competitors than anything.

    If the world spirit could bring the eight of them here, though ¡®here¡¯ was a bit of a simplification, why couldn¡¯t she bring more? He was sure he¡¯d make faster progress with more help, but he also wasn¡¯t some magical spirit of a planet with direct instinctual knowledge of universal truths, so really what did he know? In fact, for all he knew, something was limiting her.

    Or maybe she thinks it''s better to keep the numbers small for now.

    While it was just him for now, Rory could only assume that wouldn¡¯t be the case forever.

    Unless I¡¯m torn apart and eaten by murder rabbits in a few hours.

    With barely a conscious thought, he opened his interface and glanced at the timer.

    Three hours, to be exact.

    He¡¯d taken care of all his important tasks. All but one, but even that was nearly finished. Sitting upon his ¡®lounging log¡¯ that he had dragged next to his fire, he grabbed his trusty crafting knife and his new obsidian bat. He¡¯d finished it the day prior, late into the night, when he¡¯d been struck by inspiration. Looking at it, it was closer to a cricket bat than a baseball bat, but that had more to do with his lack of technical skill as a woodcarver than any intentional design choice. What he had decided to change just this day was the very top of the bat. It had been a stroke of inspiration that since this bat wasn¡¯t for sport but murder of blood-thirsty rabbits, he should also design it with that in mind. As comfortable as he could get on his log, he began whittling away at the bat, the rounded top slowly transforming into a thick spike much like he had placed around his walls. Occasionally, Rory would flick open his interface, grimacing as he did.

    Two hours.

    He was on a time crunch, but it wouldn¡¯t be the end of the world if his stabby bat weren¡¯t perfect; the spiked top was nothing more than an additional feature meant for the express purpose of extra-murder utility; he could still brain the killer rodents just fine without it. Still, a part of him wanted it to be finished in time, a part of him that had nothing to do with his desire for survival but rather an urge to ensure his creation was precisely as he planned. Working diligently, the minutes continued to creep by, yet Rory paced himself without rushing. Slowly, the wood transformed until, at last, he held the bat up in front of his face, admiring his work.

    Design-wise, it had maintained its greater similarity to a cricket bat than a baseball bat, though not quite as flat. Inserted in the wood were plentiful shards of obsidian, jagged and sharp like shark teeth. The handle had been carved with gentle grooves to make it easier to hold, and the newest addition was that the top of the bat had been reshaped and altered so that it was closer to a wooden stake than the cap of an ordinary bat.

    Not quite perfect, but¡­ not bad.

    Satisfied with his work, he glanced at his timer once more, standing up instantly as he did.

    The counter had been replaced, now replaced by a single word.

    ¡°Imminent.¡± Rory let the word hang, digesting it.

    So, it¡¯s not an exact timer.

    He wasn¡¯t sure how much of a margin there was in the timer, but he could guess, at the very least, it was something like half an hour, and once that was crossed, the wave could start at any point.

    Meaning it¡¯s time to steel my nerves.

    Rory wasn¡¯t exactly shaking in his boots, but the threat of what could be his imminent death still hung over his head, an edge to his thoughts as he kept his eyes on a swivel for signs of movement. Searching for another two minutes, he finally froze when, from the corner of his eye, he saw the brief jitter of leaves upon a nearby tree. It could have just been the wind, but-

    But since when has the wind only disturbed the leaves on a single tree?

    With a single twirl of his death bat, he held it firmly between his hands, steadying his breathing.

    If only I had played baseball more as a kid.

    He hadn¡¯t held a baseball bat in years. The closest had been when he¡¯d gone golfing with some work acquaintances, something they¡¯d made quite clear was not in his wheelhouse after the fact.

    Here they come.

    The start was simple. A lone caerbannog had appeared, hopping over to stare at him from the opening in his walls.

    If I didn¡¯t know better, you wouldn¡¯t think this was a monster that itching to eat my face and drink my blood.

    Perhaps the monster wasn¡¯t that bloodthirsty, but it didn¡¯t change Rory¡¯s opinion of the beast.

    As if on cue, the monster rabbit snarled, showing its savagely pointed rodent fangs as it lunged toward Rory.

    Nope, they definitely want to eat my face.

    Still bracing himself, he swung the bat, the archaic weapon smashing into the small rodent. The tremendous force of the swing launched the monster rabbit into the ground near his feet, where it lay prone for a moment. Not wanting to give the caerbannog a moment to recover, Rory teed up before launching the beast into a nearby tree with a swing Tiger Woods would have envied. The monster¡¯s surprisingly tough body wasn¡¯t quite tough enough to withstand the force of the uncontrolled collision with the tree, its broken body falling limply to the ground.

    The entire exchange took less than five seconds, a rather impressive improvement compared to his first encounter last time.

    One down.

    The last wave consisted of seven stages, each bringing more of the homicidal bunnies. Perhaps due to how fast he had dealt with the first rabbit, he already saw signs of the next few appearing.

    Well, shit.

    Unlike a week prior, when the second stage had been three rabbits, it had already increased to five.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t going to be easy then, is it?¡± Rory sighed as living projectiles began to fling through the air like white comets. The walls were already showing the worth, as rather than leaping at him from every which direction, they instead aimed for the path of least resistance, the single opening he¡¯d left in the walls. It didn¡¯t seem to matter to the rabbits that they could have leaped over the rest of the wall had they put in just a bit more effort; their instincts for murder simply told them to go in the direction of least resistance. First rabbit closing in, he swung with his bat, switching his grip at the last moment so that rather than collide with the flat side of his bat, the brutally sharp obsidian shards sawed straight through the tiny monster''s neck. There was no time to stop or congratulate himself on how well the obsidian shards worked, already ducking the other four rodents. One of the four had jumped with too much vigor, propelling itself further than the rest and spearing itself directly onto one of the wooden spears he had lined around the walls.

    Putting them on both sides was a good idea.

    Only landing for an instant, the remaining three leaped forward, and again, Rory¡¯s bat swung through the air, cleaving another head from yet another tiny white body.

    Two left.

    He was feeling good, which, of course, was when he slipped up. Just a moment too slow, he missed one of the rabbits as they flung themselves at him. Flinching out of the way, he avoided the worst of its wickedly sharp nails.

    The good news was, rather than tearing out a massive gout of flesh from his shoulder, he only had an agonizing deep cut that was sure to leave quite a scar.

    Just a flesh wound.

    The bad news was he bleeding, but the fact that he wasn¡¯t spouting blood meant it had missed any arteries.

    Almost dead, that easy.

    A single slip-up, a split second of not reacting fast enough, and he had almost been killed.

    Faster. Quicker.

    His growing overconfidence dashed within moments of its formation; Rory¡¯s nerves felt like they had been lit ablaze.

    I¡¯m not dying here, not to some copyright-infringing rodents.

    When they lunged for his neck, his eyes darted between the two as, with a single swing, he swept the black teeth of the bat to rip through not one but both of their fragile necks in a single strike.

    That¡¯d be a home run.

    The corpses continued sailing past him, crashing on the ground just behind him.

    Stage two of seven settled.

    With more time to catch his breath than the gap between the first and second stages, the third set of caerbannogs appeared only a minute later.

    Nine.

    His assumption had been correct, or so it seemed, that instead of increasing by two, the stages were now growing by four. The final stage of the wave, assuming it was seven ¡®stages¡¯ again, would be a total of twenty-five rabbits.

    The last two stages will have nearly as many rabbits as the entirety of last week¡¯s wave. Not sure if that¡¯s fair.

    Clearly, Aelia, or perhaps the System -he wasn¡¯t sure who was responsible for the waves- had little sympathy as the murder rabbits tried to do what they did best and rip his throat out, and once more, Rory set about the grisly work that only Elmer Fudd would appreciate. Body after body was torn apart by his bat as Rory settled into a groove. Mindless killers, the rabbits were easy to predict. They still seemed unable to resist pouncing if his back was turned, and they continued to stream in through the opening in his walls. Eventually, it reached the point where most of his kills came from simply standing directly in front of his sharpened wooden stakes, briefly flashing his back to the creatures before rolling out of the waves, the monsters more than happy to throw their lives away as they impaled themselves in an attempt to rip him apart.

    Stage after stage, he persevered, the aching slash on his shoulder a reminder to measure his overconfidence lest it get him killed.

    With one final swing of his bat downward, spiking the final caerbannog of the sixth stage through the eye, he took a moment to collapse onto his lounging log. Each stage had given an extra minute''s worth of rest, meaning he had roughly five or six minutes to catch his breath.

    Twenty-five more, then I¡¯m done.

    Pulling up his interface, he glanced toward his progress bar. It had been eighty percent filled after the last wave.

    Surely.

    For a moment, Rory was taken aback, staring in confusion. The bar was full, and yet-

    Nothing happened?

    He should have reached A2, yet his body felt the same.

    Unless you¡¯re unable to ascend during combat.

    His estimated five minutes of downtime should have been plenty if that was the case.

    On second thought, it''s probably not a wise idea.

    There was the genuine chance that, given this was a wave of monsters, it wouldn¡¯t count until it was finished, and even if that weren¡¯t the case, if he were mid-ascension when the final stage of the wave appeared, he¡¯d be like a silver platter of food serving himself up to the monsters.

    I think I¡¯ll wait.

    Shaking his head, he caught his breath as much as he could. Fighting was taxing work, comparable to a dead sprint, but with a more significant risk of having your throat torn out.

    Not to mention the mental toll.

    There was something quite different from an ordinary workout and the exertion it would have on the body, with fighting for your life. Not only were your muscles and cardiovascular ability pushed to the limit, but death was looming at any given moment. Rory wanted nothing more than to crawl into his small shelter and sleep for the next thirty hours, his mental fatigue as bad as his physical fatigue

    No can do, sadly.

    There was still one last stage to the wave, and-

    Right on time.

    Padding toward him slowly was the first rabbit of the seventh stage, except something was off. First, there were no accompanying rabbits.

    Second was the fact that the fluffy white murder rodent had antlers.

    A jackalope?

    Flicking his interface open briefly, he saw a small notification window with a single tidbit of info about the creature.

    Jackalope--???

    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Rory muttered as he dismissed the distracting interface. Either he was the first person to see the creature and had thus inadvertently given a name for the monster species with but a thought, or someone else had already seen it and named it as such.

    Chicken or the egg, it doesn¡¯t matter.

    What mattered was the fact that, what should have been twenty-five caerbannogs, was only a single jackalope.

    You don¡¯t have to be a rocket scientist to figure that out.

    It was some variety of ¡®boss,¡¯ and it was watching him with a gaze that showed a spark of intelligence, a given considering it hadn¡¯t instantly lunged forward to brutalize him.

    No, intelligence isn¡¯t the right word. It¡¯s just not as mindlessly bloodthirsty.

    Raising his bat, held firmly, he twirled it once. Prepared, or as prepared as he could be, Rory stepped forward to do battle with his destined foe.

    It was time to tackle a creature of legend.

 9. Myth and Reality

    "Well then?" Rory asked the creature, raising his voice. "I don''t have all day. Come on!"

    He did, in fact, have all day. It''s not like he was about to hit up the nightlife of a planet with only eight people, but Rory had no intention of dragging the encounter out.

    The Jackalope tilted its admittedly cute head at him. Half expecting it to charge him with its small set of antlers, he was surprised when the air around it began to wrinkle, warping as if space was bending until four black orbs had formed, dark as the void of space.

    Well, that doesn''t look good.

    Instantly, the orbs launched forward, forcing Rory to leap out of the way and land on the ground before jumping out of the sudden tucked roll. A single glance backward showed four perfect orb-shaped holes in the wall behind where he had been standing.

    If it wasn''t obvious, avoid the space-deleting orbs.

    The jackalope did not attempt to close the distance, content with firing more orbs after him. Thankfully, they appeared to have a linear path; they weren''t tracking him as they flew, vanishing the moment they collided with anything.

    The downside is that whatever they touched, they seemed to erase matter.

    Yeah, don''t get hit.

    Rory wanted to draw closer to the monster, but the issue was that the closer he got, the less time he had to react and avoid one of those space-deleting orbs. He was playing defense with no way to turn things around.

    Something. Think!

    Rory continued to dodge, flinging his body every which way as the spheres flew about recklessly, with no end in sight. Hours and days of work were being shredded as the orbs erased matter, his camp deteriorating more and more by the second.

    "Stop¡­ Breaking¡­my¡­. Shit!" Annoyed at watching his work go to waste, Rory finally flung himself forward, leaping at the jackalope with his bat raised overhead, taking advantage of a brief moment of respite where no orbs formed.

    Gotcha!

    Time slowed as he brought the bat down toward the jackalope.

    Quite strange; this moment feels like it''s dragging on.

    What should have only taken a moment had dragged on for several seconds as a more malignant thought began to form.

    Wait¡­ Don''t people say everything slows down just before they die?

    Eyes widening slowly, Rory saw his mistake. A tiny black orb had formed just a step behind the jackalope, one he hadn''t noticed at first as it was formed behind its antlers and not between.

    Shit!

    Time unfroze, and without thinking, Rory did the only thing he could think of as the orb was sent flying directly at his face. Swinging the bat down prematurely, the orb collided with it.

    The good news was that his face survived being erased.

    The bad news was that the same could not be said for his bat.

    "God damn it!" Rory yelled, examining his bat, which had been reduced to a handle after he threw himself away from the damned jackalope. "I just made that!"

    He was down a weapon, his camp was being destroyed, and still, he had made no progress on killing the damned thing.

    Tossing aside what remained of his bat, he withdrew his combat knife, spinning it to hold it pointed downward. For a moment, Rory considered flinging the knife at the jackalope. Still, it was his only weapon left, and generally, tossing away your only weapon was considered a bad idea.

    It''s not like I''m a trained knife thrower anyway.

    He needed to close the distance without being erased.

    How!?

    At the rate things were going, his camp would be destroyed, and he would be forced to flee.

    That or he would die.

    Think, Rory. Think.

    Desperate, he flicked open his interface, skimming the small overlay for anything that might help. He had his vocation, Significance Triumphs, physique report, and contacts if he tried to pull them up, which he didn''t, and aside from that, there was nothing else. No special power-up button, nothing.

    If this System was modeled after a video game, it isn''t a very forgiving game.

    About to give up on it, Rory nearly dismissed the interface when he once more thought back to the contact screen. He considered trying to message the world spirit for a moment, but either she wouldn''t save him, or it wouldn''t reach her in time.

    But I can do something else.

    It was something the world spirit had shown him, and while it was a long shot, he was desperate. Dashing toward the jackalope, he saw an orb appear above it, ready to rip through his chest.

    Not so fast.

    With his interface still open, Rory tapped once with his free hand before flicking it away.

    Toward the jackalope.

    For the first time since it began its assault, the jackalope moved, startled by a golden-hued display flickering into existence suddenly right before it.

    Using the split-second distraction for as much as it was worth, Rory dove at the jackalope, dodging the hastily flung orb, his knife slamming down hard.

    Sucking in breath after breath, far more winded than even he had realized, Rory''s brain rebooted after a moment of inhalation.

    Did it work?

    The fact that there didn''t appear to be any holes in his body, something his physique report confirmed, was already a good start. Tearing his eyes away from his interface, he took stock of the sight before him.

    The jackalope remained where it was, except now there was a knife stabbed through its skull, pinning its head to the ground, the handle bloodied by how hard he had been gripping it.

    I won!

    A swell of excitement welled through him; simultaneously, a notification appeared on his interface display.

    "Wave cleared. Nearby Caerbannog colonies cleared. Jackalope neophyte vanquished."

    "Neophyte?" Rory paused as he digested the meaning. "That''s alarming."

    Neophyte, otherwise known as a beginner, novice, or apprentice. The Jackalope that he''d only managed to kill through a rather creative application of the System, well, system, was merely a beginner-level variant.

    "Wait, does that mean there are more out there worse than that?"

    The system notification said nothing.

    Slowly rising, Rory stretched his arms overhead, noting his somewhat bloodied shoulder. Based on the physique report, it looked worse than it was.

    "Update:" Rory read aloud as a new notification appeared. "System Patching. Abuse of System infrastructure."

    His interface was replaced by the iconic spinning circle, which disappeared seconds later, and a new notification appeared once more.

    "System Patch implemented: Usage of display sharing now blocked on hostile opponents."

    Well, that sucks.

    The System had ordained information bombing as an unintended mechanic, meaning that his plan to abuse the tactic had died before he could use it to its full potential.

    After the interface abuse was handled, his display returned to its earlier appearance and continued where it had left off with the wave.

    "Settlement expansion rewarded. Display Growth Pathways? Y/N"

    "Growth pathways?" Rory questioned out loud as another notification appeared.

    "Growth Pathways: Potential System offered pre-formed evolution methods for System based systems."

    "Being called the ''System'' makes it more confusing than it should be, especially when you say things like ''System-based systems'' or stuff like that," Rory called out, unable to ignore the repetition any longer.

    The System clearly disagreed, as no notification of name updates appeared in response to his comment.

    Well, it''s a system, not a thinking person. I shouldn''t be too surprised.

    "Display Pathways? Y/N." The System prompted.

    "Sure, why not?" Rory said as he mentally clicked the yes option. Instantly, what looked like an inverted family tree appeared, or several appeared. They all shared one thing in common, starting with a singular option.

    Fortress Path: Wall resistance increased.

    Idyllic Path: Amenity effectiveness increased.

    R&D Path: Firepit potential capacity increased to Hearth.

    "Well, those are¡­ something," Rory said after a moment of thought. "Are those the only options?"

    Pre-defined system paths are limited via planetary ascension capacity.

    "Hmm, unfortunate, I guess," Rory muttered. They seemed rather¡­ basic if he was being honest, but it made sense that he couldn''t do much more than that, given the limited nature of the planet.

    Actually, wait a minute¡­

    Ignoring the Pathways momentarily, he flicked them to the back of his display overlay, bringing the main screen to the forefront. He looked at the section he''d ignored for the most part.

    Vocation: Architect of the Precursors.

    Those by the name of Architect are regarded as the progenitors of monumental accomplishments, both literal and metaphorical.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    I wonder¡­

    "Hey, System?" Rory questioned, aware that the system seemed to be able to respond to questions presented to it in real-time. "This¡­ vocation, thingy, title, whatever. It mentions being ''progenitors of monumental accomplishments,'' both literal and metaphorical. Ignoring the metaphorical part, does that mean I have some affinity, I guess, for things related to architecture?"

    For a moment, nothing happened until a new notification appeared.

    "Vocational skill sets are granted the ability to interact with the world more intimately. Explore possibilities of one''s vocation and unlock potential not linked through martial prowess."

    Rory smiled as he saw the notification, a reasonably generic game-sounding description. Knowing the System was connected to everything, it likely had some idea of where his mind was going, and the fact that he had gotten a generic-looking message instead of a direct dismissal or such meant that he was on the right path.

    "Wonderful. Second question, it mentions ''pre-formed'' and ''predefined.'' Does that insinuate that you don''t need to necessarily stick to what is offered?"

    When no notification appeared, a smile spread across his face as he closed the Pathways.

    "I think I''ll attend to that on my own if that''s the case."

    He could almost imagine a sense of annoyance from the display, but that couldn''t be possible; it was nothing more than a mindless construct created through weird cosmic magic-y nonsense.

    Wasn''t it?

    "Alright, ignoring the Settlement Pathways for now, is there anything else related to the wave we need to cover?"

    A text box appeared, which Rory read out carefully.

    "Initiate Wave Beacon? Y/N. Denial incurs a one-week cooldown."

    Yeah, fuck that. Rory shook his head, instantly clicking the no option. Rushing into his first proper monster wave should have been the end of him. The Jackalope had been an enemy he had no right beating and had only succeeded through what was effectively a bug in the system, something the System hadn''t considered, given he was likely the first person to take advantage of it in the first place.

    "Wave Beacon deactivated. Next Activation allowed: One hundred sixty-seven hours, fifty-nine minutes. Wave continuation denied, distributing wave rewards. Challenger modifier: 1x."

    Now, that was interesting. If he was inferring correctly, you could initiate the next beacon after clearing a wave, denying the rewards from the first beacon and increasing the overall rewards. It was worth considering, but his little ''settlement'' had barely survived a single wave. Without the rewards of his first wave, there was no way in hell it would survive two in a row.

    "Actually, what are the rewards anyway?" Rory asked.

    "Reward multiplier: 1x. Rewards offered: Triumph energy distribution."

    Before he could question what that meant, another notification box appeared on his display.

    "Well¡­ That''s interesting."

    It was what looked to be a slider of all things, directly above a birds-eye view of what must have been his raggedy camp. Of note were five things that appeared to have a soft red outline. Himself, his walls, the firepit, his shelter, and his pond of all things.

    Interesting.

    Clicking on the walls, the simulated model of his camp zoomed in on the walls, displaying several more pieces of info. First was a status on the integrity of his walls.

    Seventy-six percent. That''s not terrible, but it''s also not great, given that they weren''t ever directly targeted.

    Next to the integrity status was another button to click, simply stating repair.

    Is it that easy?

    After clicking on the button, a slider appeared next to it. Curious, he began dragging it back and forth. He quickly learned that the simulation would respond in real time, displaying how much of a repair job they got based on how much energy he gave them. He also learned that dragging the repair bar to full drained some of the total energy rewarded for completing the wave.

    So, basically, it''s a convenience tax. If I don''t want to do it myself, the system can repair my stuff; it just takes from my rewards.

    Perhaps it would be more useful if he had some sprawling territory, but he could patch it up for now.

    With a brief mental command, the repair information was dismissed. With the walls still selected, Rory began experimenting with the main slider that seemed to control the overall energy earned. Sliding it entirely to the right, he saw a time-lapse of the wall simulation morphing, no longer the crude walls he had built but several feet tall walls of solid wood that appeared as if they had grown straight out of the ground. Several seconds later, they changed even more, now showing the same wooden walls but with a hardened shell of perfectly packed clay or something like clay.

    Ahhh, I got it. So, this is like a controlled version of what happened to my shelter.

    It confirmed that the energy rewarded was the same ascension energy that had improved himself, his walls, the world spirit, and seemingly everything else.

    Valuable.

    Part of him wanted to accept the simulated improvement to the walls then and there, but patience could go a mile where instinct could only go a foot.

    I never liked that phrase, but my boss loved to throw it around.

    Experimenting further, Rory tried testing how it would affect his other options. After the walls, he tried his fireplace, unsure of the changes. Sliding it directly to the right and allocating the total resources, the simulated fireplace went through not two but three changes. The first was an upgrade from a rather pathetic pit in the ground to a small walled structure composed of hardened mud or clay. Several seconds later, it changed again into what looked like a variant of a brick pizza oven. The final change was into what was nothing more than a more robust and larger version of the prior brick oven.

    Weird how the options only seem to be cooking related.

    "System, do I have any control over the changes?"

    "Settlement evolution determined via Settlement Leader of Settlement Profession Heads."

    "Profession heads?" Rory chewed the thought over. It wasn''t immediately pertinent, but it seemed to suggest that his assumption that they wouldn''t be alone on the planet forever had some truth.

    But, also, that''s not exactly what I was asking.

    Taking the answer and extrapolating, Rory figured that some control was allowed, albeit only from select individuals.

    "Well, considering this is a settlement, population one, I doubt anyone else is exactly higher ranking on the hierarchy than me," Rory muttered.

    He slid the slider back to zero, focusing on a mental image before once more maxing it out. Rather than transforming into a three-stage oven as before, his fireplace underwent a different evolutionary path. The ascension energy was now only enough to gain a single degree of change after the preliminary change into a proper fireplace. From a standard firepit, it transformed into the most rudimentary kiln he''d ever seen.

    Not exactly like I''ve seen that many, but still.

    "So, all changes aren''t created equal." Rory mused as he pulled back the slider and zoomed back out. After investigating how the energy affected his settlement walls and fireplace, he clicked on his shelter next. Maxing it out, unlike the oven evolution, which had contained three changes from its current form, or even his walls or the kiln evolution, which had involved two degrees of change, even maxed out on energy, the shelter only saw a single evolution, growing taller and broader so that it had more room.

    Curious.

    Sliding the slider back some, perhaps wondering if he had missed something, the simulated shelter degraded to what the live version looked like at approximately three-quarters of the bar.

    I wonder if¡­

    Pulling the slider back and forth, he quickly learned something else: Evolutions seemed all or nothing, as there were no partial stages. While that was true, it didn''t prevent him from allocating energy in varying amounts, even if it wasn''t enough to push further changes.

    Meaning I can split it up over several waves.

    The discovery could yield even more insight, but he had already moved on. There was no reason to give any attention to his shelter for the time being, as it served him just fine as it currently was.

    Leaving myself and the pond.

    Rory didn''t even bother selecting himself. It didn''t take a genius to realize it would dump energy into him, accelerating his ascension progress.

    There is some selfish benefit to being the leader of a settlement, even if it''s only a settlement of one.

    Left with a final option, he clicked on the pond, the most curious option available. Unlike the other options¡ªhimself excluded¡ªthe pond was the only option that wasn''t hand-made and had been a natural occurrence, something he''d found rather than made.

    Slowly increasing the energy distributed to the pond, he was enlightened about another interesting detail. Everything else required only a tiny amount of energy to obtain their first ascension or evolution¡ªhis shelter was the sole exception, as, unlike the rest of the camp, it had already ascended before the wave.

    The pond was a different story. It required nearly ninety-five percent of the total energy available from his reward for clearing the wave. And what was the dramatic change that would require so much energy?

    Almost nothing. A single small stalagmite poking out from the center of the pond.

    Well, chances are that it''s something special if it takes so much.

    Confident with what he had learned, Rory sighed, taking a seat as he considered his options.

    Dumping energy into myself is out of the question; I''ve already got all I need to ascend, and I don''t know if it carries over.

    Next off the potential consideration list was his shelter, as he''d already decided the tiny shelter was fine for the time. It was not as if he were about to have any guests anytime soon.

    Which leaves me, the walls, the firepit, and the pond.

    The childish part of him that had imagined living in a fantasy city as a child wanted to dump energy into the walls, hoping to one day obtain towering marble walls.

    But that''s 1. Something that is some time away, and 2. Not beneficial in the short term.

    He''d already declined the next wave from arriving next week, meaning he had no immediate need to grow his walls.

    Which left the firepit and the pond.

    I probably want to work on getting that kiln upgraded, but if I go straight to the kiln, I won''t have enough energy remaining to upgrade the pond.

    Perhaps it was the mystery of why the pond upgrade was so expensive. Still, even if logic told him the kiln would prove immediately valuable for making better tools and weapons, he couldn''t shrug off the temptation of the pond.

    "Guess that settles it," Rory announced, decided. Dumping enough energy into the pond to reach its evolution, he allocated the remaining dredges of energy toward his dinky little firepit, barely enough to improve it to something that could be considered a proper fire pit, not a glorified hole in the ground.

    Good.

    After several seconds of waiting, a single prompt appeared.

    "Modifications detected. Confirm? Y/N"

    "Yes, obviously."

    Waiting expectantly to see the changes, Rory began to frown after two minutes.

    Why isn''t anything happening?

    Like a lightbulb in his head, he was reminded of how his shelter had only appeared to change the morning after.

    Either it takes time, or the day needs to end.

    Rory frowned, unable to hide his disappointment; he''d been looking forward to watching the changes.

    When no other notifications appeared, and his display remained unchanged on its ''home'' screen for several seconds, Rory concluded that the energy was the extent of the wave rewards, no last-minute surprises.

    Perhaps 1x multiplier rewards are limited to just energy, or maybe being the first proper wave means nothing else can be obtained in the first place.

    He had no good way of assessing the truth for the time being, so as Rory tended to do with things outside his sphere of control, he dismissed the thoughts, turning to more pressing matters.

    Namely¡­ that.

    His ascension progress had been maxed out, but it wasn''t the only thing that needed addressing. His ''walls,'' while not in terrible shape, weren''t looking great either, as were several other things in his camp, which had suffered because of the jackalope spewing out the space-erasing orbs so freely. Beyond that, there was also the matter of the monster corpses. He didn''t want to attract other, potentially more dangerous monsters; at the very least, he knew jackalopes existed and potentially more potent versions, too. If the corpses attracted them, well, that was probably going to be a rough experience.

    So, order of business. Corpse disposal first. Camp repairs second, and ascension last.

    He would have liked to have started with his ascension, but if it left him out of commission for any time, it would be wise to ensure everything else had been taken care of.

    "So¡­ corpse time."

    -----------------------------------------------------

    Corpse disposal involved three parts. First, Rory wanted to drain them of their blood. Blood had proved too useful for his cement paste, and bleeding himself to obtain it wasn''t precisely Rory''s definition of fun. Thankfully, it was a relatively simple, if messy, process. Slice open the bodies and wring their little bodies over his blood storage ''jars.'' Drained of as much blood as he could feasibly obtain from their tiny bodies -without looking like some mass murderer- the next step was dressing the monster rabbits, which, contrary to what it sounded like, involved removing excess organs. Organs and other nasty little bits were removed, and Rory proceeded to skin the hides from the tiny rabbit monsters, again a rather messy process given that his experience was limited to what he''d seen on TV or in movies. Saving as much meat as he figured he could reasonably eat within a day or two, the rest he dumped with the organs, burying them.

    All the while he worked, Rory couldn''t help but poke and prod at the bodies, learning what he could about the biomechanics of the monsters. While he wasn''t a proper biologist, his job involved poking and prodding test bodies in much the same way, and even his experience as a physical therapist had often required understanding how the body functioned.

    Put simply, the little monsters didn''t make sense, at least not within the logic of their old universe. The raw power output they had been capable of didn''t match up with the muscle fibers and their density within the bodies. They were hardly more muscular or powerful looking than regular rabbits.

    How then?

    The most obvious answer was also likely the simplest.

    Magic. Or whatever you wanted to call the quasi-mystical forces at play within this super-universe.

    He left a single corpse untouched: the jackalope. He wanted to give it the proper attention it deserved, as, outside of what the world spirit had spoken of and System strangeness; it had been the first concrete proof of something akin to magic.

    Hours passed as he worked, and not even halfway done with the corpses, Rory glanced at his damaged walls, sighing.

    "Well, at least I know how I''ll spend the next few days."

    ------------------------------------------------------------------

    Three days it took Rory. Three days of glorified housework. He could understand why the repair function was even a thing; between processing his kills and repairing the damage of the last wave, he would have been left with only four days had he activated the next wave. Thankfully, he hadn''t; Rory had never been overly prideful or arrogant, so he hadn''t had any misinformed ideas about his survival odds if he did. Aside from manually repairing the walls, there had been two other changes to his campsite.

    The first change had only required a single day, appearing the morning after the wave. His sad little fire pit had become something more, now a proper fireplace made of a packed and hardened clay-like material he hadn''t yet stumbled across on the foreign planet. Testing it out, he''d uncovered that it was shockingly strong, stronger than ordinary cement or brick from earth.

    That''s nice, at least.

    The final change was that over three days, the stalagmite inside his pond was slowly growing; each day, he found it slightly taller in the morning. With another four days, he suspected it would be complete.

    I''m still curious about what makes it special.

    With his walls repaired as best he could and the monsters either eaten or disposed of, he was left with two final tasks.

    1. The jackalope. Unlike the caerbannogs, it had shown zero signs of breakdown or decay.

    Convenient.

    And finally, task number 2: He had been putting off the little issue of his ascension.

    So¡­ Which first?

    With the jackalope showing no signs of degradation and the rest of his tasks finished, he could afford to delay; there was a chance that, following game logic, he would have better results studying and dissecting the jackalope if he waited until after his ascension.

    And truthfully, his number one motivation for opting to wait on the jackalope and instead finally address the ascension?

    He was excited, if only a tad bit. He had never been huge into games, but that didn''t mean he couldn''t appreciate the thought of a good level-up.

    Here goes nothing.

    Laying inside his shelter in case anything unexpected happened, he closed his eyes, tapping into the barrier in his mind and punching through, energy flooding his body instantly.

    And here we g-

    "-o?"? Rory looked around, startled.

    Where am I?

    Only moments prior, he''d been inside his shelter, eyes closed. Now, he was standing in front of a plain steel table, floating in a void of blackness and stars.

    As far as weird things went, this was already looking to take the cake. The only way it could get weirder was-

    "Hello, Father."

    That. That''s how it could get weirder.

    Sitting across the table where no one had been before, there was now a humanoid figure devoid of any features. The only thing that stood out was the fact that its body appeared to be filled with endless-

    Galaxies? Alright, there is a galaxy thing calling me father. Right.

    Things officially got weirder.

 10. The System Says Hello

    ¡°Alright, where am I?¡± Rory questioned the strange galaxy being. ¡°And who are you, like, really?¡±

    ¡°You are deep within your mind, within the Ascension Realm.¡±

    ¡°Generic name, but okay. And you are?¡±

    ¡°I am the personification of the System in a form your mind can comprehend.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯d you call me father?¡±

    ¡°The System determined that humans can better cope with potentially mentally stressful situations when ¡®humor¡¯ is injected. As you are the one responsible for the existence of the System, it was determined that an attempt at humor by referring to Precursor Rowan as ¡®father¡¯ would be potentially viewed as humorous.¡±

    ¡°Right, well, can¡¯t say I saw that one coming.¡± Rory sighed, grabbing the chair on his side of the table and pulling it out before dropping onto it. ¡°So, what, are you some sort of ¡®world spirit¡¯ like Aelia?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The strange galaxy being shook its head. ¡°The world spirit you know as Aelia is a proper living existence of the macro-verse. I am neither alive nor an individual. This is simply a form given to communicate in a way determined to be both easiest to understand and least taxing on the mind.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Rory nodded, taking it in stride. ¡°So, why exactly is the System invading my inner mind?¡±

    ¡°The System is intimately interwoven with all living beings; therefore, it cannot invade what it already occupies within.¡±

    ¡°Being told that some vast unfeeling System is residing within my mind could be rather off-putting.¡±

    ¡°Hence why communication is being utilized in a method which is determined to be least potentially dangerous or harming for long term development.¡±

    ¡°Well, at the very least, you sure do talk like some cosmic AI.¡±

    ¡°AI: Artificial Intelligence. The System is neither Artificial nor considered a proper intelligence, therefore-¡±

    ¡°Never mind.¡± Rory shook his head, interrupting the System from elaborating further. ¡°Let''s go back to the initial question. Why exactly are you here?¡±

    ¡°With the first proper Ascension, System possibilities become available. As Precursors, there is the need for explanation that cannot be found elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°Precursor. You mean like the Vocation title I have?¡±

    ¡°In essence. It is a grade of Vocation only obtainable through special methods.¡±

    ¡°Such as, let me guess, being some of the first intelligent life around?¡±

    ¡°That is one potential avenue.¡±

    ¡°Alright, seems logical. So, you¡¯re here to explain things that otherwise we¡¯d have no way to know?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°Then go on.¡± Rory waved at the strange System avatar to continue.

    ¡°As the Architect has noticed already, ascension provides a direct route for improvement and evolution of nearly all things, and the possibility of improvement that mundane methods or understandings could never replicate or match.¡±

    ¡°Wait, so if I were to dump enough ascension energy into my walls, I could get walls stronger than steel just like that?¡±

    ¡°Correct, though clarification is required. ¡®Steel,¡¯ as you understand it, is not a concept within this macro-verse but rather an archaic Pre-Collapse terminology. Similar materials exist, but as the material makeup of atomic scale structures differs-¡±

    ¡°Got it, got it. Technically, steel doesn¡¯t exist anymore, but I¡¯m still going to call whatever is closest to steel, steel though.¡±

    ¡°Terminology adaptation acceptable.¡±

    ¡°That aside, what do you mean by ¡®Collapse¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Collapse: Reference to the event in which the pre-System universe web structure was forcibly fused, leading to the current macro-verse being born.¡±

    ¡°Did the System name that, or did someone else decide to give it that name?¡±

    ¡°Your secondary assumption is correct. The Precursor¡¯s Spear assigned the name, which the System has since adopted as official terminology.¡±

    Precursor¡¯s Spear? It seems like someone else got a cooler-sounding Vocation than I did.¡±

    ¡°So, back to what you were saying?¡±

    ¡°Ascension provides a method of evolution and improvement; in non-living aspects, this generally results in function or quality improvement. As a living being, proper Ascension evolutions take a different form.¡±

    ¡°What, do I get stats?¡± Rory questioned, half joking.

    ¡°Stats: Generalized term for Pre-Collapse ¡®game¡¯ data which-¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to define every single thing.¡± Rory sighed. ¡°As I said, I¡¯m confident I already know what it is.¡±

    ¡°Based on the Architect''s definition of ¡®stats,¡¯ then no, the system does not contain such things.¡±

    Oh, bummer.

    ¡°Due to the inconsistent and unreliable nature of formulating and defining personal capabilities through numerical display, ¡®stats¡¯ do not exist, but attribute evolutions and growth as a non-numeric display are components of Ascension growth.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ Stats, just without the number display?¡±

    ¡°Not entirely accurate, but not incorrect.¡±

    The System avatar waved a hand, and hovering over the table, several words appeared, like the display interface he¡¯d grown accustomed to was unnecessary for the System itself, which could directly project information.

    ¡°Ascension resource basics: Durability, Growth, Cognition, Flexibility, Strength, Pneuma.¡±

    ¡°Wait, let me take a jab at these. Durability seems straightforward; it''s how tough you are. With enough durability, could one become bulletproof? And before you say it, I¡¯m aware bullets no longer exist as we remember them.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    Relief flooded Rory. With how strong simple rabbit monsters were, the thought of proper monsters and how strong they could potentially be had left him wondering how one could ever hope to survive an encounter.

    ¡°Alright, so durability is straightforward, and I¡¯m guessing strength is also. It¡¯s how much force a muscle can generate.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°Are their¡­ limitations?¡±

    ¡°No, aside from the limitations of the current body.¡±

    Rory frowned at the phrasing before it came to him a second later.

    Oh, duh.

    ¡°If you put too much stock into strength, your body will tear itself apart if it doesn¡¯t have some measure of durability as well?¡±

    ¡°Assessment correct.¡±

    ¡°Same thing with flexibility, I assume. If you can run and punch and do all that stuff to a heightened level, you probably want your tendons capable of withstanding it, so that¡¯s where flexibility comes in?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    Rory was beginning to understand how the stats worked. It was a surprisingly logical and non-magical foundation that one had to understand lest one tear one''s body apart every time they tried to move if they over-invested in strength, for example.

    ¡°So, I got those¡­ I¡¯ll be honest, though, I¡¯m not sure I have even an idea about the rest. Is cognition how smart you are?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Rory frowned. He hadn¡¯t been expecting to be wrong. Closing his eyes, he thought for several moments before he snapped two fingers, realization dawning upon him.

    ¡°It¡¯s signal speed. If you could run fast as a speeding bullet or punch through not-steel, the signals of the mind and body need to be capable of moving fast enough to keep up.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°So, while it may not make you smarter, it will allow you to think faster. Whether your thoughts are correct or not is inconsequential.¡±

    ¡°Explanation is considered accurate. Intelligence gains are still personal achievements obtained through study or personal experiences.¡±

    ¡°Alright, well, the last two are stumping me completely. Growth and Pneuma? I¡¯m assuming Growth isn¡¯t merely how tall you can grow.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    Rory leaned back, feeling like he was being subjected to a pop quiz.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t come up with anything,¡± Rory said after another minute of silence. ¡°So, fill me in.¡±

    ¡°Pneuma is the essence of energy manipulation-¡±

    ¡°Oh. Magic.¡± Rory interrupted.

    ¡°Understanding is basic, and details are lacking, but the core concept is accurate. Is further explanation required?¡±

    ¡°Uhm, maybe? How do you even do magic?¡±

    ¡°Such answers are not System-dependent in determining.¡±

    Meaning it¡¯s something that I can reasonably expect to figure out myself.

    ¡°Alright, then, answer me this at least. Does Pneuma refer to the strength of the magic or how much magic you can use?¡±

    ¡°Both.¡±

    Well, that doesn¡¯t answer anything.

    Rory considered quizzing the System-Avatar further, but instinct said he was unlikely to learn any specifics of how magic worked.

    ¡°So¡­ growth?¡±

    ¡°Growth: Singular merit-demerit attribute.¡±

    ¡°Merit-demerit? What the hell does that mean?¡±

    ¡°Growth functions as an attribute modifier. Increased Growth improves attribute density, reduces immediate ascension speed, and limits immediate attribute potential.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ that¡­ come again?¡±

    Realizing words weren''t cutting it, the galaxy-filled avatar waved a hand as a chart of all things appeared.

    ¡°Numerical values are for explanation purposes only, as there are-¡±

    ¡°No actual numerical values involved; yeah, I got it,¡± Rory said dismissively, looking over the chart. The first row was labeled ¡®ascension requirements¡¯ and seemed to follow a pattern that Rory had noticed himself, the first ascension requiring ¡®10¡¯, the next requiring ¡®100¡¯, and each increasing by a factor of ten. What the unit of measurement meant was irrelevant, as it made it clear that each ascension required ten times as much energy as the last. Beneath the first row was a second row labeled as ¡®Attribute density¡¯ starting from 0 and increasing by 100, all the way to a max of 2500.

    ¡°What exactly does attribute density refer to?¡±

    ¡°You may consider it the attribute evolution value you can gain per ascension. With each ascension, you gain attributes to distribute as you please.¡±

    ¡°So, a flat one hundred per ascension, with a total twenty-five hundred gained by ascension level twenty-five. Does that mean there are a max twenty-five ascensions?¡±

    ¡°Due to the relative infancy of both the macro-verse and its inhabitants, only twenty-five tiers worth of ascensions can be estimated for.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± Rory nodded, turning his attention to the next row, brow furrowing after a moment. It was labeled ¡®Attribute Density-Growth Attribute factored,¡± and much like the prior row, it started with a flat one hundred, but that was where the similarity ended, the next value increasing to two-hundred and twelve instead of a flat two hundred, with the third value set at three hundred and thirty-nine instead of three hundred, and only growing at a faster rate from there.

    ¡°What does this mean?¡± Rory said, pointing at the seemingly random numbers.

    ¡°Potential attribute gains when fully invested toward the Growth attribute. Under typical circumstances, ascension awards a flat value of attribute growth referred to as attribute density.¡±

    ¡°Hence the row that increases by a flat one hundred.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°So, Growth allows for extra gains.¡±

    ¡°Correct. For each unit of Growth invested in, a 12.5% return is seen on the following ascension, plus the flat 100 gain.¡±

    Rory glanced at the numbers again, making sense of what he saw. ¡°And it compounds potentially?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    Rory felt his eyes widen, flicking to the end of the chart. Without any Growth investment, the attribute gains maxed out at a measly 2,500, but with Growth, they maxed out at 14,000.

    ¡°That¡¯s something like six times more potential.¡±

    ¡°Correct. That is the merit component of the Merit-Demerit aspect of Growth.¡±

    ¡°Alright, and the demerit portion?¡±

    The System-Avatar pointed at the final row labeled ¡°Ascension Requirements- Growth.¡± Whereas the Ascension requirement had been a standard 10x multiplier on the prior row, Rory quickly calculated that the requirements were increasing by 25%, compounding.

    ¡°Got it. The more you invest in Growth, the slower your ascensions become, potentially stalling out for¡­ well, a long time.¡±

    ¡°Correct, as well as the function that Growth provides no immediate attribute boost, unlike the other attributes.¡±

    ¡°Is it a twenty-five percent effect, or is that simply for this example?¡±

    ¡°Due to the variety of attributes affecting objects, Vocations, and other such things of that nature, numerical rates can vary. The baseline effect of Growth slowdown is two times the return of Growth on attribute gains.¡±

    A long way of saying no.

    ¡°Right, so attributes. Is that everything?¡± Rory questioned the totally-not-an-Ai.

    ¡°There is no more information pertaining to basic attribute comprehension.¡±

    I¡¯ll ignore the fact that it said ¡®basic¡¯ for now.

    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s the case-¡±

    ¡°The System deems it mandatory for racial characteristics and evolution to be understood next.¡±

    Ahh, of course.

    ¡°Racial characteristics? Evolution?¡± Roy asked.

    ¡°Correct.¡± The System-Avatar swiped upward as Rory¡¯s interface was forcibly displayed. ¡°Now that Ascension rank two has been achieved, the ¡®Interface¡¯ as you refer to it has been updated with further information.¡±

    Pointing toward the Physique information, a new line appeared directly next to the overall health percentage.

    ¡°Proto-Human? And what¡¯s with the ¡®E1¡¯ next to it?¡±

    ¡°What the Architect is observing is your racial classification¡ªa Proto-Human, grade E1. As a human existing pre-collapse, your race is considered a Proto variant. The System projects approximately fifteen levels of standard evolution available to Human-based sapiens. Furthermore, other pre-collapse races are estimated at a similar fifteen ranks of linear evolution. Theoretical races not originating from pre-collapse cannot be estimated until racial progenitors appear.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait.¡± Rory held a hand, stopping the System-Avatar from continuing. ¡°I may not have been a proper biologist, but I have enough fundamental understanding of genetics and biology that at least half of what you said made no sense. Evolution doesn¡¯t work like that. You don¡¯t just ¡®evolve¡¯ into something different. Evolution and the changes of a species adapting are generational.¡±

    ¡°Based on the system''s understanding of pre-collapse knowledge, such was true. In the current macro-verse, evolution is no longer constrained by the biological bottleneck that is procreation.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s tied to ascension, I assume, then?¡±

    ¡°Correct. Species rank and racial characteristics may be enhanced through Ascension, though there exist routes for racial characteristics to be enhanced or altered outside of direct Ascension tier-ups.¡±

    ¡°If race rank or whatever maxes out at¡­ what, A3? Does that mean Ascensions cap at the fifteenth ascension?¡± Rory questioned, curious as to whether that was the end of the line or not.

    ¡°Unknown. Theoretical models currently extrapolate the potential for upward to twenty-five ascensions for lifeforms such as yourself. Current practical data is limited, though, as the most advanced lifeforms within the macro-verse are an E1-Proto Human, ascension rank 2.¡±

    Oh, that¡¯s me, or at least I¡¯m tied with whoever that is.

    ¡°Due to the limitation of current data, the System can calculate theoretical limits past ascension 15, but they are simply theoretical until further data is available.¡±

    ¡°And how exactly do you get all this data? Is it simply from being connected to everything? Because I doubt eight intelligent beings are enough to give you that much processing power.¡±

    ¡°Correction: The System-Avatar presented is not a ¡®you.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Semantics.¡± Rory sighed.

    ¡°While the System is neither omnipotent nor omniscient, a degree of higher-leveled understanding and reasoning is capable due to the aforementioned connection to current intelligent beings within the macro-verse, as well as an innate connection to pre-existing information seeded within the very fabric of reality due to the pre-Collapse dimensional layers containing an abundance of data-based free radicals.¡±

    And we¡¯ve moved outside my pay grade.

    Rory shook his head, not understanding most of what had just been said, but the System-Avatar wasn¡¯t done yet.

    ¡°As the macro-verse continues to develop, pre-collapse information will break down into simple energy and information decay, but in return, the processing capabilities of the system will be heightened due to the existence of more sapient intelligence of higher quality. Pre-collapse information shall at that point only be retained in surviving records as they are made.¡±

    ¡°So, basically, the System is only aware of things from before this universe existed because there are people around who remember those things, and if we disappear, the System¡¯s connection to that would be lost?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Interesting.¡± Rory scratched his chin, deep in thought.

    We¡¯re like external memory drives. Anything the System knows about the Pre-Collapse universe independent of what we know will eventually disappear as the ¡®information¡¯ decays into pure energy.

    Rory knew he was crossing into the realm of true intellectuals when his head began to hurt even within the strange mind space, indicating it was time to change the subject.

    ¡°Back to the earlier topic. What about theoretical races and the entire ¡®linear evolution¡¯ thing?¡±

    ¡°Through Ascension, Linear Evolution is possible, the simple improvement of the original race. Linear evolutions lead to the reduction and eventual elimination of design flaws within the body and mind. Other racial alterations are also possible, such as race adaptation or modification.¡±

    ¡°So, like, a human could become something else entirely?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°So, I could become one of the other races of the universe? Pre-Collapse races, that is?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    That was a novel thought¡ªabandoning his humanity to become one of the other races. Technically, even pre-Collapse, there was some degree of racial modification, but it was only achievable through extensive biological modification surgeries. Even if the physical body could be changed, the base DNA was impossible to alter sufficiently to be considered a different race; unraveled DNA would break down or be entirely at odds with whatever chemical makeup existed in the other residents of the universe.

    ¡°What¡¯s a race modification?¡± Rory suddenly asked, his train of thought continuing.

    ¡°Rather than linear evolutions, which are largely System-controlled, direct manipulation and alteration of a race''s base genetics and traits are possible by utilizing the abundance of energy within the macro-verse, either obtained through Ascension or other means. Compounding racial modifications can even allow for entire diverging races, what are currently known as ¡®theoretical¡¯ races due to the lack of any practical examples yet.¡±

    It makes sense if the current highest ascension is a mere rank two. Not many chances to explore tinkering with your race.

    ¡°Attributes, races, is there anything else I¡¯m missing?¡± Rory asked after several moments of letting everything sink in.

    ¡°There are two final pieces of information deemed valuable by the System for Precursor awareness. Fifty percent of attributes are gained instantly upon an Ascension, with the final fifty percent gained over time. Low-ranked Ascensions are largely unaffected, gaining most of their attributes instantly.¡±

    But if ascensions take years at a time, that might be important to keep in mind.

    ¡°And the last thing?¡±

    ¡°Vocational changes. Vocation upgrades may be achieved without Ascension, but guaranteed changes can be obtained upon an Ascension if some degree of Vocation experience was gained before ascending.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± Rory nodded. ¡°So, nothing else?¡±

    ¡°Correct. All pertinent information has been shared.¡±

    ¡°Then, is this going to be the norm?¡± Rory waved around to the black void and the table they were seated at.

    ¡°Negative. Direct System intervention shall only be utilized in extreme situations.¡±

    ¡°Such as being the forerunners of a new universe? Not exactly possible for us to learn this stuff otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    Well, that confirms there will be more people eventually.

    ¡°If there are no further questions, the System shall remove itself from your mental sphere.¡±

    ¡°Wait, there is one thing.¡± Rory stopped the System-Avatar from leaving, fading away, whatever it was about to do.

    ¡°Yes?¡± The System-Avatar tilted its non-descript head like a curious child would.

    ¡°Do you have to call yourself, itself, whatever, the System? System this, System that. Even someone like me can see how generic that sounds.¡±

    ¡°System classification is based upon pre-existing information that qualifies as -¡±

    ¡°Yes, I get that. But there isn¡¯t any way to change that?¡±

    The avatar was silent for several seconds before Rory almost imagined it sighing.

    ¡°System naming convention may be altered through a minor Law creation.¡±

    Then, just like that, the table, chairs, and even the galaxy-looking avatar were gone, leaving Rory floating in a dark void, distant stars twinkling.

    That was¡­ enlightening. Rory thought to himself. Well, it''s time to use all that new info.

    Waving his hand, Rory opened his display. A new menu had appeared, dominating the display. At the top was a filled gauge, the words ¡®Attribute Density¡¯ appearing next to it. Below were the previously mentioned attributes, a slider beneath each one and a bell curve to the side of them. Curious, Rory clicked on the bell curve as a prompt appeared.

    Average population placement of stat distribution. Rory read.

    You can see how your attribute allocation compares to the average. Nifty. Rory mused.

    It was an interesting little bit of info, but considering there were only eight people currently alive, or at least on their planet, it wasn''t exactly going to be drawing from a large sample size.

    ¡°Now, for the real purpose,¡± Rory mumbled as he examined the attributes.

    How exactly do I intend to do this?

 11. Attributes, Totally-Not-Stats

    Anyone who had played almost any amount of video games could tell you there was little more thought-provoking than planning out a build.

    One could go full unga-bunga and go all in on strength, looking to club enemies over the head and caring little for complicated things like ¡®plans.¡¯

    Others would go full dexterity and sneak around the shadows, stealth kills, and assassinations.

    The problem was that this wasn¡¯t a video game. The attributes before him, while reminiscent of video game stats, were nuanced in their approach. Want to invest in strength fully? Well, have fun with your body tearing itself apart, as it''s too fragile to handle the sheer force generated. Unkillable with maximum durability? You may be unkillable, but with such pathetic strength or other attributes, you¡¯d never manage to scratch even a baby.

    ¡°Well, maybe that¡¯s pushing it.¡± Rory half chuckled.

    Still.

    Strength was generally valuable, as it allowed for more power output and speed, given that it was tied to the body''s physical capabilities.

    Durability would prevent him from being killed by a bunny slicing open an artery on a drive-by attack.

    Flexibility, while not as directly useful as strength or durability, would allow for never taking a hit in the first place if you could twist out of the way in ways only an Olympic gymnast could pre-collapse.

    Which left Cognition, Pneuma, and Growth. Cognition would be necessary as monsters began to move faster and faster, but they hadn¡¯t quite reached that point yet. Therefore, it was a relatively low priority for the time being.

    Pneuma was where things got interesting. It was an attribute that pertained to magic, of all things. However, the System Avatar had made it apparent that it wouldn¡¯t magically¡ªpun intended¡ªteach him how to use magic. Until he had a better grasp of Pneuma and magic, it would be a waste of attributes.

    Which left Growth.

    I won¡¯t lie. It¡¯s tempting.

    To invest in growth was to invest in his future potential, and it would also allow him to delay deciding on a direction for the time being.

    Plus, what is it the System made clear of? That I¡¯m an Architect.

    Perhaps he was buying into the stupid title a bit too much, but when you only had so much information to work with, why not take advantage of what he¡¯d been explicitly given or stated to have?

    After all, do you need the durability to take a hit, the flexibility to dodge one, and the strength to put a monster down if you can create things to make it easier?

    It was a simplified reasoning, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that it wasn¡¯t wrong. Mind made up, he quickly put thirty percent of his available attributes into Durability, another twenty into Strength, and the final fifty percent into Growth. The bell curve next to Growth immediately shot up, putting him at the top percentile.

    So, I guess everyone else had different thoughts.

    His Pneuma distribution rank was dead in the middle, meaning he hadn¡¯t been the only one to realize investing in an attribute you couldn¡¯t even use for the time would be a waste. Cognition, he was slightly below average, meaning at least one person had put some of their overall attribute density toward it. Flexibility was likewise below average, more than even cognition, meaning it had been more invested overall than cognition. Lastly, both Strength and Durability were well behind the curve.

    Almost everyone else put most of their points into some combination of Strength and Durability, with small amounts into flexibility.

    Satisfied with his direction, he closed the Attribute display as a new one replaced it.

    ¡°Vocational Capabilities expanded.¡± Rory read aloud.

    I guess the System wasn¡¯t kidding about being able to improve it with an Ascension.

    ¡°Fortress Focused: An Architect is the engineer of tomorrow, but tomorrow can only be ensured through surviving today. Grants greater understanding of Defensive structures.¡±

    Overall, it was a solid choice. Walls weren¡¯t exactly the most complicated structures to build. Still, if he ever wanted to do anything more than that or improve his walls in ways that weren¡¯t just a matter of galvanizing them through liberal ascension energy, he would need to expand his understanding of all things defense.

    ¡°Patience goes a mile where instinct goes a foot.¡± Rory reminded himself as he forced himself to look past the first option offered.

    ¡°Tools of the Trade: An Architect is the engineer of tomorrow, but the marvels of tomorrow cannot be built without the proper tools of today. Grants greater understanding of crafting equipment.¡±

    ¡°Now that just feels like an insult,¡± Rory grumbled. He¡¯d done his best to make usable gear, but clearly, the System disagreed.

    That or it¡¯s just a predetermined sort of thing.

    ¡°And lastly¡­ oh, that¡¯s interesting.¡±

    ¡°Maker¡¯s Arsenal: An Architect is the engineer of tomorrow, but tomorrow can only be ensured if the enemies of today are defeated. Grants greater understanding of weapon crafting.¡±

    Three options, and what¡¯s more, they were three good options. If he went the route of Fortress Focused, Rory could imagine himself manning ballistae atop towering marble walls, tearing apart roving packs of monsters before they could even get close. Tools of the Trade would ensure that regardless of his prior experience, or lack thereof, with the crafting professions back on Earth, he¡¯d be plenty capable of knowing exactly what he would need to prepare himself, be it a hacksaw or some specialized tool that only a master of their craft would even know of.

    Lastly, Maker¡¯s Arsenal. It was the most obviously useful. Weapons were the bread and butter of survival; he could distinctly recall how the jackalope had ruined his primary weapon as easily as he would break a twig. Had he had a better grasp of weapon crafting, perhaps he could have made something that would have survived the attack, or maybe he could have made a weapon that would allow him to avoid being forced into a close confrontation to start.

    The question is, which do I choose?

    ¡°Hey, System? I know you¡¯re not like, actually here, anymore, but could you do me a favor? Can you randomize my options?¡±

    While Rory received no verbal or audio confirmation that the system had heard him, a wheel appeared on his display, with three options, each taking up a third of the wheel.

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Swiping it once, the wheel spun rapidly before slowing down. Seconds passed as the spinning wheel continued to slow until finally coming to a stop.

    And there you have it.

    The wheel had landed squarely on Maker''s Arsenal, locked solidly in the middle of a single option, so there was no questioning the result.

    Can¡¯t say I¡¯m not at least a little relieved.

    Nodding to himself, he dismissed the wheel, inspecting the ascension results. Frowning only a little, Rory couldn¡¯t help but question the system mentally.

    I know it said no numerics¡­ But it sure would be nice to see actual stats.

    Perhaps with a Major Law creation¡­ No, no, that would be a waste of a Law Creation for something like that; he¡¯d already ¡®wasted¡¯ a Major Law by creating the System.

    Is that even a waste?

    Only time could tell.

    Glancing at his attribute distribution once more, he confirmed that his average placement hadn¡¯t increased or decreased, thus meaning no one else had allocated any attributes within the last few minutes. No longer looking at his attributes, Rory instead focused on his vocation, or more specifically, what was listed directly below, ¡®Maker¡¯s Arsenal,¡¯ the single listing there.

    I guess that¡¯s everything.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m done he-¡±

    ¡°-re.¡± In an instant, Rory was no longer floating in the endless void of space. Instead, his eyes fluttered open as he was met with his cramped shelter. Crawling out from the small shelter, he tentatively flexed his fingers, testing how his body felt.

    Definitely noticeable.

    It was hard to put a definite number to it, but he could feel greater strength just by clenching his fist. It wasn¡¯t as if he had doubled in strength, but if he had to guess¡­

    Something like thirty percent? It matches the approximate density I afforded Strength.

    Rory couldn¡¯t feel himself any ¡®tougher,¡¯ but that was something he¡¯d only know by being directly wounded or attacked by a monster.

    Or I could cut myself.

    Rory dismissed the idea. With his greater strength, he could probably cut himself just about as easily; plus, there was also the potential that Durability was only effective when being attacked, and self-inflicted wounds may ignore it entirely.

    All in all, for all the importance of an ascension, he felt only marginally different.

    I guess that is the point: You don¡¯t dump that much into Growth and expect something more significant.

    Aside from his relative strength increase, the only other notable change was that his brain felt like it was being lightly tickled for several seconds, new thoughts forming of their own accord.

    No, not thoughts. Knowledge.

    It was as if the world were uploading ¡®how-to¡¯ guides into his brain, teaching him how to make small weaponry properly. It wasn¡¯t as profound a knowledge gain as he had hoped, but it was there, nonetheless. Closing his eyes, he could see the imagery of how to properly carve a bow and string it, how to fold metals, and how to hammer a white-hot material into the desired form.

    Just one issue.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Sure, he suddenly felt as if he had a frame of reference for crafting weapons or folding metal, but he lacked the know-how for anything else revolving around the process.

    ¡°Not going to beam all the answers straight into my brain, and I gotta figure some of it out myself. Got it.¡± Rory sighed.

    While he wouldn¡¯t be making Excalibur any day soon, a bow was more than reasonable. All he needed was a single good knife to whittle away, and with the remains of so many monster rabbits, he was sure he could whip up a half-decent tendon bowstring.

    Which I definitely am going to need.

    He stared at the untouched corpse of the jackalope, recalling how close he¡¯d come to death. Sure, he was one ascension higher than when he¡¯d fought it initially, but he was only marginally stronger, with fifty percent of his attributes put into Growth. Still staring at the jackalope, a lightbulb went off in his head as he looked at the antlers, which seemed too large for its body.

    No¡­ maybe?

    Walking toward the deceased boss rabbit, he gave the antlers a poke. They were strong; he could recognize that instantly, but what was both surprising and pleasing was that the antlers also had a modicum of bend.

    I think they will work.

    Feeling like a man possessed -Rory had always been known for his one-track mind when he was excited about something- he found his crafting knife as he carried the corpse to his sitting log. No longer even phased by the grisly work of desecrating monster corpses, Rory began by sliding his knife into the jackalope¡¯s skull, removing flesh as he searched for where the antlers fused into its skull. Hands slick with monster blood, it took nearly half an hour of messy work before he finally managed not just to find the connecting bone fragment but also slowly chisel through it with his knife.

    You probably want a proper chisel for that, but alas, that¡¯s the luxury of someone with mastery of basic metallurgy.

    Antlers removed, the boss monster looked no different from the rest of the caerbannogs he had skinned and dissected. Admiring his work, or at least appreciating that he hadn¡¯t completely mucked up, Rory finally noticed something off, almost like a beeping or buzzing.

    ¡°What in the world is that?¡± He frowned before opening his interface.

    Ohh.

    Rather than being greeted with the ¡®home¡¯ screen, the first thing to appear was a notification.

    Ascension Acclimation Completed: Analyze function improved.

    ¡°Analyze feature?¡± Rory questioned, confused. ¡°There was an analysis feature?¡±

    Mentally prompting it, the display swiftly changed, appearing like the camera screen you¡¯d find on a phone when taking a picture. Wherever he looked, the display seemed to swivel to lock onto.

    That¡¯s a little disorienting. Can¡¯t it be a little smaller?

    Responding to his thought, the display once more morphed, now a crosshair that he could mentally lock onto an object if he didn¡¯t want it to track wherever he was looking at the time freely.

    Better.

    Wanting to test the feature, he glanced at the removed antlers, letting the crosshair lock on as a display popped up next to the antlers.

    Jackalope Antlers

    Quality: Common.

    Sturdy, magically conductive collagen. Once fully matured, jackalope antlers will become stiff and difficult to break but afford even greater pneuma conductivity.

    ¡°Huh. Well, isn¡¯t that something?¡± Rory gently tapped the flat of his knife against the antlers. The description basically confirmed that they would work for his current plan. Still tapping his knife against the antlers, he changed the analysis target from the antlers to the knife itself, suddenly curious.

    Bloodbound Crafter¡¯s Knife

    Grade: Poor

    The knife is considered invaluable as the tool of choice for nearly any profession. This particular knife is the first knife of a fledgling artisan, directly bound to the blood essence of its crafter, and may grow alongside the skills of its master.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s unexpected.¡± Rory could only stare at his knife, one part pleased and another confused.

    Bloodbound? How?

    The answer was obvious when he thought about it. Part of his ¡®recipe¡¯ for its creation literally involved an almost ritualistic bleeding of himself.

    May grow alongside the skills of its master? Considering how the system seemed to deem my creations ¡®poor¡¯ grading, it''s probably a good thing.

    ¡°A little rude,¡± Rory muttered. Sure, it wasn¡¯t the best knife he¡¯d ever seen, he used to watch a show all about blacksmiths forging artisan knives and such, but he hadn¡¯t thought he¡¯d done that poorly in comparison.

    Ah, who am I kidding?

    The only other thing that surprised him was how mundane the analysis descriptions were for both the antlers and his knife. He¡¯d been half expecting them to mention stat¡ªer¡ªattribute bonuses in video-game style, but neither the antlers nor the knife had any.

    The antlers could be considered a crafting ingredient, and perhaps the knife being poor grade means no bonuses.

    Looking around his small campsite with analysis still open, Rory began taking in as much as possible. Most were reasonably mundane descriptions¡ªa rock said, ¡°A hardened compaction of pulverized minerals,¡± for example ¡ª but others were more interesting.

    Hermit¡¯s Shelter

    A basic form of shelter, provides no direct bonuses outside of protection from exposure.

    ¡°Oh? So there can be bonuses gained from things like buildings?¡± Rory questioned. His walls returned to boring descriptions, a plain ¡®Defensive measures made to protect from monsters and enemy forces.¡¯ What was interesting about the walls was that when he looked at them with Analysis open, a gauge of their integrity also popped up.

    It''s helpful, but not for the time being.

    The final thing of note was his small pond.

    Small Aisormba reservoir

    A small pond filled with distilled essence. Slowly regenerates over time.

    ¡°Oh, well, that¡¯s a relief,¡± Rory admitted. He¡¯d been afraid that he¡¯d be forced to move once he was out, but apparently, this universe''s version of water could refill itself just fine.

    Turning his focus from the pond, he focused on the small stalagmite forming within it.

    Embryonic Crystalized Essence Spire

    Rarity: Extreme

    A natural treasure, Essence Spires generally form only when exposed to extreme amounts of latent background pneuma or through the direct intervention of a highly potent intent.

    ¡°Potent intent?¡± Rory shook his head, uncertain about that. He couldn¡¯t just force one to form; otherwise, the rarity shouldn¡¯t have been extreme, but neither could it have been formed through extreme amounts of background energy. Given that Aelia was only an A2 planet, he doubted that anywhere in the world probably counted to meet that requirement.

    Side note: What¡¯s with the differing descriptions of stuff? The Antlers were referred to as quality, my knife was referred to by grade, and this is referred to by rarity.

    Perhaps it was because the antlers were considered an ingredient, his knife a manufactured object, and the essence spire a natural treasure. Still, he didn¡¯t exactly have many data points to compare against.

    Putting that aside, again, how in the hell did this thing form here, of all places?

    Scratching at his chin, he finished reading the description his analysis provided of the tiny little spire.

    Embryonic Crystalized Essence Spire

    Rarity: Extreme

    A natural treasure, Essence Spires generally form only when exposed to extreme amounts of latent background pneuma or through the direct intervention of a highly potent intent.

    Naturally enhances the ambient pneuma.

    ¡°Nifty, I guess,¡± Rory admitted. It still didn¡¯t explain why it had formed.

    All I did was upgrade the pond¡­ wait, is that why?

    It couldn¡¯t have been as simple as upgrading the pond. The rarity made it clear it shouldn¡¯t be that easy, but a different thought struck him. Opening his interface, he let his gaze linger on his vocation.

    That¡¯s the only thing that makes sense.

    Architect of the Precursors. He knew it had provided certain benefits or privileges, and he knew technically he met the description of a ¡®precursor,¡¯ but in the end, he¡¯d still only thought of it as flavor text. In books and movies, when you heard about ancient precursors, they were always extremely powerful, intelligent, or advanced beings.

    And Rory was just... Rory.

    Flavor text¡ªthat was all it was meant to be¡ªa semi-edgy video-style description that was in part founded in his understanding of video games, specifically what he picked up from some of his nerdier colleagues.

    However, he was beginning to believe that maybe it wasn¡¯t just a fancy flavor text, and there really was some major significance behind it.

    Such as being capable of causing extremely rare natural treasures to form in the saddest campsite known to man.

    That aside, the spire was only at its beginning stage of development or formation; whatever that implied in the long term was beyond him for the time. The fact that it enhanced ambient pneuma was interesting. Rory wasn¡¯t sure pneuma and ascension energy were analogous, but either was probably a good thing.

    Probably.

    ¡°So... probably time to begin hashing out plans,¡± Rory said as he turned off analyze, his vision no longer marked by a floating target reticule. ¡°First, the next wave.¡±

    He¡¯d opted out of forcing the next wave, which was likely a good choice given he only had a few days until it would have been scheduled to begin, but while another wave wouldn¡¯t be crushing him in a few days, the cooldown timer on the beacon would be up.

    And he didn¡¯t intend to decline it again.

    ¡°That¡¯s what¡­ ten days to work with?¡± Rory mumbled as he slowly sawed off the branching nubs of the jackalope antlers. ¡°Ten days to prepare for the next wave.¡±

    Not bothering to gesture physically, his interface flicked open briefly before he closed it again, noting that his progress to his next ascension was at roughly fifteen percent.

    ¡°There''s no way I''ll reach the next ascension by just meditating around,¡± Rory said. With as much Growth investment as he had, he was certain to see a rather significant slowdown in his ascension progress, not to mention the fact that each ascension required ten times as much energy as the last. He¡¯d need to murder the killer rabbits by the dozens every day if he wanted to reach A3 within ten days.

    Probably the point. If you could clear ascensions that quickly, well, it just doesn¡¯t seem right.

    If he couldn¡¯t increase his strength by ascending again before the next wave, he would need to increase his ¡®strength¡¯ through other means.

    Which was point numero dos to consider on his list of ¡®things to consider.¡¯

    ¡°I need a decent weapon. I¡¯m not fast enough or strong enough to box my way through a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters. Maker¡¯s Arsenal would be helpful in that department, but given my current resources, most of what I can make is fairly limited to small melee weapons.¡±

    Ignoring, except for humanity''s greatest weapon, the ability to launch pointy things from further than a person could throw.

    ¡°A bow. I need a bow.¡± Rory confirmed his thoughts, knife still slowly working on the antler.

    Which was precisely what he was trying to address. From the tough yet springy antlers, he would fashion the limbs of his future bow. He could already picture it, in part thanks to the aforementioned Maker¡¯s Arsenal. Sure, he didn¡¯t actually have any experience with archery, but that was also why having ten days would be useful. With a week of dedicated practice, he was confident he could improve his talent with a bow enough to be prepared for the next wave.

    ¡°Ascension. Unlikely. Bow? Probable. Armor?¡±

    Rory frowned as he worked. Unfortunately, Maker¡¯s Arsenal didn¡¯t extend to crafting protective gear.

    I guess I can try to fashion some cuirass from the scraps of caerbannog hide.

    It was unlikely to do much to prevent any serious wounds, assuming he managed even to make one that didn¡¯t fall apart instantly, but it might at least protect him from glancing blows to an artery that could lead to his untimely end.

    As I have no idea how durability interacts with blood loss, I¡¯d prefer not to find out firsthand if I can help it.

    ¡°Other orders of business: Magic.¡± Rory considered it even as he spoke, uncertain what there was to say. ¡°It would be for the best to figure that out.¡±

    Quite the observation.

    Grunting, Rory watched a piece of the antler fall to join several other nubs on the ground by his feet. His hands were on auto-pilot as he removed unwanted blemishes from what would become the limbs of his bow.

    I wonder if I can use those for anything.

    The system had identified the antlers as having a high degree of pneuma conductivity, and he happened to have an extreme rarity natural treasure only a few feet away.

    Maybe I should grind them up and¡­. Yeah, I''m not sure where I was going with that thought.

    His vocation was Architect of the Precursors, not Alchemist of the Precursors. If he had any dreams of concocting potent elixirs and deadly potions, he¡¯d have to discard them for the time being; he had no idea where to start.

    That¡¯s not to say I can¡¯t come up with anything, is there?

    There was one idea he could come up with. If he attempted to fashion a bow from only a single antler, it would be child-sized, but there was no way to know if his binding agent, his faux cement, would be good enough to fuse the antlers together as he intended.

    But, if he ground up the excess antler bits and added them to the mix, there was the chance it would be precisely what he needed, more¡­ ¡®magic-y¡¯ and thus able to properly fuse the antlers into a single deadly instrument of war.

    Or, that¡¯s the theory based on absolutely nothing other than, ¡®That sure would be swell if it worked that way.¡¯

    ¡°Bow, maybe armor, anything else?¡± He asked himself, cataloging his thoughts.

    I probably want to get another bat made.

    His obsidian bat had been conducive to the slaughter of monster rabbits; it had just had the misfortune of being erased by a magical monster rabbit. That wasn¡¯t to say it wasn¡¯t highly effective, though.

    ¡°And while I¡¯m at it, I could probably make some sort of shield while I¡¯m at it as well.¡± For whatever reason, shields seemed to be at least partially covered by Maker¡¯s Arsenal, which felt like splitting hairs to Rory, but he wasn¡¯t about to lodge a formal complaint to the system for giving him free knowledge that he didn¡¯t think should have been under the umbrella classification as a weapon.

    ¡°Bow, maybe armor, a new death bat, and a shield.¡±

    He nodded to himself, a relatively comprehensive list of things to work on. Based on his prior crafting sessions and current understanding of the profession, which had been heightened by Maker¡¯s Arsenal, he estimated it would take him approximately five to six days.

    Which would leave another four to five days of free time.

    ¡°And what exactly am I supposed to use that for?¡± Rory questioned, mulling over the question before he found an answer he figured everyone would appreciate.

    ¡°I guess it¡¯s obvious. Pest control.¡±

 12. Pest Control

    Creeping through the underbrush, Rory held his breath, keeping as quiet as possible.

    Just a little further.

    Although his target was only twenty feet away, he wanted to maximize his chances.

    Almost¡­ there!

    Stopping, he took a single slow breath as he watched his prey. It hopped about, thumping the ground rapidly with six heavy kicks before again hopping around. If you hadn¡¯t known better, you¡¯d think it was seizing up, a mindless display.

    But Rory did know better, as he¡¯d seen the display several times over the last two days.

    It was a mating call.

    The damn monster rabbits bred like, well, rabbits. In the two days -three if he counted today- that he¡¯d been exploring the forest jungle beyond his immediate campsite, he quickly found prey aplenty once he crossed what felt like an invisible threshold that the monsters seemed to avoid.

    If I had to guess, I¡¯d bet it¡¯s some boundary zone where my ¡®settlement¡¯ ends and the proper wilds begin.

    It was a surprisingly large boundary, at least a quarter of a mile in radius, where the monsters seemed unable to cross unless specifically lured closer.

    Such as by a monster beacon.

    Which reminds me.

    A miniature interface appeared, a simple timer counting down.

    Twenty-seven hours and forty-eight minutes.

    Rory dismissed it mentally, turning his attention back to his hunt. It had taken six days to prepare all his equipment. Then he¡¯d spent three days, today included, simply foraging through the wilds, looking for any potential rabbits to hunt. When they weren¡¯t invading his camp as a mobilized force of death, they were relatively unthreatening, in groups of no more than four or five at a time. Well, there had been one exception, a den that was roughly two miles out from his camp, dozens of the damn things coming and going. He¡¯d observed it for nearly two hours the day prior before slinking away; there was just no way he wanted to poke that hornet nest.

    Which had brought him to today. With only a little over a day left and the knowledge that the countdown timer wasn¡¯t precise when the wave would begin, he could only afford a few more hunts.

    Disappointing but inevitable.

    His ascension progress had crept up to fifty percent, which, while it sounded impressive, really wasn¡¯t when you considered that he¡¯d slain at least three or four dozen rabbits over three days.

    I don¡¯t think the energy gained is some simple linear equation or set amount. Rory had realized after the first dozen he¡¯d killed that the progress made was not matching up with prior progress.

    But then, I also capped my ascension progress before, so perhaps the energy fluctuates based on variables.

    It was all a fun way to say that the system wasn¡¯t doing him any favors by showing his XP number on successful kills.

    Bah. Stupid system and its disdain for easy-to-understand numericals.

    Dismissing the thought, Rory counted down from five, letting the breaths come and go with practiced ease before, at last, he released the held tension in his shoulder as the arrow whizzed through the air, slamming through the monster rabbit¡¯s skull before it even knew it was already dead.

    Bingo.

    Releasing the tension that had been building, the mental sort, not the physical variety, he once more admired the bow he held as the analysis interface popped up.

    Antler Horn Bow

    Grade: Poor

    A bow crafted from the Antlers of a slightly magical creature. While it has lost most of the magical potency contained during life, it has gained a focus-boosting potency. Akashic Record: Boosted Focus.

    Still calling me out on my crafting skills, or lack thereof. Rory mused as he considered the description for the umpteenth time. Having no frame of reference to compare against, Rory found the bow a beauty to use, able to perform shots that shouldn¡¯t have been possible by a novice such as himself. Of course, the bow being easy to use was a specific bonus of the bow, the magical residue left within the antlers leaving some special effect, the ¡®Akashic Record¡¯ as it seemed to be called. At first, he¡¯d thought he¡¯d accidentally enchanted the bow, but he dismissed the thought. First of all, knowing how the system had based so much of itself on video game logic, if it was actually an enchanted weapon, he had a feeling it would directly mention that it was enchanted.

    So, what is an Akashic Record?

    Perhaps some form of natural enchantment? With only himself in the vicinity for hundreds of miles at the minimum, it wasn¡¯t as if he could consult an expert.

    Not like there are any experts.

    He¡¯d even considered sending a message to Aelia, who¡¯d gone radio silent since he¡¯d last seen her, but he thought better of it. First, the World Spirit probably didn¡¯t want to be constantly bothered, and second, it wasn¡¯t as if the World Spirit knew everything. It had been an excellent source of relevant instinctual knowledge. Still, he very much doubted Akashic Records were within the realms of instinctual knowledge for a World Spirit.

    So, with no leads, he¡¯d given up on discovering the why and why-nots of the bow and instead opted to take it out for practical experience.

    That had been three days prior. He¡¯d quickly grown to appreciate the weapon, even if every analysis was a constant reminder that the system deemed his weapon crafting skills Poor.

    Aside from the bow, the rest of his new gear was in much the same camp but of a more mundane nature. He¡¯d made a new bat.

    Obsidian Shard Macahuitl

    Grade: Poor

    A simple blunt force weapon enhanced through the addition of wickedly sharp shards of obsidian and a top sharpened into a simple stake.

    He still had his combat knife from before, but his analysis of the small weapon proved bland.

    Obsidian Shard Knife

    Grade: Poor

    A painfully sharp but equally brittle knife crafted mainly from a singular obsidian shard.

    He¡¯d managed to make a shield, though he left it back at camp as it was annoying to try to creep through the woods with it quietly.

    Hide and Wood Shield

    Grade: Poor

    A simple shield composed of sheets of wood pasted and woven together before being plastered within thin sheets of low-level monster hides.

    And at last, he¡¯d even managed to make something that sort of resembled a cuirass that he now wore, but the system had made its assessment of his singular piece of armor abundantly clear.

    Hide cuirass

    Grade: Exceptionally Poor

    More patchwork than proper armor provides only the barest of protections from glancing scratches.

    ¡°Thanks again, system.¡± Rory sighed. While the system was rather rude about his creations, he couldn¡¯t deny it wasn¡¯t right. Every time he returned to camp, he was forced to restitch the cuirass into a singular cohesive piece, the damned thing falling apart on its own more often than not.

    I guess that¡¯s the difference between my actual skill at making stuff and my skill when I¡¯m boosted by System stuff.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    The only reason that some of the things he¡¯d made before obtaining Maker¡¯s Arsenal weren¡¯t rated as Exceptionally Poor was that the items in question were so simple it would have to be an act of purposeful sabotage to lower their grade from Poor to Exceptionally Poor.

    Well, there''s no point in mulling over stuff that I can¡¯t change or that doesn¡¯t matter. Plus, I don¡¯t have much time left.

    Satisfied with his kill, he quickly retrieved the arrow, stashing it within his makeshift quiver. Rory hadn¡¯t even bothered to analyze the quiver; he could guess what the system would say about his work there. Standing over the dead monster, he briefly considered whether to bring the beast back with him, but chances were he would shortly have more monster corpses than he had any idea of what to do with.

    Something about this feels wrong. Rory thought to himself as he left the carcass behind. It felt wasteful, but even back on Earth, rabbits weren¡¯t exactly struggling to repopulate. Still feeling the tug in his gut, he pulled his interface timer back up, an often repeated habit of the last few days.

    May as well get back.

    ----------------------------

    Rory paced around camp, rubbing at his arms as a cold breeze swept through.

    No, it¡¯s definitely not my imagination. It¡¯s starting to get colder.

    He¡¯d been hoping that winters weren¡¯t a thing, but the slight chill he¡¯d been feeling in the early mornings was beginning to sweep through the bright hours of the day, signs of a season slowly creeping closer.

    Winter.

    He had no way of knowing if he was technically in a summer or fall season, but if it behaved anything like on Earth, the main issue was that things would get more challenging as the cold crept in.

    Are any of the others already dealing with their own winters?

    He brushed the thought aside, a wandering thought irrelevant for the near future. Instead, he drew his interface up.

    Still some time.

    He was growing restless. Waiting had never been his favorite thing to do, and Rory could vividly remember the feeling of butterflies fluttering in his stomach hours before a big race back in his younger years.

    I just want to get it over with.

    Thought sparking inspiration, he looked up, speaking to the empty air.

    ¡°Hey, System, can I start the wave now?¡±

    In response, a single notification appeared containing a small text box.

    Rush Start Wave: Y/N

    ¡°Looks like I can.¡± Rory tapped the no button for now, intending to start it within the next few minutes anyway. There was no reason not to start it, but now that he could rush it, he wanted to do one final check.

    ¡°Bows and Arrows: Check.¡± Rory patted the bow and quiver strapped to his back.

    ¡°Melee weapons?¡± A tap of his side confirmed his bat and knife were secured in their rather shoddy sheathes at his hip. ¡°Check.¡±

    Jogging over to his walls, he scrambled up a makeshift ladder and leaned against it. The wall wasn¡¯t wide enough for him to stand and fire from there, but he¡¯d found that he could still fire from atop the ladders as long as he didn¡¯t have to attempt any acrobatics. Glancing over the walls, he took stock of the ditch dug around the walls with sharpened stakes stabbed into the bottom. He hadn¡¯t had time to do much more than ¡®baby¡¯s-first-stake-trap,¡¯ but it was better than nothing.

    ¡°Walls: Check.¡±

    A glance toward the feet of the ladder showed his shield resting against the wall.

    ¡°And shield: Check.¡±

    That was everything he¡¯d managed to ready and everything his current preparation and resources would allow.

    I guess there¡¯s nothing more to go over.

    ¡°System, begin wave,¡± Rory said with an air of authority, puffing his chest up.

    Here we go.

    Still standing at the top of the ladder, he unslung his bow, knocking an arrow.

    Breath.

    As much as the prospect of being overrun by monster rabbits that wanted to tear his throat out was a bit frightening, especially if more jackalopes appeared, there was a thrum of excitement in the pit of his stomach.

    Here we go.

    It was several minutes before he saw the first few appear. Doing a quick headcount, Rory couldn¡¯t stop himself from sucking in a sudden breath.

    Fifteen on the first stage?

    It was¡­ A lot, but not so many that he didn¡¯t think he couldn¡¯t withstand it.

    Drawing his bow up, he focused in on the nearest of the rabbits as they closed in, not yet rushing at their full speed but still approaching at a brisk enough pace.

    And¡­ Showtime!

    Letting the arrow loose, Rory didn¡¯t bother to watch its path, instead already knocking another arrow.

    If I can drop at least four before reaching here,

    Had it not been for the Akashic Record, Rory was under no illusion that he would have been capable of hitting moving targets with only a few days of practice, but thankfully, he was in a world where he had the strange not-enchantment to aid him. With four arrows, four corpses landed amongst the copse of trees surrounding his immediate campground.

    Alright, gear shift time.

    Jumping from the top of the ladder, he hit the ground with a heavy thud, ignoring the impact rolling through him as he dropped his bow next to the ladder. Instead, he picked up his shield and pulled free his bat. Dashing away from the ladder, he shot toward the gap in his walls where the monster rabbits were nearing.

    Twirling his bat once, the first lunging monster rabbit reached him. While he hadn¡¯t invested much in his strength attribute, he hadn¡¯t ignored it entirely. Back on Earth, it wasn¡¯t as if he was a pro athlete or even a semi-pro, but he¡¯d always considered himself near the upper echelons of what an average human could do, given he had never stopped running or training since his younger years. At his peak, he had clocked himself running a sprint at around seventeen or eighteen miles per hour. It was, while respectable, not even close to scratching the world record holders.

    But that was also before he¡¯d received a roughly thirty percent increase in his baseline strength. He still wasn¡¯t a record-breaking human, but the strength and speed he had now, he was more than sure, would have been enough to put him at the level of a pro athlete.

    This was a nice way of saying that as the rabbits lunged forward, they were met with the thunderous crack of his bat shattering their skulls, strong and fast enough that he could better keep pace with the savage little brutes.

    A blur of blood, fur, and bone shards showered the air as Rory began slamming shield and bat around in a flurry of violence. In the first few seconds, the remaining eleven were reduced to a further seven before they too were dropped to three, then one, before, with a quick stomp, he shattered the spine of final caerbannog.

    Panting, a rush of exhilaration filled Rory as a smile ripped across his face.

    ¡°Hah! Now that¡¯s what we¡¯re talking about.¡±

    It was like a runner''s high but cranked up to an eleven.

    A battle high?

    Still smiling wickedly, he caught his breath as much as he could, dropping his shield back next to the ladder pressed against his wall, sheathing the bat before clambering back up with his bow.

    Don¡¯t fix what ain¡¯t broken.

    If the pattern from the prior waves held, then the next stage of the wave would be appearing aunty-

    Ahh, yep, there they are.

    Fifteen had increased to eighteen of the little terrors thumping forward.

    Surer of himself now, Rory began raining down death upon the small monsters, arrows slamming through the thin necks and skulls of the monster rabbits. Whereas before, he¡¯d only managed to drop four of the fifteen before they reached his walls, he managed a full six before he dropped down, once more picking up shield and bat as he prepared to engage.

    Again!

    Again, he met the monsters in a flurry of death. Whereas in the first stage, he¡¯d managed to kill every single one without so much as a scratch, the slightly higher count meant that once or twice, he barely missed a killing blow as they leaped about like frenzied fur bullets. Turning his body to the side in time, the slicing strikes of their vicious little talons instead turned into nothing more than blunt strikes to the stomach, painful but nothing he couldn¡¯t take now that his durability had also been increased a smidge.

    Much like the first wave, aside from the two tackles he took to the gut, Rory managed to quickly and efficiently put the swarming monsters down with brutal efficacy.

    Increased sta- attributes and knowledge of how they operate go a long way, eh?

    Growing more and more confident, again Rory rushed to his ladder, waiting a few minutes before the next stage appeared.

    Oh... that''s a bit odd.

    He¡¯d been expecting twenty-one rabbits, but a full twenty-five had appeared, breaking the prior pattern.

    Only a little uneasy, Rory did his best not to let it get to him as he began to draw and release his bow with even greater swiftness, his fingers feeling supernaturally comfortable around the bow.

    With so many rabbits rushing forward, it was like shooting fish in a barrel, he managed to kill nine of the damned things before they were too close, and he was forced once more into the thick of things.

    This time, his walls showed their worth even more. With limited space between his walls, the rabbits could not drive forward with the full force of their numbers. It was only a minor boon, but in a battle to the death, any small degree of boon was worth its weight in gold.

    Does gold exist anymore?

    Dismissing the thought instantly, Rory started his messy business of crushing killer rodents with his shield and bat. Wading through the melee, Rory swung with violent abandon, but in his battle frenzy, he was a split second slow to notice one of the rabbits lunging from an awkward angle. Realizing what was about to happen but too slow to move in time, Rory could only brace himself as the rabbit cracked into the forearm of his bat-wielding arm. Stronger and more durable than an ordinary human, physics still had the final say in his body. The impact of the monster rabbit striking his arm was like a bowling ball launched into his arm. A bolt of pain exploded from his arm as the bat flew from his hand.

    Shit.

    Gritting his teeth and adrenaline pumping, he slammed the offending rabbit away with his shield as he snatched his knife from his belt, flipping the blade so he held it in a reverse grip as he swung the blade through the skull of one of the dwindling few monsters.

    Yep. Fuck. That feels like a sprain.

    Even pre-collapse, a human could ignore rather offensive amounts of pain and injury with enough adrenaline pumping through their system, something the current Rory could attest to as he mentally compartmentalized the pain of his sprained arm and forced it to the back of his mind.

    Not now.

    Favoring his left arm, the last few rabbits took longer to kill as he was forced to be more defensive, using his shield to slam the rabbits to the ground before either slamming the heel of his foot down on their neck and shattering their spinal cord, or otherwise simple driving his knife through their eye sockets.

    Fiend of Rabbits everywhere, that¡¯s me. With a sudden surge of grim humor, Rory chuckled before he frowned a moment later. Yeah, that¡¯s definitely the pain talking.

    Wasting an entire two minutes on the final rabbit of the stage, Rory dropped to his ass, sucking down lungful after lungful of blessedly cool air.

    ¡°Damn suicidal fuckers. Swear you¡¯d think they were lemmings.¡± Rory grimaced as he poked at his bad arm.

    Yep, that¡¯s sprained.

    It wasn¡¯t broken; he could tell that much, at least, given that he could still move his arm to some degree without wanting to rip his entire arm off. Still, to call it unpleasant was putting it mildly.

    Unpleasant is one thing; dead is another.

    Repeating the mantra in his mind, he slowly staggered to his feet. Perhaps it was a trait of strength or durability or even both, but he found it easier to catch his breath.

    Small victories. Take the small victories.

    Grabbing his bow as he neared the wall, he slowly climbed up, stopping only once to let out a hiss of discomfort between clenched teeth.

    Unpleasant is one thing; dead is another.

    Reaching the top of his ladder, he drew an arrow slowly so as not to aggravate the injury further.

    A consequence of not having any flexibility or cognition investment, I suppose.

    With just a bit more of either attribute, Rory could have reacted in a way that didn¡¯t leave his arm busted.

    Folly of hindsight, I suppose. He¡¯d invested half of his attribute density into growth, so it shouldn¡¯t have come as a surprise that he would struggle without the immediate increase in his attributes.

    If the numbers continue to increase like this¡­. No, I¡¯ll cross that bridge when I get there.

    It was a worrying thought. Twenty-five had become a hassle even before he¡¯d busted his arm, but what if it became thirty-five? Forty?

    I said I¡¯ll cross that bridge when I get there.

    Easing his breathing, Rory anxiously awaited the next rush of fluffy demons.

    Except they never came. Instead of dozens of vicious, bloodthirsty rabbits, two single rabbits slowly hopped out from the undergrowth.

    Fuck.

    And they both had a set of impressive antlers.

 13. Falling Behind

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a shit show and a half,¡± Rory muttered as he watched the two jackalopes. They hadn¡¯t yet begun manifesting their matter erasure magic, but when it started¡­ Well, he¡¯d only barely managed to beat one before.

    It¡¯s okay. Rory soothed himself. You¡¯re faster and stronger, with bigger walls and an actual ranged weapon.

    Drawing the bowstring back, Rory dismissed the pain, letting it fade into the background as he focused with everything he had on the nearest of the two.

    They aren¡¯t much more durable than the rest of the caerbannogs.

    Worry replaced with a wave of cool determination, Rory held the bowstring taut for half a second more before releasing it.

    Go!

    Drawing his next arrow, many times slower now that his draw arm was hurt, he watched as the arrow whizzed forward.

    C¡¯mon!

    Before it slammed straight through one of the jackalope skulls, pinning the now-dead magical beast to the ground.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Rory grunted with immense satisfaction, which swiftly vanished. ¡°Oh shit.¡±

    The remaining jackalope had instantly focused on his position, black death spheres already flung in his direction.

    With what was not a squeak, he dropped from his position atop his ladder, pain flaring as the impact of the drop slammed through his arm. Several of the spheres sailed harmlessly overhead, but from his wall, he heard a sound like a gunshot, the wall trembling for a moment.

    The hell?

    More and more, he heard the sound of gunshots as a light bulb lit up in his mind.

    The wall! The orbs can¡¯t pierce the wall!

    Perhaps the matter-erasing magic they utilized was limited, and the potency was massively reduced when striking other magical or semi-magical things.

    Such as a magically ascended wall, whose entire purpose is withstanding siege! Alright, new plan. Strafe!

    Drawing an arrow, Rory dashed across the gap between his walls, the jackalope content to fire its magic from a safe distance.

    Or what it thought was a safe distance. Sprinting through the gap, he spun his body, releasing an arrow as he rolled out of the way, spheres of deadly magic slamming through the air where he¡¯d just been. The arrow whiffed overhead; even with the bow''s magic to increase his capability with the weapon, there was only so much it could do for him if he insisted on firing on the run.

    If anything, these jackalopes have an even faster reaction time.

    Drawing another arrow, he slowly shimmied up the ladder he¡¯d positioned across the gap in his walls, his head popping up briefly before he ducked back down.

    Good, it¡¯s still focused on where I was.

    He was damned lucky the rabbits, even the jackalope, weren¡¯t the smartest of beasts, reacting more on instinct than anything.

    I can do this.

    Drawing in a steadying breath, he focused on where he¡¯d just seen the rabbit, his mind eye locked on. It would redirect on him the instant he popped out for more than a peak, so he¡¯d have to be quick about it.

    Three¡­ two¡­one!

    Popping up, he swung his bow forward, firing the arrow toward where he¡¯d mentally locked onto. The reaction time of the magical rodent was as quick as he expected, forcing him to drop down before he could see the outcome.

    Hitting the ground once more, the pain of his arm he¡¯d mentally begun blocking out, he crept forward, poking his head around the corner of his wall.

    ¡°Thank Christ.¡± He huffed. The second jackalope was unmoving, save for the occasional twitch of its back leg, an arrow piercing directly between its eyes.

    I could have won the Olympics with a bow like this back on Earth.

    Okay, maybe he was pushing it, but the results were speaking for themselves.

    Letting out a huff, he slowly pulled free his quiver, peering into it.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not great.¡±

    He was low on arrows, perhaps twenty left. Once more, being a one-person team had the problem of only so much time in a day and so many hours between the initiation of a wave and when it arrived. Using the knowledge gained from Maker¡¯s Arsenal, he¡¯d managed to whip up a decent amount of arrows, or so he¡¯d thought, but apparently, fifty arrows went fast.

    How was I supposed to know? It''s not like I ever went bow hunting before or fought in medieval sieges.

    The plus side was with the two jackalopes dead, that put him at stage five of what he assumed was the regular seven.

    It should be enough. Hopefully.

    A potential concern was that two jackalopes had appeared on stage four when a single jackalope had been the ¡®boss¡¯ of stage seven of the last wave.

    Does that mean I¡¯ll have to deal with five on the ¡®boss¡¯ stage?

    A cause for concern, but one he couldn¡¯t affect.

    One thing at a time.

    His arm still obviously hurt, but he¡¯d acclimated. He had retrieved his bat, but he doubted he¡¯d be using it very effectively, especially not against the jackalopes from whom he wanted to keep some distance.

    My walls are the first thing I¡¯ve seen that can take a hit from their magic.

    Suddenly curious, a small lens-looking interface popped up as he examined his walls.

    Well, it could be better¡­ could be worse.

    The wall integrity had dropped nearly twenty percent, with the direct impact locations down a full thirty.

    ¡°Not invincible. Got it.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t exactly surprising, but it hadn¡¯t stopped Rory from hoping for the unlikely.

    ¡°Alright, no more lolly-gagging.¡± He muttered to himself as he began to shimmy up the ladder across from his original wall position. An idea suddenly blooming, he slid back down to the ground, snatching a rock before returning to the top of the ladder. Once there, he drew an arrow and waited patiently for several minutes.

    At least it gives me time to catch my breath: silver linings and all that.

    Only half a minute after the thought, he saw what he¡¯d been waiting for three antler-having rabbits approaching steadily.

    Alright, I hope this works.

    Holding the rock he¡¯d grabbed earlier, he flung it aside before drawing the arrow back as quickly as possible. Holding his breath for a second, the rock landed off the side of the wizard rabbits, who spun to face the sudden disturbance, already flinging magic uselessly into the woods.

    It worked!

    Not letting his excitement get the best of him, he released an arrow, drawing another and firing only moments later. The distraction had worked perfectly, and before they knew what had hit them, two of the three were dead, pierced through the skull.

    One to go.

    It was a matter of perspective on how vital match-ups were. In the prior wave, when he¡¯d tried to kill a single jackalope with a direct melee-focused approach, he¡¯d only survived by abusing an unintended system feature. Now armed with a bow, they were a fraction of the threat they¡¯d been before.

    Well, maybe a fraction is being a little too confident.

    It also helped that he had walls durable enough to withstand a barrage of their magic, which he could safely hide behind while he took his time preparing.

    Anddd¡­ There!

    Popping out from behind the wall, he let loose an arrow, ducking back out of the way within the same breath. A brief smile flickered across his face as the sounds of bombardment vanished.

    Must have got it.

    Peeking over his wall, he confirmed it; the jackalope pierced through like a shish kabob.

    ¡°Another stage done.¡±

    He had a few minutes'' reprieve, but for once, he didn¡¯t feel entirely winded. His distraction play had worked supremely well when coupled with the bow¡¯s competency-enhancing effect.

    Probably should prepare for the next stage.

    Clambering down his ladder, it took only a minute and a half to stockpile enough rocks before shuffling up to his waiting spot.

    When the jackalopes inevitably appeared, Rory worked like a practiced hunter, tossing stones about and distracting the relatively mindless monsters. Analyze open; he watched as the integrity of his walls gradually fell as he waited to pop back out and toss more stones to distract the beasts. One by one, the seconds ticked by as Rory tossed out stones occasionally before taking potshots.

    Within a few minutes, his wall went silent as he finally slayed the last of the jackalopes.

    ¡°That was easier than expected.¡± Rory huffed, taking stock of the battlefield beyond his walls. It was strewn with rabbit corpses and holes in the area as if circular orbs of matter had been erased.

    Must have been where their magic missed.

    Feeling confident, Rory didn¡¯t even bother stockpiling more rocks, a large amount already gathered.

    Five more. Only five more.

    Rory was beginning to wonder if perhaps he¡¯d overprepared for the wave. It was dangerous and would have been insurmountable without his bow. Thankfully, he did have a bow this time.

    With things going as well as they were, it was no surprise when everything went sideways.

    Waiting for the final five jackalopes, what appeared was instead a single beast he¡¯d never seen before.

    Is¡­ Is that a fox?

    The question was rhetorical. There was no mistaking the beast for anything but a fox, aside from the fact that it was nearly three times the size of an earth fox. Unlike an earth fox with orange, black, or white colored coats, this fox had a belt of dark purple and strips of dull gold.

    It blends in with the clover grass.

    He¡¯d been on the new planet long enough now that he¡¯d grown used to the twilight-colored foliage underfoot. Still watching the strangely colored fox, he quickly looked it over with analyze.

    Triumph Fox-???

    ¡°Triumph Fox?¡± Rory whispered to himself, raising an eyebrow in surprise. New encountered creatures or things often needed naming, so the fact that the fox monster already had a designation meant that someone else on the planet had already encountered one. The fact that no other information was displayed wasn¡¯t a surprise, given he had never encountered one of its ilk before.

    Well¡­ Strange name aside, I guess there isn¡¯t anything else to do but kill it.

    Bow readied; Rory took several stabilizing breaths, ensuring there was no chance that he¡¯d miss. Tension mounting painfully, he finally released the bowstring. The arrow flickered forward fast as... Well, an arrow. Expecting to see the arrow slam through the oversized fox¡¯s head, he hadn¡¯t expected the monster to flicker out of vision like a vanishing shadow seemingly. A heartbeat later, Rory was met with the sound of wood splintering, as directly beneath him, his wall was torn asunder, and the fox seemed to flow like a living shadow into his miniature stronghold.

    Oh, shit.

    The fox continued through the hole it had torn open in his wall, tearing down his ladder with a single swipe of its paw as he fell below. The monster snapped toward him as he fell, but thinking quickly, he kicked out, striking his wall and safely altering the trajectory of his fall, relatively speaking, away from the demon fox.

    Not good. Not good at all.

    He¡¯d grown a little too comfortable with the jackalope''s preferred method of attack being a mindless barrage of magic, but the fox was an entirely different beast. Landing hard, instinct screamed at him to move, and move he did, if only barely in time. A claw raked forward, and had he not already been in the process of dodging backward, it would have shredded him through from shoulder to hip as the damn fox leaped at him. His shoddy cuirass had instantly been destroyed, but it had blunted the very edge of the claws so that rather than inch-deep crevices through his flesh, he was only subjected to painful flesh wounds a quarter as deep.

    Alive, if barely.

    The next strike from the fox was a snarling lunging bite, but with surprising agility and more luck than practical skill, Rory stumbled back and out of the way.

    I¡¯m outmatched¡­ Again.

    The tiny lizard portion of his brain was screaming to flee, but Rory knew better. Not that he was suddenly a brave warrior facing a worthy foe; no, simply put, there was no way in hell he could escape if he tried to flee. The fox was far too quick, far too keen on tearing into him.

    Fight or die.

    Tossing his bow away -it was useless at this close of proximity- he snatched his bat from his side as he caught another clawing rake from the fox on his shield. A single scratch from its claws left his shield nearly destroyed, at best capable of withstanding one more strike before it was sundered entirely.

    ¡°Not¡­ today!¡± Rory swung out with as much strength as his busted arm could muster as it lunged forward, ravenous for his lifeblood. His bat cracked the beast in the jaw, but unlike the caerbannogs which would go down after a single strike, the Triumph Fox was merely battered to the side with weeping wounds from where the obsidian shards had torn into its flesh.

    Strong, but not impervious.

    That much was a relief, but he hadn¡¯t truly expected the beast to be untouchable. The world spirit wasn¡¯t crafting the beasts to kill her settlers, merely to push them.

    However, whether the system is anywhere near as gentle remains to be seen.

    Again and again, the fox came after him, taking every bit of strength to batter the beast aside. His shield was ruined in moments, and without hesitation, he tossed it at the beast, hoping to distract it. It was a similar tactic to how he¡¯d survived his encounter with his first jackalope, the beasts'' slaves to their instincts as something surprised them, shirking out of the way. Taking advantage of the split-second opening, he yanked his knife free, the obsidian shard bat in one hand and the combat knife in the other. With barely the hint of a plan, it was Rory¡¯s turn to lunge at the fox, jagged club and sharp knife swung with righteous fury. It was a rather terrible plan, but without his shield or the advantage of range, a continued war of attrition would shortly end with the fox¡¯s victory; it simply had the more dangerous weapons on hand. The only way forward was relentless fury.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    It¡¯s like a hard workout. The only way out is forward.

    Perhaps a shoddy comparison, but it wasn¡¯t as if Rory was a well-traveled man pre-collapse; there was a limit to his comparison skills.

    What followed as Rory lunged at the monster was a brutal shower of flesh and blood, claws, teeth, and man-made weapons. Had Rory been watching his Physique information, he would have seen the overall state of his well-being plummeting rapidly, blood loss, lacerations, and other such wounds quickly accumulating in the ensuing melee. Claws raked through his flesh, tearing chunks free from him as fangs snapped pieces from his body. Yet Rory could only wade through the pain, consumed by the red haze of combat.

    To waver was to die. An unavoidable death was just that, unavoidable. He could shrug such a fate off as the cruel dice of destiny.

    But a battle to the death? That he wouldn¡¯t simply lay down and accept.

    For as many injuries as Rory collected, so did the fox. Had Rory had more time to do anything other than swing his weapons with reckless abandon, he may have considered how almost unnaturally aggressive it was, but then he didn¡¯t have the time for such thoughts.

    As yet another chunk of his flesh was ripped free from his body by snapping jaws, Rory managed to swing his bat down with titanic strength that only pure adrenaline could summon. In its frenzied desire to tear Rory apart, the fox had overextended, catching the bat directly to the face before being slammed into the ground. Seeing the beast hit the ground, Rory jumped atop the momentarily dazed creature. Pinning it beneath him for as long as he could, he had no doubt the monster was strong enough to knock him free; he began to stab his knife downward in brutal, crimson arcs. Each stab of the knife tore into the monster more and more, spewing gouts of blood from its throat. The Triumph Fox, writhing in death throes, wasn¡¯t quite dead yet, and so Rory abandoned his knife, opting for his bat. Grasping it in a two-handed grip, he slammed the flat of its heft down upon the fox¡¯s skull, the dangerous fox at last going still.

    ¡°Fuck me.¡± Rory huffed, bone-tired, as he collapsed next to the fox''s corpse. A glance down at his body revealed the extent of the damage he¡¯d received: terrible tracks of sundered flesh all over his body, entire pieces of his body ripped free. An exhausted, nearly hysterical laugh began to bubble free from him as he pulled up his interface.

    ¡°Thirty-fucking-five percent health.¡± Rory laughed, shaking his head, not bothering to correct himself on the fact that the percentage didn¡¯t directly correlate to how much ¡®health¡¯ he had left. ¡°I should be dead.¡±

    The amount of blood that had soaked through his clothes and even pooled beneath him, plus the degree of his injuries, should have killed him either through blood loss or shock. And yet, while he could definitely feel that he was on the edge, he still felt¡­. Okay, shockingly filled with the vitality of life.

    ¡°Durability is a damn godsend.¡± Rory lay backward completely, staring up at the sky. His flesh had resisted the claws more than it should, and his body somehow was capable of withstanding a greater degree of blood loss.

    He truly had become superhuman.

    But.

    But it was close.

    ¡°I can¡¯t keep doing this,¡± Rory said flatly, staring at the sky overhead. ¡°I¡¯m falling behind.¡±

    He¡¯d put half of his prior ascension¡¯s attribute density into growth, but it had nearly cost him his life. A little less durable, a little less strong, and he wouldn¡¯t have survived. And this was even with an extra week of preparation.

    Damnit.

    He had an inkling the others on the planet had done better. The fact that the fox already had a designated name meant that someone had seen one and survived to name it. Unless they¡¯d found one in the wild, his fellow survivors were further than he as far as waves went.

    The thought sat uncomfortably in his gut. It was a strange back and forth between his typical lackadaisical approach to life and the growing spark of competitive drive he¡¯d only felt in his younger years as an athlete. It was further compounded by the memory of how the world spirit had informed him that while the seven others weren¡¯t his enemies, neither were they his allies, a push to have them outdo one another intended from the start.

    I¡¯m falling behind.

    With that comforting thought, the darkness consumed him. He could no longer fight off the exhaustion and consequences of his hard-fought¡ªif nearly disastrous¡ªbattle.

    -----------------------------------------

    He was running with all his might, lungs pounding and arms pumping as he rounded the corner of the track, friends and family screaming for him to keep going. He could hear them, breathing down his neck¡ªa hundred meters, fifty, his entire mind bent toward winning.

    And then, he was standing off to the side, watching a new generation of athletes pushing themselves, straining with all their might as they fought to be the first to cross the finish line.

    Then he was off the track entirely, now in a forest he hardly recognized¡­ No, that wasn¡¯t correct; it was the forest he¡¯d called home in the last few weeks. Except now he wasn¡¯t alone. That same crowd cheering him on from his youth was there, telling him to give it his all. Not for himself, his time was past, but for those kids who would one day travel the same path but make it even farther than he had.

    Finally, the image changed one last time. He was back on the track, anticipating the sound of the gun. A glance to his left and right surprised him. Athletes he¡¯d seen as an adult were there with him now, racing him. How they were all the same age was a mystery, but there was a feeling of immense pride inside him. They were there because of him; he knew that from the bottom of his heart.

    It brought a viciously warm swelling of pride and excitement to his chest, and yet, at the same time, he couldn¡¯t make sense of it. What was it? What was the purpose? What did it mean?

    As if responding to his thought, the other athletes faded away, leaving him alone on the track, seven other mystery figures now replacing where his athletes had been.

    -------------------------------------------

    ¡°Wha-?¡± Rory swung upward, his entire body protesting as he was suddenly yanked from his dream, a strange tumble of sights and sort-of memories that he couldn¡¯t make sense of, already fading into obscurity.

    ¡°What was that all about?¡± He questioned, unable to make sense of the dream or what was left of the dream that he could recall. Shaking his head after a moment, he dismissed the strangeness of it. ¡°Must¡¯a been the blood loss.¡±

    A glance down at himself revealed that, while not recovered, the worst of the wounds had scabbed over with some of the ugliest-looking patchworks of dried blood he¡¯d ever seen.

    ¡°Fun,¡± Rory muttered, shaking his head. Bringing his interface up, he ignored the notifications momentarily, instead focusing on his overall Physique information.

    ¡°Forty-five percent. Basically, real fucked up, but doing better.¡± He parsed the information piece-by-piece, first pulling up information on his bad arm.

    ¡°Yep, sprained and minor bone fractures, plus lacerations.¡±

    Almost his entire body sang the same tale, sprains and lacerations covering him from head to toe.

    ¡°But I lived.¡±

    It was comforting, if barely. The unknown world was becoming more dangerous, a far tale from how it had been in his first few days, where there had been no other living things under the sky aside from seven other intelligent lifeforms, all with an entire continent to themselves.

    Moving on.

    The next thing he took stock of was that he had capped off his ascension progress. Pre-wave, he¡¯d reached approximately fifty percent of the way to his next ascension. Killing several jackalopes and the ungodly dangerous Triumph Fox had been enough to clear the rest.

    I¡¯ll handle that later.

    Next were the notifications that he¡¯d expected.

    ¡°Wave cleared. Nearby Caerbannog colonies cleared. Jackalope neophytes vanquished. Triumph Fox vanquished.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re damn right, wave cleared,¡± Rory muttered; he had the scars to back it up.

    ¡°Settlement expansion rewarded. Display Growth Pathways? Y/N¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Rory shook his head. He still hadn¡¯t used the ¡®growth pathways¡¯ he earned from the last wave, as he¡¯d intended to figure out his own path forward rather than take what was pre-generated. ¡°I¡¯ll take that settlement expansion, though.¡±

    Instantly, the area surrounding his walls shifted, the undergrowth and foliage pulling back and away as he gained more area for his little ¡®settlement.¡¯ Several trees even appeared to retreat, their roots crawling away and pulling them through the earth that seemed to shift around them.

    Moving trees. Strange, but honestly not that strange with everything that¡¯s happened.

    Still watching the moving foliage, Rory spoke aloud, answering one of the notifications he knew was waiting for him that he hadn¡¯t yet opened.

    ¡°Activate beacon.¡±

    Wave Beacon activated. Next Activation allowed: One hundred sixty-seven hours, fifty-nine minutes. Wave continuation accepted, distributing partial wave rewards.¡±

    ¡°Huh, different than I remembered,¡± Rory muttered as he read the notification that flashed before his eyes. ¡°Probably because this is the first time I¡¯ve accepted a consecutive wave.¡±

    As for the partial reward of the completed wave, the essence distribution interface appeared, giving him a similar bird¡¯s eye view of his small ¡®settlement¡¯ with an essence density approximately equal to the last wave''s completion.

    ¡°I wonder if the essence is rewarded regardless of whether you stack waves or not.¡± Rory mused. Perhaps stacking waves would result in exponential growth in the essence rewarded upon each wave, or perhaps physical rewards could be gained. Still, for the time, he had no way of speculating past his initial hypothesis.

    Well, I won¡¯t say no to the essence either way.

    The decision of how to distribute the essence was a surprisingly easy one. He still had no intention of improving his shelter or upgrading his crafting area further. He didn''t need a full-on forge setup until he had metal or such to work with. This left only two real options: his walls or the Essence Spire.

    A stronger wall would be nice.

    The Triumph Fox had torn through his wall with shocking ease; the wall was stronger than its material composition would have suggested.

    But the walls also don¡¯t do anything the moment something gets past.

    As much as he wanted to upgrade the walls, that simple fact informed his decision. With a shake of his head, he put all the essence toward the spire, putting it a little over ninety percent of the way to its next tier.

    Honestly, I¡¯m still not sure how useful this thing is.

    Sure, it was useful for magic, but he wasn¡¯t exactly throwing around any magic now, was he?

    Are there even magic spells, or does magic operate differently than how movies and books are represented?

    A perfect question to ask an expert.

    It was just a shame that there weren¡¯t any experts.

    His walls needed repair, but he¡¯d leave that to the slow absorption of atmospheric essence to take care of, and perhaps he could fix it up here and there where possible.

    Which leaves one last immediate thing to take care of.

    Sitting on his favorite log, Rory closed his eyes, focusing on the magical barrier separating what he was now from the potential of his next ascension. Instantly, the separating divide was breached, and he was presented with the display he recognized as the attribute density distributor. It looked the same, except a secondary bar of attribute density now available, the words ¡®growth return¡¯ hovering above it.

    Oh, sweet vindication for reckless foolishness.

    The bar represented roughly seventy-five percent of the normal ascension density gained. Given that he had invested fifty percent in growth last ascension, the returns were solid.

    Not bad.

    If he had simply put all those bonus attribute densities toward his attributes now, he would have already been ahead of the curve.

    But.

    But if he¡¯d already fallen behind, why not push it? He wasn¡¯t going to draw from his base pool of density anymore. Based on how he¡¯d struggled with the Triumph Fox, if he fell behind any further, it was a near certainty he¡¯d be unable to survive the next wave.

    But my bonus density¡­ now that¡¯s a different story.

    The only issue was that he¡¯d already felt the slow-down effect of Growth on his ascension coming into the most recent wave; he¡¯d failed to reach his next ascension before being forced to tackle it. As only a tier two ascension, it had been damn tricky.

    Well, it wasn¡¯t that difficult, not until the Triumph Fox.

    He¡¯d only struggled as much as he had because he¡¯d taken a crippling hit to his arm.

    That wouldn''t have happened if I had reacted faster or dodged better. No, wait, I¡¯m getting sidetracked.

    Now that he had reached his third ascension, the next ascension would be even further away, ten times the base essence needed as the last ascension. If he compounded that with fifty percent more growth allocation than the prior ascension, well, he was all but certain that reaching A4 before the next wave was impossible.

    But maybe that¡¯s the point. Surely, the idea of ascending once a week is bound to ask too much at some point.

    The waves were fantastic sources of ascension energy, either from killing the monsters involved or the ability to personally siphon from the rewarded essence gained from clearing a wave. Still, surely, once more people were involved in the waves, the proportion of essence obtainable would decrease.

    Well, I say that, but who''s to say that down the line, there won¡¯t be hundreds of monsters attacking at once?

    The thought of clearing hundreds of monsters personally was beyond him; he¡¯d need the help, so perhaps the idea of sharing essence wouldn¡¯t be as much of a problem if the numbers kept increasing to such a degree.

    Not enough information to say for certain one way or another yet.

    The monster count could increase, or perhaps the danger posed by the monsters would increase even if the number of monsters didn¡¯t.

    Like the Triumph Fox. One of those was miles more dangerous than even the jackalopes.

    The jackalopes had dangerous magic but lacked the intelligence to use it intelligently. They simply threw it around at whatever they were currently focused on. Distracting them was all it took to slay the relatively vulnerable monsters easily.

    The Triumph Fox was something else entirely. Sure, it didn¡¯t have such dangerous magic, but it was brutally powerful, quick, and capable of withstanding dozens of blows that would kill a jackalope in a single hit.

    Why are they called Triumph Foxes in the first place?

    It was another random stray thought that Rory banished, focusing his attention back to the current task.

    Right, attribute density. Focus.

    His first instinct was to toss the attribute density toward strength. Being able to kill a Triumph Fox in fewer hits meant he¡¯d himself take less damage, but it was short-sighted the more he thought about it. If more foxes appeared in the next wave, they¡¯d tear him apart from different directions, their ability to deal damage faster than his own, even if he went full in on strength.

    Durability?

    He liked the idea of durability more, considering what he¡¯d just survived, which should have been more than enough to kill a regular human twice over. Being able to withstand their onslaught like an immovable object did sound tantalizing.

    And stupid. Who cares if I can withstand even ten times the punishment if, in the end, I¡¯m still whittled down?

    Strength and durability were out then.

    So, that leaves what was nearly my downfall.

    Specifically, flexibility and cognition.

    Judging by the last three waves, wave four should be composed of jackalopes, Triumph Fox, and maybe some ¡®boss¡¯ version of a Triumph Fox.

    The thought made him shudder. Increasing his strength and durability wouldn¡¯t matter, not against some more powerful version of a Triumph Fox. It would tear him apart faster than his durability could withstand or his ability to kill it before it killed him.

    Therefore, the best option is simply not to get hit.

    With a new plan in mind, he quickly allocated roughly thirty-five percent of his base attribute density to cognition and the rest to flexibility.

    Hope that works like I think it does.

    Which finally left him with the gains from the last ascension¡¯s growth investment.

    Well, I may as well go all the way.

    Taking the extra attribute density, he instantly put it back into growth.

    I figure if I won¡¯t be able to reach A4 by the next wave anyway, I might as well take advantage.

    Rory was aware he¡¯d not be able to compound the growth endlessly. The slowdown, when coupled with the factor ten increase in essence to reach his next ascension, would quickly grow out of hand, faster than he could keep up with the challenges thrown at him, but the longer he could hold off on cashing in on the investment, the more he¡¯d benefit in the long term.

    Assuming this doesn¡¯t get me killed.

    If one thought of it in a simplified manner, if each ascension garnered one hundred ¡®points,¡¯ he was fifty points behind the curve.

    But, if I can wait until my fifth ascension, I should be¡­ a little over one hundred ¡®points¡¯ ahead of the curve.

    Of course, that assumed that no one else also utilized growth investment, but the statistical average bell curve informed him that he was still the most heavily invested in growth.

    So be it.

    Not giving himself a chance to further second guess himself, he promptly tossed the entirety of the growth-gained points back into growth.

    And now for the last part.

    The last ascension had given him potential upgrades to his vocation, something he was looking forward to seeing again, words that did not disappoint as a new notification appeared.

    Vocational capabilities expanded.

    It was exactly what he was looking forward to. The last time he¡¯d earned a capability expansion, he had been offered Fortress Focused, Tools of the Trade, and Maker¡¯s Arsenal, which he had opted for.

    And¡­ Oh, four?

    Rory took in the slightly longer list; the first two options offered were once more Fortress Focused and Tools of the Trade.

    Does that mean whatever I don¡¯t take will remain?

    His third option, the first new option, was listed as ¡®Maker¡¯s Armor.¡¯

    Maker¡¯s Armor: An Architect is the engineer of tomorrow, but tomorrow can only be ensured if the engineer of tomorrow survives today. Focused on personal defensive measures, grants a greater understanding of the creation of personal based armor.¡±

    So, it''s a bit like Fortress Focused, but instead of settlement defenses, it¡¯s just normal armor.

    There was considerable potential in the option. He could protect himself with armor rather than rely purely on Durability. Plus, the System made it abundantly clear how terrible his cuirass was and how useful his shield had been against the Triumph Fox. Together, it was almost enough to tempt him into instantly selecting the option.

    Except.

    Eyes drifting down the list, the final option paused his gut reaction.

    Eye For Potential: An Architect is the engineer of tomorrow, and only those with the eye for potential can rise above their contemporaries. Due to the inclination for forward-thinking, none are more suited for such as the Architect of the Precursors. Allows the Architect to understand potentials before they¡¯ve yet been realized.

    It was¡­ interesting, if not entirely too vague. His first three options, and even his Maker¡¯s Arsenal, had been direct enough in explaining what they did, granting an innate understanding of things he did not yet possess. Eye for Potential was different.

    Allows the Architect to understand potentials before they¡¯ve been realized? What does that even mean? And what does it mean to be ¡®forward-thinking?¡¯ Was it offered because I¡¯ve insisted on putting so much of my attributes toward growth?

    The thought was intriguing, not just for the potential understanding as it pertained toward his growth, but also how the seven others would likely grow through their ascensions. While he¡¯d been offered options that would help for fighting, the core of what was required for ascensions, he¡¯d not been offered a single directly combat-focused option, no fancy techniques or such like you¡¯d get from leveling up in a video game.

    Is that because it doesn¡¯t offer them? Or have I just not approached things in a manner that would lead the System to offer them in the first place?

    There were questions upon questions, but the answers could not be discovered except through trial and error.

    Well, I know I¡¯m not taking Tools of the Trade or Fortress Focused.

    They were both solid options, but his focus on investing so much toward his growth attribute meant he was probably the furthest behind the ¡®power¡¯ curve than anyone else. They were likely options that¡¯d be great for taking if you had someone else to fight for you, the pure crafting type, but that wasn¡¯t exactly a luxury he was afforded.

    So that leaves Makers Armor and Eye for Potential.

    Maker¡¯s Armor was the most directly useful. Making a pointy stabbing spear was about as basic of a tool as humanity had discovered, and weapons, by and large, revolved around ¡®stabbing something without getting stabbed back.¡¯ Yet, Maker¡¯s Arsenal had still proven useful. With something as complicated as the making of armor and protective gear, Rory could only imagine how much of an improvement Maker¡¯s Armor would have on his overall ability to survive and thrive.

    But.

    But Eye for Potential seemed too nebulous, too strange and vague to ignore. He had no idea what it did, but it had to do something interesting.

    Plus, while Maker¡¯s Armor grants an innate and greater understanding of crafting protective gear, nothing in the System has implied that you can¡¯t learn to do it yourself.

    Perhaps it would allow you to skip the time and effort required to master skills that it didn¡¯t directly offer, but it wasn¡¯t as if any flashing screens had appeared exclaiming that he didn¡¯t have the prerequisite skills to do something.

    It was a realization that struck a chord of regret in Rory: He had taken Maker¡¯s Arsenal when he could have just learned the skills needed by hand.

    But then, did I have the time to?

    There was no point in regretting what had already been done, not when he had a decision before him that, unlike past choices, he could actively control.

    If it comes down to it, the fact that I can potentially learn important skills without using the System means it''s probably better to take things you can¡¯t learn, right?

    The logic seemed sound enough to Rory, so he mentally selected the last option without much fuss.

    Guess that¡¯s everything.

    Releasing his grasp on the world of darkness where he found himself post-ascension, he slowly opened his eyes.

    Only to be struck by agonizing pain.

 14. Pathways Revistied

    ¡°Ah, what the fuck?¡± Rory hissed, slamming his eyes shut as he vigorously rubbed them.

    What was that?

    The moment he opened his eyes, it was as if a billion visual stimuli had bombarded him, his eyes instantly agonizing from the excessive surge of ocular information.

    ¡°Let¡¯s try this again.¡± Rory groaned as he slowly peaked his eyes open, wincing as he did.

    With his eyes only partially open, the surge of visual stimulation was far less agonizing, but it still hurt.

    What is this?

    Everywhere he looked, it was as if nearly everything was overlaid by phantasmal copies, each with varying degrees of difference in appearance.

    Wait¡­ Is this Eye for Potential?

    Doing his best to funnel his focus, Rory turned all his attention onto a stick nearby, wincing again. Looking at the stick, it was as if it was constantly morphing between various items related to sticks: first an arrow, then a blunt baton, and so forth.

    What if I¡­

    Focusing on the idea of an arrow, the flickering imagery smoothed. It no longer flickered between what felt like infinite variations of different items but only between two or three varying types of arrows.

    ¡°That¡¯s more manageable.¡±

    The arrows themselves weren¡¯t all that different. One was a standard arrow, another was an arrow where the tip had been altered to a more broadhead variation, and the final variation was an arrowhead that looked almost like a bullet.

    Right. So, when it says it grants the ability to see the ¡®potential¡¯ of things, it was a bit more literal than I presumed.

    Looking away from the stick, Rory focused on a nearby stone instead. Much like the stick, it at first seemed to flicker through infinite variations of things it could be turned into until, with a surprising amount of effort, Rory forced himself to lock the image onto the familiar knife heads he¡¯d made since he¡¯d arrived on the planet. What surprised him was that the stone didn¡¯t flick through several different appearances, locked instead onto a singular standard knife head.

    Is that because there isn¡¯t much variation you can do with a stone knife? You can¡¯t exactly forge any unique shapes out of stone. Or is it because I don¡¯t have the resources needed to do anything more elaborate than that, so it¡¯s all it can show?

    Curious, Rory spent the next two hours slowly observing things within his campsite, mentally flicking through the potential things he could do with them. The longer he spent practicing his new ability, the more it seemed to settle within his eyes, no longer sending bursts of static-like pain through his mind. Confident that he¡¯d gotten the hang of it at last, Rory opened his eyes fully while at the same time mentally flicking an imagined switch that controlled Eye for Potential off.

    ¡°Oh, sweet heavens, that¡¯s nice.¡± Rory rubbed at his eyes as the phantasmal sights faded entirely, his vision returning to normal. With only the barest of efforts, he turned the vision on and off in rapid succession before, with a grunt of satisfaction, he shut it off for good.

    ¡°Interesting, and probably supremely useful when I get a better grasp of its usability, but for now, I¡¯ll keep it in the back pocket,¡± Rory announced to no one in particular, stretching his arms overhead.

    Right. So, that¡¯s the settlement ¡®upgraded¡¯ my ascension handled, and even my vocational skills expanded. Anything else?

    There was one thing, in fact, something he¡¯d been mulling over since the completion of his last wave.

    Settlement Growth Pathways.

    Rory had been offered several predefined options, branching trees of potential evolutions, but they¡¯d seemed too basic.

    ¡°If it¡¯s going to call me some Architect or whatever, might as well live up to the title.¡±

    Rather than accept whatever option was given, Rory would pave his own route forward. The only issue was Rory wasn¡¯t sure where to even begin.

    ¡°System,¡± Rory said, opening his interface. ¡°Pull up settlement pathways, would you?¡±

    Rory knew he could have done it himself simply by thinking it; the intent was more important than any specific command. However, there was something viscerally satisfying about watching his interface react to his verbal command like he had some personal AI butler.

    Within a moment of speaking, his interface shifted, redirecting to the three branching trees of options he¡¯d been presented with before. Still, none of the three pathways appealed to him.

    Which is where this comes in.

    Fixing his gaze on the interface, he felt his vision shift, phantasmal visions flickering about the corners of his eyes.

    ¡°Clear pre-generated options.¡±

    The three pathways cleared, leaving only a blank interface.

    Let¡¯s see if this works.

    Taking a deep breath, he began to scan his surroundings, letting the flickering phantasmal sights digest without ever locking onto a singular idea. His head hurt; it was a lot of information being slammed into his brain, but he¡¯d acclimated enough to the information deluge that it wasn¡¯t searing pain anymore. After several minutes of just looking around, Rory finally turned his attention back to his blank interface.

    ¡°Populate with a forging-focused pathway.¡±

    The interface shifted momentarily, a circle spinning for several seconds before a singular pathway appeared.

    ¡°Huh. That worked.¡± Rory muttered, scratching at his chin. ¡°Cool.¡±

    With a swipe of his hand, Rory dismissed the generated pathway. It had been nothing more than a test that had proved his theory correct. The pathways offered depended on your own information, and in the absence of such information, the system seemed to fill in the blanks. Yet, with his newly gained Eye for Potential, he could parse information that would have otherwise required hours of work to know.

    In layman''s terms, he could ¡®cheat¡¯ using his Eye for Potential to learn what could be, not just for a singular thing but everything. The most essential prerequisite for creating pathways was awareness of potential possibilities.

    That¡¯s probably a vast oversimplification, but it works for now.

    ¡°Alright, rather than showing me an entire branching pathway, show potential pathway beginnings that prioritize long-term benefits.¡±

    Again, the spinning circle appeared before six singular nodes appeared in a single row, each a promise of something different.

    ¡°There we go.¡± Rory nodded to himself, pleased.

    Let¡¯s see¡­ Oh, now that¡¯s more to my speed.

    The first node was relatively simple, an easy-to-understand improvement.

    Node Path Alpha:

    Walls regenerate integrity 10% faster but have a lower overall integrity maximum.¡¯

    Interesting. Perhaps that could one day form the basis of some ¡®smart material ¡¯-style wall that heals itself instantly if not destroyed in a singular hit.

    The next node was likewise straightforward.

    Node Path Beta:

    All flames burn 10% hotter but incur a proportional fuel intake increase.

    Essentially, he could reach the point where he could begin working with materials that might typically have unreachable melting points with ordinary fuel, such as basic wood. In return, the upkeep for his flames and furnaces would also increase.

    It would be useful if I found some metal, but I also have no idea what metals even exist anymore¡­. I think I¡¯ll pass.

    The third node was another relatively simple option.

    Note Path Gamma:

    Sleeping in local shelters reduces sleep needs by 10%.

    ¡°How does that even work?¡± Rory questioned, turning an eyebrow upward. He could understand walls that were self-repaired; those had been a thing back on Earth even without magic, and fires that burnt hotter and faster could also be explained as simply being magically hotter. But how exactly would the system ¡®reduce¡¯ the amount of sleep you needed if you slept in a shelter within the settlement grounds?

    When in doubt, blame it on system weirdness.

    Moving on, the fourth node was another 10% focused starting point, a repeating trend that was undoubtedly some pattern.

    Note Path Delta:

    Crops grown within settlement bounds require 10% less upkeep.

    Okay, so farms need less sunlight or something? Technically, it¡¯s not bad. Perhaps one day, they could transform into pre-collapse imitations of vertical farms or even Energy-Matter nutritional plants like those other galactic races had to feed their people.

    His nutritional needs were being met for the moment, perhaps not all the leafy greens he should have been eating, but even back on Earth, Rory hadn¡¯t exactly been great about that, even when he advised athletes to ensure they were eating a well-balanced and healthy diet to sustain their training.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Do as I say, not as I do. Moving on!

    The fifth node¡­ was a strange one.

    Node Path Epsilon:

    Essence Spires now siphon small amounts of essence into the vicinity, reducing Pneuma generation by -

    ¡°S-seventy percent!?¡± Rory stuttered, eyes bulging. Everything else had been a simple plus or minus of ten percent. The Epsilon node was the first that reduced something by a massive seventy percent. ¡°I guess that also answers whether essence and Pneuma are the same. Turns out, no.¡±

    Rory shook off the shock, returning to reading the option.

    -by seventy percent. Warning: Potentially dangerous ramifications.

    ¡°Hmm. Foreboding.¡±

    Turning his attention to the final node, he half expected something even more outlandish, but apparently, the Essence Spire was a special case.

    Node Path Zeta:

    Fertility of all settlement inhabitants increased by 10%. Warning: Unwanted pregnancies may occur more frequently.

    Thanks for the warning. Rory sighed, chuckling for a moment. Ignoring that this is useless when it¡¯s just me here, sometimes I swear this effect permeated my high school back in the day.

    The question of whether ¡®back in the day¡¯ was ten years or tens of billions of years ago to the side, Rory examined his six options once more before tossing out the final option instantly. He had already covered that he was the only ¡®citizen¡¯ of his settlement; increased fertility did him all of nothing. He could appreciate how it would allow for a rather quick expansion down the line; more births equated to more workforce, but that was far from his current concern.

    The first node he tossed out a moment later. It was quite interesting, and the idea of walls that behaved like smart-healing materials of the pre-collapse universe could be handy. Still, even when he extrapolated what could be based on that starting node, it was hard to see it doing much more than making the settlement into nothing more than a bastion, which, while helpful, wouldn¡¯t help him advance any faster outside of martial considerations.

    The sleep choice was tossed next. Again, the extrapolations were interesting. Perhaps one day, those who lived within his settlement -assuming he got to the point where it wasn¡¯t just him- would be able to go without the necessities, the magic of the settlement sustaining them entirely, but there was something about the idea of giving up sleep that turned him off, at least for the time being.

    ¡°My options are hotter fires, better farms, or looming danger that I was explicitly warned about?¡±

    Rory could see the appeal. Suppose you normally needed a blast furnace to produce steel but could now make it possible using only a basic campfire. In that case, you¡¯d gain access to powerful materials well before it would otherwise be possible.

    The issue was that Rory doubted he would be gaining the skills to work with such materials anytime soon, and thus, in the short term, it would provide little benefit.

    It is a long-term focused option, but as much as I want to focus on the long term, there needs to be some practical benefit in the short term that isn¡¯t just the ability to make stuff ordinarily might be beyond my technological capabilities.

    The farming node was tossed out a heartbeat later for the same reasons. Perhaps it would expand into the direction where his settlement could produce vast amounts of raw resources, which could solidify it as an economic powerhouse. If Earth taught him anything, it was the importance of wealth and resources, but while wealth and resources were astoundingly useful, they weren¡¯t valuable in the direction he needed.

    Commerce is beneficial, but only when there are others with whom to trade actively.

    ¡°And thus, I¡¯m left with the option I probably shouldn¡¯t select.¡±

    Logically, the warning should have been enough of a reason to avoid the change to his Essence Spire. Still, the temptation of freely available essence that was needed to ascend was too much to pass, especially with how he¡¯d fallen behind with so much growth investment.

    Problems for future Rory to deal with.

    With a shrug, he tapped on the small node. Instantly, he was presented with a simple confirmation box of Yes/No. Tapping on the yes, Rory could feel the world shifting slightly, his skin crawling momentarily.

    ¡°Ick. Not a fan of that.¡±

    Looking away from his interface, Rory then examined the budding Essence Spire. Using Eye for Potential, Rory saw entire branching lines of future possibilities for the Spire erased from existence, as the Spire was locked into a singular pathway.

    When he finished his pathway business, Rory closed the menu before it could begin populating new pre-generated options branching from the epsilon node.

    Eye for Potential turned off, Rory instead examined the Spire with analyze.

    Embryonic Crystalized Essence Spire

    Rarity: Mythic

    A natural treasure, this Essence Spire had been changed, no longer generating simple Pneuma; it now tears into reality itself, passively pulling essence into existence.

    ¡°So, its rarity went up and- wait, pause, how many rarities are there?¡± Rory shook his head, getting distracted. ¡°That aside¡­ It tears into reality?¡±

    Rory could better understand the earlier warning now. The idea of tearing into reality wasn¡¯t precisely a comforting notion, not when their prior universe had collapsed onto itself because some aliens thought it a good idea to rip apart reality for their own personal benefit.

    Which Rory was doing as well.

    ¡°At the very least, it¡¯s probably not too dangerous for the time being. I doubt the system would even offer it the potential to be so dangerous at such an early point in the universe.¡±

    Well, I''m ignoring that my vocation allows me to sidestep the system''s offered possibilities a bit.

    With that pleasant thought, Rory finally examined the wreckage of the wave in the more literal sense. There were bunny corpses scattered throughout the camp, those that had entered the walls, and outside the walls, there were several corpses of the deceased jackalopes. His shield was wrecked on the ground near the corpse of the Triumph Fox, as was his bow; it had been sundered during the chaos of his life-or-death battle.

    Which left the Triumph Fox itself. Walking over to it, he scanned the corpse.

    Whereas before, he was only met with its name, now the information text had been populated further.

    Triumph Fox

    The first predator born to a still-young universe, the Triumph Fox''s significance alone has granted it a near immunity to low-level magic. While containing no magic of its own, the Triumph Fox proves a potent hunter through vicious claws and fangs and surprising strength for its size.

    ¡°Yeah, checks out,¡± Rory said in agreement. ¡°What¡¯s this about being ¡®near immune¡¯ to magic?¡±

    Scratching at his chin, Rory considered the implication. Analyze rarely told him information that was still entirely unknown, so for it to mention the fact of magic having little usability on the Fox-

    ¡°Either someone else has already figured out how to use magic and tried it on the fox, or they saw the fox ignoring magic. Maybe witnessed one of the foxes hunting a jackalope and being unhurt by its magic?¡±

    Magic. It was something Rory still had trouble believing. What he knew about it, which was somewhat limited, was that it utilized something known as Pneuma, an unknown mystical energy analogous to mana in video games he¡¯d played as a kid.

    ¡°And Pneuma is different from essence. Essence itself doesn¡¯t seem to be naturally occurring, or at least, it doesn¡¯t just exist like oxygen in the air.¡± Rory began pacing, thinking everything over. ¡°Essence is created through¡­. Through what? Doing ¡®significant¡¯ accomplishments seems to generate essence, but how? But wait, if the Spire rips essence into existence, how did simple meditation work to gather essence for my first ascension?¡±

    Or perhaps there is an ever-present background amount of essence, but the Spire generates greater amounts of essence that can be used when the background essence normally can¡¯t.

    It was one of those oh-so-common issues he kept running into too many unknowns, with no way to figure them out other than through firsthand experience.

    With a sigh, Rory threw his hands up, giving up on figuring out how essence worked and instead focusing on his earlier thoughts about Pneuma.

    ¡°Pneuma isn¡¯t essence, sure. It¡¯s also what powers magic to some degree, apparently, and after an ascension, you can invest some attribute density towards an attribute that¡¯s also called Pneuma that increases your¡­ Attunement? Understanding? Of Pneuma itself. But you don¡¯t need the attribute to use magic, just like you don¡¯t need to invest in strength to lift ordinary things up.¡±

    Rory returned to pacing, trying to make sense of his half-formed clues and hunches.

    ¡°So, how does magic work? It¡¯s obviously not just waving a wand around and saying fancy words. There must be more.¡±

    Mulling the thoughts over, Rory snatched the corpse of the Triumph Fox by the scruff of the neck, dragging it over to his log as he likewise snagged his crafting knife.

    May as well use my time efficiently.

    Turning the question over in his head, Rory set about his preparations to dissect the fox. Using several oversized leaves from a nearby tree, he laid out a ¡®mat,¡¯ if you could call it that, underneath to catch any potentially useful viscera from the corpse. About to sink his knife into the tough hide of the fox, Rory paused for a moment as he examined his knife.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t this supposed to grow with me?¡±

    A quick scan didn¡¯t show anything different, and Eye for Potential didn¡¯t seem to show any outward change potentials for the tool, so he shrugged the thought off.

    Eh, maybe it requires more time. I¡¯m only at my third ascension, barely better than when I was only tier zero.

    Rory was confident that if he got in a fight to the death with himself from the past, he would easily trounce his former self. He was physically stronger, more agile, and could process information faster now.

    How much faster and how much more agile, he wasn¡¯t sure. There wasn¡¯t exactly anything telling him in definitive terms how much each increase was worth. Furthermore, the only reason he¡¯d been able to get a rough gauge of his strength increase when he¡¯d gone from A1 to A2 was his familiarity with his relative strength, which he had gained from years of weightlifting. Unless he found some standardized weights sometime soon, any future strength gains would be far more nebulous by how much his gains were.

    Which is neither here nor there. Focus on the arcane.

    Skinning the fox with surprising skill ¨C a boon he hadn¡¯t been expecting from his overall attribute increases was that his hands were far steadier- Rory let his mind return to the subject of magic.

    From what he could see as he skinned the fox, there didn¡¯t appear to be anything that stood out to him as to why the fox resisted magic. The only ¡®clue¡¯ he had was that apparently the act of being the first predator, that bit of ¡®significance,¡¯ was enough to protect it from magic.

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± Rory paused as his knife slipped through the fur and skin down the fox¡¯s back, taking a moment to consider the implication. ¡°Significance can cause bursts of essence, and significance can also resist magic. Does that make me immune to magic as well?¡±

    Rory shook his head, resuming his work.

    No, probably not. The interplay must be something else.

    Knife still dancing around the corpse, Rory soon removed his first square of fur from the fox. It was tough, far tougher than rabbit fur, but he wasn¡¯t planning on relying solely on his physical senses to examine the hide. First up was analyze, his interface popping up as a tiny reticule locked onto the hide.

    Triumph Fox Hide

    Quality: Common

    A sturdy piece of hide from a now-deceased Triumph Fox, it has lost all innate magic resistance. While no longer containing any significance or special traits, the material itself is robust.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Rory grunted, slightly annoyed. ¡°Was hoping it would still protect from magic.¡±

    After the initial scan, Rory activated Eye for Potential, overlapping phantasms appearing instantly as he mentally parsed the potential possibilities of what he could accomplish with the hide.

    I wonder if there are limits to this weird vision or if it is limited in some fashion.

    Banishing the thought, Rory watched silently as he made sense of the phantasmal images overlaying the hide. Most of the things he saw were rather ordinary, differing types of clothing and, at one point, the hide covering for a new shield.

    Hmm... No actual tanned leather options.

    It was yet another piece of evidence that while Eye for Potential was useful for seeing the possibilities available, it did appear to be limited by what he could do in the first place. Without a tannery or the slightest clue of how you even tanned hide in the first place, not a single option for such creations flickered to life.

    Good to know.

    Shutting off his magical vision, he continued gently skinning the monster. It was clear he wasn¡¯t going to create any magical wonders, but after several weeks, his clothes had begun to fall apart; the hide would make do for some replacements.

    Especially if it continues to get colder.

    Sometime later, Rory held the now fully skinned corpse up, examining his handiwork.

    ¡°Not bad, if I do say so myself.¡± Rory smiled with a hint of pride. He still wouldn¡¯t be winning any taxidermy competitions or such, but it no longer looked like a child mad with murderous glee had taken a knife to the corpse like some of his initial attempts at skinning the monster rabbits had gone. He wasn¡¯t done, though; he was far from it.

    Next, the meat itself.

    Whereas skinning the fox had been an exercise in precision, separating the flesh from the hide with no overlap, removing the meat was a matter of dogged patience and elbow grease. As strong as the fox was in life, its powerfully chorded muscles were just as tough in death. While not egregiously thick, it still felt to Rory as if he were trying to hack through thick ropes. There was a surprising lack of body fat within the fox, for which he was thankful; Rory had at one point heard that fat could dull a blade faster than nearly anything else. Piece by piece, he stripped the flesh from the bones of the box, stopping only occasionally to wipe at the sweat beading his brow with his forearm. As he got deeper into the cavities of its body, not only was he forced to saw through the sturdily corded muscles, but he even had to take care to avoid slashing through organs that could spew their unsanitary contents over his prized meal. Daylight faded into the extending shadows of encroaching dusk before even dusk began to give way to the vast darkness of night.

    I think that¡¯s good for the day.

    Sharpening a stick, Rory pierced it through the cuts of meat he¡¯d carved away from the corpse. Carving several more sticks, he thrust them into the ground and across one another until he soon had a makeshift table, though it looked closer to a grill and lacked any solid tabletop. Placing his meat kebab and what remained of the fox atop the branch table, Rory nearly dragged himself into his shelter, laying down on his now oh-so-familiar cot of moss, leaves, and clovers. Closing his eyes, sleep found him within seconds.

 15. Encounter in the Jaws

    When Rory awoke, it was to the sound of lightning and thunder, except within a moment of opening his eyes, something about the storm that awoke him felt off.

    Wait¡­ That¡¯s no storm.

    Dragging himself out of his hovel quickly, Rory took in the early morning rays, feat unsteady beneath him.

    ¡°There is no rain, lightning, or even a cloud in the sky,¡± Rory uttered, frowning. His legs were still surprisingly shaky under him.

    No, it¡¯s not my legs.

    ¡°The ground¡­ An earthquake?¡± With his mind finally fully awake, Rory steadied himself with a hand on his shelter, looking around at the shaking trees, the ground swaying beneath his feet. He¡¯d never experienced an earthquake himself; the closest he¡¯d ever experienced was the feeling of the Amtrak racing by on overhead rails as he went about his business downtown.

    Still holding himself steady, the ground gave one final heave, a titanic sound of cracking stone and splintering bark as several unlucky trees tumbled down before everything went still.

    ¡°Earthquakes¡­ noted.¡± Rory sighed. A part of him wanted to investigate, but the morning sun had barely graced the horizon, and Rory was still tired from the events of the day prior. Fighting back a yawn, he crawled back into his shelter, mumbling.

    ¡°Later. I¡¯ll explore later.¡±

    ----------------------------------------

    Yawning, Rory stretched as much as his cramped shelter would allow, rubbing at his eyes a moment after.

    ¡°Morning to me.¡± He sighed as he slowly detangled his limbs; he¡¯d always been a bit of a chaotic sleeper. While he hadn¡¯t tested his increased flexibility, the fact that his body had curled up and bent the way it had in his sleep, with him feeling no worse for wear, was sign enough that it had quite the effect. Rory took stock of his surroundings outside his shelter, paying particular attention to the many felled trees.

    ¡°That¡¯s right. It wasn¡¯t a dream.¡± Rory watched his breath roll away in a slight cloud of vapor, shaking a jolt of warmth through his body as he did. ¡°Should probably check the area out.¡±

    A part of Rory felt iffy about leaving his campsite after the showdown with the wave the other day. A run-in with a powerful monster could be quite dangerous, but he mustered his courage with only brief consideration.

    The wave attracts the nearest monsters, so there are unlikely any monsters nearby for quite some distance.

    While his campsite didn¡¯t look like it, Rory had earned a decent chunk of land after the completion of three waves. He just hadn¡¯t felt it necessary to expand the space his camp took up; in fact, spreading everything out for the time being would only make future waves more difficult as he was forced to cover more ground. Knowing that monsters tended to avoid his ¡®territory¡¯ unless specifically chased into it, his fears from earlier waves of leaving the remains of his kills in the camp and attracting monsters seemed unlikely.

    Well, it''s probably still wise to avoid it, but the day after a wave is still likely within the all-clear time frame where few monsters are nearby enough to catch the scent in the first place.

    Curious but not foolish, Rory snagged his weapons before setting off into the forest. Picking a direction where the fallen trees seemed thickest, almost as if they¡¯d been felled along some irregular trail, Rory trudged through the underbrush. Occasionally forced to hop or duck under fallen trees and other dense foliage, little else of interest occurred. The only thing that piqued his interest was as time went on, the ground beneath him seemed to buckle more and more, almost like a tremendous earthen zipper had appeared.

    Plate tectonics probably heaved the ground unevenly, heading in this direction.

    Curious but not worried, one hour turned into two until two faded into three before, at last, Rory stopped, hands on his hips as he let out a low whistle, well past the bounds of his monster-repelling territory.

    ¡°That¡¯s something.¡±

    He¡¯d come across a clearing where nearly every single tree had been ripped apart as the ground had shredded itself in what must have been a damn near apocalyptic sight. Tree trunks were ground between obsidian and soil, and at the very center of the clearing, what looked like a massive gaping jaw had been ripped asunder by the violent quakes of the earth. Still curious, Rory cautiously snuck closer before poking his head over the rim of the gaping tear in the world, another low whistle escaping him.

    Not just a small buckle in the ground, I guess.

    The opening in the earth continued below, a sloping tunnel leading back in the direction he¡¯d come from. On and on it went, illuminated by the gentle purple glow of purple and silver mushrooms and a soft blue moss that popped up in patches.

    ¡°An underground ecosystem beneath my feet.¡± Rory looked around, a faint frown upon his face. ¡°Was this your intentional doing?¡± Rory questioned, waiting for the world spirit to pop out.

    When she didn¡¯t, Rory could only shrug.

    Nothing risked, nothing gained.

    Emboldened by his recent ascension and sure that he would flee at the first sign of trouble, Rory hopped over the short ledge, landing on the tunnel floor four feet below. Drawing his weapons, he began descending into the earth with nothing more than the strange mushrooms and sparse patches of blue moss to illuminate the path forward. Much like his exploration into the forest, it went without event for some time. Unlike his journey through the forest, when something finally did change, it was only a matter of minutes rather than hours. Ten minutes into his downward-sloping trek through the tunnel, it began to level off until he saw what must have been some cavern ahead.

    Curious.

    Slowing down to a crawl on the chance something wanted to take him by surprise, Rory approached with the utmost caution. Only a few feet from the cavern entrance, he was met with a better view of the cavern. It was perhaps a hundred feet across and nearly thirty feet tall. More importantly, it was filled with rocks that shone with a metallic gleam.

    ¡°Ore.¡± Rory exhaled slowly. ¡°It¡¯s a damn ore vein.¡±

    Still wary of potential dangers, Rory approached the nearest rock containing the metallic gleam and analyzed it.

    ???-

    Quality: Common

    A metal found most often near the surface. It is minorly infused with Pneuma.

    ¡°An unknown metal. The only reason it even confirmed that much is probably because I correctly assumed it was ore.¡± Rory drummed his fingers against the metallic vein within the stone. ¡°Clearly, it¡¯s not some super rare type, based on the common quality. Too bad, I was hoping to stumble upon some mithril.¡±

    Rory briefly smiled as he remembered bingeing Lord of the Rings with his grandparents. For as old as the films were, nearly forty years, they¡¯d held up damn well.

    Sadly, I¡¯ll never be able to watch them again.

    It was a bitter thought but one he banished instantly to more pressing matters.

    ¡°So, metal. The lack of a name means I¡¯m the first to discover this type.¡± Rory stood in silent contemplation, dredging through what originality he had.

    I feel like calling it iron would be too basic. But, if it¡¯s a common ore, iron seems fitting¡­ but what if it¡¯s nothing like Iron?

    Rory looked the ore veins over, noting the dusky red gleam.

    Was iron a red color? Bah, I don¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t go to school to study geology.

    ¡°Pneuma-Touched Iron,¡± Rory stated, finally giving up on a clever name. Instantly, his interface shifted, and a spinning wheel appeared for a split second until his analysis reappeared.

    Pneuma-Touched Iron

    Quality: Common:

    A metal found most often near the surface. It is minorly infused with Pneuma.

    Now, if only I had a way to mine it. Rory thought to himself before shaking his head. Scratch that; I don¡¯t even have a good way to lug much of the stuff back with me, even if I did have a way to mine it.

    At the very least, a relatively large number of ore clumps were lying free on the ground. The earlier quake had caused several stones to shatter, freeing some of the precious metal from their earthen grasp.

    Well, not ¡®precious metal¡¯ but more like the metal is precious... Semantics.

    Part of him wanted to grab what he could and leave, but further into the cavern, there appeared to be another off-shooting tunnel leading further into the earth.

    Beginning to understand the dwarves of Moria, Rory ignored his better judgment and left the cavern of Pneuma-touched iron ore behind, heading deeper within. The tunnel wound about for several minutes, still lit by the helpful lichen and fungi. But unlike the tunnel he¡¯d first entered the underground through, this one never seemed to delve deeper into the earth; it just went further into his current ¡®layer¡¯ of earthen depths.

    He went on and on for nearly ten minutes until, once more, he found himself nearing yet another cavern. This one was only around sixty feet across, with a pond dominating the center and stalactites looming ominously overhead.

    The pond itself wasn¡¯t much better in that department; the soft lighting didn¡¯t pierce its depths; whether it was aisormba or something else altogether, Rory couldn¡¯t tell, the pool an ominous unknown.

    Lost in thought about the nature of the pond, Rory only survived as his recently heightened cognition kicked in, reacting as something massive crashed toward him.

    React was perhaps being a tad generous. Not even enough time for his eyes to widen, Rory barely managed to raise his arms in front of himself before a solid mass of something thick as a tree trunk slammed into him, tossing him backward like a stone from a slingshot as he slammed hard onto his back, tossed back into the tunnel from whence he came.

    Pain erupted through his body. His arms felt as if a firecracker had exploded within them, his ribs burning with liquid lava, and his head simultaneously numb and searing with an almost venomous pain.

    What¡­ the fuck!?

    Whatever had attacked him, thankfully, didn¡¯t instantly pounce upon his downed form. Kicking his body away from the entrance into the pond cavern, the stars dancing about his eyes finally cleared as he got a good look at his assailant.

    It was¡­ well, he wasn¡¯t sure what it was. Tentacles had appeared from the pond and were slamming about, thick as his torso.

    Too much Lord of the Rings referencing.

    Had he not felt like a semi had run over him, Rory would have almost laughed at the fact that seeing the tentacles lashing out from the pond reminded him keenly of the fellowship and their encounter with the Watcher in the Deep right before they entered Moria.

    Several minutes passed before the tentacles, no longer finding anything to smash into a meaty paste, withdrew into the inky depths.

    ¡°I think¡­ think I¡¯ve had my fill of exploring.¡± Rory croaked. His ribs still felt like he¡¯d been beaten by a football team armed with sledgehammers, and the bones in his arms were definitely broken.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Thank you, cognition.

    The reality was that as much as he hurt, he wouldn¡¯t even have the luxury of hurting had he not reacted when he had, just barely softening the blow from the tentacle and taking the brunt of the force to his arms instead of his chest. He could imagine in another reality that tentacle crushing his chest like a tin can, unable to muster even a breath as they proceeded to drag him into the depths.

    That¡¯s enough imagining for the day.

    Counting his lucky stars that he was even alive to tell the tale, Rory shimmied himself against the closest wall of the tunnel before leveraging his weight against it as he nearly crawled up it like a pathetic excuse for a caterpillar. Doing the only sensible thing once he¡¯d managed to rise to his feet, Rory immediately turned tail and fled with as much speed as his aching body could muster. Stopping only once to painfully snatch up a few pieces of ore when he¡¯d returned to the first cavern, the rest of his day was spent staggering out from the underground depths and through the blissfully silent forest.

    I¡¯m sure a regular earth bunny could tear me apart, as I feel right now.

    Not even wanting to confirm how close to death he¡¯d come, Rory made it a point of not looking up his Physique status. Mind awash with aching pain and near-death experiences, the journey which had only taken him slightly under three hours there took more than twice that to return, the sunlight hovering just above the horizon.

    I survived. That¡¯s what matters.

    Letting his consolation prizes plunk out from his pockets and weakly clenched hands, Rory never even bothered to organize them, instead dragging himself into his shelter and dropping onto his back.

    ¡°System, cancel the next wave.¡±

    Nursing his physical wounds and wounded pride, Rory¡¯s fifth week ended.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

    ¡°Son of a-¡± Rory shot upright with a jolt, pain awakening him like a wronged girlfriend. ¡°-oh.¡± Panting, he looked around his cramped shelter, ignoring the pain momentarily.

    Right. I made it back.

    The events of the day prior had melded together, a mishmash of sights, sounds, and sensations clogging his mind, dulled and yet simultaneously overly vibrant.

    I messed up.

    Rory didn¡¯t want to admit it, but he¡¯d gotten ahead of himself. Aside from the waves, his new world hadn¡¯t been all that dangerous. The bloodthirsty rabbits and similar monsters tended to keep away from his campsite. It had lulled him into a false sense of security when he¡¯d entered the territory of something else.

    What even was that?

    A monster right out of Lovecraft or perhaps an old pirate''s tale, all he¡¯d been able to make out of the beast were tree-trunk-like tentacles that each individually moved faster than he could sensibly react to.

    I was lucky it knocked me away rather than drag me into that pond with it.

    Rory shuddered, thinking of how close he¡¯d come to death. Not just death, but a grisly, preventable death.

    And that was the worst part of all of that, and it had been entirely within his control.

    ¡°I messed up.¡± Rory sighed, repeating his earlier thoughts out loud. ¡°Badly.¡±

    A quick look at his interface confirmed his thoughts. His arms were displayed with a simple ¡°Broken¡± tag.

    Wonderful.

    Even with broken arms, Rory was surprised to find he still had some range of movement, which was no doubt a benefit of his increased durability.

    Good, because I don¡¯t have anyone here to take care of me.

    Typically, broken arms could take upwards to three months to heal, but Rory hoped that would be cut down due to the supernatural benefits he¡¯d gained from ascension.

    Still, probably at the earliest, that''s three weeks, I can kiss goodbye.

    With a groan, Rory considered flopping backward and returning to sleep, but his aching body made it known that further sleep was out of the question.

    So, time to be productive¡­. Somehow.

    The issue was that the list of things he could be productive about when he had broken arms was relatively short.

    Can¡¯t do anything that involves steady arms or hand movements.

    Which was a fun way of saying he couldn¡¯t take care of making any gear.

    What can I do then?

    Slowly crawling out of his shelter, Rory took stock of his campsite. It still had the signs of battle from the wave several days prior; he hadn¡¯t organized most of his spoils of war yet.

    ¡°Spoils of war¡­ More like corpses.¡± Rory snorted. His bow was still destroyed, and a quick scan made him wince.

    Antler Horn Bow

    Grade: Ruined

    A now ruined bow crafted from the Antlers of a slightly magical creature. Destroyed, all traces of Akashic Records have been rendered non-existent.

    ¡°Well, shit.¡±

    Rory still wasn¡¯t sure of the details of what Akashic Records were, but at the very least, the Akashic Record contained within the bow had lent him skill with the bow that would have taken years to hone.

    Going to have to make a new one. At least I¡¯ve got enough antlers from the last wave to make several.

    He just hoped they would be capable of the same magical effect as his now ruined bow.

    ¡°Can¡¯t take care of that until my arms are good enough to hold my knife for long periods.¡±

    Nudging the bow with his foot, Rory turned to the rest of what was scattered about, mostly bloodied bodies of the caerbannogs and the jackalope. The corpse of the Triumph Fox was exactly where he¡¯d left it on his makeshift ¡®table.¡¯ Thankfully, flies weren¡¯t a thing on the new planet, or they would have ruined his kills long ago.

    I haven¡¯t seen much decay in general. I think I once heard that things decayed because of specific bacteria. Does that mean they don¡¯t exist here?

    More questions that weren''t likely to be answered any time in the near future, not without a qualified biologist on hand -not counting his own middling experience with that specific subset of the field.

    ¡°Not important,¡± Rory mumbled as he sat with an exaggerated sigh on his log.

    Did I mention that I messed up? Because I messed up.

    Several of his consolation prizes were littered about, the reddish-colored ore.

    I don¡¯t even know what I want to do with them yet.

    He had zero practical experience in forging or blacksmithing, whatever the proper technical term was. At best, he¡¯d watched random YouTube videos on his phone of blacksmithing sometimes as he lay in bed.

    Another thing I can¡¯t handle for now.

    In truth, all he could do was sit there and contemplate how badly he¡¯d messed up.

    Well, that¡¯s not entirely true.

    There was one thing he could do, one thing he¡¯d been meaning to take some time to figure out sometime soon.

    ¡°Guess ¡®soon¡¯ is now.¡± Rory huffed with defiance, unwilling to let a bad situation go to waste.

    Pulling up his attribute distribution, still sorely lacking in specific numerics, Rory examined where his averages fell. Nothing had changed since last time, meaning no one had ascended to A3 since he¡¯d last checked.

    Or I was the last one to reach A3.

    With a quick shake of his head, Rory cast away the negative thoughts, instead looking for the object of his search: his Pneuma attribute. The bell curve showed that he was a tad behind the average allocation of attribute density regarding Pneuma, and given the description of the Triumph Fox, which mentioned them being nearly immune to magic, it all reinforced Rory¡¯s conclusion that someone had already begun working with magic.

    ¡°But the attribute itself isn¡¯t necessary for using magic.¡± Rory reminded himself.

    So how do I, then?

    Feeling glad no one was around to watch him, Rory raised his arm, wincing, as he imagined shooting a fireball from his palm.

    Unsurprisingly, nothing happened.

    Yeah, I figured as much.

    Were there special chants or magic words he needed to uncover?

    No, that doesn¡¯t make sense; those were merely an act of imaginative fiction from Earth.

    Chances were magic wasn¡¯t about using fancy words but utilizing an energy that existed naturally or perhaps supernaturally.

    Stop splitting hairs, Rory.

    Lowering his arm, Rory folded his legs one over the other, easier now that his flexibility had increased through his most recent ascension.

    I should probably still work on stretching out more.

    Rory was beginning to suspect that while ascensions could increase one''s attributes, they only increased one''s baseline and overall capacity. They didn¡¯t prevent a person from further strengthening themselves or becoming more flexible. Suppose two people invested equal amounts into flexibility. In that case, Rory was guessing that the person who still took the time to work on their flexibility directly would outperform the person who relied solely on their attribute growth gained through ascension.

    ¡°Focus, Rowan,¡± Rory growled to himself.

    Closing his eyes, Rory took several stabilizing breaths, trying to put himself in a serene state of mind, or at least an empty state of mind. It came quickly, a skill he¡¯d polished within his first few days on the planet when it had been the only way to gain the essence needed to go from A0 to A1.

    Magic, energy¡­ There¡¯s got to be something to it.

    It was a practice in futility. No matter how Rory attempted to draw magic from somewhere inside himself, he found no success. Hours passed, and still nothing; all Rory gained was waning patience.

    ¡°I¡¯m missing something,¡± Rory said flatly, opening his eyes. ¡°Obviously.¡±

    Hours of sitting had amounted to nothing¡ªjust a vague feeling of annoyance budding within him as if he were wasting his time. Standing up, Rory stretched his legs out, his arms hanging painfully at his sides.

    What am I missing?

    The nearby sun had clawed halfway across the sky, a reminder of the wasted hours.

    Is it a feeling or something else?

    Rory had gotten quite good at inner reflection over the last few weeks, a skill picked up from having no one else to interrupt his work or interact with. Yet, no matter how inward Rory tried to look, he couldn¡¯t find that spark, that piece of-

    Wait a second.

    Rory froze, eyes suddenly widened.

    ¡°Idiot. I¡¯m an idiot.¡± He began to mutter, beginning to pace with a renewed energy. ¡°Idiot.¡±

    Rory had spent so much time expecting to find the answer inward, some internal energy or spark.

    But what if the answer was never inward to begin with?

    Too many shows and movies. I let that color my thinking.

    With a new idea in mind, Rory plunked himself on his log, closing his eyes and ensuring his breathing was coming evenly. Then, rather than looking inward in some quasi-spiritual experience, he threw his senses outward, trying to feel and hear everything simultaneously. It was a strange experience, one he had little to compare to. On earth, people would often talk about looking inward or finding peace within themselves or other mumbo jumbo crap that Rory never really believed. Yet, there was hardly ever emphasis on trying to extend yourself outward, and for good reason: normal humans were limited by their comparatively weak senses.

    But that was a normal human. As Rory was now, he was reasonably sure he was bordering on, if not outright, superhuman.

    Outward.

    For several seconds, there was nothing, until nearly a minute later, a feeling he¡¯d felt before began to itch at his skin, a sort of static clinging to him.

    Oh?

    It was the same sensation he''d felt when he¡¯d first arrived on the planet, the feeling of energy pressing down on his body made of foreign, exotic substances compared to the rest of the universe around him.

    And yet, it¡¯s like I can feel that static again.

    Curious Rory attempted to ¡®withdraw¡¯ his senses, and the further he focused them to what would be considered a ¡®normal¡¯ human degree, the more the feeling of static clinging to him faded.

    So, something exists outside the normal human range for feeling, which probably explains why it doesn¡¯t come naturally.

    Pushing his senses outward and letting the static reach its maximum, or at least the maximum of what he could feel, Rory opened his eyes. The feeling remained, unfettered by whether he was in some deep meditative state or not.

    ¡°Good.¡± Rory tried talking, but the feeling remained even still. ¡°Because it would be useless if I had to sit like a Buddha statue anytime I want to use magic.¡±

    Assuming that the static was indeed connected to magic and Pneuma.

    Reserve doubts until they¡¯re warranted.

    Clinging to the feeling of static, Rory slowly raised a hand outward, biting back a wince as his broken bones made their opinion on being used abundantly clear. Imagining himself drawing on the static, Rory willed the static forward, imagining it blooming into a ball of fire.

    Unfortunately, nothing happened, even if Rory could feel something about the static shift.

    ¡°Nope, still missing something,¡± Rory muttered through grit teeth. While Rory had felt the static shift, like it wanted to move, something else was still blocking it, like some missed starter or fuse.

    Rory racked his brain, looking for any hint of an idea. The static had been his first breakthrough, but it wasn¡¯t enough.

    There must clues elsewhere.

    Someone else had already figured magic out, and he was confident more would as well. Which meant he knew it was well within his ability to figure it out.

    Maybe I¡¯m making it too complicated?

    The thought gave him pause. Reaching outward, not inward, had clued him in on the static feeling. Perhaps there had been some other decidedly ¡®magical¡¯ experience he¡¯d already gone over that he was overlooking at this point?

    Magical experiences. Aside from surviving your universe collapsing inward and winding up on a not-quite-but-nearly-straight-from-fiction planet inhabited by a world spirit, what counts as magic? Or what about the fact that everything in this new universe can ¡®level up¡¯ through ascending? Does that count as magic? Or that I¡¯ve ascended several times myself, and- wait a moment, that¡¯s not a bad thought.

    While he was still a long way from his next ascension, it would probably be a few months based on the ten times essence requirement plus the extra investment he¡¯d continued toward growth; the ascension itself wasn¡¯t what mattered. What did was how every single ascension had been started by piercing a sort of ¡®barrier¡¯ in his mind between physical reality and some strange halfway point between his mind and the System.

    With a shrug and nothing to lose, Rory grasped that boundary, still feeling the static clinging to himself. What surprised him wasn¡¯t the fact that while he found it, it was the fact that it only took a heartbeat to locate it, as if the intent was all that mattered.

    For all I know, maybe the intention to break that barrier of whatever-ness is all that matters.

    Without a second thought, Rory snapped the ¡®barrier¡¯ with only the barest of mental efforts-

    -only to collapse instantly, spasming in pain like he¡¯d stuck his finger into an outlet. The spasms continued for nearly a five count before he found himself breathing hard on the ground, his head pounding like the world¡¯s angriest hangover.

    ¡°Ow.¡± Rory huffed once he finally caught his breath.

    His interface opened in front of his face, directly to his Physique. Never raising a finger and controlling it with mental effort alone, Rory directed it toward the pounding headache, a status flashing next to his head.

    ¡°Pneuma-Wracked?¡±

    A small blurb appeared next to the status as if answering his question.

    Pneuma-Wracked:

    Status condition gained from either releasing unfocused Pneuma or a forcibly applied debuff. Effects: Disorientation, lowered Pneuma sensitivity.

    ¡°Ah, thanks,¡± Rory grunted. What the system deemed information to share openly and what needed to be discovered firsthand always seemed somewhat arbitrary, but at the very least, it had decided what had happened as a reasonable situation to step in and explain directly.

    Or, and maybe I¡¯m reaching, the same thing probably happened to whoever first figured out how to use magic, and it¡¯s merely relaying something that¡¯s already been discovered and, therefore, no longer unique.

    At the very least, Rory had something to work with. The static appeared to be what Pneuma felt to the human mind, or what it currently felt; perhaps as time passed, he¡¯d gain a better sensitivity and understanding of the energy. For the time being, though, his mind processed the feeling as something akin to his body falling asleep. The ¡®boundary,¡¯ as he¡¯d opted to call it, was more like a mental construct of intent. Whether pushing his ascension or utilizing magic, they both appeared to require purposeful intent and active thought and thus couldn¡¯t be done accidentally. When he¡¯d ¡®pushed¡¯ that boundary, without any direction for his intent and Pneuma, it had simply rebounded through his body.

    It¡¯s not that different from electricity when you think about it. It¡¯s currents, not amps, that kill. Or something like that. The point is, next time, I should ensure I have some ¡®outlet¡¯ for the build-up.

    And there would be a next time. His arms and body, banged up as they were, prevented him from doing much else until they healed. For Rory, that meant he had at least a few weeks of downtime, which he planned to use as efficiently as possible.

    If only because next time I encounter some monster squid in a dark underground cave, I won''t be the one running with my tail between my legs.

 16. Learning to write, gone magical

    Over the next four weeks, Rory learned several things. First, Pneuma did not like being corralled. Often, attempts at drawing on the mystical force left him a spasming heap of flesh on the ground, groaning in pain.

    Second, even when he did succeed, Rory was beginning to realize he wouldn¡¯t be summoning giant firestorms or meteors on his foes any time soon. It was hard to state for sure without any frame of reference to compare to, but Rory could almost sense that he wasn¡¯t a natural for it. He could feel and see the potential of Pneuma, and his Potential-Vision gave him a sort of hazy understanding of what could be, but his results were far from matching them. It was as if you took a gallon of milk and poured it all into a single cup, yet the cup only filled halfway; for whatever reason, when he tried to use the force directly, he lost most of it through reasons he did not yet understand.

    Lastly, Pneuma was strange. It seemed to have no limit to usability. When he imagined it as a pushing force, it did precisely that. When he imagined it as a pulling force, it did exactly that. When he imagined a flame, bingo, fire. Electricity? Boom, a spark passed between his fingers. He¡¯d even managed to twist his mind around, manifesting Pneuma as threads that he shaped into a tiny net strong enough to suspend his knife. The only rule of Pneuma he¡¯d managed to pin down was that there was no standard rule.

    Maybe it¡¯s my earth sensibilities?

    To Rory, everything had to obey specific standards, universal truths he¡¯d seen his entire life. Even on this new planet, for the most part, the standards had been upheld; things would fall when they dropped, heat radiated outward, Kraken tentacles smacking your body hit like a damn truck.

    And yet, Rory had to at times remind himself that those universal constants were only partially true now; he wasn¡¯t in the old universe but something far vaster and more abstract and, most importantly, nebulous; it was still in the process of shaping itself. He¡¯d seen that himself firsthand when he¡¯d accidentally established the System, a video game-styled system, for lack of a better word, that had become intimately interwoven with everything.

    The point being, as strange as Ascending was, as bloodthirsty rabbit monsters and world spirits were, they didn¡¯t break the rules he had adopted as a fact, quite like Pneuma did.

    ¡°It¡¯s useful, just not that useful to me.¡± Rory had said one afternoon of rather painful experiments with the magical force.

    It was the same day that something intriguing occurred. Recovering after his last round of Pneuma-Wracked, Rory had been lying on the ground when his interface appeared of its own volition, a message appearing on display.

    Minor Law establishment earned:

    Defeat of the first Territory Alpha. Minor Law established: System name change enacted. Renamed to Existential Oversight Network- E.O.N.

    ¡°Huh.¡± Rory pondered the notification as it vanished, replacing it with a spinning circle that lasted only a moment as the System -correction- E.O.N updated. ¡°First off, what¡¯s a Territory Alpha?¡±

    When no notification appeared, Rory chalked it up to one of those things that the Sys¡ªE.O.N wanted him to learn himself.

    ¡°Second, nice to see someone else thought ¡®The System¡¯ was a stupid moniker. About as generic as being called Skynet.¡±

    Of course, it meant that someone, somewhere, had wasted a law, even a minor law, on renaming the former System, but that was their loss, not his.

    That had been a week prior, but it wasn¡¯t the only incident.  Experimenting with Pneuma several days later, his display suddenly interrupted him as he was mid-attempt at sending a shock of electricity between his fingers. The abrupt interruption led to a sudden thumping headache -the signature symptom of Pneuma-Wrack- as he prematurely released the gathered Pneuma. Still, it was mild as far as the status effect generally went, something he now had extensive experience with. Ignoring it, he quickly scanned the interrupting notification.

    Minor Law establishment earned:

    First settlement to clear five consecutive waves. Minor Law established: Creation and assimilation of Skills within the Existential Oversight Network.

    Now, that was far more intriguing than the last E.O.N. update. Giving his interface a moment to update, Rory opened the ¡®main¡¯ display. There, next to the Vocation information, a new tab appeared titled ¡®Skills.¡¯ Curious, Rory flicked a finger toward it, his display opening a new overlay.

    ¡°These are skills?¡± Rory raised an eyebrow at the surprisingly populated list.

    Basic Archery: Common. Skill level: Low.

    Knife fighting: Common. Skill level: Low

    Shield Mastery: Common. Skill level: Low.

    Basic Armor crafting: Common. Skill level: Low.

    Maker¡¯s Arsenal: Uncommon. Skill level: Low

    Eye for Potential: Rare. Skill level: Low.

    Blood Essence Binding: Rare. Skill level: Low.

    ¡°Maker¡¯s Arsenal and Eye for Potential were reclassified as skills. Makes sense.¡± Rory mused as he took in the list. ¡°The fact that it calls using a bow a ¡®skill¡¯ is rather surprising, same thing with knife fighting and shield mastery. Basic armor crafting is there as well. I wonder if it would be replaced if I took Maker¡¯s Armory on my next ascension?¡±

    There was a single thing listed that genuinely confused Rory, that being the last listing.

    ¡°Blood Essence Binding? What is that?¡±

    Like a gentle tickle at the back of his mind, Rory felt his memory jogged. Freeing his crafting knife, he examined it.

    Bloodbound Crafter¡¯s Knife

    Grade: Poor

    The tool of choice for nearly any profession, the knife is considered invaluable. The first knife of a fledgling craftsman. This particular knife has been directly bound to the blood essence of its crafter and may grow alongside the skills of its master.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Rory tapped a foot as he considered the implication. ¡°So, that¡¯s more than just flavor text.¡±

    Rory had used his blood in the creation process of the knife, which is where he assumed the blood essence binding came from. Still, he¡¯d used his blood to make several tools and weapons, yet none of them had seemingly benefited from it, aside from the blood acting as an acceptable binding agent.

    ¡°Maybe because my skill level is classified as low?¡± Rory questioned, perplexed.

    Yet another thing worth investigating, but I¡¯m not keen on bleeding myself like a pig to test any theories right now.

    Shelving that train of thought, Rory had spent the rest of the day doing random tasks or activities, seeing if he would suddenly earn a skill for them, but nothing had changed by the end of the day. As the day ended, and his most recent, albeit impromptu, experiments led nowhere, one day bled into the next.

    Finally, back to the present, with four full weeks behind him, Rory opened his Physique information. Smiling, he clenched his hands several times, free of the last bit of pain. Confirming it, the ¡°Broken¡± status hovering next to his arms for the previous month had finally vanished.

    He was healed.

    ¡°Thank god.¡± Rory sighed, pleased. His durability had done most of the heavy lifting. First, the extent of the broken arms wasn¡¯t as bad as he¡¯d initially assumed; what should have left his arms little more than bone dust had instead been a reasonably clean, if not painful, break. Durability continued to show its worth after that, healing more than twice as fast as an average human would have.

    It''s weird how that works. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m twice as durable, but my healing rate is more than twice as fast. Meaning not everything scales up evenly.

    It was a fruitless thought; E.O.N. had made it clear that it wasn¡¯t about to start using exact numbers to explain the mechanics of how attributes directly affected his body and other things. As it had described, too many extra variables would have made such numbers pointless anyway.

    Makes sense. Rory had to admit. In a video game, you can be level fifty, and another person can be level one hundred, but the level one hundred is rarely only twice as strong. Hell, take a level eighty or ninety, and in most video games, they still wouldn¡¯t be half as strong as a level one hundred.

    Numbers were, at the end of the day, far too cut and dry for something as complicated as real life, even if real life was now posturing as a video game.

    Putting aside the question of attributes and skills, Rory had another focus for the day: an idea he¡¯d begun to formulate over the last two weeks. The skill update had further cemented the thought, a brain worm he couldn¡¯t rid himself of, an idea he found himself constantly turning over in his mind.

    Pneuma and magic were extremely useful; that was undeniable.

    Rory also sucked at using magic and harnessing Pneuma directly. That was also undeniable for the time being.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    But Rory came from a universe where you didn¡¯t need the strength to tear a tree down by hand or the intelligence to compute long equations all within your head.

    Where human ability failed, why not hand the task off to something that wouldn¡¯t fail?

    Thus, he had the idea that rather than forcing himself to become some grand wizard or mage, he would attempt to figure out a way to manipulate magic and Pneuma without his input, much like a computer could run code.

    Mystical coding, if you will. Rory snorted, amused, as he looked down at the preparations. A circle had been carved into the ground, which then shot off into another concentric circle before finally traveling through the ground in tracks that launched into his walls at five different points. As for the walls themselves, they had been the victims of what looked like vandalism; several symbols had been carved into them. At first glance, the symbols weren¡¯t all that complex; five symbols connected to his concentric circles through the carved channels in the ground and up his walls. The first symbol looked like the letter C, with the number six lying within the C itself.

    Because it is, Rory mentally chuckled as he examined his work.

    Rory had never been accused of being overly imaginative. Thus, his attempt at coming up with ¡®symbols¡¯ to channel the intent of what he wanted the Pneuma to do had been surprisingly tricky. Ultimately, he¡¯d opted to ¡®borrow¡¯ from the meaning of things he already understood. Representing the concept of ¡®earth,¡¯ the first symbol was pilfered from the periodic table, element six, carbon. In this new universe, the old periodic table was probably outdated, if not entirely useless, but to Rory, its meaning mattered; intent was perhaps the most valuable thing he¡¯d learned regarding Pneuma.

    Well, aside from the fact that he sucked at using it, even with all the intent in the world.

    The second symbol appeared almost like three connected triangles, though that wasn¡¯t the intent of their design. Much like his first symbol, its origin was the periodic table of their old universe. Representing the concept of air, it drew inspiration from the most abundant element that made up the air back on earth, element number seven, nitrogen. In the case of his symbol, it was what you got when the English letter N and the number seven were superimposed upon one another.

    Following the trend of the first two symbols, his third, a representation of liquid, was an oddly complex symbol bounded by a circle. While it looked fancy, it was the result of superimposing the number two on the letter H before drawing an O surrounding the newly created icon.

    H20, the lifeblood of earth.

    His fourth symbol was the first to diverge from the pattern he¡¯d made by simply copying the periodic table. A subtraction symbol drawn over three circles arranged in a triangular pattern represented the concept of fire, of plasma. The subtraction line referred to the negative charge within a plasma, whereas the three empty circles represented the free-floating positive charge of superheated gas.

    In truth, Rory admitted as he considered his fiery inscription. I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s how plasma works, but it sounds good, and more importantly, it looks cool, so that¡¯s all that matters.

    Like his fourth symbol, his fifth and final symbol didn¡¯t borrow from the periodic table for inspiration. Earth, air, fire, and liquid¡ªthe jury was still out on whether water existed anymore¡ªone more ¡®base¡¯ element still had to be considered, especially in this new universe.

    Magic, or, in more simplistic terms, energy.

    The symbol itself was four lightning bolts meeting at a singular point, the conjunction of natural and supernatural forces.

    All in all, Rory was proud of his work, if somewhat miffed that it had taken him several days longer to decide on the symbols than had been his intention.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter how or why, just that it works,¡± Rory grunted, pushing aside any budding annoyance with his relative lack of creativity or inspiration.

    I¡¯d bet even Newton wasn¡¯t constantly budding with inspiration after all.

    What mattered was that he was on the verge of a massive discovery if he was right.

    Standing up straight and tall within the center of the concentric circles, Rory began to reach for the feeling of pneuma-induced static, letting it build upon his skin until he felt like a carpet of lightning ants crawled upon him.

    If this doesn¡¯t work, well¡­ this is probably going to hurt.

    When Rory used himself as the director, the shaper of magic, something crucial was lost in the process, a significant loss of efficiency or viability. However, gathering Pneuma had never been the problem, and it was only in actually using it that something, somewhere, went wrong.

    Standing within his array, it felt as if even the air he was breathing had become suffused with electricity, absolutely brimming with an energetic charge of supernatural origin. Still, he continued to build it up, gathering as much as he could before a stray thought would send the energy careening and instantly fry him on the spot.

    Unable and unwilling to gather more energy, Rory pinched the mental divide that represented his intent, letting it freely escape. There was no magic, no specific ¡®spell form¡¯ Rory was shaping, just pure, undirected energy. Under normal circumstances, using Pneuma without any shaping intent was a surefire way to suffer from Pneuma-Wrack, and with this much gathered Pneuma -he¡¯d just spent the better part of an hour gathering it- he could imagine his brain simply splattering in backlash.

    Thankfully, his brain didn¡¯t splatter. While Rory wasn¡¯t the one specifically shaping the intent, there was still something that greedily sucked up the energy, constructed to have only a single intent that could not be interrupted by things as silly as stray thoughts. Unstrained, it flooded downward into his circles, filled with soft blue light intermixed with strangely glowing motes of darkness. Moments later, that same light traveled outward at an almost lazy, sluggish rate. Flowing through the channels, the entire array, including the symbols carved upon his walls, glowed softly, the occasional dark mote sparking away before fading into nothingness. Several seconds passed like that before Rory finally released a breath; nothing had exploded, and his brain hadn¡¯t been reduced to a static fried mush.

    ¡°It worked.¡± Rory felt a subdued surge of elation like the first time he¡¯d ever won a race as a kid, too exhausted to revel in the success.

    The array was more proof of concept than anything, and the energy would fade as he hadn¡¯t yet figured out a way to sustain them renewably. The point was that when fed with Pneuma through his array, his defensive walls would become more like reality had been willing them into existence. To a degree, it was inspired by the process of ascension. Ascension was something he still didn¡¯t truly understand; excess energy of ¡®creation¡¯ as he understood it would cause things to become more, whatever form that took. While Pneuma wasn¡¯t the same as that energy that allowed for ascension, the fact that Pneuma seemed capable of nearly anything had inspired Rory to attempt something akin to a temporary form of ascension. While energy flowed through his array, his walls would become more attuned with each of the five primal aspects of reality, or at least what he suspected were aspects of their new reality.

    The earth symbol was inscribed to reinforce his walls physically with the concept of solidity, of the earth itself. The symbol for air was there so that projectiles would find themselves resisted by the air surrounding the walls. His liquid symbol was there for repair. The fluid nature of liquid meant that if his walls weren¡¯t wholly vaporized, they could reform themselves like they were made of some smart material, something they already did but dialed up to an eleven. His fire symbol was perhaps the most straightforward aside from the earth symbol itself; it was there to protect the wooden walls from being burnt, but in the future, he planned to restructure the intent within the symbol to instead protect from attacks that would destroy matter itself so that his liquid symbol would have stuff to repair in the first place.

    Finally, and perhaps most importantly, was his symbol of energy. It served two functions, though neither did it achieve very efficiently if he had to guess, based on how his walls were already dimming. First, the energy symbol served as the ¡®catalyst¡¯ for his inscriptions to draw Pneuma in the first place. They might have worked without it, but having a symbol that quite literally denoted the concept of energy could only help. The other purpose of the symbol was as an entrenching of his physical walls, of their proposed bastion of safety from non-conceptual attacks such as magic, and expanding it so that while energized, his walls could even provide a degree of protection and nullification against magic.

    Five symbols, none too difficult or complex, but the fact that his walls now glowed with energy proved his theory true. A beeping red icon appeared in the corner of his vision as if to reinforce the point. He could have dismissed it if he wanted to, but Rory wasn¡¯t exactly busy now that his experiment had succeeded. Tilting his head toward the icon, his display suddenly flickered into existence before him.

    ¡°Skill obtained: Runic Inscription.¡± Rory read the notification as a tired smile spread across his face.

    Looks like E.O.N. recognized my efforts.

    His smile quickly turned into a confused frown when the notification suddenly changed.

    ¡°Skill attainment adjusted due to Vocational aptitude. Runic Inscription has been modified into Ancestral Inscription.¡±

    ¡°Ancestral Inscription? And Vocational aptitude? Does that mean my Architect of the Precursor¡¯s caused this?¡± Rory frowned as he reexamined the textbox.

    Weird. And I never even got to see what exactly Runic Inscription did or was.

    It was a discovery he¡¯d made shortly after the introduction of skills. While a cursory glance would reveal nothing more than a skill''s rarity and skill level, he could ¡®select¡¯ the skill to see more information. Most of the information wasn¡¯t precisely valuable. Archery, for example, just noted the user as a beginner-level user of a bow, but it did offer some potential insight for advancing the skills themselves; in Archery¡¯s case, he could either get better with a bow or begin using more varied ranged weaponry. As for the skills he¡¯d gain from his ascension, their extra information was the same as when he¡¯d been presented with them in the first place.

    Which is neither here nor there. All that matters is that I can¡¯t reference what Runic Inscription was all about.

    Rory had an inkling that anyone else who attempted to use magical inscription would find themselves earning Runic Inscription, but there was only one way to know.

    Ancestral Inscription: Extreme. Skill level: Low.

    ¡°Damn.¡± Rory whistled as he looked the skill over. ¡°Extreme rarity?¡±

    From what Rory had picked up, there were ranks of rarity. For things that weren¡¯t crafted objects, they started from Common, then went uncommon, rare, extreme, and mythic. If there was anything beyond that, well, he hadn¡¯t yet gotten to the point where he would have seen any, the only mythic ranked thing he¡¯d seen being his essence spire, and it also had the great benefit of an ominous warning of future dangers. The only extreme rarity thing he¡¯d seen had been the same spire before it had been ¡®upgraded,¡¯ though time would tell if it proved to be an upgrade or a curse. If one discounted the essence spire, in truth, he¡¯d never seen anything higher rated than rare.

    That was, until his newest skill.

    ¡°Now, what exactly do you do?¡± Rory mused as he mentally selected the skill, expanding the information displayed.

    Ancestral Inscription

    <u>Rarity: Extreme. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    While neither the progenitor of magic nor its most gifted user, the Architect has proved an aptitude for the metaphysical. Charting a course that will undoubtedly be followed for the rest of history, the Architect founded the School of Runic Inscription. As the founder, the Architect gains bonuses when working with untested concepts amongst the fringe frontiers of Inscription.

    ¡°Not¡­ not as helpful as I was hoping,¡± Rory admitted, rereading the text before dismissing it a moment later. ¡°So ¡­ It¡¯s the same thing as normal Runic Inscription, but I get ¡®bonuses¡¯ when working with untested stuff. Whatever those bonuses may be. Great.¡±

    The good news was everything involving inscription was currently considered untested.

    The bad news was that he still wasn¡¯t sure what counted as an inscription.

    Was it akin to an alphabet where you took building blocks and formed sentences and words from the meanings of those building blocks, creating new meanings, or was it closer to the periodic table he¡¯d drawn inspiration from, where it was just a catalog of things that were always there but needed to be discovered?

    Also, has the concept of earth, air, liquid, fire, and energy been codified now? Or could I use other symbols to recreate those same concepts?

    He¡¯d have to test it carefully if the meanings had been codified. Using symbols, Inscriptions, that held no meaning would likely result in consequences along the lines of intent-less usage of Pneuma, Pneuma-wracked at best, and potentially something even more dire at the worst.

    ¡°I need a journal.¡± Rory suddenly blurted, crossing his arms as he spoke. If he were the ¡®Progenitor¡¯ of Inscription, it would probably help to keep notes of his discoveries and the individual inscriptions he came up with.

    Man, I wish I had a periodic table with me.

    His knowledge of the old periodic table had been rather convenient for inspiration. The closer his ¡®inspiration¡¯ was to his thoughts and intent, the easier it was to work with. The more abstract his inspiration was, the more difficult it would be to translate into practical results.

    Arms still folded one over the other, Rory began pondering how he¡¯d get his hands on a journal, by which he meant how exactly he¡¯d make a journal. Contemplating the relatively low-stakes conundrum, Rory absent-mindedly tracked the passage of time, watching how long it took for the glow within his walls to fade. It had nearly faded at fifteen minutes, and by the twenty-minute mark, the light was entirely gone.

    An hour of energy gathering provides twenty minutes of uptime. Whether it retains a full effect for that entire duration or gets weaker as time passes remains to be seen.

    Rory already had ideas to modify the array, modifications that, if they worked as he hoped, would prove extremely useful for catching up a bit on the waves.

    ¡°Time to get to work then.¡± Rory grimaced, considering the mountain of effort before him. ¡°I¡¯ve got a month of downtime to catch up on.¡±

 17. Not just for show

    ¡°First things first. System, initiate monster beacon.¡± Rory said out loud. A seven-day countdown suddenly appeared in the corner of his vision. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Next.¡± Rory stepped out from his array center. ¡°Preparations for war.¡±

    With a month''s worth of falling behind, the only way to catch back up was to take advantage of the scaling rewards the waves presented. It would be a challenge to tackle them without bending or breaking, but one he had to undertake. With his unique skill set, Rory could make up for what he lacked in outright combat prowess -he¡¯d had that beaten into his skull- and turn things around.

    ¡°Walls provide a strong initial defense, but I need to keep monsters focused on the walls.¡± Rory began pacing, airing out his thoughts. ¡°A gate. I need a gate.¡±

    It had been acceptable to use an opening in his walls to funnel monsters through for a while, but it was at the point where monsters were getting far too dangerous to handle with that method, not with his current combat capabilities. Even with his now boosted attributes of cognition and flexibility, Rory was confident that if forced to confront more than a singular Triumph Fox at a time, he would be ripped apart, unable to deal enough damage faster than two of them could tear him apart, even if he were better equipped for not taking quite as many hits directly.

    ¡°Gate. New bow. Beef up my walls if I can. Weaponize Inscription¡­ And I guess that¡¯s enough of a task list for now.¡±

    Priority number one would be the addition of a gate. Having begun to understand Ascensions and how the Sys- how E.O.N worked, Rory was sure that no gate had magically appeared on his walls because he¡¯d never actually built a gate into the walls, to begin with.

    There is also the question of what to do with my hard-earned metal.

    He lacked both the literal skills as a blacksmith to do anything overly ambitious with the metal, as well as the raw quantity of ore to do much more than something small.

    You know, that¡¯s an interesting thought.

    He had about enough to make a knife, but why bother when he already had his trusty crafting knife? Which brought him to a budding thought.

    Can I improve my knife directly with the ore?

    Ideas forming, Rory shelved them for the time being. He would need time to consider them further, and more importantly, he had a gate to begin working on. He imagined a grand portcullis that could come crashing down, but that was far beyond what he could do for the time being. What he could do was chop logs into slabs, pasting them together with his faux-cement and then further binding them with a twine of vine and monster sinew. Without any metal hinges to swing upon, his gates would be closer to barricades that, once installed, would be in place until they were either destroyed or the wave ended, and he could safely remove them. Even if he did manage to make some makeshift hinges with what little metal he had, they¡¯d hardly be anything of high quality.

    It was a terrible option for convenience, but he was hoping that after successfully clearing the next wave, he could use the gathered Ascension energy to incorporate the gates into his walls without needing to manually install and remove them each time.

    ¡°Time to show that I¡¯m not called the Architect just for show.¡±

    Grabbing his ax, Rory left behind his campsite, finding the trees closest to his clearing that his claimed land now dominated. Rather than looking for already downed trees or branches, Rory intended to bring down a healthy tree. It would be difficult, back-breaking work; the healthy trees felt hard as iron, but with his improved stats and the desire to succeed, Rory would prevail. He doubted his ax would, but then, if it broke, he¡¯d make a new one.

    At first, his plan was simply to find two or three thinner trees, but scanning the area, he felt a spark from his eyes as his gaze landed upon a rather thick-looking tree, powerfully built, imposing over all the others nearby.

    You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.

    The intelligent part of his brain insisted he not bother, but that spontaneous impulse that had suddenly latched onto the tree would not be denied.

    ¡°Stupid Eye for Potential,¡± Rory grunted, already hefting the ax to swing.

    The first swing of what was bound to be many.

    ------------------

    Elsewhere

    ¡°Hah!¡± Dancing around with grace that was entirely E.O.N gained-

    ¡°Yeah, fuck you!¡± The woman snarled with vicious satisfaction with her victory over the stupid ¡®system¡¯ and its tacky name.

    -the woman slammed her spear through the skull of what looked like a cross between a monkey and a dog, a strange mix that, had it not been trying to rip her face off right before her eyes, she would have never even been capable of imagining such a monster.

    Panting in exhaustion, the woman swung her body over the deceased monster, using her momentum and spear as a pole vault as she avoided yet another one of the primate canine¡¯s teeth.

    Last one.

    Yanking her spear free, she aimed for a single second, feeling the skill activate before launching her weapon forward with superhuman strength, a strength that, according to the bell curve next to it, ranked her as the strongest person on the planet.

    I have a little bit of flexibility and a whole lot of strength. I will probably need some more durability soon, though.

    As if proving a point, she felt the familiar ache of her muscles threatening to quit on her as she pushed them near the snapping point, something that came far more easily than on Earth.

    With a mini sonic boom, the spear launched forward with speed that even the greatest athletes on Earth could never have come close to matching. So fast was it that it instantly ripped through the final monster, leaving the hectic battlefield suddenly quiet.

    ¡°Gonna take more than that to best me.¡± The woman cackled, her short, chopped curls bobbing around her head. ¡°Hey, Aelia, you there?¡±

    ¡°Allison, please, must you call on me so casually?¡± A second woman appeared, standing an entire head over the first. ¡°You know you¡¯re the only one that calls upon me so freely. The rest have the decency not to treat me as if I were a dog to come to your beck and call. Every time you do this, you distract me.¡±

    ¡°Ehh, it''s not my problem that they¡¯re self-conscious. Not like you¡¯re some god or something that needs to be revered.¡±

    ¡°You try my patience every time.¡± The world spirit rolled her eyes. ¡°And there is a thing as too much self-confidence.¡±

    ¡°Hah, let me ask you this: would you show up if I weren¡¯t your best prospect?¡±

    The world spirit went silent.

    ¡°Exactly. Not only was I the first to clear five waves, but I was also the first to kill a Territory Alpha. No one else has done anything close.¡±

    ¡°Not quite.¡± The world spirit tutted. ¡°You overstep yourself if you forget that in that regard, you aren¡¯t as alone as you would think.¡±

    Allinson frowned. ¡°The Architect.¡±

    It was a thorn in her side, a reminder. The first person to achieve the first-ever ascension, he¡¯d earned a major law, and then he¡¯d gone on to create the damn system.

    She¡¯d had the last laugh by renaming it, though.

    Stick that to them. Your precious system went and got a new coat of paint.

    It was petty; she knew that. Yet, between how tacky it was that some overarching existence that seemed to exist above them calling itself the system was, alongside its constant reminder of how she¡¯d been one-upped from the very beginning, she¡¯d decided to rename the system first, instead of adding skills right away as she¡¯d intended.

    It had all ended well anyway; clearing her fifth consecutive wave had been damn close to suicide, but in doing so, she¡¯d been gifted a hefty amount of ascension energy, a brand-new spear, and another law creation in short order after the last.

    ¡°So, what is it you want?¡± The world spirit questioned. ¡°Or are you again pestering me for information regarding the Architect?¡±

    Allison frowned again; the world spirit had gotten ahead of her.

    It''s not like I¡¯ve been trying that hard to be slick about it.

    ¡°I get it. You won¡¯t tell me where to find him.¡±

    ¡°Not like it would matter; at your current capabilities, it would take you thousands of years to ever reach there on foot.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t tell me his name.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how that would help you in the first place.¡±

    ¡°And you won¡¯t tell me his current ascension.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°So, new question.¡± Allison waved at the corpses nearby. ¡°I just finished clearing out another one of these nests that marks one hundred. Surely, I deserve a little reward from you, our patron.¡±

    The world spirit sighed. ¡°I do not directly look to favor any of you. I push you to grow, and you help me advance through your growth. To give you more would stunt my growth, and in return, it would stunt yours.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the little details.¡± Allison waved the remark off; she¡¯d never been one for planning anyway. ¡°But what I want is simple enough. He¡¯s called the Architect, right? And I¡¯m called the Spear, but I¡¯m not bound to Spears. Does that mean he isn¡¯t a literal Architect?¡±

    It had always seemed strange to Allison that someone with the title of ¡®Architect¡¯ had managed as well as he had. But, if it was something more¡­ ¡®vague¡¯ or metaphorical, perhaps she could parse more about her rival.

    And yes, Allison was aware calling someone she¡¯d never met her rival was perhaps childish, but ever since she¡¯d come to this new world, she¡¯d dedicated herself to living and acting as she wanted and felt was appropriate.

    Unconsciously Allison rubbed at her nose, a habit born on Earth from days she¡¯d gently spent poking at her often-broken nose in those final days.

    The point was that after she¡¯d imagined this Architect as a figure looming somewhere far away, a figure always one step ahead of her, it had become her purpose to prove him wrong.

    ¡°...Yes, his skills are not limited to Architecture. It is indeed a title, a Vocation of a more esoteric nature.¡±

    ¡°Eso-what?¡±

    ¡°Esoteric, conceptual, a state of-¡±

    ¡°Yeah, got it.¡± Allison cut the world spirit off. She didn¡¯t really understand, but all she cared about was that she was correct in her assumption that whoever they were, they weren¡¯t literally winning by building houses. It was merely the name of their Vocation.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Speaking of.

    Allison pulled up her interface with a flick, and a dark, auburn screen appeared with her data. Her Physique showed that while exhausted, she¡¯d managed to clear the nest with little struggle.

    It''s not like it matters; these monsters reproduce like mad if you don¡¯t claim the territory itself.

    Which was fine; it kept her from wanting when it came to fodder for ascensions.

    Ignoring her attribute display, which still informed her that she was the peak of strength investment and absolutely bottom of the barrel at both growth and Pneuma, she instead looked toward her Vocation itself.

    Spear of the Precursor

    Rank: Unique

    Following in the steps of a supremely wise architect, the Precursor class Vocation indicates the presence of an individual with outstanding merits who paves the waves of the forerunners of civilization. The Spear excels at combat and piercing through the unknown with gusto, if not a tiny degree of limited foresight.

    ¡°Bah.¡± Allison shook her head, dismissing the vocation information and pulling up skills instead. Even her Vocation seemed hell-bent on praising the ground this ¡®architect¡¯ walked upon, referring to her as nothing more than someone following some pre-designed path. It even had the gall to insult her foresight.

    Unless that¡¯s a jab at my limited investment into growth.

    She couldn¡¯t be sure; that line hadn¡¯t been there when the vocation had appeared, not until after her first time distributing her attribute density. While she could see the merit of growth, she would never bother throwing more than a sparse bit of attribute ¡®points¡¯ toward it. It was effectively stealing from your current potential to boost your future strength. Still, Allison understood that while ¡®safeguarding against the future¡¯ was ¡®wise,¡¯ something her father had told her plenty of times as a teenager, it didn¡¯t matter if it stunted your growth so much that you never reached that potential in the first place.

    What she cared more about was her Skills instead. Pulling it up, she skimmed over the less exciting skills, such as Scouting, and instead focused on one skill in particular.

    Descender¡¯s Spear: Rare. Skill level: Inexperienced

    ¡°Finally.¡± Allison sighed. She¡¯d been trying ever since she¡¯d gotten the skill to increase her skill with it, and only finally had it increased from low to inexperienced. The description of the skill itself was¡­ well, she wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it.

    Arriving from a doomed world, the way of your spear has a history that predates all existence. Bring down that false knowledge on foes standing in your way.

    ¡°Hey, Aelia, are you sure you can¡¯t make anything of this?¡± Allison flicked her skill screen toward the world spirit, who sighed.

    ¡°You asked this last time. No. Everything Syste- E.O.N related-¡± The world spirit corrected herself after a glare from the woman. ¡°-is largely unknown to me. The things I know by instinct are from before the changes made to the universe. Ask me questions regarding how ascension works, and I can offer insight; ask me questions regarding skills created based on your history, and I can offer no such things. At best, I can offer a hypothesis based on my own experiences with skills.¡±

    ¡°You have skills?¡± Allison questioned, surprised.

    ¡°Yes, I am as much a part of this universe as an acting member of it as you are. As you said yourself, I am no god. While not the same as yourself, I, too, will grow and change with the evolution of the universe we find ourselves citizens of.¡±

    ¡°Oh. So, what skills do you have?¡±

    ¡°Much as I won¡¯t share information pertaining to the Architect, why would I disclose my information so freely?¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Fine.¡± Allison gave up pestering. ¡°So, where should I go next?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps it would be worth revisiting your settlement? Maybe sprucing it up a bit before the next wave?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I could care less about founding some sort of city.¡± Allison shrugged. ¡°But you already know this, so you¡¯re trying to be all sly about giving me advice because it will be somehow worth my time?¡±

    The world spirit was silent.

    ¡°Good enough for me.¡± The woman turned around, marching off; after all, returning after her most recent hunting trip would be quite a trek.

    Just you wait, ¡®Architect,¡¯ I¡¯ll pull you down from whatever ivory throne you¡¯re lording over.

    -------------------

    ¡°Gah!¡± Rory slammed the door into place, huffing with exhaustion as he wiped away the sweat from his brow.

    I¡¯m not sure this was worth it, to be honest.

    Stepping back, Rory placed his hands on his hips as he admired the work he¡¯d put in. It had taken an obscene amount of work first to chop down the tree of his choosing; then, it had become a matter of splitting it into usable pieces involving even more arm-burning swinging of his fifth ax. After that, he¡¯d begun slathering the crude but heavy planks with his trusty fake cement and binding them together. As a secondary afterthought, he¡¯d quickly taken some time to carve into the inner portions of his planks before they were bound and ¡®glued¡¯ together, inscribing his ¡®runes¡¯ for earth and liquid, then inputting the tiniest bit of Pneuma into them. They weren¡¯t meant to serve a significant purpose; they existed as stimuli for the gates to ascend more quickly in the future.

    Or so he assumed and hoped.

    Once the large gates were finished, he¡¯d cut grooves into the side of the walls to fit the gates into the opening. He¡¯d even melted some of his metal, which had involved a lot of burning wood and vigorous fanning with an oversized leaf to get the flame hot enough. Once melted into a small amount of molten metal, he¡¯d poured it from its low-quality clay container into four molds in the general shape of how he remembered earthly door hinges. Heaving the gates into their respective positions after he¡¯d glued the hinges into place, the final part of the monumental effort was sliding the bolts into place.

    For as mind and body breaking of an effort as it was, mostly the latter, Rory couldn¡¯t help but appreciate what had occurred. Back on earth, what he had done shouldn¡¯t have been possible with his available resources and inexperience. The way the metal seemed to conform to his desires, the fake cement paste adhered far more strongly than its makeup would suggest, even how the gate stayed balanced as well as it did.

    On earth, matter and reality simply existed. They did not have a will or obey others; they merely existed. Here, though, it was as if intent helped form and shape things in a way that couldn¡¯t be explained purely scientifically.

    ¡°Otherwise known as magic,¡± Rory admitted with a grunt.

    As for the gates themselves, they were damned heavy and solid and really damned hard to open, even with the addition of hinges they could, in theory, swing upon.

    The practicality of reality was that unless Rory really needed to be entering or exiting from his settlement, it was better not to bother.

    One task down.

    ¡°Many more to go.¡± Rory signed. He still had to make a new bow, his un-rotting jackalopes stored behind his shelter perfect for the task, or rather their antlers were. Then, he still had to adjust his Pneuma array, making it more efficient, lasting longer, and, most importantly, adding a secondary feature of drawing the focus of attacking monsters. Before he attempted that, though, he wanted to experiment further and improve his skill with his Inscription skill.

    The worst thing I could do is make a mistake and inadvertently cause the walls to act as an always-active version of the monster beacon.

    His list of tasks was short and to the point: fashioning a new bow, improving his array and, by extension, his walls, and perhaps the thing he was most curious about, improving his knife.

    Of his tasks, one would hopefully accelerate his work on the others. An improved knife would make improving his walls and creating a new bow much easier. With the time he¡¯d spent working on his walls, physically demanding but mentally lax enough that his mind could wander, he¡¯d finally come up with a plan regarding how to improve the knife. He couldn¡¯t simply replace the blade; by nature of being a magic item, it was unlikely to be something you could dismantle without destroying the power within itself, not without some unique technique or skill, if he had to guess. He could always try to recreate the blood-binding effect, but if it worked how he suspected, it would involve a lot of bloodletting from himself.

    Instead, he would utilize his runes and his newest conceptual idea, a rune he¡¯d test with the knife before hopefully expanding to using it with his walls.

    First, preparations. Honestly, it feels like most of my time is spent preparing stuff. For something modeled after my understanding of video games, there is much less slaying of monsters than you¡¯d think.

    Grabbing a stick, he dragged it through the earth beneath him twice, forming the basis of what would be a sort of ¡®barrier¡¯ for trapping Pneuma, something he was required to do given his relative ineptitude with manipulating Pneuma directly. Next, he grabbed a tiny iron stylus; it would have been impossible to carve the runes he was about to carve into his knife using anything less. Standing within the circles, he began to passively gather Pneuma, keeping the bulk of his focus on the knife itself. He could have prepared the runes ahead of time, but intentionality seemed to hold a weight of significance that implied to Rory that he could achieve a greater result by doing it all at once.

    With that reasoning in mind, the first rune that Rory gently carved into the side of his crafting knife was the rune he felt most comfortable with, one because of how easy it was to draw and two because he¡¯d already carved it several times into his gates, his earthen rune. His intent with that rune was symbolic; it was meant to link the earthen nature of his stone knife and the metal he planned to work with. The second rune was an h and two superimposed o¡¯s one upon the other, all contained within a circle, the rune representing fluid or liquid. It would link the molten metal and, at a more abstract level, the blood used in the knife¡¯s initial creation. The third rune, second to last, was interconnecting bolts of lightning, the energy rune. It interfaced with the essence of his blood binding and ascension energy, or so was his intention when Rory inscribed it into the blade. How much of that would prove true was to be seen.

    The final rune, just above the hilt, was nothing like his original five runes. It was entirely new and only born into existence as he carved it. At first glance, it almost looked like a rosebud, but that wasn¡¯t what he was going for. Three circles surrounded a single point, with several orbiting lines like rays of light being dragged into a black hole.

    That was also the point, the literal intention of the rune to mimic a simplistic approximation of a black hole, as the rune represented absorption. It served the most important purpose: first, the literal absorption of the metal he planned to gild his blade with; second, furthering the stated ability for the blade to grow alongside him, allowing it to drink in some of the essences that evolved all life and even non-living things.

    Static popping around him, Rory was drawn out from his inscribing trance, examining the runes he¡¯d carved. They were serviceable, at least. Rory wasn¡¯t terrible at art but was a far cry from Picasso.

    Blade finished; Rory glanced down toward a pot he¡¯d placed between his feet, which contained what remained of his gathered ore. The pot was made of his standard clay-like crafting material, and inscribed within it was the rune for fire, a line over three uneven orbs.

    Now for the hard part.

    With his knife, he had wanted to inscribe the runes during the process, but he¡¯d felt no concern with preparing his container for the metal ahead of time. Mentally grasping the gathered Pneuma, a headache instantly splitting his skull, he began funneling it downward into the pot as it began to superheat. Within a heartbeat, the pot started to glow white with heat, the ore inside melting rapidly, like it was itching to become something new. The pot began to fracture; it wasn¡¯t made to withstand such heat, but it needed to last only a bit longer. When the inside slurry was fully molten, Rory gently dipped the knife into the mixture. Changing the direction of the Pneuma from the pot to the knife itself, Rory activated the runes with a quick pinch of his intent. It was a strange sight, like a desiccated man inhaling an entire lake out of thirst, the metal vanishing as it was sucked into the knife, the absorption rune working in perfect cohesion with the rest of the inscribed runes. With little fanfare, the entirety of the molten metal was sucked up, the pot fully shattering just as it finished, revealing the knife in its entirety. It looked the same as before, except now it was vividly chromatic. Whether it was metal on just the surface or had been transformed entirely all the way through was a question Rory would investigate later. Surprisingly, the knife had lost all heat, as if in the process of drawing in the molten metal, it had used up all of the excess energy.

    Curious, Rory used his analysis feature to examine the change in the knife.

    Bloodbound Crafter¡¯s Knife

    Grade: Poor

    The tool of choice for nearly any profession, the knife is considered invaluable. The first knife of a fledgling craftsman. This particular knife has been directly bound to the blood essence of its crafter and may grow alongside the skills of its master.

    -->

    Bloodbound Crafter¡¯s Knife

    Grade: Common

    The tool of choice for nearly any profession, the knife is considered invaluable. The first knife of a fledgling craftsman. This particular knife has been directly bound to the blood essence of its crafter and has withstood its first advancement. How many more it will see has yet to be determined.

    ¡°It worked.¡± Rory smiled, also taking note of the change in the description and grade. ¡°So, Common is a rank up from Poor?¡±

    Everything else he¡¯d made had been of either poor grade or exceptionally poor in the case of his armor. Technically, he also had a ruined grade bow, but he figured that wasn¡¯t so much a grade as it was a ¡®this is broken and won¡¯t work¡¯ indicator. Grade aside, the updated description also clued him in on how the knife worked. Unlike himself or the things within his settlement, it wasn¡¯t as simple as having it ¡®ascend¡¯; it needed to be improved by direct work from a craftsman.

    And he was the only craftsman around for¡­. Well, a considerable distance, at the very least.

    Now, that¡¯s something to ask Aelia. Just how large is this planet?

    Pushing the errant thought aside, Rory tested the blade out. Finding a stray piece of wood nearby, the blade sliced through with a stupid amount of ease, but the minute he no longer cared to cut the wood apart, it was as if it suddenly dulled considerably. It could still damage the material but with far more difficulty.

    ¡°That¡¯s nifty.¡± Rory whistled after seeing the improvement in the knife. He could cut down on his time working on carving wood, or anything for that matter, down to a fraction of what it was. Still curious, Rory slowly poked a finger against the blade.

    Unlike what knives were famous for being, the blade was anything but sharp; it felt smooth to the touch. Pressing harder, still, it was as if the knife refused to damage him. With one final test, he slashed the blade along his forearm, half expecting a spray of blood.

    Instead, it felt like he¡¯d smacked himself with a hammer, the only damage received being the blunt force of striking yourself with a metal object.

    ¡°So, when it says it''s a crafting knife, it means it.¡± Rory mused. Any hope of ever using it as an emergency weapon was instantly tossed out the window.

    Metaphorical window, that is.

    Examining the knife again, the runes he¡¯d initially carved into the knife''s stone layer were gone entirely, and the knife had an unblemished metal coat.

    Does that mean I can inscribe another set of runes?

    It was an interesting concept, but given what he¡¯d learned about how the knife grew, it was better not to hastily add runes until he was ready for its next growth stage, which wouldn''t be for some time.

    With his improved knife, Rory was now more than ready to tackle the challenge of crafting a new bow and adding some runes to his walls.

    Glancing at his gates and then his knife, Rory crossed his arms, taking a moment to revel in his success. ¡°Architect. Hah. Well, guess it isn¡¯t just for show.¡±

 18. Throwing down the Gauntlet

    With two days left until the next wave''s arrival, Rory spent his time finishing his final preparations. First was his bow; he¡¯d fashioned a new one in record time using his recently improved knife. A quick analysis brought a hit of disappointment that Rory hadn¡¯t been expecting, though.

    Antler Horn Bow

    Grade: Poor

    A bow crafted from the Antlers of a slightly magical creature. While it has lost most of the magical potency contained during life, it has gained an arrow potency boosting record. Akashic Record: Boosted Arrow Acceleration

    ¡°No focus boost?¡± Rory frowned when he¡¯d first seen the text. ¡°Rough.¡±

    The focus-boosting effect of his previous bow had granted him skill with the bow that would ordinarily require months, if not years, of experience. The new Akashic effect was, on the contrary, much more straightforward. Pull the bowstring back, let a spark of Pneuma flow into it, and release. The arrow would then fly forward with greater velocity than ordinary, which would prove quite helpful if he ever were faced against any sturdy monsters. Still, when his arrows were already more than capable of killing a jackalope in one shot, the extra potency was overkill.

    And trying to hit a fast-moving Triumph Fox with an arrow is going to be tough without the Focus Boost effect.

    After his bow had been finished, Rory had then spent the rest of his remaining time updating his wall array with the inclusion of his absorption rune. The effects were two-fold. First, its efficiency at utilizing Pneuma was increased. If before it had only been able to accept something like seventy-five percent of Pneuma gathered, now it seemed closer to the full one hundred. The wall''s mechanics hadn¡¯t changed or become more efficient; they were just better at lossless intake of Pneuma. The secondary feature of his walls with the new rune inclusion was that they passively drew in Pneuma. The effect was much smaller than when he directly fueled the walls with Pneuma; they had a relatively low saturation point, but it was a passive and continuous effect.

    The only thing he hadn¡¯t managed to update his walls with was a rune to draw the attention of monsters directly to them. It was a minor distinction for the time being; as long as his walls stood in the way of monsters, they would be forced to direct their attention toward them, but once monsters started appearing that could leap or fly over, or even dig under, they would bypass his walls. As much as he wanted to incorporate the feature into his walls, he couldn¡¯t stretch the intent of any of his current six runes to encompass such a feat. There needed to be some overlap from what he¡¯d tested with his inscriptions.

    It''s a feature for the future in that case.

    Thus, with a new bow in hand and improved walls, the day of anticipation arrived, and his countdown to the wave was nearing zero.

    ¡°Initiate wave early,¡± Rory called out from his spot near the top of his walls, standing atop his ladder.

    One day, I¡¯d like walls that I can properly stand upon.

    The countdown instantly dropped to zero before vanishing entirely.

    ¡°Here we go.¡±

    By prior experience, the first few stages of the waves would contain jackalopes, monsters he no longer feared. While the jackalopes were hardly an afterthought, the Triumph foxes that would arrive weren¡¯t nearly as casual of a problem.

    As for the final stage of the wave, well, he had no idea what to expect other than trouble.

    Arrow already drawn back, Rory settled in, waiting. Minutes passed until they began to appear, several jackalopes drawing close until stopping entirely once they were in range to fire upon him without being in melee range.

    Which was just fine by Rory. The second he saw the jackalopes, he began launching arrows as quickly as possible. His aim, now unboosted, caused him to miss several times, but what he lost in aim, he gained in speed, the arrow spearing through the air in the blink of an eye.

    Within seconds, the first stage was settled; Rory hadn¡¯t even needed to throw a distracting rock yet.

    Huh. I don¡¯t think it was just the speed of the arrows, either.

    His boosted cognition and flexibility had helped in a way he hadn¡¯t considered, able to more quickly track where the jackalopes were and swiftly draw and fire arrows off.

    Guess attributes can help in ways that aren¡¯t just what you¡¯d read on the label.

    The next stage arrived shortly after, and while there were more jackalopes -requiring him to toss out a stone- the stage went down much the same as the first. The jackalopes weren¡¯t intelligent fighters; they generally relied solely on instinct.

    Jackalopes were promptly murdered, and the fateful stage arrived: two foxes appeared, slowly exiting the forest, their shoulders nearly touching.

    Here we go.

    His arrow knocked; Rory let Pneuma build for several seconds, allowing it to reach the ¡®max¡¯ amount of Pneuma the bow seemed capable of accepting before letting it fly. With a crack of sound that reminded Rory of a gunshot, the arrow flew faster than even his enhanced cognition could process.

    What his and the foxes'' cognitions could process were clearly vastly different. The beast flinched, nearly avoiding the arrow.

    Thankfully for Rory, nearly was as valuable as a screen door on a submarine. Instead of a clean hit straight through the eye, the arrow ¡®merely¡¯ slammed through its skull and nailed the Triumph Fox to the ground.

    Huh. Didn¡¯t expect that. Rory mused, already aiming at the second fox. Racing forward, it began to claw at his gate, trying to tear through. Unfortunately for the fox, Rory had already activated the defensive array before the wave started. It put him on a time limit to finish the wave, but he¡¯d been reasonably confident that he could breeze through the early stages with time to spare. Claws sinking only half an inch into the wood, the second fox soon joined the first in the afterlife as an arrow slammed through its skull.

    ¡°Ouch.¡± Rory winced, holding his head like he had been struck by an arrow to the dome. His ineptitude with Pneuma was showing; two maxed-out arrows were enough to cause the beginnings of a headache. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Only two more waves of foxes to go.¡±

    Soon, three more foxes appeared from the woods, arrows flying the moment he saw them. It was a reminder of the world of difference that ranged weapons made against melee weaponry in the hands of humans. It had been a desperate struggle for survival when he¡¯d been forced to fight a Triumph Fox in close-quarters combat.

    Safely perched near the top of his walls, able to take his time to aim and fire as the foxes attempted to tear through his magically infused walls? Even if he missed one or two times, Rory was still more than able to kill the three monster foxes with only a small effort.

    ¡°It''s like shooting fish in a barrel,¡± Rory commented as the three foxes lay pin-cushioned to the ground. Still, they were beginning to make headway in tearing through his wall. If there were many more stages left, it would be far more concerning, but with only a single stage of foxes left and whatever would arrive for the seventh and final stage, Rory believed they would.

    Because if they don¡¯t, well, I¡¯m right done screwed.

    The foxes arrived shortly, a little faster than he had estimated but within the margin of acceptable error. Releasing an arrow, he missed by a hair, the arrow ripping through its paw but still allowing the wounded fox to charge his wall.

    Rory winced, his head aching.

    Damn headache.

    Not letting the slightly sooner-than-expected arrival rattle him, Rory took a deep breath, calming himself before he began setting himself to the busy work of hunting foxes. Beginning to run low on arrows, Rory took extra time to measure each shot, judging that the additional time was worth the extra damage to his walls. Each extra second spent aiming was that much larger of a hole in the bottom of his wall, growing precariously large with each passing moment.

    Just a little more.

    Ignoring the stabbing pain of his head, Rory drew Pneuma through his bow and moments later a fox died in response. Three left; Rory purposely left the wounded fox for last, aiming at the next closest fox with a darker gray coat than its compatriots. Only a breath later, an arrow ripped through its throat in a shower of blood and gore; only two last foxes remained.

    As if sensing their impending doom, the foxes began to tear at his walls with reckless abandon, uncaring if they hurt themselves in the process, for it mattered little as their deaths soon rained down upon them. Thirty seconds later, all that remained was the final wounded fox who was swiping at the wall with its uninjured front paw. Not even bothering to draw Pneuma through his bow, Rory freed the final arrow as it struck the fox through the chest.

    ¡°Done.¡± Rory huffed, taking a moment to catch his breath. Channeling Pneuma could be surprisingly taxing on the body; his body ached as if he had been pushing through the grueling summer workouts of his youth.

    ¡°Rise and Grind,¡± Rory muttered to himself, words he remembered a coach telling him during his teenage years after a particularly rough morning workout. The memory briefly brought a smile to his face, but it was dashed shortly as he stared out into the darkness of the forest.

    ¡°And then there was the boss.¡± Rory stared toward the outskirts of the forest nearest his encampment.

    What could it be? Maybe a supersized giant squirrel?

    A smile briefly touched back upon Rory¡¯s face, even if the thought of supersized squirrel fangs drove a hint of apprehension through him. Ever since college, he¡¯d had what he believed was a healthy apprehension of squirrels; the squirrels you could find on a college campus were all but a different breed. He¡¯d seen one jump out at someone as they were tossing their garbage away, and it had left him with what he considered an appropriate level of fear of the little beasts.

    If there is one thing I hope Aelia never bothers recreating, it¡¯s squirrels.

    His anticipation of his fated foe was answered when a sizeable wolf-like beast came lumbering out of the shadows of the trees.

    No, not a wolf.

    It was the size of a wolf, but there was no doubt it was still a fox.

    Is this some trick?

    Turning his analysis toward the beast, the description surprised him.

    ???? Fox. Details unknown.

    So, it was a fox, if that wasn¡¯t obvious, given it looked like an oversized Triumph Fox on steroids. The fact that it was unknown meant that, unlike the Triumph Foxes, no one else had encountered this breed of monster.

    Curious but not so curious as to risk wasting his time against an unknown monster, Rory sent an arrow at the oversized fox. The fox didn¡¯t even bother dodging, swiping the arrow out of the air with contempt.

    Oh. Oh, that is not good.

    Trying again, he was met with the same result: the fox reacting too quickly for his regular arrows to catch unaware.

    Pneuma it is.

    Letting one more regular arrow fly, the fox snatched it from the air. The fox¡¯s tail wrapped around the arrow shaft in a single fluid motion before flinging it to the side.

    It has a prehensile tail. Wonderful.

    Something to keep an eye on, Rory began charging up his first Pneuma arrow. He aimed away from the beast''s tail, focusing on its less fatal but easier-to-hit front shoulder. The fox glanced up toward him, and for a moment, Rory almost felt like the creature was judging him for the futility of the attempt.

    Jokes on you.

    Releasing the string, the fox was caught unaware for the first time as it attempted to swipe the arrow from the air. The arrow launched forward far faster than it anticipated, burying itself into its shoulder with a sudden yelp of pain.

    ¡°Bingo.¡± Rory resisted the urge to pump a fist in success. As if looking to crush his short-lived excitement, the fox dashed forward directly in front of the half-formed hole in his wall.

    Oh shit.

    If it got through his wall, he¡¯d be shit out of luck; there was no shot in hell that Rory could trade blows with the oversized fox as he had with its smaller cousins.

    Yeah, sure, like it''s about to wait for me to pincushion it with arrows before it rips through.

    Time not on his side, Rory drew two arrows at once, something he¡¯d only seen in movies. Placing them across his bowstring and drawing them back simultaneously, he desperately began channeling Pneuma through them. If his budding headache was an annoying ache before, it was now a fiery torrent exploding behind his eyes that made him want to curl up in a ball and die.

    Just¡­ keep¡­. going¡­.

    Waiting until the fox was mid-swipe, Rory released the arrows, and the sudden release of tension between his eyes was a god-sent relief. The arrows struck true, slamming into the back of the beast and puncturing deep, but the monster fox did not stop. Its swipe cleared almost all that remained of the wall between his sanctuary and the beast, the single swipe doing more than what the combined effort of several regular foxes scratching at his wall for cumulative minutes had managed.

    Don¡¯t think. Just do.

    Once more, the pain of too much drawn Pneuma flowed through his mind, and he again funneled Pneuma through his bow and into the dual arrows. Rather than its back, Rory let the arrows rip into its already wounded shoulder, the fox staggering as the leg lost the ability to support its weight.

    It was only too bad that it was a moment too slow as the fox ripped the remainder of its way through his walls, which had grown low on Pneuma since the start of the wave.

    Next time, I¡¯ve got to wait until halfway through the wave to activate the defenses if I can.

    Leaping away from his spot on his ladder, Rory dashed as far away across his small camp as he could, back against the wall as he drew two more arrows and let the Pneuma build, waiting.

    Sure enough, the fox began to lumber inside, struggling with its wounded front shoulder.

    I¡¯ve only got one good shot at this.

    His camp wasn¡¯t large enough for him to play keep away with the wounded beast. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and it would tear him apart. He would have to leverage the wound he¡¯d already inflicted on the monster to slow it down enough so that he could deliver a guaranteed final blow.

    One step after the other, the fox drew closer, and as it closed in, Rory was filled with the strange sense that the fox didn¡¯t want to be here, as if it was fulfilling an obligation, perhaps the only reason it hadn¡¯t attacked with a murderous rage already.

    Weird.

    Whatever the reason, Rory wasn¡¯t about to turn into a bleeding heart for the oversized fox, not when it would tear his heart out, willfully or not.

    A little closer.

    As the fox came close enough to lunge at him, there were several seconds of tension as either side watched the other. The fox seemed intelligent enough to be wary of throwing itself forward where empowered arrows would rip through its face. Rory, likewise, couldn¡¯t prematurely release the arrows and risk missing.

    Several tense seconds passed until, unable to maintain his composure, Rory flicked his eyes to the side for a split second.

    It was all the fox needed, lunging to rip his throat out.

    It was also what Rory had been anticipating, his glance nothing more than a calculated feint. Arrows released, Rory dove with all his might to the side, never even bothering to watch if his arrows struck true.

    Several things happened at once. First, the headache that had besieged Rory exploded, the worst one yet, the strain of holding two Pneuma-empowered arrows for nearly a full twenty count wreaking havoc on him. The second was his shoulder burned, the fangs of the fox missing his vitals but not missing him entirely, shredding through his flesh like a hot knife through butter.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    And finally, the oversized fox slammed into the wall he¡¯d set his back against unabated, the arrows protruding from his face declaring the beast dead instantly.

    ¡°Fuckkkk.¡± Rory rolled around on the ground, clenching his left shoulder in pain where the flesh had been rendered into meaty tears, blood pooling, the entire thing looking like ground human beef. ¡°That hurts.¡±

    Hurt was an understatement; the pain was his entire being as the Pneuma-headache transitioned into full-on Pneuma-wracked to accompany the physical wounds upon his body. Unfortunately for Rory, the two didn¡¯t distract from one another; they seemed to multiply across his nerve endings.

    Had Rory been in a better state of mind, he would have largely considered the wave a success. Aside from a killer headache caused by a bad case of Pneuma-wracked and his ground beefed shoulder, the wave had gone perfectly.

    While that was all logically true and nice, it didn¡¯t matter in the face of all-encompassing pain.

    Thus, without ceremony, still clenching his shoulder, Rory leaned up against his wall next to the dead fox as his eyes rolled back, and he passed out on the spot.

    ------------------

    ¡°Damn.¡± Rory awoke with a sudden spike of pain stabbing through him. He was lying at an awkward angle against the wall of his small settlement, a dead oversized fox lying next to him, two arrows stabbed through its face.

    It had been a damn good shot, even without the use of his prior bow¡¯s Karmic ability to guide his hand and his aim. In fairness, it had also been a rather difficult shot to mess up, all but point blank.

    ¡°I lived.¡± Rory sighed. That was an achievement in itself, another hard-fought battle and valuable lessons learned. Glancing at his interface, Rory was met with the standard post-wave messages, and only skimming through them, he nodded to himself before closing his interface. He¡¯d gained some Ascension Energy for usage, which he intended to turn toward his walls after he did a little bit of updating them. Exactly how his Inscription would be his answer once again, but exactly how, he had yet to come up with an idea.

    ¡°Hey, Eon, how long can I hold onto the wave reward?¡±

    A message popped up on his interface, like an old-world pop-up.

    Rewards are available until the next wave''s completion. Rewards may be stockpiled with proper prerequisites.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Rory noted the second part of the short message before dismissing it. He¡¯d have some time to decide what exactly his next step was. Examining his encampment, Rory checked for anything out of order, but nothing popped out besides the damage his walls had received during the wave. That was until he returned to the corpse of the giant fox.

    ¡°So, I suppose you should get a name- never mind,¡± Rory muttered. The corpse, once an unnamed monster, was now listed with a name.

    Nike Fox.

    ¡°So, while I was out, someone else found one of you and named you. Clever name, at least.¡± Nike was the Greek goddess of victory, so it felt fitting for the more powerful version of a triumph fox to be named as such.

    That was hardly the main point he found himself focused on. Staring at the fox, he could feel his eye itching, irritated, and jumpy.

    What in the - oh, right. Eye for Potential.

    Still unfamiliar with the feature, he activated the skill, and instantly, he could sense what his gaze had sensed. If his skill was anything to gauge by, there was something rather useful in the dead center of the fox.

    Curious, Rory pulled his crafting knife from his belt.

    My clothes could use some patching or an incinerator, one of the two.

    Ignoring his failing cosmetics, he brandished the knife as he approached the corpse, slicing it open with deceptive ease. Reaching into the corpse, doing his best to put down any squeamishness at reaching inside the still-warm body, his hand wrapped around a circular object. Pulling it free, Rory frowned.

    ¡°What could you be?¡± Rory muttered, turning the circular orb around in his hand. It was murky and muddy, like a glass orb stained by mud and ink.

    Beast Core

    Grade: Poor.

    A low-grade Beast Core is a semi-magical organ of sufficiently advanced beasts. A Beast Core can grow and advance within its original owner with time. Once removed, the Core becomes crystalline. Uses- Unknown.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s interesting,¡± Rory noted, turning the Beast Core around in his hand. ¡°Like some sort of magical kidney or gallbladder, I guess.¡±

    Curious, Rory reached toward a speck of Pneuma, pushing it toward the core. For a moment, he felt the core flicker as the spark of Pneuma vanished into the core itself.

    ¡°Now that is curious.¡± Rory smiled as he examined the core. At the very least, it could store some amount of Pneuma. How much, now that was the question he would have to work on figuring that out in due time.

    ¡°If it can store Pneuma, that might be the answer I¡¯ve been looking for.¡±

    The problem with his walls, an issue he was shown during the most recent wave, was that the Pneuma didn¡¯t last very long within, and as it faded, so did the strength it granted. He¡¯d already been considering potential answers to that problem, a problem reminiscent of the energy crises of the early 2020s back on Earth. Renewable energy sources had become widespread and cheap, but without a method to store mass amounts of energy cheaply and efficiently, there had been difficulties in fully implementing the technology. It wasn¡¯t until the back half of the 2020s, into the early 2030s, that cheap and large-capacity batteries had been developed.

    Unfortunately for Rory, he¡¯d never fully understood the tech behind it, which didn''t matter; he highly doubted it would translate to his current predicament.

    With the Beast Core, perhaps he could utilize it to store Pneuma and skip devising his own answer to the problem.

    But then, that doesn¡¯t sound like the answer you¡¯re looking for, does it?

    Perhaps such a cut-and-dry answer would be enough for some, but it felt too convenient. No, he would use the core as a single component of a greater project.

    Smiling to himself, he deactivated Eye for Potential, expecting his eye to once more feel normal.

    When it continued twitching, Rory turned the skill on once more.

    Well, ain¡¯t that something.

    The Core wasn¡¯t the only thing the skill had picked up on. There was something else inside the corpse as well.

    Reaching in again, Rory felt around the squishy and warm flesh until, at last, his hand bumped up against something that felt out of place. With his fingers wrapped around the mystery object, he pulled it from the body.

    ¡°Now, what in the world are you?¡±

    It was a hexagonal object of all things, composed of dark orange and black-hued¡­ bone-like material, with some specks of milky white calcium-esque deposits throughout.

    Let¡¯s see what secrets you hide.

    Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus

    Quality: Poor* (Unused)

    The fledging seed needed to develop and grow a Monster Den, A Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus, can be attuned and altered until implementation, after which a Den will slowly develop organically in tandem with the environment. Development can be further refined or accelerated through external aid, but base nature will remain locked once fostered.

    ¡°Alright, well, a few things make more sense now,¡± Rory said aloud. The Nike Fox had seemed unwilling to attack his camp because it had been more interested in starting its own home.

    ¡°Which raises the question, did all the monster dens I cleared start from a Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus, or is there something special about a Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus?¡±

    Perhaps it would be like the difference between him setting up an ordinary camp and establishing a proper settlement through the Syst¡ªthrough Eon.

    ¡°You know,¡± Rory muttered, ¡°instead of wondering, I can just ask.¡±

    ¡°Hey, Eon, is there a difference between what this thingy can do and a monster creating its own natural den?¡±

    After a moment of stillness, his interface flickered open as a notification displayed.

    Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus is categorically different from ordinary monster habitations, but it is considered of similar stature to the settlement-based system.

    ¡°You know, now that you¡¯re called Eon and not the system when you say ¡®system,¡¯ it¡¯s a lot less confusing,¡± Rory said, taking the time to appreciate the almost petty change enacted by one of his peers elsewhere.

    Eon, apparently, decided the comment beneath its attention to respond to.

    Meh, it''s not like I care.

    What mattered was what Rory had was unique in a way he doubted even a Beast Core was.

    So why is its quality only Poor?

    The best guess Rory could warrant was that the grading scale of objects was within their ¡®classification,¡¯ so the Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus he had, if he used it right now, would only amount to a low ¡®quality¡¯ Den.

    I''m not sure why I¡¯d use it, though.

    He had plenty more questions regarding the Nucleus. The description noted that it wasn¡¯t ironclad in its potential. It could be improved up to the point it was ¡®used,¡¯ after which, while it could still be worked on, its foundation couldn¡¯t be altered.

    Which was fine and dandy, but then there was the question of why he would do that in the first place. Setting up an Eon-blessed Monster Den in his backyard seemed like a mistake waiting to happen.

    And there is another question.

    Had he obtained the Nucleus by accident, or was it set up? In truth, he could see it going either direction. With the state of the planet being so young and tumultuous, perhaps the Nike Fox had somehow earned the rights or created, or however, a monster got their hands -paws- on the Nucleus, only to be forcibly drawn to his camp against its will due to his monster beacon, all before it had the opportunity to utilize the Nucleus.

    Or perhaps Aelia was curious and making a test. Either he would best the fox and gain a Nucleus in conjunction with his settlement, or the fox would have won and could have potentially utilized the Nucleus within the remains of a former settlement.

    ¡°Once again, why don¡¯t I just ask?¡±

    Doing something he¡¯d never done before, Rory brought up his communication interface. Only a single name was listed, but it was exactly who he intended to contact. Pressing the name Aelia, he waited for several seconds, curious, until suddenly, a voice rang through his mind.

    ¡°Yes? Is there something you so direly need?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Aelia, is that you?¡± Rory spoke out loud, unsure how this worked.

    ¡°What other Aelia¡¯s do you know?¡±

    ¡°Right, fair.¡± Rory acknowledged his rather stupid question. ¡°I¡¯ve got a question regarding¡­ something.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least you had the decency to contact me this way instead of calling me there directly like some sort of lap dog.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Nothing of your concern. Your question?¡±

    ¡°Uh, I¡¯ve got this object called a ¡®Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus¡¯ that I¡¯m assuming you might know something about?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m surprised anyone managed to get one so early.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Rory questioned, frowning.

    ¡°My surface world isn¡¯t just meant for you all. I realized that while I can continue my own Ascension through the work of you all, I was vastly underutilizing a potential growth route.¡±

    ¡°The monsters themselves,¡± Rory added.

    ¡°Exactly. While your creation of Eon was unexpected and threw an entire wrench into my understanding of everything, I won¡¯t deny it has merits after I had time to consider it. I took the time to contact Eon, and we worked together to develop the equivalent of the Settlement system that sapiens can use. Thus, the Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus was born. I scattered the bones, the seeds of those nuclei, across my surface in areas generally far removed from any of you eight, where the local monsters could fight over them.¡±

    ¡°So, it¡¯s a pure chance one ended up near me?¡±

    ¡°Half and half. I purposely planted a few within relative distance of some of you, hoping that it could foster contention between my founders and some of the early promising monsters. In your case, you just happened to activate that monster beacon feature Eon added into settlements as the current holder of that Nucleus was passing by. While I would have preferred you two not to be forced together so early, even I can¡¯t supersede the control of Eon, and that would be how you got your hands on it.¡±

    ¡°I see. Is there any benefit of me having it, then?¡±

    Rory could almost imagine the World Spirit shrugging as it responded.

    ¡°Truthfully, I¡¯m uncertain. I won¡¯t disclose what went into the creation of the Den Mother¡¯s Nucleus and how they operate. Still, I can at least say with honesty that while they weren¡¯t intended for you all, they weren¡¯t meant to be unusable by any sapiens or vice versa; that would have been the height of naivety to assume that there would never arise a situation were either a settlement governor or a Den Ruler wouldn¡¯t end up in a situation where they found themselves with control of their system opposite.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Rory nodded. ¡°So, can be used, but you aren¡¯t planning to explain or help me in that regard, partially because you want to ¡®foster our growth¡¯ but also because you aren¡¯t fully certain.¡±

    ¡°Essentially.¡±

    ¡°Well, thanks, I guess,¡± Rory said.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± the world spirit answered. A moment later, a mental connection he hadn¡¯t initially noticed was cut.

    ¡°Well then.¡± Rory turned the Nucleus around in his hand, inspecting it. ¡°What do I do with you then?¡±

    To say he had ideas was a lie. All he had to work with was that it wasn¡¯t unusable.

    Yeah, not very helpful.

    Without a plan for the object, he did his most preferred answer for such predicaments.

    He ignored it.

    Dropping the Nucleus off into his shelter, Rory sat on his log beside his fire, thinking.

    Another week to prepare.

    He hadn¡¯t fully considered his rewards for the Wave, but that didn¡¯t matter as he wasn¡¯t planning to accept them¡ªhe planned to keep the ball rolling.

    Ten waves. Ten waves straight.

    Now that he¡¯d seen a Nike Fox, there was the question if even more would appear. While the waves had been following a set pattern, he couldn¡¯t guarantee that would remain true. His sample size was too small to say for sure.

    Let''s operate under the assumption that there will be more Nike Foxes.

    If that were the case, he needed an answer to the foxes, which meant he needed a stronger wall. His weaponry and personal capabilities were limited; he couldn¡¯t rely on killing the Nike foxes quickly.

    Impenetrable walls, then.

    ¡°Inscription and manual reinforcement are the keys,¡± Rory said out loud. ¡°First, Inscription.¡±

    Rory had several runes he¡¯d already made, but he needed more.

    ¡°Great, all my problems are solved,¡± Rory grunted a few seconds later. It was one thing to say Inscription was the answer; it was another to figure out precisely how to use the idea of Inscription to create stronger walls.

    ¡°Break the problem down,¡± Rory said, recalling how his favorite math teacher had explained how to make things easier when he was young. ¡°Well, first off, the Pneuma reinforcing the walls doesn¡¯t last long enough. Second, it¡¯s difficult to wound a Nike Fox in the first place without over-relying on Pneuma-enhanced arrows. Third, my personal capabilities will quickly become too low to handle increasingly difficult waves, not without hitting my next ascension breakpoint.¡±

    Rory nodded to himself, the problem more tangible now.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the issue of my walls and how much Pneuma they can store. I recently acquired a Beast Core, which may allow me to store greater amounts of Pneuma than I currently can, but implementing the Core like an ordinary battery seems¡­ wasteful.¡±

    ¡°What if, rather than simple storage, I also made it a generator of sorts?¡±

    Now, that idea sounded like something someone with the title of Precursor would consider.

    Rory already had a rune for absorption, but inscribing it directly upon the Beast Core sounded risky; he had no idea if it would break the core.

    A support structure.

    Ideas were beginning to form inside his mind. Much like how he¡¯d added built-in Pneuma absorption to his walls, he could recreate the process, and he even had further inspiration to draw on, a glance at his Essence Spire bringing a smile to his face.

    ¡°I wish I had a sketch pad for this.¡± Rory mused before another idea struck him.

    Why don¡¯t I make one?

    -------------------------------

    Several hours later, Rory examined the product of his labors. It was an inky black slate laid within a crude wooden frame.

    I can always make a better one later.

    Nervous for a moment, Rory tapped the ¡®screen¡¯ and held his breath. To his relief, the slate responded to his touch, a cascade of color flowing away from his touch before it once more turned black, attuned to his intent.

    It''s nice to see the light absorption work as intended.

    The creation of the tablet had been in part drawn from Earth tablets, though only in the design itself. As for how he¡¯d made it, the ¡®screen¡¯ had been achieved by taking obsidian, ash, and clay, grinding them into a fine powder -something that was easier to do with his increased attributes- and then mixing them all together in a bath of aisormba. Then, keeping the slurry stored in a shoddy-looking clay pot, he¡¯d whipped up the frame. Carving wood into his desired shape with his improved knife was shockingly easy; the wood parted like it was excited to be transformed into something new.

    Once the frame had been cut and carved, he¡¯d etched into it several runes. One corner had his rune for absorption; as he carved it, he fully embraced the concept of the would-be tablet drawing in the light shining down upon it and then imagined that concept being transferred into the rune itself. In the next corner, he¡¯d carved the rune representing the earth. It had been a clever usage of the rune¡¯s language. While ¡®earth¡¯ was the common word for the soil beneath his feet and solid elements, it also had the benefit of being the name of his former planet. With the rune, he¡¯d instilled everything he understood of tablets from Earth as if he was giving his creation a frame of reference for what it was being modeled after.

    His third rune was yet another absorption rune, except he carved a tiny channel etching directly beneath it that flowed into the half-sized energy inscription. If his first absorption rune was meant to draw in light to be utilized, his second one was for drawing in Pneuma to power the entire thing, hence its entwinement with an energy inscription. Binding the two runes together inside a binding circle, he finally moved onto the final corner of the tablet frame, where rather than add a rune, he left a Pneuma ¡®circuit¡¯ a circle with nothing inside of it, somewhere he could add a rune in the future.

    Inspecting his frame, he quickly amended his first rune with a frown, adding a sub-rune directly beneath it as he had with the energy and absorption runes. In this case, the sub-rune was the rune for liquid. If he wanted the magical tablet to be capable of using light as ¡®ink,¡¯ it would probably help to add a rune to infuse the ink itself directly.

    Satisfied with his inscription work, the next part of making his tablet was taking his slurry from earlier and pouring it evenly into the frame. Once that was done, he placed it on the ground and drew a circle around it, adding two runes to the drawn circle, the runes for heat and earth; it was meant to be the ¡®forge¡¯ that would refine the liquid slurry into a screen like slate.

    Once that circle was complete, Rory drew a second circle around the first, adding the rune for absorption to it; it would help channel Pneuma into his binding circles.

    Finally, adding a last concentric circle, he inscribed the rune representing the earth, instilling within it the concept of stability often associated with the earth. It wasn¡¯t a perfect match -for that, he would need to create a proper stability rune- but as he hadn¡¯t gotten around to that yet, this was the next best thing.

    Taking a deep breath, Rory stepped inside his Inscription forge, a term he found appealing considering its similarity with how he¡¯d melted down the metal for his knife. Once inside, Rory began steadily drawing Pneuma into his bound circles, the energy contained by the intent within the circles. His absorption and faux stability rune showed their worth, and the entire process was smoother than when he¡¯d crafted the upgrade to his crafting knife. Once satisfied with the saturation of Pneuma within his bound circles, the air within the rings felt as if a thunderstorm were on the verge of exploding; Rory finally released the energy. Using the now-released energy, he directed it toward and through the innermost ring.

    An actual smith would have told him how inefficient the entire process was, and Rory would tend to agree. Typically, when you wanted to melt down something, the process revolved around gradual heating and tempering of the involved materials. In contrast, the Inscription Forge utilized a single explosive increase in heat meant to melt everything in one shot instantly. The issue that Rory had was that he had nothing that could store Pneuma in large amounts, which was necessary if he wanted to sustain a gradual heat. If the Pneuma wasn¡¯t used in a single action, it would dissipate all but instantly, and he would lose all the energy gathered, forcing him to start over from scratch.

    Thankfully, it wasn¡¯t so much ¡®melting¡¯ as refining that he was doing. He already had his slurry in a non-solid form; the added heat was meant to bind, galvanize, and burn out any impurities from within.

    This was to say, after hours of work, it ended within only a handful of seconds as the sudden flash of light generated by the explosive increase in heat vanished, his bound rings burning away as the Pneuma overloaded them. Unlike his knife, which had been bound to him through his own blood essence and was thus primed for improvement, the tablet was just an ordinary object. Even with all that preparation, his rings had nearly failed during the creation process of the tablet. Mentally noting the limit of the bound ring, Rory decided against attempting anything more advanced than what he¡¯d just done until he figured out a more sophisticated method.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Rory finally said, tapping at the screen now that he¡¯d confirmed it had succeeded. ¡°Because it worked.¡±

    While his intention was something akin to a tablet in design, it was, functionally, closer to a sketch pad. It had no ¡®memory,¡¯ and thus, it couldn¡¯t store prior work, but it was something he could now freely sketch and doodle with if he left it to soak in sunlight for even a bit each day.

    ¡°All that work, not even for square one, but to build a tool for square one.¡± Rory couldn¡¯t help it, chuckling. As he did, it finally occurred to Rory that a gently pulsing red exclamation mark was in the corner of his vision. Mentally ¡®clicking¡¯ on it, his interface opened.

    Ascension Energy rewarded for the successful fabrication of an Eon-recognized creation.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s nifty.¡± Rory flicked over to his main screen, checking the difference. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough that he could see the difference, maybe a three percent increase.

    If Rory were truthful, he would¡¯ve admitted that he had largely forgotten that Ascension energy could be gained through methods that didn¡¯t revolve around the slaughter of demon rabbits and their ilk. It was something that he¡¯d forgotten ever since meditation stopped proving viable for promoting the progress of his ascension.

    Which is stupid, in hindsight. How could I have forgotten that? My first big boost was when I built my shelter after all.

    Rory would have to test the limits of such avenues for continued growth. Still, if Rory were a betting man, he¡¯d guess that it probably scaled based on the complexity of what was created or other similar variables. For something that took quite a few hours of the day to have granted roughly three percent progress tracked with his prior estimation of how long it would take to achieve his next ascension through combat alone.

    I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if there were first-time bonuses as well; recreating something you¡¯ve made a hundred times probably won¡¯t net you as much energy as the first time.

    Dismissing the notification, Rory put it to the back of his mind as a happy surprise, focusing instead on his next task.

    Time for rune crafting.

 19. Rune Crafting

    "I should have done this sooner." Rory complimented himself for the thousandth time since he''d made his new Inscription Tablet, what he''d since officially named the creation.

    Inscription Tablet

    Grade: Poor

    A tool primarily for blueprinting designs of various forms, it is limited to simple design work and latent Pneuma charging.

    A grade rating of Poor seemed rather insulting to Rory; he thought it was well made, but it was likely the lack of features more than anything dropping the grade, as well as the low-quality materials involved in creating it.

    "And I still wouldn''t trade it for the world," Rory said happily while doodling away. He''d truthfully spent the last hour screwing around, having fun scribbling on the tablet that could utilize any color if it absorbed sunlight.

    Well, almost any color. Colors that don''t make up white light don''t seem to work.

    Testing that had indirectly confirmed that the light wavelength was the same as in their old universe, another piece of information he''d put into his back pocket.

    Finally done messing around, Rory focused on his Inscriptions task.

    First, a stability rune.

    Rory had used his Earth rune as a substitute, but a proper rune to encapsulate the idea of stability would likely be essential for delicate projects in the future.

    "So¡­ What comes to mind when I say stability?"

    Trying not to let anything color his thoughts and relying solely on what came to mind first, Rory began scribbling. The first thing that came to mind was a concept he''d once heard about in a space documentary, a theoretical final stage for certain stars known as a black dwarf star. None had existed in their universe; it hadn''t been old enough to form any. However, they were theoretically the most ''stable'' celestial objects possible, with lifespans measuring trillions upon trillions of years.

    Or so he thought; he was no astrologist, and it wasn''t like anyone was around to fact-check him.

    Whether I''m correct or not isn''t really the point either. What matters is my gut reaction.

    With the idea of a black dwarf star forming the basis of his stability rune, his next thought was of the element of iron. Using an Earth-centric periodic table, iron was considered the most stable element due to being the point at which fusion and fission no longer produced any form of energy.

    Finally, he finished with a geometric representation of stability: the tried-and-true three-dimensional triangle, the pyramid.

    The result was what looked like an orb of darkness, a black dwarf star composed entirely of iron entombed within a pyramid. While the details of such a concept didn''t actually make sense, a black dwarf star wouldn''t be made of iron; its symbolic meaning was what mattered, the convergence point of three differing concepts of stability, like the three points of a pyramid.

    Like an artist signing their work, Rory added a quick title, underlining it three times for emphasis.

    Stability.

    Rory didn''t have to question whether the rune had been ''accepted'' by Eon, as within a moment of underlining the rune''s intent, the entire image glowed with a red and purple shower of sparks, fading a moment later.

    "Hey, Eon, quick question," Rory pondered. "Can I see a display of currently known runes?"

    Instantly, an interface popped up, and his six prior runes were now joined by a seventh.

    Earth. Air. Water- fluid, if I''m being technical. Fire. Energy. Absorption. And now they''re joined by their newest sibling. Stability.

    Part of Rory felt it shouldn''t be so easy to just make up runes on the fly, but then it had been pounded into his head that the universe and Eon itself were still young and developing; it was exactly the time for such things to be done most easily.

    Also, with so few actual runes made so far, it''s probably easy for them to adopt a principle. Over time, creating new runes will probably become more complex as they must be refined and differentiated from existing ones.

    Rory wasn''t satisfied with only seven runes; with a swipe of his hand, his Inscription Tablet was cleared.

    Next rune. Time for something less conceptual.

    One thing stood out to him as the number one contender, given he was absolutely surrounded by them.

    "Trees. I need a rune for wood."

    Technically, they were separate things; wood was what partially made up a tree, whereas a tree was a living entity.

    Let''s start with the simpler one first.

    How would wood be symbolized? And would wood be useful? Given the different types of wood, would wood need to be expanded upon in the future?

    Would, wood, would, wood. I''m losing meaning in the words at this point.

    Shaking his head, amused, Rory let his thoughts wander for a moment before, with yet another self-amused smile, he began to scribble. Within moments, he had a sketch drawn up, four square beams interlocked like the base of a log cabin.

    This was half the point; it was meant to emulate the look of a log cabin. The other half of the rune''s inspiration was a memory Rory could distinctly recall as a teenager in biology-

    Or was it in chemistry class? Eh, doesn''t matter.

    -there were diagrams of different types of cells for plants and animals. Rory could vividly recall seeing one of the diagrams of a plant and thinking to himself how the cellulose that composed the cell walls looked an awful lot like a log cabin. It was a silly memory, but the foundation in the association with a log cabin had kept it as fresh as the day he''d thought of it.

    Thus, the rune was born. Repeating the naming process of his previous rune, Rory wrote wood and underlined it several times before a flare of red and purple sparks confirmed his success.

    This is easy.

    Smiling to himself, it faded moments later as a new thought interrupted his success.

    Why do I feel lightheaded?

    In the excitement of his success with his tablet and two new runes, Rory hadn''t noticed his body swaying, struggling to remain upright.

    "That''s... probably not a good sign."

    As if confirming his suspicion, Rory collapsed wordlessly, faceplanting into the dirt.

    ---------------------------------

    "You do realize you''re the only one of my founders who has found themselves with a lapse in consciousness quite so frequently?" A familiar voice suddenly awoke Rory, who groggily rose from his impromptu naptime on the ground.

    What¡­ oh, right, I passed out.

    Standing over him was Aelia.

    "Oh. Hello." Rory gave her a polite nod.

    "Do you know why I''m here?" She questioned, ignoring him.

    "To congratulate my success?"

    "No, to check why one of my founders went from fully healthy to nearly dead in a single instant."

    "I think you might be exaggerating," Rory said, trying to rise but finding his body unwilling to listen.

    That''s a tad alarming.

    "No, no, I am not. Check your Physique."

    Morbidly curious, Rory did as the world spirit requested. Taking in the display, Rory reflexively sucked in a breath of surprise.

    Huh. Well, I guess she wasn''t exaggerating.

    He was sitting at a grand ten percent health.

    How did that happen?

    "What were you doing before you collapsed?"

    "You don''t know already?" Rory asked, surprised.

    "No, I don''t constantly supervise you all, not when I have my own things to tackle. Eon allows me to have set emergency reports if any of you were to suddenly find yourself near death, which is how I was notified that you nearly died in mere seconds. Considering I know the whereabouts of monster movements on my surface and knew you were safely within your own settlement with no significant predators in the immediate vicinity, you can understand why I was somewhat taken aback."

    "Fair." Rory acknowledged. "So, mind explaining how I nearly died?"

    "Again, you tell me. What trouble could you have possibly gotten up to within the safety of your own settlement?"

    "Nothing, really. I was just preparing for the next wave."

    "How exactly were you doing that?" Aelia questioned, an edge to her voice.

    "Well, I needed to beef up my walls, and without a team of laborers to work on bringing in stronger materials, I''ve had to pivot toward magical methods. In this case, I was creating some runes that I could use as the magical foundation of my wall."

    "Creating runes?" The world spirit''s eyebrows rose. "Yes, I''m aware those became a thing recently. Send me your details, if you will."

    Shrugging, Rory pulled up the details on Ancestral Inscription and flicked it toward the world spirit, who, with a single nod, allowed the details to appear before her. Not wanting to feel left out, Rory examined the description himself.

    Ancestral Inscription

    <u>Rarity: Extreme. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    While neither the progenitor of magic nor its most gifted user, the Architect has nonetheless proved an aptitude for the metaphysical. Charting a course that will undoubtedly be followed for the rest of history, the Architect founded the School of Runic Inscription. As the founder, the Architect gains bonuses when working with untested concepts amongst the fringe frontiers of Inscription.

    "Rory?" Aelia spoke up after a moment of silence.

    "Yes?"

    "Are you an idiot?"

    "What?" Rory said, taken aback.

    "In what world, or worlds, do you think you could do something as significant as creating magical runes for the first time and for it to have absolutely no cost? Did you even bother to wait out the time in between, or did you just jump between them without a care in the world?"

    Rory sheepishly recalled doing precisely that, going from creating his Inscription tablet straight into working on new runes, with only an hour of rest in between, an hour he''d only given himself because he''d been having fun messing around with drawing on the tablet.

    "Not just that, did you consider what kind of runes you were making? From my understanding of runes, you can think of them as bite-sized Laws. They tap into the core elements that form our universe, our everything, and allow for a more direct control that doesn''t require you to actively manipulate it through your intent."

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    "And in simple terms?"

    The world spirit sighed, shaking her head.

    "Think of a stream. When it''s nice, shallow, and slow-moving, it''s not hard to wade across or redirect it. But as it gets deeper, wider, and faster, you can no longer swim across easily; it becomes a colossal effort, if not fatal. That''s what you''re doing with runes. When you create a rune, you take a nebulous force or concept, pluck it from the fabric of existence, and then give it an identity. With your skill level of Ancestral Inscription at low, that''s like going to whitewater rapids and thinking you can skip across like a child through a calm creek. Certain concepts for runes will be shallow streams, with little danger in grappling them into submission, but others¡­ It might be easier to show me the runes you''ve created. I only know the runes you''ve added specifically to the walls of your settlement; it''s not as if I''m informed of every discovery you make; I''m not a god, after all."

    Rory didn''t see the harm, so with a quick mental effort, he sent the world spirit an interface displaying his runes, the order of their creation, and what they represented.

    Taking a second, she inspected the list. As the world spirit neared the bottom of the list, Rory saw her face scrunched up in a grimace.

    "I found the problem," she said after relaxing, highlighting it with her finger before flicking it back toward him. Interfaced returned, Rory saw a circle surrounding his second newest rune, stability.

    "Stability?" Rory questioned. "Really? I didn''t think that was such a crazy concept."

    "It''s because it''s a pure concept; everything else you''ve created stems from tangible, physical things or forces you can interact with. Unlike absorption or energy, stability can''t be measured AS a thing. It''s something that describes."

    "So, what, once I made the Stability rune, what happened to me?"

    "It sucked you dry of anything you had to sustain the creation of the rune. Specifically, it drew from your vitality, I presume. It was only because of the bonuses to working with ''fringe frontiers'' that I presume you didn''t just outright die. You were lucky at that point, and had you been more cautious, you might have noticed something felt off. But then you had to go ahead and make one more rune, just for the hell of it. You are so fortunate you chose something as easy as wood. Wood is one of the most abundant things in the universe, ignoring gasses and dust floating through space. Aside from maybe dirt, you couldn''t have chosen a much easier subject for your last rune.

    Dirt. I should also make a rune for that now that she mentions it.

    "So, basically, I didn''t die because my enhanced version of Inscription specifically had guardrails against such things?"

    "In essence." The world spirit said, an exhausted sigh escaping her. "If I had to guess, you still would have died, but I think Eon might have directly supported some of the burden placed upon you. The rate your Physique was freefalling; it was too dramatic for the instant stabilization at ten percent to make any logical sense without outside interference from Eon."

    You know what? Maybe I''ll hold off on the runes for a bit.

    "So, Eon saved me. Think it will save me again?"

    "I wouldn''t test it," Aelia answered. "Perhaps it works on a cooldown basis, a get-out-of-jail free card once a month, or maybe it''s once a year, or maybe even longer. Or maybe it was a one-off. Let me be blunt. Please try to avoid biting off more than you can chew until you are either more skilled with that skill or have support measures prepared."

    "Right," Rory muttered. "I appreciate the heads up."

    "Yes, well, having one of my promising founders die for such a stupid reason would have been rather unfortunate. At least if a monster kills you, they gain in your death, but dying for no reason? No one benefits."

    "Yeah, next time I almost die, I''ll keep in mind that I should feed myself to the nearest monster while I''m at it."

    "That''s more like it." The world spirit smiled at Rory and vanished a moment later.

    I feel like she''s progressively becoming less caring about our survival now that she has developed these Den Mother Nuclei, so long as it''s a monster that gets the chance to kill us and not random bad luck.

    Taking a glance at his wave timer, Rory was able to determine he''d been unconscious for over two hours. Even with Eon saving his life, the backlash of his runes had clearly done a number on him.

    At the very least, it was specifically the creation of runes that was taxing and not their usage.

    Which means this is probably fine.

    Drawing a circle on the ground-

    I really should make a dedicated area for this.

    -Rory quickly inscribed several runes into the ring: Stability, Absorption, and Energy. With the circle drawn, Rory proceeded to sit directly center, legs folded as he closed his eyes, doing nothing more than breathing. If the reason he''d almost died had been overdrawing on his available resources and not any actual physical wounds, logic dictated that he could recover quickly by replenishing such lost resources.

    Each breath felt heavy to Rory, energy saturating them. Minutes passed, then hours, until Rory felt back to normal. No, he was better than expected, absolutely brimming with vitality. A quick examination of his Physique informed him that his health was sitting at a solid ninety-eight percent. More interesting than his return to good health was the addition of a pulsing plus sign next to the percentage. Curious, Rory clicked on it as more information was displayed.

    Pneuma-Energized

    Bodily functions are boosted by moderate Pneuma saturation of the body.

    "Oh, so like the inverse of Pneuma-wracked," Rory noted. "Well, I feel a hell of a lot better."

    Rory stood up, stretching his arms overhead, feeling better than he had in¡­

    Well, ever.

    It was a testament to the effects of Pneuma-Energized that even after another near-death experience, he was feeling so good.

    Maybe I can make some more runes.

    It was perhaps a rather stupid idea, given the aforementioned near-death experience, but Rory was feeling unnaturally good. Not to mention that Rory had a timeline to stick to; he couldn''t afford to remain idle.

    Hmmm. Well, worth a shot. Nothing risked, nothing gained.

    At the very least, Rory had learned enough of a lesson to properly consider the runes he wished to make rather than simply trying to recklessly create something on the spot; another rune of such nature as stability would kill him.

    Actually, what if I had a way to circumvent that? To make a rune ''easier'' to do?

    On Earth, if you wanted to make a task more manageable, you broke it down into pieces. If you wanted to move a couch through a doorway, you would remove the cushions and the legs.

    So why not the same for a rune?

    Well, considering the runes I have, what ''pseudo-rune'' might be possible?

    Stability, energy, heat, absorption, earth, liquid, and air. He had used several in-rune connections to add a more specified meaning to a rune process but did not outright change the meaning to something new. Grabbing his magical tablet, Rory began formulating ideas, letting his mind wander, trying to avoid being constrained by preconceived notions. He grabbed whatever stray thought entered his mind, turning them over and thinking them through their logical extremes, throwing out any that proved futile or overly complicated until one thought seemed to stick, a random, entirely unrelated thing that had centered on the tablet within his hands.

    I never did have a tablet as a kid. My parents said I wouldn''t be responsible enough with the charging cables.

    It was a minute flare of annoyance, a remembrance of a childish wronging he had received, but a new thought replaced it as it began to fade.

    Charging cable. I wonder¡­

    He''d often described the feeling of Pneuma as static-y, so what was to say electricity may not still exist?

    Rubbing his hands furiously on his very motley shirt and pants, frantically and cluelessly, it took nearly twenty minutes before he brought two fingers together. A quick shock passed between them as a smile flashed across his face.

    So, electricity still exists.

    It was all he needed to confirm his intent, scribbling on his Inscription Tablet as he played with the idea of different ways to form a rune for electricity without needing to straight up create a new rune, a way of streamlining the process so it would be easier to handle.

    Well, energy is obvious, but for once, I''m not trying to handle the mystical variety but the bog-standard type. Wait that raises the question of if magic and Pneuma are just¡­ regular things, don''t they count as ''bog-standard'', too?

    Rory frowned before shaking his head.

    "Focus."

    Scribbling out the design for his energy rune, he mused for several moments before sketching the next rune, his rune for fire, directly beside it.

    If I remember correctly, both electricity and fire are considered plasma. Or were they? You know what? It doesn''t matter. My thought process, my runes, my rules. Therefore, electricity and fire are related.

    Nodding to himself, Rory tapped a non-existent pen against his leg, juggling thoughts before sketching down the last rune of his amalgam rune, the rune for air.

    With the three runes beside each other, Rory muttered under his breath before shaking his head.

    No, no, that just doesn''t feel right. It''s too¡­ ordinary?

    Rory had already established that you could alter the meaning of a rune by connecting it to another rune, so trying to make an entirely different rune by just putting them next to each other felt like it was overlapping and conflicting. It would be like adding a prefix to a word and expecting it to change meaning entirely. Adding ''Pre'' to ''historical'' didn''t suddenly alter the meaning so that it now meant baking, so how could adding ''prefix'' runes change their entire meanings either?

    Annoyed, Rory went to erase the runes before stopping himself and staring at the three runes with a more artisanal outlook.

    "If I first came up with runes by superimposing things from the periodic table, why don''t I make a rune by superimposing other runes together?

    Starting with the air rune as a base, Rory then overlayed the energy rune. The lightning bolts that composed the energy rune perfectly overlayed several lines from the air rune. Once they had been overlayed, it was as simple as slashing a line through the horizontal axis and applying three floating circles directly below the line, his fire rune.

    "Damn, and I didn''t even intend them to fit together so perfectly," Rory said as he stared at the new rune. A flash of sparks colored the rune for a moment, apparently accepted as a workable and usable rune.

    "Bingo." Rory cheered under his breath. With the new lightning rune, he was up to nine runes created so far.

    I need a journal or something to keep track of these all.

    It was easy enough while there were only several runes, but as he made more, or if others started to create runes, he would quickly lose track of them all.

    Problem for Future Rory.

    Rory hadn''t actually set out to make a rune specifically for electricity. Still, now that he had it, he may as well test it. Dragging a stick through the ground and drawing up a circle, Rory next drew up the more complicated lightning rune in the middle of the circle. Stepping out from the first circle, Rory drew another circle on the ground beneath himself, the absorption rune in the center. Linking the two circles with a simple line through the ground, Rory drew in Pneuma. Aided by the absorption rune, it only took a bit before the energy he was channeling began flowing into the original circle he''d drawn on the ground. Watching it from the safety of his bound circle, he saw flashes of light crackle as miniature lightning bolts exploded and vanished with the bounded circle.

    "Well, looks like it works." Rory grinned.

    Electricity still exists.

    For a moment, Rory considered whether they could rebuild their old world before tossing the idea away. In a universe of mystical and adaptable energy, electricity was simply far too limited as an energy source. Plus, the matter of generating electricity was still a bit of an unknown. Would solar panels work? Fusion reactors? What about the exotic energy sources other alien races had used in their old universe?

    Electricity was a tool that could be used, but it wouldn''t bring back their old way of life from the ashes. No longer thinking such unnecessary thoughts, new ideas began to replace them, or more accurately, old ideas were starting to form, ways he could use the existence of electricity to advance himself and, more importantly, withstand the onslaught of waves he was expected to stand firm against. There were still many waves before he hit his goal of ten straight weeks.

    Ending the channel of Pneuma, Rory walked over to his first bound circle, staring down at the electricity rune. Seeing the lightning discharges, Rory had an idea for a mighty weapon to leapfrog thousands of years of human technological development, from the Stone Age to modern weaponry, in a single bound.

    Well, one issue.

    Glancing over at where he''d left what remained of the metal deposit he''d found, he could only sigh.

    "Gonna need a lot more of that."

    -----------------------------------------

    Rory fidgeted, standing on the ladder next to his wall. In his hands, he held the answer to the looming threat of the waves, and while he''d tested it a few times, it hadn''t always worked.

    In fact, most of the prototypes had exploded, and it was only through the foresight of testing it safely outside his camp and from a distance that he hadn''t exploded himself with them. Only the last two iterations of the new weapon had sort of worked.

    The issue was he''d run out of time, the wave less than a day away when he''d been forced to accept his newest prototype as the best he would get. He''d only managed to fire it once or twice before calling it a success.

    Now, will it explode in my hands later? Well, that''s a damned good question.

    Still fidgeting, Rory held his breath, waiting. Based on the pattern of the prior waves, he could expect-

    "What the hell?"

    His expectations were suddenly dashed, as from the forest appeared a monster unlike any he''d seen before.

    Well, that''s not strictly true.

    It was no breed of fox, that was certain. Instead, it was an oversized rabbit with a rack of antlers several times its size; Rory could only wonder how it moved.

    Never mind.

    Rather than hopping toward his wall, the rabbit hovered several inches above the ground as it floated toward him.

    New Encounter-

    Jackalope Adept

    The elder variety of a Jackalope Neophyte. No longer an adolescent of its species, its magic has grown more potent with age.

    "Interface changed again," Rory muttered. Instead of focusing on the new monster, Rory found himself paying more attention to his interface, as, for some reason, Eon had been changing how it displayed monster descriptions as if it weren''t satisfied with the prior displays.

    Who am I to question a universal totally-not-magical-Ai?

    Finally, focusing on what was important, Rory ignored the altered interface. Jackalope Neophytes, the adolescent form of what he was seeing right now, had already been rather dangerous with their matter-erasing orbs of Pneuma. Older and more powerful, the Adept was likely in an entire other league.

    Couldn''t ask for a better tester.

    Raising his newly crafted science experiment-turned-weapon, Rory aimed for a moment, a handy little crosshair at the end of the track.

    And here¡­ we¡­go.

    Inhaling one last steadying breath, Rory squeezed the trigger as the weapon sucked in a surge of Pneuma from around him; beneath the ladder, a rather sizeable bounded circle had been drawn out, and Rory had been funneling Pneuma into the area to draw from during the wave. As the magical energy was drawn into the weapon, it vibrated chaotically, the mystical energy transforming into an energy type he''d known well from a lifetime on Earth. Electricity traversed the rather shoddy-looking rails and magnetized the metal he''d harvested from the cave he''d almost died in. Charged and activated, the magnetized weapon roared with power as a crack of thunder shattered the forest''s silence.

    The rabbit, which had begun to stare at him with a sage-like expression -or as sage-like as a rabbit could look- didn''t have time to react as it suddenly dropped, no longer hovering.

    Missing your head tends to make using magic difficult, after all.

    "Hell yeah!" Rory whooped.

    Cradling the weapon, Rory smiled viciously, using analysis on it again.

    Pneuma-Powered Railgun Mk. 6

    <u>Grade: Poor</u>

    A Runic weapon utilizing advanced theories only known by a Precursor, the Pneuma-Powered Railgun uses Pneuma to empower natural forces and propel a metal payload at terrifying speeds.

    It had worked and worked far better than Rory could have hoped. Sure, its grade was still poor; it may as well have been held together by magical bubblegum, duct tape, shoelaces, and a lot of intent, but it worked. It had been difficult to construct the metal parts he needed properly; not having a proper forge made melting metals down tricky, and he''d needed to work through several prototypes. Still, all Rory had really needed was a conduit for the Pneuma and the electromagnetic processes. The materials of this planet, or perhaps the entire universe -he wasn''t sure yet as he only had experiences on Aelia to infer from- were generally sturdier than the materials of their old universe. Strong as they were, the entire thing held together far better than an earth equivalent would have. Had that not been the case, the whole thing would have blown up endlessly, the forces at play, both magical and natural, simply too much for such a poorly engineered creation.

    But it had worked, and that was all that mattered at the end of the day.

    "Welcome to the 21<sup>st</sup> century, mother fuckers." Rory whooped one last time, already ready for the next monster.

    Who needs to be a good fighter when you can send metal flying at thousands of miles per hour?

 20. Science meets Fantasy

    Armed with his railgun, the weeks began to blur as Rory rampaged on his warpath of stationary destruction. He''d fallen into a routine: Every day, he would go to and from the Maw, the name Rory had given the cave system he''d almost died in. Making sure never to go further than the cavern filled with ore, Rory would harvest as much as possible before returning home. Once home at his campsite, he would melt down the metal, pouring it into casts for his ammunition. The benefit of his railgun was that it was immensely powerful compared to the caliber of the monsters he faced. It didn''t matter if it was a magic-slinging sage rabbit or swarms of Triumph Foxes; a single shot from the magical railgun annihilated everything in its path.

    The downside was that it wasn''t portable. Having still not come up with a way of storing large amounts of Pneuma for portable usage, he could only use it from within a bounded circle that had been stored up with plenty of Pneuma in advance; the larger the bounded circle, the more Pneuma could be drawn into an area, but the faster it eroded the bounded circle. He''d already experienced once in a test what would happen if a bound circle was broken while it was filled with excess Pneuma; it would slam into him like a metaphysical sledgehammer, leaving him crippled for a day or more at a time. Armed with that knowledge, before every wave, Rory would draw a medium-sized through his camp, ensuring his ladder was propped up within the confines of the circle as he filled it up like filling up the gas in your car.

    Rory had discovered two other downsides of his railgun. First, it was so powerful that it often ruined the corpses of whatever it struck, blowing them apart with the pure force of its projectile. It meant he had little in the way of crafting material compared to if he killed them with more regular weapons.

    The second issue he believed was Eon getting back at him for devising such an effective weapon. Kills secured with the runic weapon yielded less Ascension energy than regular. Between the diminished energy yield, the extra energy required from putting attribute density toward growth, and then just the regular old time ten times multiplier in ascension energy between tiers, Rory still hadn''t reached his subsequent ascension. He was close; one more wave, and he would crack the A4 ceiling, he was sure.

    To crack that A4 ceiling, the last hurdle in his way was the tenth wave of ten consecutive weeks of monsters, as if fate was conspiring against him. All Rory needed to do was survive and prevail, and he''d finally be able to enjoy his labors'' sweet, sweet efforts, a ten-week streak of waves worth of rewards.

    And I really do need them.

    A quick glance at his overall attribute ranking was enough to inform him that he was the lowest tier ascended amongst the eight inhabitants of Aelia. Switching it to his rank amongst only his tier further told him that all his attributes suddenly ranked in the top percentile, meaning he was in first place among a group of one.

    Himself.

    How high have others climbed? A4 is obvious, but A5? I doubt anyone has reached A6, even falling behind as I have. The difference in energy between A5 and A6 is far too vast of a gulf for others to have crossed already; that would be like a hundred times more energy than I''ve gathered in that same time.

    "In fairness," Rory muttered. "Not like I''ve spent much time killing things outside the waves."

    He hadn''t completely stopped clearing any potential monsters. Still, the amount of resources and prep he needed for each wave meant he needed to focus almost entirely on preparing for them. The only other thing he''d managed was building a relatively functional forge, a hardened stone and clay box with runes inscribed all over.

    I just need to clear this wave, and then¡­

    Then what?

    Rory could only shake his head. He hadn''t given much thought to his plans after ten waves; it really came down to his rewards. He was hoping for a minor law, but outside of that, he could only guess what he might receive; perhaps it would be nothing more than a metric shit ton of energy, or maybe it would be something else entirely.

    Too many unknowns.

    For the final and tenth wave he was planning to tackle consecutively, Rory had pulled out all the stops. All of Rory''s time spent preparing for the prior waves wasn''t technically for those specific waves. He''d stockpiled enough ammunition that he felt fine pushing through those waves even if another Nike Fox were to appear.

    No, the real reason he''d spent so much time creating more ammunition was specifically for wave ten. While he couldn''t know what was coming his way, it didn''t take a genius to guess that wave ten would be unlike any previous wave. Even in recent waves, they had begun abandoning their regular pattern, starting with when he''d been confronted with that first Jackalope Adept.

    Rory glanced downward, admiring the object within his hand. It was oversized, a monster of engineering, his grandest creation yet.

    ¡°Big Momma¡± Pneuma-Powered Railgun Repeater Mk. 2

    Grade: Common

    A Pneuma-Powered Railgun taken to the next level. It has been carefully crafted with greater craftsmanship and cutting-edge runic inscription, allowing for a faster firing rate and destructive capacity.

    The problem with his original railgun design was they were limited in firing capacity, taking several seconds to charge a shot. His walls had earned their weight in-

    Gold? Silver? What''s considered a precious metal now?

    -their weight in valuables, taking and withstanding damage as his railgun charged up shots. Still, if some mighty monster or a large swarm attacked, he''d be screwed. With his older railgun designs, his walls, while significantly improved from his efforts weeks back, were far from invulnerable, and taking too long between shots would give a powerful monster a chance to tear through them.

    Thus, the need for Big Momma was born. Constructed of carved bone and wood alongside carefully melted metal, it could fire a shot once every five seconds. Typically, the increased fire rate would have lowered the firepower as the lesser time to charge up the energy for each shot reduced their firepower. What Rory had done, though, was enlarge the design and circumvent the problem. With a larger surface area, he''d had more space to add his inscriptions, specifically for faster charging and even a minor energy preload, something only possible through the antlers he''d taken from the jackalope variants that he''d carved into support struts for the oversized weapon that he had mounted to his walls. Sticking out the top of Big Momma was an ammunition magazine; after each shot, it would drop a new round into the main chamber of the railgun. His final adaptation of the railgun design was that the weapon was directly linked to his walls, something he hoped to make a permanent ingrained addition once he could apply Ascension energy to his walls after cashing in on his ten-streak of waves. ''Wired'' into his walls, he could siphon energy from his walls if need be. The drawback was that energy drawn from the walls directly weakened them. Once depleted of energy, they were little more than sturdy wood walls. Thus, the longer he could go without activating the magical defenses of his wall, the longer he could use the walls as an external siphon for Pneuma into Big Momma without negatively impacting his defenses.

    In Rory''s opinion, it was an ingenious weapon system. Back on earth, he reckoned he could hold his wall, at least for a bit, against even tanks firing at him.

    Assuming they didn''t hit me directly, I''m the weakest link, but that''s beside the point.

    Strapped to his back was another railgun, albeit smaller than Big Momma. That was to say, it was still probably twenty or thirty pounds, and it could only be wielded by a human who''d undergone a few ascensions and put at least some attribute density toward Strength.

    Pneuma-Powered Railgun Mk. 8

    Grade: Common

    A Runic weapon utilizing advanced theories only known by a Precursor, the Pneuma-Powered Railgun uses Pneuma to empower natural forces and propel a metal payload at terrifying speeds.

    It wasn''t much different than his first truly functional railgun model, the MK. 6. The main difference between it and MK. 6 was that starting at Mk. 7, he had added a new rune that he''d come up with, the acceleration rune. If the projectile fired had been fast before, now it was ungodly fast, or so he supposed. If he were honest, he hadn''t precisely compared their velocities; he had no fine-tuned instruments to do so with. The projectiles fired from the railgun were too quick for his Cognition to track -from either version- but considering the Mk. 7 hadn''t exploded when he''d added the rune; Rory figured it must be doing something.

    The rune had only one problem, a problem that caused him to scowl every time he looked at it now.

    It''s design. When Rory first came up with it, he thought it had been a somewhat inspired look, two whirls that then shot off into parallel arrows meant to represent the idea of building velocity that fired forward.

    Now, when he looked at it, all he could see was a rather¡­. Phallic-looking symbol.

    Not my best work, I must say.

    Even if the aesthetic of the rune was unsavory in hindsight, the fact didn''t change; it was another rune to utilize, and it was a moderately advanced rune at that. It was a conceptual rune much like Stability, albeit far less nebulous and, therefore, safer to have created.

    Still staring at Mk. 8, Rory glanced back into his camp several seconds later. It almost looked like aliens had visited with the number of circles drawn through his camp. It was an adaptation to a problem with bounded circles and Pneuma. Typically, when one increases the size of a bounded circle, the increased volume of Pneuma within erodes the circle faster, allowing for critical failure at inopportune times. Rather than making one massive, bounded circle then, Rory had instead placed many smaller and more stable bounded circles throughout his camp, each a small well of Pneuma that he could retreat to and fire his Mk. 8 from. He''d even gone as far as attaching stability runes to each and every one so they could remain stable for longer.

    Aside from his modern weaponry, belted to his side was a new war bat, a significantly improved version from the first one he''d lost in his battle with the first jackalope he''d ever encountered.

    Sol''s Glory Macuahuitl

    Grade: Common

    An ancient pre-universal weapon originating from a non-existent chapter of theoretical history. The Macuahuitl can be used for blunt force damage or viciously sharp slashing damage capable of slicing even the cell of a living organism. Further empowered by added Runic Inscription.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Maker''s Arsenal had guided his hand in crafting the new bat-like weapon. With several runes carved into the wooden handle, Rory was confident it wouldn''t be as easily destroyed as his first one. The other interesting thing of note was the fact that Eon had identified the weapon for what it was, meaning either one of the other humans already had knowledge of the weapon, a more extensive knowledge than Rory had, or it had plucked the information out from the seeded information of their old universe that formed the energy of their current universe.

    The handle had four runes: Earth, Wood, Absorption, and Stability. It would latently draw sunlight and Pneuma into it, galvanizing the wood. As proof, it chimed almost like metal if he tapped a knuckle against the wood. It wasn''t the only ''mundane'' weapon he''d made. Strapped against his opposite hip, a shield hung. A quick glance toward it brought up its info without any extra effort now that Rory had begun to use analyze reflexively.

    Sol''s Glory Shield

    Grade: Common

    Few armaments are as traditional and reliable as the shield. Formed and framed from runic-enhanced wood and braced with leather and carved bone, it can repel many powerful hits.

    Another thing that had changed in several descriptions was that any reference to the wood used nearby was now referred to as Sol''s Glory, a name Rory had given the trees after realizing they''d been unnamed for weeks now, a rather apparent failure on his part that it had taken him so long to get around to naming them.

    Which suggests that this variety of trees exists only near me, and the others have other types of foilage or flora.

    It was an unimportant thought, so Rory cast it aside, instead frowning as he briefly took in the shield''s description a second time. It wasn''t that there was anything wrong with the shield. In fact, it had been as well designed as he could manage with his current tools and skills and even further enhanced with the same runes and intent as his Macuahuitl. What had bothered him was that Rory had started to notice that, for whatever reason, he''d stopped being able to craft weapons or gear imbued with Akashic records.

    I wonder if Akashic records and Rune Inscription conflict?

    Like most questions and thoughts he had, it was simply something he couldn''t answer without more data to draw against, data that was painstakingly difficult to obtain in this new universe where he may as well have been alone.

    Perhaps once he cleared the wave, he would take a break from waves to focus on furthering his knowledge and sating some of his curiosity about topics he had to ignore due to time pressure. Perhaps he would even get around to crafting things he wanted but deemed low priority.

    But that was something for Future Rory to deal with. Currently, Rory could only shrug. If he had to choose between his Inscription and Akashic records, he''d always go with his Runic Inscriptions. They were reliable, and he could consciously plan out what and how he wanted to form them. In contrast, an Akashic record felt like a lottery pick of effects.

    Ignoring his shield, Rory hadn''t bothered to make any other armor. Against the current caliber of monsters, if it came down to a brawl -God forbid- any hide armor he made wouldn''t do a damned thing. Rory''s only use for the monster hide obtained from his kills was creating an ever-increasing number of patches in his clothes. He looked like the oddest mishmash of modern fashion meets Ice Age hunter, something you''d expect to see down some abstract fashion runway.

    Technically, they aren''t ''modern'' anymore.

    Rory snorted, amused by his stupid joke, before shaking away the humor. Ten weeks of blood, sweat, and even some tears would finally be rewarded if he could survive this last wave. Unsurprisingly, he was rattled, cracking jokes about the dumbest things, exhausted from weeks of mentally and physically preparing.

    Aside from his weeks of preparations, there had also been the intermediary waves. Most of what he had killed up to this point had been a mix of Jackalope variants, Triumph Foxes, and even some monsters called Hissing Lemurs, four armed lemurs that would hiss and spit a noxious glob of acidic saliva. They were agile little buggers, and if he were trying to tag them with arrows, they would have been a vicious, if not damn near impossible, pest to hit from afar. With his railgun, the lemurs were more like meat confetti in the making, small enough that when a railgun projectile struck them, they exploded into a shower of gore like a birthday party orchestrated by Jeffrey Dahmer.

    The only monster he hadn''t seen was a Nike Fox. The single Nike Fox from which he''d claimed the Monster Den Nucleus was the last time he''d seen one, which Rory figured was for the best. A pack of those monsters would have been challenging even with his railgun. It was that fear of a pack of Nike Foxes that had lingered in the back of his mind that had led to the eventual creation of Big Momma, his ace in the hole, insurance against even the biggest, baddest monsters out there.

    As it was, Rory had prepared as much as he could, Big Momma the culmination of all that work.

    Railguns? Check. Walls? Secured. Bounded circles? Charged. Melee weaponry? Hopefully redundant.

    With nothing left to do, Rory nodded to himself, mentally pumping himself up.

    "I''m ready. Let''s do this."

    Instantly, the wave timer dropped to zero, as Wave Ten was initiated early.

    Here we go.

    Rory let the breaths come evenly as he kept his head on a swivel, waiting for whatever was coming for him.

    "C''mon, any day now."

    Fingers drumming anxiously on Big Momma''s struts, Rory''s head snapped to the side as he heard the sound of crunching twigs. Swinging Big Momma to face the direction of the noise, Rory saw trees begin to shift as if something big were approaching.

    Oh, what the hell.

    The shaking of the trees only got worse as even the ground began to tremble.

    I was expecting foxes, not elephants!

    Contrary to what Rory expected, it wasn''t an elephant that came barreling out from treeline but something much, much worse.

    "Oh, you have got to be shitting me," Rory grunted, staring wide-eyed as what could have only been described as a dinosaur charged him.

    The monster was the size of an elephant -if it took steroids and went to the gym- with a large bone shield fanning out from its head like a triceratops. Rather than the ancient herbivore, the monster had a head shaped closer to an oversized snake, with six thick, muscled legs tipped in savage raptor-like claws, the fanning bone crest so large most of its body was safely hidden behind the terrifying shield.

    Fuck me if this isn''t a bit much of an escalation!

    As surprised as Rory was, he didn''t let it stun him for more than a heartbeat. With a sonorous warcry, Rory pulled back the trigger on Big Momma, the railgun booming out its own challenging warcry every few seconds as it fired off the hypersonic rounds.

    Whereas in the past, a single shot from his railguns had been enough to eviscerate any monsters unlucky enough to be on the receiving end, the freak dinosaur creature seemed to shrug off the rounds as they slammed into its armored face, each round only capable of shoving it back a few feet before the monster would continue its forward rampage.

    Angered by the railgun onslaught, the monster bellowed an ear-shattering roar. Ear shattering it was, so loud that Rory felt warmth spilling from his ears, blood trickling out, as the world shook under the weight of its anger.

    Shit!

    The writing was on the wall. Rory knew that if it reached his walls, even fully charged with Pneuma as they were, they''d fall instantly. His defenses would be little better than a sandcastle before a hurricane.

    Well, no point in holding back. The best defense is a good offense!

    Flicking an emergency switch next to Big Momma''s trigger with his thumb, the railgun seemed to glow and hum, vibrating ominously as Rory, unwilling to back down from the monster, met its roar as he shouted in further defiance.

    There had been one other preparation Rory had prepared, a last-ditch, "Oh shit" option that was only to be used if things looked dire.

    And, well, things were looking really fucking dire.

    "Fuck it," Rory grunted, as all around his camps, the bounded circles began to glow a dangerous white before exploding, as all the energy contained within was suddenly sucked forward, flowing into a small crevice in his walls, a blink and you miss it spot. A muddy-looking orb had been inserted within it, and several carved circles surrounded it as the monster core drew in every last drop of Pneuma within the camp. Rory had really wanted to save the core for another project. Still, he hadn''t been so foolish as not to plan for a potential worst-case scenario if wave ten was more than he bargained for. The muddy brown coloration of the orb instantly cleared, now only the color of murky pond water.

    Big Momma shook for several more seconds as energy surged, and Rory could only hold tight, praying it wouldn''t explode. He hadn''t been able to test this feature; it was a one-time use before it would be irreversibly spent.

    C''mon!

    Gritting his teeth, the vibrations from the railgun finally seemed to ease.

    "Bingo!"

    Snarling with the sort of visceral combat high one could only achieve from firing a high-powered railgun at a dinosaur, Rory couldn''t help the vicious grin that appeared on his face. Big Momma, which had been firing a round once every four to five seconds, suddenly picked up the pace, as instead of a projectile every four or five seconds, it became four or five projectiles per second.

    The dinosaur monster, capable of weathering its previous fire rate, was suddenly bombarded by firepower that could make an attack helicopter blush.

    "Eat lead, shithead!" Rory was laughing like a maniac, blasting away. It was the only response that seemed to make sense to Rory; the entire situation was too bizarre for his mind to process logically. Strange and insane as life had become, using a railgun to rain rapid-fire hell down on a mutated dinosaur still wasn''t something he could say he ever expected.

    Rory''s hands burned, and the scent of cooked flesh could be smelled as the heat radiating from Big Momma charred his hands just as readily as a white-hot piece of steel would. On any other day, the pain would have sent him into shock, but there was no place for pain in his adrenaline-fueled haze. The bone crest of the snake-triceratops finally failed, the stress of repelling dozens of railgun strikes too much even for its damn near impenetrable defense. Still, Rory rained down hell on the monster as the railgun shredded its tough scaled hide, ripping through the beast. Its scaled hide may be powerful, but without its armored crest, it simply couldn''t compare against the damage Big Momma could dish out.

    The monster was in bad shape, and Rory was still laughing maniacally as it was torn apart, entire legs and chunks ripped away, until the cacophony of noise from Big Momma abruptly cut off.

    "Huh?" Rory blinked several times, the sudden silence deafening.

    Oh. I''m out of ammo.

    Ten weeks of ammo stockpiling. Weeks of labor, of meticulous preparation.

    And he''d burnt through it all in less than a minute of continuous fire.

    The monster was bleeding profusely; two of its legs had been ripped away under Big Momma''s hellfire, and it looked about one bad headache away from death, but it wasn''t dead yet. Rory swore he saw the instant the monster recognized the tables had been turned, an evil-looking glint in its beady eyes.

    Pawing once with one of its four remaining good legs, looked at Rory directly before lowering its head.

    I don''t think that''s a head-bow of surrender.

    The monster roared out in anger once more before it charged.

    "Shit."

    It was all Rory had time to utter as the monster crashed into his walls, smashing through his proud walls as if they were made of little more than cardboard. Even had they not been almost entirely depleted of Pneuma, Rory knew they wouldn''t have survived the beast''s charge.

    Rory had more concerning thoughts than the fate of his walls, given that he was suddenly sent flying in an explosion of timber, packed clay, and splinters as far as the eye could see.

    Tossed across the entirety of his camp, Rory slammed into the hard earth with a pained groan. A single bounded circle remained, the only circle Rory had purposely left out from his emergency protocol.

    Stunned for a second, Rory slowly backed up in a half crawl, half stagger. Rory gave himself a quick pat down; his Mk. 8 was still, thankfully, strapped to his back. Yanking it free, Rory didn''t even bother checking his shield or melee weaponry; it would be like bringing a knife to a tank fight.

    Checking his ammunition, Rory grimaced.

    Five shots.

    Chambering one into his Mk. 8, Rory finally looked up, making direct eye contact with the snake-triceratops. It was snorting and thumping its clawed feet to the ground as if waiting for him to prepare himself.

    "Yeah, right," Rory grunted, giving the monster a quick downward nod. "You want to get this shit over too."

    Bracing the Mk. 8, Rory grimaced, feeling something loose in his mouth. Glancing to his side, he forcefully spat out a large glob of mucus and blood, a tooth accompanying it.

    "Right. Bring it." Rory grunted, wiping blood and grime from just beneath his nose. Needing no further encouragement, the monster charged again, barreling toward him like the world''s angriest living wrecking ball. Rory lowered his shoulder, sighted the weapon-

    And then dodged out of the way as it slammed straight through the back half of his camp, using its momentum against it as hardened stakes slammed into its now vulnerable body.

    How that shit never fails, I have no idea.

    Leaping back, Rory dashed into the bound circle as his railgun drank in from the energy well. The monster turned around with a pained trumpet as several of the spears he''d planted on the inner portions of his wall stuck out of its face like it had wrestled with the world''s largest wooden porcupine.

    "Well, I never said that I would play fair," Rory muttered before pulling the trigger of his Mk. 8. Instantly, the monster''s left eye exploded in gore as Rory re-oriented his aim, its right eye joining the left eye in a shower of gore seconds later. Without the protection of its bone crest and with much of its armored scales shredded, nothing held back the hypersonic rounds from inflicting horrific damage to the monster. Again, the railgun barked out, and the blinded monster fell as Rory kneecapped the creature.

    Two shots left.

    Walking to the edge of the bound circle, Rory aimed directly between where the eyes of the monster used to be. His railgun barked out once more as the monster, which had been slowly rising, dropped to the ground as Rory put a round between its eyes.

    And yet it still wasn''t dead, stirring once more.

    "Alright, enough." Rory''s voice felt hoarse from his earlier shouting, and taking his time to aim, Rory put the final round right between its eyes, double tapping the same spot.

    God above, just how tough can these bastards get?

    Watching the monster silently for nearly a full minute, Rory finally let himself drop onto his butt; the beast was well and truly dead.

    God, I hope that wasn''t just the opening act.

    Rory waited in silent trepidation, waiting for more to appear from the forest. Thankfully, rather than more monsters appearing, the only thing that appeared was a notification in the corner of his vision. Mentally clicking on it, Rory let out a sigh of relief.

    "Wave cleared." Rory flopped onto his back, utterly exhausted, as he stared into the sky, finally letting himself truly relax.

    He''d done it.

    "Ten waves, ten weeks." Rory chuckled, raising a fist to the suns far above.

    "How''s that for progress?"

 21. Sweet, Sweet Loot

    Rory lay on the ground for ten minutes, unable to feel his hands. Shaking from the adrenaline slowly fading, he stared up at the sky far above. Wave ten had been unlike anything he could have anticipated. Had it not been for the proactive measures of building Big Momma with weeks of ammo creation, the monster would have torn him apart, his camp apart, like a child kicking over a sandcastle.

    Too damn difficult.

    His hands were right screwed; raising them, they looked closer to melted candle wax than hands or fingers.

    Well, it''s a good thing I¡¯m not looking to start the next wave.

    Pulling up his interface, Rory ignored everything other than his Ascension progress, taking a deep breath as he saw it.

    I maxed out, finally.

    The bar was filled, meaning he could finally push his Ascension to another tier, finally breaking the A4 wall.

    ¡°Well, no point dawdling.¡±

    Not even bothering to close his eyes, Rory pinched the mental boundary line. Instantly, it was as if he had been transported elsewhere. Adjusting to the sudden change, Rory found himself somewhere rather familiar.

    ¡°Again?¡± Rory questioned as he found himself staring at the galaxy being, once more, seated at a table. ¡°I thought seeing you wasn¡¯t supposed to be a common occurrence.¡±

    ¡°Correction: The Avatar you see before you-¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t a ¡®you¡¯ per se. Yes, I understand.¡± Rory sighed, seating himself across the small metal table as if he were being interrogated. ¡°So why exactly am I seeing you so soon.¡±

    In response, the Avatar-

    Since it¡¯s no longer called the System, is it now ¡®Eon-Avatar¡¯ or something else?

    -flicked over what looked like a screen capture, a video of all things replaying. It was a bird¡¯s eye capture of his battle against the snake-triceratops thing. It was a short video; in its supercharged state, Big Momma blasted through over two hundred rounds in under thirty seconds. After that, it played out exactly as he remembered, the badly wounded monster smashing through his walls before finally being put down for good with a few well-placed shots into its now more vulnerable head.

    ¡°Is there a reason you¡¯re showing me this, or are you here just to congratulate me?¡± Rory questioned.

    ¡°There is a reason.¡± Eon¡¯s Avatar confirmed. ¡°And it has to do with that.¡± Instantly, the video zoomed in, focusing on the magically crafted railgun.

    ¡°Uh, what about it?¡± Rory asked.

    ¡°E.O.N. has been generating potential answers for your weapon, but more practical data was required. As a result, an experiment was run to conclusively gather information regarding how potent such an arsenal is. Working in cooperation with the World Spirit Aelia, your tenth wave was modified.¡±

    ¡°Modified?¡± Rory asked.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The video unfocused momentarily before zooming in on the snake-triceratops. ¡°The monster you battled was, based on its energy density, ranked akin to a monster comparable to a tier eight existence.¡±

    Rory¡¯s eyes bugged out for a moment at the revelation.

    Actually, in hindsight, that makes sense.

    While Rory couldn¡¯t say for sure just how powerful his railgun was compared to weapons on Earth -he didn¡¯t precisely have TNT yields to compare against- a single shot from the railgun was closer in strength to a tank shell than an ordinary firearm, even an armor-piercing gun. He¡¯d seen enough combat footage on the news to know that.

    And Rory had unloaded over two hundred rounds on the wave ten boss.

    ¡°Right, I can buy that.¡± Rory nodded. ¡°Why, though?¡±

    Eon¡¯s Avatar nodded as if waiting for Rory to piece it together. ¡°A reclassification has been required. Your ¡®railgun¡¯ allows for damage potential akin to an eighth-tier ascension while being usable within the third tier of ascension yourself. It upsets the balance required of a low-tier planet such as Aelia.¡±

    Rory felt that if Aelia had heard herself referred to as ¡®low tier,¡¯ she would have been rather annoyed. Still, as the conversation was happening in some strange, disjointed mental connection to Eon, he wasn¡¯t too afraid of her overhearing.

    ¡°Utilizing principles of physical nature, in tandem with magical principles, allowed for the creation of your weapon, and thus it is not simply something that can be ¡®turned off.¡¯ A new category of weaponry, now known as ¡®Artillery¡¯ arsenals, has been established in response. While not forbidden, Usage of Artillery Arsenals shall allot zero energy for any monster slain; all energy released will instead be contributed entirely to whatever planetary body you find yourself on. If you are the creator of an Artillery Arsenal weapon, you shall see a one percent return rather than zero energy returns.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± Rory swore. ¡°Is that why I felt like I was gaining less and less energy over the last ten weeks?¡±

    ¡°Correct. E.O.N. adjusted energy returns per the results of your victories, and with this final triumph, enough data has been gathered to determine the fate of such weaponry conclusively.¡±

    ¡°That sucks.¡± Rory sighed before glancing at the galaxy being. ¡°So, do I at least get extra rewards for beating a tier eight as a tier three?¡±

    ¡°Tiers do not translate directly from monster to man.¡± The avatar shook its featureless head. ¡°And as you were aided by a weapon far exceeding your current personal capabilities, no extra gains shall be received. Furthermore, as it was done as an experiment run by E.O.N itself, the Architect was never in true danger; in the worst-case scenario, the Isailisk would have stood down and retreated due to far exceeding your capabilities.¡±

    ¡°Is that a normal outcome?¡¯

    ¡°No. Such safety measures were only allowed due to the nature of your encounter. In the future, should you encounter an Isailisk, the Architect would be wise to consider it the same as any other monster.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ So, are those things just wandering around on the planet?¡±

    ¡°Currently?¡± The avatar turned its head upward for a split second before shaking its head in denial. ¡°No. As a reward for working with E.O.N. regarding its creation, the World Spirit Aelia was given the blueprint for the monster. Still, currently, such a beast would destroy the ecosystem and balance of the planet¡¯s surface. You are unlikely to see one until further into the future on the planet¡¯s surface.¡±

    Something about the phrasing tickled Rory¡¯s brain, a wording that stood out. Seconds passed before he snapped his fingers, catching it.

    ¡°Planet¡¯s surface. Is there more beneath the crust?¡±

    The galaxy avatar was silent.

    ¡°Right.¡± Rory frowned, thinking of the underground cavern from which he¡¯d been extracting his ore. He hadn¡¯t gone further than the first room, not since his encounter with the tentacled monster, but now Rory was beginning to question just how extensive the area might be. ¡°Another question.¡±

    ¡°Proceed.¡±

    ¡°Well, two, actually. I used up a lot of resources killing that thing. So, will there really be no rewards?¡±

    ¡°You will receive your standard wave reward, accounting for the ten-streak you achieved. Furthermore, due to your usage of your single monster core¡­ Yes, you will be reimbursed a single monster core of slightly higher grade.¡±

    Rory grunted, mildly satisfied. All that ore had gone to waste, but at least he wasn¡¯t returning wholly empty-handed.

    ¡°Your second question?¡± The avatar asked after a moment.

    ¡°My second what? Oh, wait, yeah, that¡¯s right.¡± Rory had forgotten that he had another question. ¡°You said the issue with my railgun was that it was too powerful compared to what I can personally achieve. Does that mean if one day I can output a similar amount of power, I could use a weapon like that un-penalized?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°Nice.¡± Rory grinned at that. The childish part of his brain couldn¡¯t deny how satisfying blasting away with a mega-powerful railgun had felt. ¡°Oh, actually, I have one more question, for curiosity''s sake.¡±

    ¡°Proceed.¡±

    ¡°How much benefit would I have gained if I managed to kill such a monster without using my railgun?¡±

    ¡°Killing a monster of such energy density as a tier three yourself would have been enough to propel you instantly to tier six.¡±

    ¡°Damn.¡± Rory whistled. ¡°So, I should try to hunt one fairly?¡±

    The avatar was silent for several seconds before slowly shaking its head. ¡°Such would be¡­ unwise. Energy density gulfs widen exponentially with each tier. A tier two beast is only relatively marginally more powerful than a tier one beast, whereas even the weakest tier eight beast would overpower most tier seven beasts.¡±

    ¡°I was joking,¡± Rory muttered, shaking his head. ¡°But noted. While you¡¯re here, is there anything else I should know?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Well, it was a pleasure seeing you again.¡± Rory chuckled, expecting the avatar to refute the comment, but interestingly, it simply nodded before vanishing.

    Wonderful. So, to sum it all up, I¡¯m not allowed to use my railguns anymore.

    There was also a bit of an unsaid threat just beneath the surface. The avatar had repeatedly spoken of ¡®disrupting the balance,¡¯ but what would be required to righten that balance if that were the case?

    Sending monsters at me that can deal with my railgun, duh.

    ¡°Railguns, bad.¡± Rory sighed. ¡°Now that I¡¯ve taken care of that, let''s get on with the real purpose of being here.¡±

    An interface appeared before his eyes, displaying the standard attribute-density slider and his current attributes.

    Now, how do I want to do this?

    Before, with his railgun, the only attribute he really needed was, oddly, Flexibility, which allowed him to absorb the recoil of his railgun more easily.

    Now? I¡¯m back to square one.

    ¡°Let¡¯s talk it through,¡± Rory said into the infinite starry void. ¡°I¡¯m starting to run into quicker monsters now. While my railgun made short work of them before, if I can¡¯t use it -assuming I want to gain any ascension energy- being able to track how fast they move is most important.¡±

    Rory nodded to himself as he touched the Cognition slider, dragging it forward a small amount.

    That should be enough.

    ¡°Next up: Pneuma. I¡¯ve been using Pneuma often, but I¡¯ve also used my runes to shortcut it. I¡¯m not personally flinging around fireballs or conjuring down lightning. Still, it''s probably not a bad idea.¡±

    Whereas cognition gained twenty percent of his attribute density, pneuma received a relatively minor ten percent.

    Seventy percent left to work with.

    ¡°If I actually have to put myself at more direct risk now, durability.¡±

    Instantly, twenty percent went toward the attribute.

    Fifty percent.

    He still had to decide between strength, flexibility, durability, and growth, and he had only fifty percent of his attribute density to work with.

    Remember, you¡¯ve got more energy than regular on this ascension, as I¡¯ll finally be getting those growth returns from the last ascension.

    Rory had taken a rather considerable progress hit compared to the others with how long it had taken him to go from A3 to A4, so he was reluctant to put many points toward Growth. Still, there was merit in not abandoning it entirely, so Rory allocated ten percent.

    Forty percent.

    Strength, Flexibility, and Durability. Rory glanced between the three, for a moment preparing to throw the remaining points between Durability and Strength, when with a sudden thought, Rory paused. Pulling up another screen, Rory glanced toward his race.

    Proto-Human, D1.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He hadn¡¯t actively thought about it, but his ¡®race¡¯ slowly increased with each ascension. Now, crossing into his fourth ascension meant he had crossed his first full ¡®threshold,¡¯ now a D ranked ¡®Proto human¡¯ instead of an E ranked. He wasn¡¯t sure what that meant precisely, but Rory suspected that as his race grade increased, so would his baseline physical stats.

    If that¡¯s the case.

    With his finger no longer hovering above Strength, Rory split his remaining forty percent of attribute density between Flexibility and Durability.

    ¡°Done,¡± Rory muttered, and the moment he did, he found himself back in everyday reality.

    Curious, Rory examined his attribute ranking. He¡¯d caught back up, at least temporarily. His Strength stat was still lagging behind quite a bit compared to the others, whereas his Durability was almost dead average now. Growth had fallen behind the average for the first time, likely given his relatively low growth allocation for his tier-four ascension. Flexibility was surprising, his eyebrows raising as he examined it. Aside from Growth in prior tiers, he was far ahead of the average for the first time. If Rory had to guess, he was probably #2 as far as Flexibility was ranked. Cognition was also somewhat above the curve- though not as much as Flexibility- as was Pneuma.

    ¡°Overall, regarding tier four attribute density, it looks like I¡¯m ahead of the curve.¡±

    Rory nodded. It made sense, as far as he was aware, given that he had extra points compared to others due to how heavily he¡¯d invested in growth during his last ascension.

    Still curious, Rory flexed his hand. Even though he hadn¡¯t put points toward Strength, he felt unusually strong. It wasn¡¯t by a crazy amount; if he had to quantify it, it was much like the pump you felt after a good lift. It was as if there was a subtle improvement in his foundation, a qualitative difference between the human he had been before and the human he was now.

    It wasn¡¯t just his body; the air smelled crisper as if he¡¯d had a rather stubbornly clogged nose that had finally cleared. Even the sounds of the wind rustling the leaves had a crisp quality.

    Is this what an entire race grade improvement results in?

    Rory didn¡¯t have a mirror, and the murky pond made for a rather shitty reflective surface, so Rory could only guess if he looked any different. Without a mirror, Rory was left to feel his face blindly, checking for any changes. Nothing seemed all that different except that it only occurred to Rory just how long it had been since he¡¯d shaven, with a full beard now cresting his jaw.

    Shave, I¡¯ll add that to the list.

    Sighing, Rory brought up his interface. Now that he had reached his subsequent ascension, it was time to-

    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Rory muttered as a screen he hadn¡¯t expected appeared.

    Vocational Capabilities Expanded:

    Future¡¯s Past: Sometimes, the best guide to the future is knowledge of the past. Precursor-based technology is now more easily implemented.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Rory muttered. What ¡®Implemented¡¯ meant was anyone¡¯s question, but the first option already seemed promising.

    Explorer¡¯s Whimsy: Sometimes, the best guide is through the discovery of the unknown. Grants intuitional knowledge of potential points of interest.

    ¡°Okay, a bit stranger, but not freakishly so,¡± Rory said. It was a strange skill to gain toward his Vocation, which seemed focused on crafting in an almost esoteric fashion, but Rory could see where it was coming from. He¡¯d spent enough time wandering between his camp and the ore-filled cave the last few that Eon had likely presented the option.

    Blood Flame Forge: A crafter whose very blood essence has guided their every work now instills the essence of blood into the very flames of creation.

    ¡°Alright, what the actual hell?¡± Rory snorted in disbelief. ¡°I¡¯m not running a damn cult here,¡± Rory muttered. It was a rather fiendish-sounding option, and Rory didn¡¯t like the visual image it presented. Hell, how he had been offered it was already strange. Was it just randomly given, or-

    Oh, duh. Rory thumped his forehead as it came to him¡ªmy knife.

    Rory almost exclusively used his Blood Essence knife for every project he worked on. The act of only using a blood essence tool somehow caused Eon to offer the option as a tie-in.

    Well, I guess it¡¯s not that bad if that¡¯s the reason.

    Still, there were more options, so Rory continued to scan the list.

    Heavenly Thunder¡¯s Conduit: A crafter whose magic can bend even the heavenly strikes to their will. Grants an innate understanding of electrical principles.

    ¡°Is... is this just a fancy way of saying electrician?¡± Rory stared at the grandiose option, a chuckle turning into a full-on laugh. ¡°Yeah, I think that¡¯s exactly what it is. One fancy ass way of saying, ¡®Learn how not to electrocute yourself¡¯ if I¡¯ve ever seen one.¡±

    Still chuckling, Rory looked over the last option.

    Civilization¡¯s Cradle: A crafter not just of simple tools and weapons, the Architect crafts civilizations themselves. Grants a small degree of information regarding civilization building.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s an interesting one,¡± Rory said. ¡°My options are Old Universe informatics, Wandering, Forging from the underworld, overly verbose electrician, and civil engineering.¡±

    It was perhaps an oversimplification of his options, but not entirely incorrect from Rory¡¯s reckoning. None of the options listed their skill rarity, so Rory could only guess the best choice.

    Probably because that¡¯s a superficial method of judgment, or maybe I¡¯m overthinking it.

    One option was thrown out almost instantly, and Rory dismissed the wannabe electrician. It had likely only been offered due to his work on his railgun, translating Pneuma into electricity to power electromagnetism. Still, Rory wasn¡¯t about to start playing with electricity outside of that, especially now that he¡¯d been explicitly informed that his railguns were de facto banned.

    Explorer¡¯s Whimsy was next to be thrown out. He could see how it might be helpful, guiding him toward potentially useful locations, but Rory already had Eye for Potential as a utility skill in the same vein.

    Future¡¯s Past, Blood Flame Forge, or Civilization¡¯s Cradle.

    With the two easy options dismissed, Rory was left stumped.

    I don¡¯t know which to pick.

    Spending more time thinking it through left Rory only slightly better off, deciding to toss out Future¡¯s Past as well. If he had to guess, based on how all his other options and skills had worked before, it would likely allow him to seamlessly delve through his memories of how things worked back in the old universe and bring them to this new existence.

    But that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t do that anyway; he just wouldn¡¯t have something that would allow it to be seamless.

    With two options left, Rory found himself stumbling.

    Civilization¡¯s Cradle is probably suitable for making this camp a little more civilized, but I¡¯m not even sure what it will entail for my overall capabilities.

    Blood Flame Forge seemed the more obviously useful choice if that were the case. It wasn¡¯t directly a forging skill, but the implication was about as obvious as being hit by a car.

    So, what¡¯s the problem?

    It was the name. It just felt too¡­. Icky.

    Oh, get over it. It¡¯s not like it''s saying I must start sacrificing children. No children around to sacrifice anyway.

    Sighing, Rory finally decided, mentally clicking the only somewhat demonic-sounding skill.

    Interface switching, Rory was greeted with a new skill added to his skill list, except it wasn¡¯t the skill he¡¯d thought would appear.

    Essence Spark?

    Essence Spark

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world of the trades. Essence comes in varying forms.

    <u>Essence Affinities: Blood</u>

    <u> </u>

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s novel,¡± Rory muttered, staring at the skill. All Blood Flame Forge had done was give him access to a skill that allowed him to manipulate essence directly.

    Or maybe that¡¯s not entirely correct.

    It had given him access to essence manipulation through the Essence Spark skill, but what Rory felt was the actual benefit of Blood Flame Forge wasn¡¯t the skill but the secondary tag following the standard flavor text of the skill.

    Blood affinity.

    It seemed to make sense based on everything Rory knew, which was somewhat limited, admittedly. His knife had been created through a nearly ritualistic sort of self-bleeding, days spent draining himself of enough blood to form the foundation of his binding agent.

    Rory dismissed the Skill screen, telling himself he would experiment with it later. There was something more important he wanted to check, the entire point of why he¡¯d gone through everything. A screen he wasn¡¯t familiar with brought itself to his attention, a weak smile on Rory¡¯s face as he read it.

    Wave Rewards:

    Streak modifier: 10x.

    Group size modifier: Solo

    Planet modifier: Low

    Rewards: Ascension Energy (Modular), Beast Core, Direct Title, Settlement Category Rank-Up

    ¡°A little different than I remember it,¡± Rory muttered as he took in the screen. He wasn¡¯t surprised; Eon was constantly fiddling with certain screens and displays, like an interior decorator trying to get the look of a room just right. Aside from the reward for the wave looking different, two things of note caught his attention. First was the ¡®Direct Title¡¯. Curious Rory clicked on it, and a helpful explanation popped up.

    Direct Titles: Titles generated directly from the E.O.N system. A title may be swapped to another title, incurring a month-long cooldown.

    ¡°Oh, well, that didn¡¯t explain much.¡± Rory frowned. ¡°What exactly is a title.¡±

    A small spinning circle appeared on his interface before being replaced with a new pop-up.

    Titles: Titles, either Direct or Given, are sub-modifiers that can grant boons or burdens. What a title may modify varies based on the Title itself.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s a bit more helpful,¡± Rory muttered. ¡°So, this title is¡­ Huh?¡±

    Looking at his interface, a new piece of text had appeared.

    Title: Genie¡¯s Apprentice.

    ¡°Genie¡¯s Apprentice?¡± Rory felt his frown deepen. ¡°I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s nothing more than flavor text because lord knows I haven¡¯t seen any Genies.¡±

    Clicking directly on the title, Rory was presented with more information regarding the specific Title.

    Title: Genie¡¯s Apprentice

    Through repeated bending of systems to fit the titleholder''s needs, the Titleholder has been recognized as a potential source of uncertainty. Grants one Reinterpretation before incurring a one-year cooldown.

    ¡°Reinterpretation?¡± Rory scratched his chin, confused. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    At the very least, it didn¡¯t seem to do anything negative, so Rory decided to leave it alone. Whatever it meant by ¡®reinterpretation,¡¯ the fact that it was a single use per year meant that it had to be a powerful effect Rory didn¡¯t want to waste.

    Moving on.

    Rory skipped over the mention of the Ascension Energy he¡¯d gained. If it worked as it had in the past, it would allow him to upgrade things inside his settlement or just outright funnel Ascension energy to himself. Due to his participation in its experiment, the Beast Core was exactly what Eon''s avatar had agreed to reimburse him for.

    Speaking of which, whatever happened to- Oh?

    Glancing toward where the Iasilisk had been -a name that Rory assumed Aelia had given the overpowered monster- Rory was met with the sight of its body vanishing into twinkling energy that was then quickly reabsorbed by the earth. In its place was the Beast Core that Rory had been granted.

    Nifty.

    Intending to pick it up in a second, Rory instead looked toward his final reward for the wave, the Settlement Category Rank-Up.

    Explanation time. Rory mentally chuckled as he clicked on the reward, thankful that most unknown terms were so easily explained.

    Settlement Category:

    A settlement may come in several ranks. Beginning at the base level, Encampment, Settlement category rank determines the allowed land where planet interference is minimalized.

    ¡°Nifty,¡± Rory repeated out loud. ¡°For once, something easy to understand.¡±

    It was basically a land grant. With each wave, he¡¯d gradually ¡®claimed¡¯ more land for his camp. Of all the times he had gained more territory, this was likely his largest land grant yet.

    It''s nifty but not super helpful.

    All you needed to do was look outside his walls to see how much land he had yet to utilize to understand why.

    Deciding to tackle that conundrum later, Rory checked his personal Ascension progress. Not only had he cleared A3, now a proper Ascension tier four, but he¡¯d also made more progress into the tier than expected; nearly forty-five percent of the bar had already filled.

    So, there IS some overflow. Good to know.

    Of course, had he killed the Iasilisk on his own merits and without the usage of Big Momma, he would have jumped straight to A6, but beggars couldn¡¯t be choosers.

    This brought him to his final order of business: the energy gained from the wave. His interface shifted as Rory was presented with a bird''s-eye view of his camp and several points of interest he could click on. Tapping on himself first, Rory looked to see what would happen if he gave all the energy directly to himself.

    Either the energy wasn¡¯t as much as he expected, or the transference efficiency was much lower when being used directly because it only bumped his personal ascension progress up an additional thirty percent. That wasn¡¯t to say it was a bad thing. That was nearly doubling the entirety of the ascension energy he¡¯d gained in the months he¡¯d been on Aelia, but ten weeks of waves just to not even entirely skip tier four felt like a waste.

    Instead, Rory began experimenting with his allocation of energy throughout his camp.

    The first order of business was his walls. They were in rough shape after the boss of wave ten crashed through not one wall but two. Repairing them by hand would take days, if not more, as fixing was often more work than building them from scratch. Checking how much energy it would take to have them self-repair, Rory made sure to reserve it; there was some manual work he wanted to do on his walls before he had them repaired.

    Aware of how much energy he needed to save, Rory began checking other camp areas. His initial theory that the transference rate of the energy rewarded from waves to be personally used was correct, as it was quickly evident that Rory had a lot of energy to spend on camp upgrades. Even accounting for the energy needed to repair his walls, he was still left with approximately ninety-five percent of its initial volume. His shelter, which had been his most expensive upgrade before his Spire, he could upgrade six times with all his energy. It would be a massive waste, but the fact that he could forcibly ascend his shelter so many times when each ascension took more energy than the last spoke to just how much energy he had.

    Maybe it¡¯s time I treat myself.

    Sliding the bar over until the overlay showed two full ascensions, Rory shifted focus elsewhere. His campfire was next, and with just a bit of energy, he saw the ghostly overlay flicker. No longer was it a simple campfire with nothing more than a log to sit up on; it was a depression in the earth, four consecutive layers, each a foot lower than the last for seating, with a rather nice-looking firepit in the middle, constructed of obsidian colored clay and spotless obsidian stone caging.

    I can only imagine how much money a fireplace like this would cost on earth.

    Moving from his firepit, Rory focused on the miniature forge he¡¯d constructed. Metalworking in his former firepit had been cumbersome at the best of times. Allocating it enough energy for three upgrades worth, the forge overlay rippled, no longer a small kiln barely large enough for melting a few chunks of metal in a small ceramic container. Now, it was nearly four feet long by four feet wide; the interior had a two-foot clearance, so he could shovel in a rather astonishing amount of wood for burning. Six holes had appeared in the forge as well, three on each side, vents that could be used to pump in extra air once he had the equipment for it.

    Dang.

    Accounting for the energy reserves he was holding onto for his walls, Rory was left with approximately sixty percent of the overall energy. Had he wanted to, he could probably get a few more upgrades out of it, but there was a single thing he wanted to see more than anything else in his camp.

    The Essence Spire.

    The name connection didn¡¯t avoid his notice now that he had Essence Spark. Essence, Pneuma, Ascension Energy, there was a connection he hadn¡¯t yet deciphered, but it was there. Examining the Spire, Rory took the time to consider his plan.

    Embryonic Crystalized Essence Spire

    Rarity: Mythic

    A natural treasure, this Essence Spire had been changed. It no longer generates simple Pneuma; it now tears into reality itself, passively pulling essence into existence.

    His spire was extraordinary, based on the fact that initially, it was already capable of generating excess Pneuma. So, given he had as much energy left over as he did, what would happen if he threw it all toward the spire?

    Curious, Rory did precisely that. It was a testament to how advanced the spire was compared to everything else nearby. When he gave it all the remaining energy¡ªnot counting what he was saving for wall repairs and touch-ups¡ªit was barely enough for it to cause a change on the overlay. It wasn¡¯t even anything significant. The entire spire went from being about knee height to reaching his chest.

    Well, I may as well.

    With only a few quick taps, Rory confirmed his energy allocation. This would have been the part where a cutscene would play in a video game, showing his entire camp wrapped up in magical energy and changing before his eyes.

    Instead, nothing happened other than a leaf blowing past his face.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I expected.¡± Rory sighed. In the past, they had never ¡®leveled up¡¯ right before his eyes; they had been gradual or otherwise occurring as he slept.

    While Rory expected it to happen, that didn¡¯t change Rory''s sigh of defeat as he took in the state of his camp instead.

    He had a lot of cleaning to do, and with no more distractions, he had nothing to procrastinate about.

    Time to get busy.

 22. Laborious Fruit

    Rory eventually decided that cleaning was the worst. Cleaning your room or doing laundry was annoying, but it was simple.

    Cleaning up after a snake dinosaur thing had trampled your already relatively modest living space and wrecked your shit?

    That sucked.

    Rory spent five days picking up and doing his best to patch up his walls, but, as the French would say, they had been royally fucked.

    Well, maybe they wouldn''t, but who''s going to correct me?

    Unable to make any further repairs than Rory already had, which was piling lumber together and slathering clay and scribbling runes into the wood, Rory finally used up the last energy he¡¯d gained from wave ten to finish the rest of the repairs for him.

    During that same time, Rory had watched his camp gradually change. The fastest thing to ascend was his campsite. In truth, it wasn¡¯t doing much more than undergoing cosmetic changes. Still, after it had, Rory couldn¡¯t deny that sitting around it, he felt as if he were calmer, the sort of peace one would feel sitting around a summer campfire in the valley of a pristine mountain.

    Next was his shelter. It had enlarged, looking like a tree that had grown into the shape of a teepee. There were even pine needles growing from the roof of the one-room building. And a building it was now, the first thing within his camp that could be looked at as an actual building. Sure, it was small, but there was no longer mistaking it as some emergency shelter. The interior had been enlarged now that the structure was more extensive; his messy cot of moss, vines, and leaves now melded into a raised structure like a canoe opening, with a bed of exceptionally soft moss filling it. The strangest part about the new form of moss that acted as a mattress was that it grew directly from the wood, with no dirt involved. It was far softer than he expected, like memory foam from the earth, while also still retaining a degree of firmness from the wood it was growing out of. Not only that, but inside the small tree-tepee was an honest-to-God dresser. Well, perhaps ¡®dresser¡¯ was being a tad generous, but several cabinet-like slots had slowly pushed out from the wall of the structure.

    I feel like an elf. Rory had snorted one evening as he went to bed, amused at his home.

    Perhaps most interesting was a tiny little basin within the home, with what could only be seen as a pipe running deeper into the earth.

    Is¡­ Is this a toilet?

    The sight was almost enough to make Rory cry, but he held it back. He wouldn¡¯t get carried away until he figured out the essential details of where it went. If it only dropped a few feet down, he wasn¡¯t about to stink up his own home.

    I wonder if I can make a bidet with runes.

    His forge had also begun to grow and expand, but it wasn¡¯t finished. Rory had learned he could speed up the process by -gasp- handling some of it himself.

    Ironically, given his Vocation as an Architect, there was only so much Rory could do regarding assisting with the upgrades, as his knowledge of buildings was limited.

    You would think I would have been offered actual building information at some point with the vocation, but whatever, what do I know?

    The forge still needed one last stage of changes, but it was mostly finished and, at the very least, usable.

    This had led to Rory¡¯s current whereabouts, sitting in front of the mostly finished forge, arms crossed and frowning.

    What to do.

    Now that Rory had basically been outlawed in his railgun production, he was stumped. His railguns had been his pride and joy. Sure, they were more magic than science and only barely worked, but they had been awesome. He¡¯d even taken the corpse of Big Momma and lovingly placed the parts on the shelves within his elf home.

    He wasn¡¯t a knight; he didn¡¯t have any martial prowess. Never been a fencer, never wrestled. Nada. Bows and clubs were the extent of his fighting know-how. This was basically to say that he knew to point the stabby sticks of flight at things he wanted dead, and if you hit something enough times over the head with something, they tended to die, hence why his weapons of choice had been bow or macahuitl.

    Now? He was clueless.

    How do you even make a sword?

    The question was instantly met with a sudden, almost intrusive pseudo-memory showing how to fold metal and hammer it out to make a sword.

    Thanks, Maker¡¯s Arsenal.

    Making his railgun had been surprisingly simple, hammering down pieces of metal flat and slotting them into places of his ¡®finely¡¯ crafted wooden frame that became his railguns. If it weren¡¯t for the wood of this planet being hard as earth steel, it would have never worked.

    But the point was that he¡¯d done a surprisingly small amount of actual metal working in their creation, carried mainly by using rune arrays to handle all the crafting heavy lifting.

    Now, Rory wanted to craft things properly. Part of his reasoning was that the more he used his runes to force something to work as he desired, the less he could use his inscriptions for proper, qualitative improvements, like increasing potency or firepower. Otherwise, to do both required him to upscale the size of whatever he was making so there was more space for inscriptions, making it use even more Pneuma and plain more difficult to lug around.

    I really need to learn to forge.

    Having skills explaining to him how to do something was vastly different from having hands-on experience. It was like reading directions for making a cookie versus knowing it by heart; they just couldn¡¯t be compared.

    So, Rory sat in front of the forge, thinking.

    I need forging skills, and I don¡¯t mean in the video game sense where I select it from a menu. I will need material to practice with, which means returning to the Maw to collect more metal, but I was beginning to run low on the easily collectible stuff. Also, it takes so damn long to walk there and back. Plus, limited storage means I can¡¯t easily transport it with me.

    A wheelbarrow would be excellent, but miles of forest were difficult to cross with a wheelbarrow.

    Deforestation time?

    If he cleared the forest between his camp and the maw, it would make travel significantly more straightforward.

    But I¡¯ll be well outside the protection range of my settlement, not to mention that¡¯s making a direct chute to my camp. Oh, and most importantly, it will take me fucking YEARS based on my prior tree-logging attempts.

    So, deforestation was out of the question.

    Then what should I do?

    He could try to make runes that might help, but the issue with runes was that they needed to be powered, and Rory sucked at using Pneuma on the fly without bound circles to capture Pneuma and aid in the process.

    ¡°Argh!¡± Rory shouted suddenly, grabbing at his hair in frustration. ¡°What do I do?¡±

    When his only goal had been clearing his ten-wave benchmark, things had been so much more straightforward, made even simpler when you could use a sci-fi weapon to turn monsters into meaty confetti.

    Now, he was stuck. He wasn¡¯t much of a fighter or looking to be much of a magic caster. His skill with a bow was rudimentary.

    Rory was a glorified office jockey-playing action hero.

    At the very least, if he could get more materials to work with, he could find ways to improve his strength through methods that weren¡¯t inherently martial.

    ¡°I need the resources of the Maw.¡± Rory laid out, trying to talk through his situation one piece at a time. ¡°But it takes a long damn time to travel between point A and point B. The forest means a wheelbarrow will be more of a hindrance than a help. I can¡¯t use something like my railgun anymore because I will see next to zero return on energy used, slowing my overall progression; plus, they chew through ammunition like nobody''s business since the rounds fired explode on impact, no salvaging possible. I¡¯ll be wasting both the ascension energy and my time collecting materials to make the ammunition, an endless zero-sum game.¡±

    Rory wondered how the others on the planet were doing or what they were up to. He knew at least one of them was called the Spear, so they were probably having a grand time murdering monsters and quickly advancing.

    Whereas Rory was stumped. Ascensions just took so damn long. As a tier four, he could kill the monster rabbits from sunrise to sunset for months, if not years, and still not reach A5.

    And that was fundamentally the problem. Each tier took ten times as much energy as the last, not including the effects of Growth. Monsters seemed to give less and less energy the greater your tier was over theirs. While he couldn¡¯t tell directly -there were no such things as levels- Rory could tell that the monsters were akin to a tier one, cementing them as low-level monsters. Even with only his minor amounts of investment in strength, the simple qualitative improvements from ascensions made the once ferocious monsters little more than pests now, on the off chance he ran into any.

    I¡¯ve become too ¡®strong¡¯ for what I once killed, but my base strength is too low to handle higher-level beasts without proper equipment.

    ¡°Gah!¡± Rory shouted again, shaking his fists at the skies overhead.

    It was one thing when monsters came to him; he could be a lethal force on home turf. Defensive walls and bound circles fueling runes meant he could employ serious strength.

    Now, when he was the one journeying outward? That was a different story.

    In essence, he needed a Pneuma battery.

    Rory glanced toward the section of his wall where he¡¯d replaced his old Beast Core with the core from the eighth-tier Iasilisk. It was an uncommon-ranked core, an improvement from the prior core, but he still wasn¡¯t sure how to best use it. When ¡®wired¡¯ into his walls, it worked as a functional Pneuma storage, but he wasn¡¯t sure how to remove it and have it retain that functionality; drawing the Pneuma out from it himself was just as hard, if not harder than simply drawing Pneuma directly from the environment.

    Rory had come up with a few functional ¡®power stations¡¯ he could plug the core into that would allow for the core to be tapped into more easily, but that would then require him to lug around said ¡®power station¡¯ with him, which at that point he may as well go back to the wheelbarrow idea.

    Maybe I¡¯m thinking too broad, too grand in scope?

    Rory paused, considering it. Perhaps his railgun inventions had colored his view, go big or go home, but maybe that was the problem¡ªhe didn¡¯t have those skills, the know-how to make it work within his new limitations.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Dial it in.

    Furrowing his brow, Rory imagined himself taking a step back.

    All right, square one.

    ¡°Weapons: Swords and the like are a bad fit for me. I¡¯m not about to become some trained sword fighter, nor do I have the resources to forge a blade right now. Maybe if I spent a few weeks going back and forth collecting metal, I would have enough to account for any mistakes, but that¡¯s several weeks. I need to improve my power without needing a ton of metal, as that¡¯s putting the carriage before the horse. Also, even equipped with a proper sword, it doesn¡¯t change that I¡¯m not much of a melee fighter.¡±

    Rory nodded to himself, finding no fault with his current logic.

    ¡°Though, a spear isn¡¯t a bad idea,¡± Rory muttered, thinking about whomever the Spear person was. ¡°Not much finesse is required to stab something with a stick that¡¯s been sharpened; plus, if I go the basic spear route, you can start with a rudimentary staff with a metal tip. Much easier on metal usage than an entire sword.¡±

    The issue was that if something got too close, he was just as likely to get himself murdered. The spear''s range made it too clumsy of a weapon in close quarters when used by an inexperienced warrior.

    Warrior? Me? Hah. I don¡¯t even count as an inexperienced warrior¡ªOffice Jockey with an attitude more like.

    ¡°All right, so spear as a secondary weapon is a maybe. Macahuitl as primary?¡±

    The Aztec weaponry had worked well for him so far. It was crude enough to be used by a novice like himself while allowing for bludgeoning and slashing damage. The main issue was that the shards of obsidian or obsidian-like stone he used were prone to shattering. That said, he still fortunately had the previous one he¡¯d made; having not used it in the tenth wave boss battle, it had managed to survive. The runes covering it were made for the passive strengthening of its material; they didn¡¯t actively require him to fuel it with Pneuma. Thus, the weapon was largely fine as is.

    ¡°Alright, well, at least that¡¯s handled. Now, ranged weaponry?¡±

    Oddly enough, he had to be careful not to try to make a weapon too powerful. First, if they were too powerful, they would be considered Artillery weapons, and he¡¯d effectively forfeit all the ascension energy gained from kills. Second, an overly powerful weapon would undoubtedly require plenty of Pneuma, circling back to the initial problem that Rory couldn¡¯t sustain that much Pneuma without a bound circle set up in advance.

    So, like I said earlier, back to the basics.

    ¡°A bow. Can I make a better bow now than I could in the past?¡±

    The answer felt like an obvious yes.

    Or so you¡¯d think.

    He was a higher tier than when he¡¯d made his first few bows, but their Akashic records had carried them; his skill as a craftsman hadn¡¯t had much say in the matter. Since then, his crafting skill hadn¡¯t changed much besides the knowledge of the runes he created.

    Passive runes like the ones I¡¯ve got on my cudgel are the route for now.

    Rory realized at some point that Akashic Records had another advantage over runic inscriptions: They were less Pneuma intense to utilize compared to runes. The main issue with an Akashic Record was that there didn¡¯t seem to be a method to predict or plan for one. Whatever Akashic record he got, that was it, assuming something he made even got one in the first place.

    I still haven¡¯t determined exactly how that works, how something ¡®gets¡¯ an Akashic Record.

    ¡°Well, putting that aside, how else can you strengthen a bow?¡±

    The answer was engineering. On Earth, bow hunters didn¡¯t use the ancient recurve bows of the past, just string and a piece of wood. No, they had the technology to guide their creation.

    ¡°It¡¯s time for a compound bow,¡± Rory stated, staring up overhead as images of the more modern version of the ancient weapon came to mind.

    It was only possible because he had some metal to utilize; he could easily fashion the pulleys and supporting system; there was nothing too complex about the most basic form of a compound bow.

    ¡°Now we¡¯ve got a bit of a plan,¡± Rory sighed, a hint of excitement entering his voice.

    First, he would make a new bow, more potent than any bow he¡¯d made in the past but not so far above his station -power-wise- as his railguns. Aided with the new bow, he could begin hunting more powerful monsters without needing to lug around an entire power source for an already oversized weapon.

    And what better monster than the one that almost killed me before?

    Whatever it was that had almost killed him in the second cavern of the Maw; it couldn¡¯t be that far ahead of him at this point. Taking what he¡¯d learned from Eon¡¯s Avatar, Rory had learned that the Iasilisk was a tier-eight beast. As close to the surface as the octopus monster thing was, it was unlikely to be anywhere close to that.

    Tier six at the highest.

    Ordinarily, a tier four such as himself trying to tackle a tier six monster head-on should have been near suicide, especially since he was lacking on the combat side of things.

    But what he lacked on the combat side of things, he could make up for on the preparation side. He was the goddamn Architect; after all, preparing was supposed to be his thing.

    I think I¡¯m letting that Vocation inflate my head a bit much.

    Feeling more confident now that he had some semblance of a goal, murder the murder-octopus that had ripped off Tolkien, Rory turned his focus elsewhere.

    Going hand to hand¡­ Hand to tentacle, whatever, isn¡¯t likely to end well. So, I need a really damn good bow.

    What Rory wanted to do then was challenge himself to make something special. Regarding what he had made during his time on Aelia, Rory hadn¡¯t crafted anything special besides his knife. Sure, Rory wouldn¡¯t deny that making a Railgun was an incredible feeling, and Big Momma was the true pinnacle of that sci-fi dream, but they weren¡¯t the same. As cool as making railguns was, his railguns were bastardizations of true railguns. Ninety percent of their ¡®engineering¡¯ was carried by liberal usage of runes and magic. With only a smidge of basic science and proper engineering, he was abusing the magic of this universe to cheat his way to an overpowered weapon, which explained why Eon had banned the weapons for low-tier ascenders.

    In other words, while his railguns were a cool gimmick, they were far from something a true artisan would appreciate, like the difference between a specially cooked meal made by a chef and a microwave meal.

    What Rory wanted to do was create something powerful, not by jury-rigging a mimicry of something more powerful than he really ought to be able to craft, but by making something truly his own through his creativity and skill, where the skill of the craftsman and the principals involved mattered far more than the concepts and magic at play.

    And to do that, I need to figure this skill out.

    Essence Spark

    Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.

    Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world of the trades. Essence comes in varying forms.

    <u>Essence Affinities: Blood</u>

    Glancing at the interface briefly, Rory dismissed it after a moment. It was a skill, which meant it should come naturally. Focusing momentarily, Rory reached for the skill, concentrating on it. He felt a stir in his gut for a moment, and then¡­ nothing.

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t say I expected to figure it out on the first try.¡±

    Rory wasn¡¯t discouraged. In fact, he had an inkling of what had gone wrong. Reaching for a knife ¡ªa simple obsidian knife that was meant to cut living things, unlike his crafting knife¡ª he slashed his palm as a well of blood began to spill. Simultaneously, he reached toward the skill again, imagining it activating.

    C¡¯mon, work!

    The blood seemed to glow for a moment, then it was gone. Frowning, Rory could instantly tell that while he had the right idea, it hadn¡¯t worked. The blood felt much the same as any blood felt.

    Slashing his palm again, the obsidian so sharp he didn¡¯t even feel it, blood again began to spill. Again, Rory imagined activating the skill, but rather than a single active ¡®use,¡¯ Rory instead imagined himself channeling the skill. Blood continued to seep for several seconds, a shade lighter, pinker than blood ought to look. Still using the skill, the blood turned yet another shade pinker before Rory¡¯s entire body shuddered. If he hadn¡¯t already been sitting on the ground, Rory would have collapsed as the sudden exhaustion hit his body. Remembering when Aelia had warned him before, Rory opened his interface, taking stock of the effect on his well-being.

    ¡°Oh shit.¡± Rory huffed. Besides the injured hand, he was unharmed physically, but his overall well-being had dropped massively. As in, he was down to just under sixty percent.

    So, that confirms one thought.

    Blood essence was somehow tied to his life force, his very vitality. While Rory had little to no knowledge of other types of essence, Rory could speculate that Blood Essence was a rather intense form. It wasn¡¯t the volume of blood that mattered either; thanks to his increased Durability and racial status, he seemed to have far more blood in his body than a human ought to; that or his body created blood at an astonishing rate. What mattered was how much it took from his ¡®lifeforce,¡¯ which was why his crafting knife was unique; it had required bleeding himself near fainting for days on end, back when he¡¯d barely had an ascension under his belt. Even without the Essence Spark skill at the time, simply bleeding himself that much, to such a degree, had likely resulted in enough essence gathering to imbue the tool with essence regardless.

    ¡°So, Essence Spark means I can draw Blood Essence forward without needing to bleed myself dry, but it will take a chunk from my overall health.¡±

    Looking at the pinkish blood pooled in the palm of his hand, Rory found a small rock, cracked a divot into the center, and then let the blood pool there. Keeping it warm near his campfire, Rory rested for an hour or two. Feeling better, Rory once more slashed his palm, activated the skill, and drew out concentrated blood essence.

    After repeating the process thrice throughout the rest of the day, Rory had finally gathered enough concentrated blood essence for maybe a marble''s worth if it were solid.

    If it were solid¡­ I wonder.

    Using a stick to draw a hasty circle around his feet, Rory drew Pneuma forward before directing it toward the blood essence. He wasn¡¯t doing anything all that special, just using the energy to compress the essence until it solidified into an almost gemlike appearance. Perhaps because it was his blood essence, to Rory, it nearly felt like the blood essence was willingly working to his desires.

    Interesting.

    Snatching the pinkish blood gem, Rory examined it from the light of his campfire.

    Concentrated Blood Gem

    Quality: Uncommon.

    Concentrated blood essence that has been further condensed into a small gemlike appearance by its creator. Has uses for both alchemy and specialized crafting. Those with matching bloodlines may also ingest it to recover stamina, vitality, and overall status.

    ¡°Okay, didn¡¯t expect to be able to consume it,¡± Rory said, still eyeing the tiny gem.

    That might be useful. The fact that it can only be consumed by those with matching bloodlines is probably not too different from how only certain blood types can donate or use the blood of others. Speaking of which, do blood types still exist?

    Shaking the errant thought away, Rory relaxed. There was still far more to learn about both the skill and essence, but it was a good start, Rory felt. Yawning, he left his campfire, went to his small home, and plopped down in the freakishly soft moss bed, another yawn escaping as his eyes fluttered.

    Hah, that¡¯s another nice thing about using Blood Essence. It tires me out like a mother-

    -------------------

    Rory awoke with a start, surprised at the morning rays dimly shining into his ground-based tree house.

    Stump house? What technically is a stump in the first place? Is there some classification for when something is a stump and when it''s just a dead husk? Does it have to be under a certain height? Whatever, it''s not important.

    Clambering out of bed, Rory stepped into the morning rays, arms stretched overhead. He had a busy day of experimenting ahead of him, and his mind was abuzz¡ªnot just with random thoughts about the nature of stumps.

    As Rory had slept, it was like he had an epiphany. He could see it playing out before him, inspecting different materials in a dreamlike state inside what almost looked like a classroom. Within the dreamscape, time felt non-existent, and so Rory mulled over the materials; if it were seconds, hours, or even days, he couldn¡¯t tell until, at last, he was struck with a thought. The difficulty in channeling Pneuma through his materials wasn¡¯t so much the Pneuma as it was the issue of the materials. Within his dream, Rory examined a tree branch and a hunk of metal, frowning at them, pondering why that was. As often as he found himself using them, they proved difficult to work synergistically with his runes. Yet, turning to a third material, Rory felt his frown lessen.

    A Jackalope antler.

    Their description even specified that they were good at channeling Pneuma. Crafting his newest bow from Jackalope antlers was the obvious choice, as he had done in the past.

    Or he could innovate and make something even better. Even if he couldn¡¯t fully understand the why, he could still work on breaking down the how.

    It wasn¡¯t much long after that Rory woke up, ideas brimming.

    The first part of the bow he would work on would be the bow''s arms. He would need ground-up jackalope antlers, blood essence, the youngest, most wiry tree branches he could find, and, most importantly, a bit of botany knowledge.

    Is it botany with trees, or like, arboreal-y?

    Dismissing the stray thought, Rory snagged his crafting knife and wandered into the forest. Walking through the forest, Rory had the strange intuition that if he wanted, he could clear out a large swathe surrounding his camp without lifting a finger; the trees and foliage would melt away. Where the intuition came from, Rory had no doubt it had been hacked into his mind due to his wave rewards regarding the land he¡¯d earned but not yet ¡®claimed.¡¯

    And I won¡¯t for a while still.

    Ignoring the dutiful goal of humans to destroy their environment ¡ªsomething humans had only recently started turning around before the end of the universe arrived¡ª Rory instead sought out whatever tree caught his eye.

    And by eye, he meant Eye for Potential.

    The forest, consisting primarily of Sol¡¯s Glory, a name he had given the strange, orange-colored, rainforest-looking trees, seemed to wait for his decision as he wandered aimlessly. Taking his time, Rory took in the potential of every branch that caught his attention, a metric that mostly revolved around their vitality. Spending over two hours wandering, Rory only stopped when suddenly his eye began to twitch maddeningly, his head on a swivel until he locked on a tree that looked much the same as every other tree. It stood perhaps a bit taller and straighter, capturing just a hint more sunlight than every other tree.

    Rory frowned. Part of him had been expecting some glorious tree that outstripped every other tree he¡¯d seen, but marginal gains were still gains. Approaching the tree, he quickly assessed its branches, finding the one most suited to his purpose. Three branches from the bottom, requiring him to shimmy up the trunk, a single wiry-looking twig of a branch stood out. Swiping at it once with his Blood Essence knife, he separated the small branch from the tree, tucking it under his arm as he quickly began jogging back to camp.

    Branch acquired; it was time to put on his mad scientist hat.

 23. Reinterpretation

    Botany is an odd field of study because plants are a bit strange themselves. Back on earth, it was known that one could cut a branch from a tree and effectively propagate a clone of the original. Furthermore, you could influence flowers based on the type of water you fed them and many other things.

    That was one long way of saying Rory had devised a somewhat convoluted plan. Without in-depth knowledge of the available resources, Rory could not determine what was possible or where to begin in his pursuit of crafting a better bow. He could always default to the easy option of crafting a simple Jackalope antler bow, which wasn''t terrible. His prior antler bows had served him well enough, after all. However, Rory suspected the material, while better than ordinary metal or wood for Pneuma conductivity, was still rather¡­ shit.

    So, if he didn''t know what was available, where to find it, or any other critical information, there was only one way Rory could think of to get his hands on a high-grade crafting material, aside from luck favoring fools.

    And that was to make it himself.

    It was an idea that revolved around three factors.

    <ol>

    <li>The trees of this planet were far sturdier than ordinary trees back on Earth, closer to steel than simple wood.</li>

    <li>His Blood Essence could be used to craft higher-quality equipment if his crafting knife was anything to go by.</li>

    <li>He was damn near in a video game, the universe following rules that would be nonsensical anywhere else. Thus, it would likely ''help'' his endeavors, even if, in purely scientific logic, something shouldn''t </li>

    </ol>

    With those elements understood, Rory had decided the best method to obtain reliable, higher-grade material was to forcibly create it. Metal forging and alloying were out of the picture, so a different type of ''alloying'' was needed, the alloying of the natural world.

    Genetics.

    The theory was simple enough. Take a branch from a tree and nurture it into something new.

    Hence, Rory found himself standing before a ''plot'' of land outside his walls, staring at the ground.

    Calling it a ''plot'' of land was a somewhat arbitrary term; there was nothing remarkably different than the rest of the ground around his wall; it just happened to be in a convenient spot near his gate. After deciding where his mad science would take place, Rory drew a rather large circle through the ground, a laborious effort as he dug up the earth, a deep, circular trench in the ground rather than a simple stick through the topmost layer of soil.

    Rory''s first long-term bounded circle needed to be robust and capable of lasting without degradation, unlike his regular bounded circles. Once the trench was dug, Rory''s following week was spent on even more backbreaking effort, dragging large boulders and rocks to his camp, each hundreds of pounds at the lightest. Once the boulders were inside his camp, they were ground into a fine powder. Taking that powder, Rory mixed it with well-dehydrated dirt before adding it into an aisormba solution infused with Blood Essence. With the thick slurry brewed up, Rory filled several clay jars with the particular mix. Using it like a ceramic glaze, Rory set out to paint the sides of the trench with the mix as the sun baked it into the dirt walls and solidified it into a hardened seal.

    A full two weeks from when he''d set out on his work, Rory wiped the sweat from his brow, examining the circle in the earth.

    Good. It''s held up so far.

    Of course, it hadn''t been exposed to any actual Pneuma yet. Still, first and foremost, ensuring it could withstand the regular forces of nature was essential before he even thought of adding magical stuff into the mix.

    Satisfied with his progress, Rory began working on the next part of the project.

    Which involved even more lugging of boulders, something Rory''s lower back loved.

    Within his camp, Rory spent days chiseling the boulders until they looked almost like tombstones, twelve in total. Of the twelve, nine had the same rune, Stability. The last three sets were split into three unique versions. One was inscribed with the Absorption rune, one with Energy, and the last with the Earth rune. Planting the three unique Wardstones -Something Rory had started to call them- at three equidistance points of the trench, he followed it up by installing the remaining nine Stability Wardstones, three per section between the main Wardstones. Much like the trench was meant to be a more permanent version of a bounded circle, the Wardstones were more permanent guiding runes for the enhanced bounded circle. Furthermore, the entire system was more modular due to their nature of being inscribed upon a moveable piece of obsidian; he could swap them out if he ever figured out a better rune or way to design the layout.

    Now, three weeks after he had started, Rory could finally begin working on the more mystical aspect of his project.

    Well, almost. There was still the matter of creating the nutritional base for his experiment, which ultimately devolved into hunting weaker monsters wherever he could, bringing them back to camp, and promptly mushing them into a rather disgusting paste that he added into a barrel that had been surprisingly quick to fashion.

    Also added to the barrel were the standard organic matter that someone might add to a composting bin, such as leaves, plants, etc. Now the proud owner of the world''s most offensive compost, Rory set about fashioning a regular bound circle. Once that was done, all that was needed was to place the barrel within the bound circle, add a rune for passive Pneuma absorption, and leave it to magically ripen over two days. During that time, Rory put in his best farmer impression as he rotated and tilled the soil within his plot outside his walls.

    When he wasn''t breaking his back as he labored over his project preparation, Rory also worked on a small experiment, testing how long it would take for specific materials to ''charge'' with Pneuma when inscribed with an absorption rune. With that knowledge, he whittled down what looked almost like a flute with a hollow needle at the end. Every thirty-six hours, it would passively fill with enough Pneuma to activate another inscribed rune.

    Perfect.

    With his monster-mash compost ''ripened,'' Rory dragged it out to his growing plot outside his walls, tipping the barrel into the hole he''d dug, mixing it with the rest of the soil.

    Plot prepared, Rory had several days to let everything settle. During that time, he began work on another part of the rather extensive project. Taking what little remained of his metal, he used a rune-inscribed bound circle to flash-melt the material, pouring it into several small molds, four of his runes. His runes of choice this time were Absorption, Wood, Energy, and Accelerate. He had considered Stability, but unlike his bound circle, which needed to remain stable for long periods, these would be used for something inherently wanting to encourage change, the very opposite of Stability. Once the molds had cooled, Rory carved a tiny indent atop the four metal runes, just large enough to fit a blood essence bead. Satisfied, he then stuck them into the dirt of the four cardinal points of the circle.

    Whether they were actually the cardinal points, Rory had no idea, but in his mind, they were, and that was good enough.

    "Almost there," Rory muttered after placing the metal runes within his bound circle. Weeks of work, and he was almost there.

    Analyzing the plot greeted Rory with the confirmation of his thoughts.

    ???-Blood Focused

    Status: Inactive

    A passive ritual formation intended to enhance, aid, and accelerate the growth rate of plant life within. Created to nurture trees primarily, the ??? may be used in growing any plant life should it meet the required growth standards. This ??? has been nurtured with life and blood essence-infused soil.

    "Hah, forgot to give it a name." Rory chuckled. "How about¡­ Right, got it."

    Flora Cradle-Blood Focused

    Status: Inactive

    A passive ritual formation intended to enhance, aid, and accelerate the growth rate of plant life within. Created to nurture trees primarily, the Flora Cradle may be used in growing any plant life should it meet the required growth standards. This Flora Cradle has been nurtured with life and blood essence-infused soil.

    It took only a split second for his interface to update as Rory contemplated the name for the ritual formation.

    "You know, ''ritual'' has some rather negative connotations," Rory muttered to no one in particular as he once more read over the description of his project resulting from weeks of effort.

    Though I guess it fits the definition¡­ Eh, it''s not like there is anyone here to judge anyway.

    Running inside his camp, he returned only seconds later with the branch he''d scavenged weeks back, kept alive and healthy, partially submerged in his pond. In his other hand were several tiny red beads, his flute-like tool he''d made, and a small flask-like container filled with a slurry of blood, aisormba, and ground Jackalope Antlers.

    First, Rory entered the Flora Cradle and, without any fanfare, stuck the branch into the direct center of the soil, nowhere near as violently gory as when he''d first spread his hell compost. Next, he jammed the flute-like tool into the soil before pouring the contents of the small flask into it. Jabbed into the earth as it was, it would release a small amount of the slurry every thirty-six hours into the soil near the branch''s base. With those tasks taken care of, Rory placed a single blood essence bead into each metal rune he''d partially buried within the large, bounded circle.

    One last step.

    Standing in the ritual formation, all that remained was to kickstart the entire thing, which simply required manually gathering Pneuma within the bound circle. Rubbing at his head, Rory grimaced.

    I sure do love giving myself headaches.

    <hr>

    Two hours and migraine later, Rory stepped out of the ring. The air inside felt as if it had been buzzing with static electricity. Once out of the ring, Rory examined the entire thing again.

    Flora Cradle-Blood Focused

    Status: Active

    A passive ritual formation intended to enhance, aid, and accelerate the growth rate of plant life within. Created to nurture trees primarily, the Flora Cradle may be used in growing any plant life should it meet the required growth standards. This Flora Cradle has been nurtured with life and blood essence-infused soil.

    "Finally."

    It had been a month-long labor of effort, an effort that would hopefully reward Rory with valuable, higher-tier materials that didn''t require hours of travel to locate.

    All he had to do was wait.

    Feeling proud, Rory was still staring at the entire thing when suddenly, his body was inundated with electricity. The static buzzing through him dissipated only seconds later, as if he''d remembered to pull his finger out of an electrical outlet.

    What the hell?

    Surprised and somewhat nervous, Rory opened his interface, expecting a sudden hit to his Physique. Instead, he was taken aback by a sight he hadn''t expected.

    "Holy hell." Rory whistled. His progress to A5 had just jumped ten percent in a single moment.

    "That''s right." Rory snapped his fingers after a moment. "I forgot about that."

    Creating things was another way to gain ascension energy. The more profound the creation, the more Energy could be achieved. Usually, it was just so insignificant that it was almost unnoticeable. His railguns, for example, basically gave no ascension energy, and he hadn''t crafted anything else of significance since.

    This formation ritual, though? It had taken a month of hard labor, and not just that, it was likely the first creation of its kind, rewarding a fat chunk of Energy.

    "Well, I appreciate it," Rory said, sighing with relief. A month spent barely hunting any monsters, regardless of how weak they might be, was a month of no ascension progress.

    In truth, Rory was almost surprised that there hadn''t been any notifications yet of someone reaching A5. He had half figured that such an achievement would be met by-

    Minor Law establishment earned:

    Achieved the first tier five Ascension. Minor Law established: Level classification implemented.

    "Well, what are the chances of that?" Rory muttered as he took in the sudden surprise intrusion by his interface declaring a new Minor Law. Rory wasn''t surprised to see that someone had reached tier five; with his triumph over wave ten and his ritual creation, he was fifty percent of the way there himself. For any of the more successful founders, they had likely been closing in on the goal themselves.

    New thought: What the hell is a level classification?

    Suddenly curious, Rory opened his interface, glancing toward his Ascension tier.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "A4- Level 45." Rory scratched his chin as he read the new addition. "Okay, less complicated than I expected."

    Level forty-five coincidentally matched that he was a tier four and fifty percent of his way to tier five. Looking at it, he was reminded of something Eon''s Avatar had explained: how, later on, the attributes gained from an ascension would be spread throughout a tier and not upfront. It hadn''t come into play yet, but he was beginning to wonder just when it might become a problem to consider.

    Ignoring that, at least the established law is easy enough to understand.

    It was a rather odd thing to use a Minor Law for, but who was Rory to judge?

    "You know, I wonder if monsters get levels as well? Actually, who am I kidding? Of course, they probably do."

    No longer caring about the sudden addition of levels, Rory returned to the reality that someone had reached tier five, level fifty. Part of him wanted to feel frustrated, but if there was one thing he was beginning to understand more with each Ascension, it was that damn did it take some time. With each Ascension taking ten times as much energy and higher tier beasts not giving anywhere close to ten times as much Ascension energy, the time between tiers could already be measured in months. If it took him another six months to reach tier five, it would likely take years from the start of tier five to six.

    "Hey, Aelia, you there?" Rory suddenly questioned the trees.

    Seconds passed with nothing happening, and beginning to believe she either hadn''t noticed or was choosing not to respond, Rory began to push the question forming in his mind aside until a rustle of leaves and a gentle breeze spilled through the clearing, the signature sign of Aelia''s arrival.

    "Architect. It''s been a bit since you last called me directly."

    "Been busy." Rory shrugged. "Was preparing for wave ten and all that."

    "Yes, for which you have my congratulations." Aelia gave him a short curtsy.

    "Yeah, well, thanks for helping Eon throw a super monster at me." Rory snorted. "Didn''t almost die or anything."

    "If you''re aware of the nature of how the Iasilisk came to be, then you must also surely know it was never going to kill you." Aelia rolled her eyes, blowing leaf-like hair out of her eyes. "I must also say, I''m pleased that you''ve decided to put down those damn abominations of yours. Struggle leads to growth, and you weren''t struggling with those."

    "Glad you approve," Rory grunted. "It was that or never gain ascension energy again for as long as I live, which is part of why I called you in the first place."

    "Oh?" Her eyebrows rose, curious.

    "Yeah, it occurred to me that I''ve been here for months now. I have spoken to you occasionally, but otherwise, I''ve been by myself. It''s well understood, at least for humans, that as pack animals, we tend to lose our minds when alone for too long. So, why don''t I seem all that bothered?"

    "Oh, a simple answer, really." The world spirit said. "Your racial improvement."

    "Really?"

    "Yes," Aelia confirmed. "I''d suspect that your race improvements are free-form. They attempt to shore up your biggest weaknesses first. In the case of humans, if you lost your minds because of your isolation, that wouldn''t be of much use for you, would it?"

    "No, I guess not. How would it know, though?"

    "Same as everything, it''s handled partly on the backend by E.O.N. That flaw of human characteristics is likely well understood, and thus, it was likely one of the very first things addressed upon your first few ascensions."

    "Nifty," Rory said. As much as he would have liked to have taken credit for being mentally strong, claiming credit for something that wasn''t his own doing wasn''t his style.

    "Anything else?" Aelia asked, looking at Rory as if she was nearing the end of some scheduled meeting.

    "Sure. What level are you?" Rory questioned.

    "Ahh, I''m assuming that''s in response to the Minor Law created moments ago by the First Monk."

    "First Monk¡­? Oh, is that the Vocation of someone else on the planet? I thought we all got Precursor vocations?"

    "No, and while I don''t intend to disclose their information, I can at least confirm that not all of my founders received Precursor vocations, though you do all have some variety of ''Frontier'' style vocations, first of your kind as you are."

    "Nifty," Rory repeated. "So, your level?"

    "I don''t have one, " Aelia shrugged. "If I did, it wouldn''t reflect your levels, as I tier up much slower than those who live upon my surface."

    "Don''t you have things living beneath the surface as well?"

    "Figure of speech." The world spirit sighed. "Now, again, I will ask, is there anything else you need?"

    "No, not really." Rory shook his head.

    "Well then, I will be taking my leave. Oh, and I wish you the best of luck with your project. I look forward to seeing its results very much."

    The World Spirit vanished before Rory could say anything else, only the gentle breeze reminder that she was ever there.

    Does she always need to have the last word?

    Sighing, Rory crossed his arms, a chill in the air.

    The seasons on this planet are weird. We''ve been in this in-between season for months now. Not that I mind; I don''t want to shovel snow, assuming snow still exists.

    Thoughts of snow aside, Rory found himself thinking about what Aelia had said and how she looked forward to the fruits of his project.

    As was Rory. Except, there was one issue. An issue that, in his excitement to finish his project, Rory hadn''t thought about much.

    Just how long will it take for the damned thing to grow in the first place?

    It wasn''t as if Rory hadn''t considered the growth rate of trees at all; he wasn''t that much of an idiot. That was why he had acceleration runes to speed it along. The issue was that trees could take years, if not decades, to grow. Even with acceleration runes, what was to say it still wouldn''t take months or years?

    That in itself was a rather significant problem. Until Rory had his hands on a stronger bow, he was unwilling to adventure much further out than he already had; the experience with the Iasilisk had seen to that. Tier eight beasts might not wander the planet''s surface, but tier six and seven? An encounter with such a high-level monster could end him; he had no combat skills and a vocation devoid of combat focus. Even bringing a railgun with him for security wasn''t the best plan, given he still hadn''t found a feasible method to store and drain Pneuma quickly.

    Vocations¡­ Man, I wonder if the others are having an easier time with vocations that are useful.

    Alright, his Vocation wasn''t useless, but it hadn''t done much more for him outside of crafting. Its main benefit was that the Vocation was the source of several of his crafting-related skills.

    Or is it?

    Rory was struck still, turning the thought over in his mind,

    Perhaps even without the Vocation, I would have been offered those skills with all the crafting I was doing. I just never really thought about it much.

    Curious, Rory opened his interface, re-examining his information. He mulled over his thoughts and stared at his Title, of all things.

    Title: Genie''s Apprentice

    Through repeated bending of the rules to fit the Titleholder''s needs, the Titleholder has been recognized as a potential source of uncertainty. Grants one Reinterpretation before incurring a one-year cooldown.

    "Reinterpretation¡­ now that''s a curious idea."

    His prior thoughts of questioning the nature of his Vocation, or Vocations in general, were still brewing in his mind when he was suddenly reminded of something he had been told by Aelia.

    "¡­While your creation of Eon was unexpected and threw an entire wrench into my understanding of everything, I won''t deny it has merits after I had time to consider it. I took the time to contact Eon, and we worked together to develop the equivalent of the Settlement system that sapiens can use¡­"

    "Right, she never mentioned using a law, major or minor, to work with Eon." Rory mused.

    So, could I do the same? Also, how did I remember what she said so perfectly?

    Rory brushed the second thought aside, a stray thought distracting from his actual question.

    You know, this is a perfect chance to test something out.

    Tapping his interface several times, he soon had a new screen brought up.

    Reinterpretation

    Cooldown: Ready

    Apply: Y/N

    Clicking on the yes option, Rory didn''t even have time to breathe. One moment, he was standing in his camp; the next, he was in the familiar void of space, standing in front of a table where a familiar nondescript galaxy being was seated across from him.

    Wait, something''s different.

    Furrowing his brow, Rory stared at Eon''s Avatar, trying to make sense of it until it clicked.

    There, on its face ordinarily devoid of any markings, two slits, barely perceptible, had appeared where eyes might be on a human.

    Changes on a strange cosmic being, the closest thing I''ve ever known to a god. Hmm, not sure I want to question it.

    While pretending he hadn''t seen anything, Rory silently pulled a seat from the table before sitting opposite Eon''s Avatar.

    "Yes?" The Avatar finally asked after several moments of silence.

    "Oh, I thought you knew why I was here."

    "Interpretations are not the same as conclusive possibilities." The galaxy-being shook its head.

    Wait, that''s weird. Usually, it gets hung up when it''s called a ''you'' or something like that.

    Once more, pretending he hadn''t noticed anything off, Rory broached the subject.

    "Right, well, so uh, this Reinterpretation, it can, like, let me change rules or something?"

    "Incorrect. You can petition for a potential re-evaluation of established rules, but that does not mean you can forcibly change rules. For example, with enough accumulated Major Laws, you may be capable of stripping Eon from everything. Still, as time passes, the number of Laws you would need to use all at once would increase exponentially as it spends more time intertwined with reality. A Reinterpretation would not allow for even the possibility of such an outcome."

    I think I just learned something valuable by accident.

    Mentally filing the information about being able to save up and use multiple laws together, Rory pressed on.

    "Right, that''s not my intention, so no harm. What I was curious about is Vocations."

    The Avatar said nothing, prompting Rory to continue.

    "Right, so what exactly do vocations even do? I''ve got skills not gained from my Vocation, such as bow skills. So, what does it do other than maybe weigh the options offered?"

    The Avatar was silent for another few seconds before it began to speak, the words transmitted even without any apparent speaking organs.

    "Vocation parameters are based on individual characteristics including but not limited to past achievements, personality, and other variables. Skills gained are influenced but not predetermined by a Vocation, and skills may be gained outside the realm of a Vocation. Vocation-aligned skills will be obtained at a higher rate of efficiency."

    "So, it doesn''t really have benefits outside of slanting your options."

    "Correct, Vocations are meant as tools, not limitations, deemed the most efficient way to promote growth without limiting options in a long-term scope."

    "But, what if, oh, I don''t know, they could do more?" I offered.

    "Denied. Vocation-locked skills are unnecessarily binding and restrictive of growth."

    "No, that''s not what I meant." I shook the comment off. "Well, I''m not sure what I meant, but I know it wasn''t that. So, what if instead, Vocations could, I don''t know, have a way to change and alter how you utilize skills potentially?"

    Rory was throwing anything out there. In truth, the meeting was just a way of testing how Reinterpretation could be used. Still, Rory didn''t want to walk away empty-handed, with nothing to show for his effort. After all, a year-long cooldown on Reinterpretation was rather steep for no gain.

    The Avatar remained silent, considering his words for several seconds before slowly nodding, a typically human reaction that was bizarrely alien when done by a galaxy-person devoid of any features.

    "Potential exists. Propositions may be offered."

    Rory scrambled his brain as he was suddenly put on the spot. He hadn''t played that many video games; thus, his inspirations were limited. Furthermore, Rory was a far cry from a game designer; such creative ideas weren''t typically something he was familiar with. Shrugging, Rory finally gave up, sticking with the first thing he thought of.

    "What about something like a favorite function? Have a skill you like or want to alter to align more with your nature? You ''favorite'' it, and it changes to be closer to your Vocation. Don''t like it? Undo it. Or something." Rory shrugged again, trying to deflect responsibility for creative conceptualizations on the cosmic pseudo-deity instead.

    The Avatar was silent, the surefire sign it was processing and extrapolating upon an unknown number of models, simulating possibilities.

    Or so Rory assumed. It was easier for Rory to think of the Avatar of Eon -and E.O.N itself- like some vast magical supercomputing Ai.

    "Proposition is limited, but not without merit. In the initial iteration, such Reinterpretation would be denied. Would the Architect consent to modifications?"

    "Um, sure?" Rory answered, uncertain.

    The Avatar nodded, seconds again passing before it spoke.

    "Potential avenue for reinterpretation and Vocation system modification modeled. Vocation Testaments."

    On command, a screen appeared before Rory.

    *For model purposes only, exact details are a work in progress.

    Vocation Testaments

    Every pursuit must be enshrined and uplifted by core tenants and pillars. By accomplishing deeds of Significance, Vocation Testaments may be unlocked, allowing the enshrinement of said tenants and pillars. Skills, abilities, and other similar things may be enshrined as a Testament, allowing alterations and alignment shifts to become unified with a Vocation.

    0/10 Testament slots used.

    "Huh. Nifty." Rory murmured as he took in the text. It was perhaps a bit too flowery in language for his taste. Still, if one parsed through the superfluous language, it basically meant that you could unlock slots that skills and abilities could be placed into that would then ''change'' with time. Rory had no idea how that change worked, but the base understanding of the system was there.

    "Does the Architect approve?" Eon''s Avatar questioned.

    "Just about. Um, quick question: what exactly does the Testament stuff look like?"

    Instantly, the screen was updated. Underneath the text were now what looked like ten marble columns surrounding an altar of a burning flame. Five of the ten looked as if they were made of shadows, whereas the other five had a plaque attached. Curious, Rory clicked on one as the entire image shifted, focusing on the plaque.

    Oh? Eon''s outdoing itself with the fancy interface stuff.

    The plaque had a rather easy-to-read but stylistic text inscribed.

    Vocation Testament #1

    Status: Locked

    Prerequisite: Craft a Rare artifact, weapon, or other artisan-related object.

    "Is every Testament the same per vocation, or would it change based on the Vocation?"

    "The Latter." The Avatar responded.

    "Fair. I doubt some combat-focused Vocation would enjoy being forced to craft."

    Still curious, Rory clicked off from the first pillar. The interface zoomed out, and Rory tapped on one of the shadow pillars.

    Vocation Testament #6

    Status: Unknown

    Prerequisite: ???

    "So, you''re only clued in on what five of the ten Testaments demand? Any specific reason for that?" Rory questioned.

    "Growth mindset." The Avatar said as if it were obvious.

    "Fair," Rory repeated. Rubbing at his chin, he finally nodded. "Yeah, I think this all looks good."

    "With Architect confirmation, Reinterpretation shall be implemented." Eon''s Avatar added.

    "Yes, got it. We''re good." Rory announced.

    "Reinterpretation implemented."

    Instantly, his interface flickered, the iconic spinning circle signifying a system update appearing as a message flickered.

    Vocation Testament''s System Implemented.

    Now that Eon isn''t called the ''System,'' all these talks of systems are so much less convoluted and confusing. I wish I could thank whoever changed the name.

    After completing the update, Rory quickly found the new tab in his interface. Technically, his interface presented itself mainly based on how Rory felt it should appear. If another person were to open their interface, it would appear different from that of someone else, perhaps with no tabs whatsoever.

    Focus.

    Rory promptly dismissed the thought, annoyed by his easily wandering mind.

    Taking in the new tab, it looked exactly like the model shown by Eon''s Avatar. His first five Testament pillars were reasonably straightforward; one would be unlocked for the first creation of any tiered item, rare or higher. Specifically, it listed Rare, Master, Extreme, Legendary, and Mythical.

    So, I suspect those are the ranks above Uncommon. Or maybe there are even more beyond, but that''s the highest the Prerequisites go for the base five Testaments.

    Unfortunately for Rory, he''d yet to craft anything of the Rare tier, and none of the initial five Testaments were fulfilled.

    Fortunately for Rory, one of the shadowy pillars suddenly lit up.

    Vocation Testament #8

    Status: Unknown

    Prerequisite: ???

    --->

    Vocation Testament #8

    Status: Unlocked

    Prerequisite: Create, establish, or form something truly unique.

    "Well, damn." Rory whistled before looking at the Avatar. "So, I''m assuming-"

    "For the creation of the former System, now E.O.N, the Architect has unveiled and unlocked a Veiled Testament."

    "Nifty," Rory said, staring at the lone active pillar. "So, uh, I can just¡­ put something there?"

    "Will it, and it shall occur."

    Taking a moment to glance through his few skills, Rory opted for his newest granted skill.

    Essence Spark

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world of the trades. Essence comes in varying forms.

    <u>Essence Affinities: Blood</u>

    --->

    Essence Spark**

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world of the trades. Essence comes in varying forms.

    <u>Essence Affinities: Blood</u>

    "I''m assuming the stars refer to ''Enshrined,'' or am I mistaken?" Rory questioned the Avatar.

    "The Architect is correct."

    "So¡­ now what?"

    "That will require exploration by the Architect."

    Par for the course.

    "With the successful creation and usage of Testaments, the Architect has utilized their allotted Reinterpretation. Do continue to have success."

    And just like that, Rory was blinking the surprise from his eyes, back in reality.

    No, I was never gone, to begin with; that was all happening in some weird metaphysical space connected to my mind.

    Sighing, Rory plopped down near his fire.

    "Well, talk about a hell of a sidetrack."

 24. Ronin

    Rory sat in his camp, staring at his interface, specifically taking in his Testaments. Part of him hoped that the shadowed-out pillars would hint at what was needed to unlock them if he stared long enough.

    Sighing, Rory finally dismissed the interface.

    I have bigger things to consider anyway.

    With his first active Testament, Rory had hoped for a noticeable change. Still, attempts at using Essence Spark primarily resulted in the same effect.

    All I know is that it ''changes'' the skill to somehow align more with the ''concept'' of my vocation. So, how exactly does that work?

    "Hmm, maybe that''s the issue," Rory said, stretching his arms overhead as he stared upward into the sky, watching the suns pass. The season had changed, but it wasn''t a season he was familiar with. It reminded him of an early fall or winter morning when the dew clung to the grass and leaves, wet but not humid, cold but not frosty.

    Except on Earth, it only lasted for the early morning hours before the sun would dry the dew or the cold would freeze it over. Here, amongst the orange-clad trees, that morning temperament never ceased.

    Better than snow.

    Putting thoughts of the climate aside, Rory returned his thoughts to his new potential avenue of insight.

    "I''ve been trying to test Essence Spark in a vacuum, but maybe the effects will only show if I''m actively using it in a real project?"

    The Rory who had just appeared on the planet would have questioned how that was possible and how it could distinguish the difference. Now, the thought didn''t even cross his mind.

    Alright, a new project then, perhaps a small-scale project.

    He was still working on his new type of tree, but it would take time¡ªperhaps another week or two at the earliest¡ªbefore he could check the changes, if there were any.

    A project¡­ Hmm¡­

    For someone with the Vocational Title of "Architect," Rory struggled to develop any new ideas. He was still severely short on quality materials; the only abundant things he had were wood, obsidian, and the dirt beneath his feet.

    Trying to upgrade his knife was likely futile; it was already made of the highest-quality materials he could obtain and was still more than sufficient for every task he had encountered.

    Much like his knife, Weaponry had similar material quality issues.

    Most of his camp ''buildings'' were about as modernized as he could get them. Whenever he had an idea or modification, he''d typically handle it right away; it was not like there was much else to distract him.

    The Essence Spire was still something he simply did not want to mess with if he could avoid it.

    His clothes were¡­ well, a disaster. However, the issue there was simply that he was still attached to what remained of his earthen threads, even if, at this point, they were something like eighty percent leather and hide and only twenty percent their original make.

    He had his beast core that he could do something with. Still, Rory wanted to wait before he started any projects with said core; after all, it would likely be a long time before he got his hands on another core derived from a tier eight monster. When he used the core, it had better be for something good.

    "So, that leaves me¡­ what exactly?" Rory pondered.

    Thinking about it for some time, Rory finally snapped his fingers.

    "I got it!"

    Getting up in a hurry, Rory found an isolated space within his camp. Then, grabbing a shovel he''d made some time back, he began digging up the soil and turning it over.

    Sometimes, I feel like my vocation should be called ''Glorified hard labor of the Precursors'' rather than ''Architect.''

    Digging the soil until satisfied, Rory grabbed a large jar from his home filled with ground-up obsidian powder. Pouring it out into the dug-up soil, Rory got down on his hands and knees and began mixing it by hand. The entire time he did, he channeled Essence Spark. He had discovered something somewhat unintended about the skill while he''d been exploring what he had been altered by placing it within one of his testaments. He found that Essence Spark could be ''set'' to what Rory imagined was a ''low'' setting. Dialed down, its toll on him was far less severe, making it perfect for a larger project where he wanted the same amount of essence but evenly distributed.

    Such as what he was doing now.

    After finishing up, more heavily exhausted than such simple labor should have caused given his now solidly superhuman capabilities, Rory stood up, wiping at his brow.

    "I wish there was a vitality attribute because, god damn, does Essence Spark exhaust me."

    Technically, there was durability, which fit the bill, but it didn''t change Rory''s annoyance at how exhausted he was.

    No point complaining.

    Not finished, Rory grabbed another jar and filled it from the pond where his Essence Spire grew. It was a lucky thing the pond replenished itself nearly constantly, or he would have run out months ago. Taking the water-like liquid, Rory dumped it into the patch of land he''d just been working on before settling onto his hands and knees and mixing it by hand again.

    Once that was done, he grabbed several logs he''d chopped and stored within his camp and quickly worked them into planks using his crafting knife. Once that was done, he planted the planks around the mud patch like a vegetable box. Grabbing his shovel and a spare plank, Rory leveled the mud off, almost as flat as a sidewalk. Examining it, he nodded to himself once before drawing a circle around the entire thing, filling it with Pneuma, which took him over an hour. Scribbling several runes into the earth next to the ring, Rory finally activated it; the Pneuma quickly exhausted as the air within the ring heated up by several hundred degrees, and the mud solidified into hardened clay.

    Satisfied that the clay was hard enough to walk on without damaging it or leaving footprints, Rory then walked to the center of the large clay tile, drilling a small hole directly in the center, before once more using Essence Spark, this time using it at max output, as he soon held a concentrated blood gem. Planting it like one might plant a seed, Rory repeated the same process at each of the four corners, waiting half an hour in between while he recovered from the drain of using Essence Spark.

    While using Essence Spark, Rory noticed something: a change of sorts. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but something felt different as he used the skill, a type of¡­. Depth that hadn''t been there on prior uses.

    Strange.

    Having forgotten the project''s original purpose, which was to test the changes to Essence Spark, Rory ignored it and focused entirely on his project. Burying five concentrated blood gems, Rory quickly began linking them together. Once they were connected via small channels, Rory then covered them with thin strips of wood that he sliced off from his logs with his knife as quickly as cutting through paper.

    Almost done.

    With the concentrated blood gems and channels now laid into the clay tile, Rory plastered a thin layer of clay solution over it, drying it out with the bounded circle he''d drawn earlier. Concentrated blood gems and channels now hidden, Rory carved runes all throughout the tile, repeated inscriptions of stability, earth and absorption. Plastering over them, Rory finalized the top layer, a square of clay that he precisely carved a circle within, channeling Essence Spark on low as he did.

    I''m not sure if Essence Spark works like that when all I''m doing is carving into something, but it''s for testing purposes.

    Standing back from the clay tile, he thought of a shotput ring one might find at high schools or colleges with track teams.

    If you didn''t know better, you''d think it''s precisely what this ring is.

    Blasting the entire thing one final time with Pneuma-generated heat, Rory finally analyzed it.

    <u>Permanent Bound Circle Formation</u>

    <u>Status: Active</u>

    A simple bound circle formation meant to exist in perpetuity that slowly draws in latent Pneuma to reinforce and galvanize the entire structure. Passively stabilizes excess essence and Pneuma run-off due to Foundational-Aspected essence conduits.

    "Foundational what now?" Rory muttered as he examined the description. He was happy that his project had worked; he''d used his experience with his prior ritual formation as inspiration for the permanent bound circle, but that didn''t take away from his surprise at the last little tidbit of info within the description.

    Oh, wait. That''s right. I was doing this to test Essence Spark on an actual project.

    Curious once more, Rory pulled the information on the skill.

    <u>Essence Spark**</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low</u>

    Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world pivotal to the arts. Essence comes in varying forms.

    <u>Essence Affinities: Blood</u>

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    --->

    <u>Foundational Essence Spark</u>

    <u>Rarity: Rare. Skill Level: Inexperienced</u>

    Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world pivotal to the arts. Essence comes in varying forms. Due to the effects of Testament Enshrinement, all essence gains a passive bonus affinity toward Foundational concepts.

    <u>Essence Affinities: Blood, Foundation*</u>

    "Huh." Rory could only mutter, letting all the changes sink in at once.

    First, the skill had quite literally evolved, gaining a rank in rarity in the process. Second, his skill level had increased, or at least he assumed that ''inexperienced'' was a rank above low. Third, he''d gained a second essence affinity. Or he sort of gained a second affinity. It was directly stated as a passive bonus, not exactly a true second affinity.

    "Alright, so, most importantly," Rory found himself pacing and muttering as he thought it through. "The hell is a ''Foundational'' concept and affinity?"

    Blood essence was reasonably straightforward. It was an essence that directly drew from his vitality, a concept common in many video games, books, and movies.

    But ''Foundational'' essence? That was far more abstract.

    Well, it must originate from my Vocation, obviously. So¡­ maybe I''m not thinking about this literally enough?

    He''d been trying to parse it as some abstract concept, but maybe that was the problem. As fancy as it was with the entire ''Of the Precursors'' tagline, his vocation was still at its core, Architect.

    And what was a significant component of any architecture?

    The foundation.

    "I guess it''s something akin to my stability rune?" Rory finally mused, puffing out an exhausted breath. "I don''t know why it doesn''t just call it stability then, unless there is some distinction somewhere. Bah, I guess it can only be determined through more testing."

    Confused and exhausted, Rory finally shrugged his shoulders. He''d used Essence Spark enough times that even though it wasn''t that late into the afternoon, Rory still felt he could pass out for a day straight.

    Intending to do just that, Rory clambered into his moss bed, gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back for a day of successes, and promptly passed out.

    <hr>

    Elsewhere

    "Stupid bastard," Allison muttered, staring at her screen. Ten pillars, columns, whatever you wanted to call them, sat there, taunting her.

    A gift from the Architect. Bah.

    It had happened only a short time ago, a sudden interface update and then boom, an entirely new feature to their vocations, the addition of "Testaments" that could augment their abilities and skills.

    Five of her pillars were clearly outlined with their requirements

    Slay a monster level one hundred or above.

    Slay a monster level one hundred and fifty or above.

    Slay a monster level two hundred or above.

    Slay a Territory Alpha solo.

    Slay a Dungeon Boss solo.

    Of the five known pillars, one she''d accomplished already was the Territory Alpha. It had been an abso-fucking-lutely brutal fight. The monster was also a tier five, a powerful variant; she''d only been tier four then. It had managed to corner against a cliff face, so there was no running, and she''d been forced to throw everything she had at it, but she had won and even earned a minor law in the process.

    She wouldn''t deny that she was happy it had retroactively counted for one of her Testaments, but looking at the other four was unnerving. A level one hundred, A.K.A, a tier ten monster. The way levels worked was that they correlated to tier and progress. For example, she was a tier five, level fifty-five. In the early tiers, where all ascension benefits were gained instantly, there wasn''t a difference between level fifty and level fifty-nine, at least from an attribute standpoint, but that would change further down the road.

    The same couldn''t be said for monsters. If one compared to tier five monsters, the difference between a level fifty and fifty-five monster would be drastic.

    Not only that, but their levels didn''t operate the same as humans and other intelligent life. Again, it was less noticeable with lower-tier monsters where the changes were less significant. Still, generally speaking, monsters were a tier below their true strength. It was entirely from the fact that humans, or other sapiens, started at tier one, level ten. In contrast, monsters started at level one at the earliest.

    What would children start as? Allison briefly pondered.

    Using her own personal experiences, she''d managed to determine much about levels and tiers as they related to monsters. With her Vocation and combat-oriented skills, she''d been capable of handling ''strong'' monsters early on. Now that she was halfway through tier five, she was starting to see things change. A level Fifty-eight monster was something like twice as strong as a level fifty-three; each tier or ascension seemed to have a more significant impact on attributes, each attribute'' point'' counted for more, and thus monsters, who grew stronger with each level rather than a single big jump per ascension, were entirely misleading once you were into the mid-fifties.

    All that was to say, staring at the Testaments and their requirements, she only groaned as she thought about what it was asking her to do.

    You''d have to be around tier eleven, or toward the end of tier ten, to handle a tier ten monster.

    Sure, the Architect wasn''t specifically at fault for that. It wasn''t as if he had done anything to impact her negatively, but having such brazen demands put in front of her shook her, at least a little.

    So, what now?

    Battles were becoming more difficult, and it wasn''t just because the monsters were growing more powerful at a frightening rate; there was also the fact that her gear wasn''t up to par. She''d been magically gifted items a few times as a reward for clearing a wave here or there, and it was only from those that she had managed to keep up her current pace.

    I should probably thank Aelia for that.

    The world spirit''s advice to return to the settlement had led her to replace her most recent spear after she''d managed to fend off yet another wave of monsters. She wasn''t sure how Eon magically poofed an item into existence, but it sure was handy.

    Because her ability to make stuff? Well, frankly speaking, it was crap. Before everything had gone to shit and the universe exploded, she''d never been much for artsy-craftsy stuff; training to take the fight against an alien race trying to commit universal genocide often precluded much knitting. Still, even as a kid, her hobbies had primarily revolved around physical tests of strength. She''d been rather frail as a young child, and overcoming that had been hell, but it had pushed her into the roughneck she was now.

    Even if Dad never exactly approved.

    The point was that the limit of her ability to craft new weapons or gear was taking a suitable-looking branch or stick, sharpening it, and then murdering enough things until she could salvage their body parts into a slightly better spear, rinse, and repeat.

    Which sounded great and self-sufficient until the weapons she made from the body parts of monsters were no longer sturdy enough to survive more than a few fights.

    Hence, why she struggled so much as she stared at her Testaments.

    What skill should I enshrine?

    The "Obvious" choice would be Descender''s Spear. A skill that harmonized everything she knew about spear fighting -including what she saw in movies- with what her body could physically do, it allowed for some seriously impressive feats.

    The issue was that she often found herself in fights armed with nothing but her fists nowadays, her body often times physically stronger than her crudely made spears.

    Bet that Architect is having a grand fucking time; he probably has an entire arsenal of fuck off weapons making his life a goddamn breeze. I wish we all had it that easy.

    Ignoring the ranting of her subconscious, Allison instead looked toward one of her newer skills she had picked up not too long after being forced to fight with just her bare hands.

    <u>Vagabond Pugilist</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Following the wayward path of a Vagabond, sometimes even the greatest Spear-master finds themselves empty-handed. Nothing else is as reliable as one''s body when all else fails.

    There was something strangely insulting about the skill. It couldn''t just be a Pugilist; no, it had to be specifically a Vagabond pugilist.

    It''s basically calling me a homeless bum!

    Alright, maybe it wasn''t going that far, but it did seem odd to her that it highlighted the nature of her wandering in the unarmed skill.

    Maybe that''s why it''s uncommon instead of a common rarity. Allison thought to herself, lost in thought.

    Either way, the point of why she was considering the slightly insulting skill was that it wasn''t wrong about her predicament. Sure, she preferred using a spear, but if she needed to fight bare-handed, perhaps enshrining a skill related to bare-handed fighting would benefit her more than enshrining her skill that already revolved around spears. Wasn''t that the point of Testaments and enshrining skills? To bring them more in line with one''s vocation.

    "Or something like that," Allison muttered to herself, not fully remembering exactly the phrasing for how the Testaments were introduced.

    Outside her Descender''s Spear and Vagabond Pugilist, she didn''t have any other skills she considered worth enshrining; they were all so fricken'' generic that she wondered why they were even skills to begin with.

    I mean, really, why do sprinting, hiking, and swimming all have their own dedicated skills?

    Tired of mulling the thoughts over, Allison finally tossed away any attempts at planning her future actions and simply did what felt right. Selecting her choice, she examined the newly enshrined skill.

    <u>Vagabond Pugilist</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Following the wayward path of a Vagabond, sometimes even the greatest Spear-master finds themselves empty-handed. Nothing else is as reliable as one''s body when all else fails.

    --->

    <u>Vagabond Pugilist**</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Following the wayward path of a Vagabond, sometimes even the greatest Spear-master finds themselves empty-handed. Nothing else is as reliable as one''s body when all else fails.

    "That''s¡­ That''s it?" Allison stuttered, half confused, half annoyed. All that thought, all that mental effort, and all that seemed to have changed were now two stars next to the skill name.

    "Fuck." Allison snarled as she swung around, launching her fist into the alien-looking palm tree under which she''d been hiding from the sun. "Fuck." She snarled again as she threw another punch into the tree. "Fuck!"

    Punch after punch resounded as her fists cracked into the bark of the tropic tree, her fists tearing and bleeding. Allison''s explicit snarls never died out; in fact, they grew louder with each resounding thump of her fist against the tree.

    "Fuck."

    Thump.

    "Fuck!"

    Thump.

    "Fuck!"

    Thump.

    Allison wasn''t sure how long she went on until, at last, her body refused to throw another fist. The daylight had a distinct orange glow, signaling the oncoming night. Far more exhausted than she expected, Allison finally opened her skill interface again, wondering if she had missed something.

    Surprisingly, she was met by a far more drastic change than earlier.

    <u>Vagabond Pugilist**</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Following the wayward path of a Vagabond, sometimes even the greatest Spear-master finds themselves empty-handed. Nothing else is as reliable as one''s body when all else fails.

    --->

    <u>Ronin''s Rage</u>

    <u>Rarity: Rare. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    A Vagabond wanders without aim; a Ronin wanders with purpose. While typically armed, they are no less dangerous even without their weapon, rage sharpening their very bodies into weapons of their own.

    "Now, THAT is more what I''m talking about." Allison''s rage was swept away as she took in the more drastic shift. "So, it just needed a proper catalyst to initiate the change, huh?"

    Now, if only it explained what it actually does.

    Shrugging, there was only one way to learn. Reaching inside herself, Allison felt where the skill existed, a strange overlap between muscle memory and some weird mental location. Finding it, she prodded it, ''activating it'' as she prepared for¡­ Well, whatever.

    Aside from a slight warmth in her cheeks, nothing much seemed to happen.

    "What the hell?" Allison growled, annoyance flaring. She had not just finished punching a fucking tree for-

    Fwumph.

    Like a flare ignited, her entire body suddenly felt hot, like a flame raged within her.

    Oh, right, Ronin''s Rage. It''s right in the name.

    Although her sudden annoyance was replaced with excitement, the burning heat within her chest remained; it only needed rage as the spark to light the fire, not sustain it.

    Excited to see what she could do, she turned to the same tree she had been fruitlessly pummeling earlier. Its bark was only partially marred by her fists; it had been vandalized more by her blood staining it than the actual damage of her fists.

    Let''s see how you like me now.

    Throwing a punch, empowered by the burning heat within, for a moment, she felt like she was lashing out with a spear more than her fist. The punch itself didn''t see much faster, if at all, but there was something different about it.

    Well, ignoring the slight red glow around it, that is.

    The fist connected with the bark of the oversized alien-looking palm tree, but it didn''t end there as her fist split through the wood like a nail through, well, wood. Feeling her eyes widen in surprise, Allison pulled her fist back, taking in the sight.

    A hole had been hammered into the tree, roughly as wide as her arm and nearly a foot deep.

    "Well fuck me, that''s something," Allison said with a vicious grin on her face. Ignoring the blood still staining her fists, she cracked them together, glancing upward.

    "Tier ten, here I come."

 25. Results

    Rory paced around, unable to properly utilize his nervous energy.

    "It''s going to be fine." Rory thought to himself, shuffling around. "It totally worked."

    Two weeks had passed since the establishment of Testaments and several weeks since his experiment in botany.

    Botany? Or is it called something else with trees?

    Of course, he was referring to his growth ritual and attempts to raise a new tree species. Judging by its gradual growth, today would be the day when he could hopefully glean something useful from his sprout.

    It''s going to be great.

    Rory totally wasn''t nervous that his first major project would fail and that weeks of effort would be wasted.

    No, not at all.

    Finally tired of nervous pacing, Rory left the walls of his camp and approached his growing site. The small branch shoot was now a full-on sapling. It was hard to judge it compared to other saplings of the Sol''s Glory, given there weren''t any saplings to compare against. He could wander for hours to find one, but it would be easier to examine his sapling with analyze.

    Taking a deep breath, Rory looked at the small sapling as information sprung forward.

    <u>Sol''s Glory (Corrupted-20%)</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon</u>

    Formerly an ordinary Sol''s Glory, it has been slowly corrupted via the influence of Blood Essence, warping and changing the base nature.

    "Alright." Rory let out a deep breath, digesting the information. "It worked¡­ sort of."

    His growing ritual was showing results, though not quite as he intended. Rory had been expecting either all or nothing; either it fully worked or not at all. For whatever reason, Rory hadn''t considered that it would only have a partial effect.

    "Listed as Uncommon rarity, though, unlike standard Sol Glories, which are Mundane ranked, so that''s¡­ a two-tier increase, I think?"

    For only a partial corruption¡ªthe fact that it was being corrupted was only slightly concerning¡ªto have it now listed as an uncommon rarity was quite the increase.

    Will it hit rare at one hundred percent, maybe?

    The next question was, would it continue to progress independently, or would he need to crossbreed it with another corrupted Sol''s Glory to further the effect?

    He had time before deciding his game plan, as it was only a sapling.

    That''s the other problem.

    It had taken weeks to reach the current growth stage, which was incredibly fast compared to a tree''s average growth rate, but it would still take months before he could harvest it.

    So, I need to accelerate its growth, but in another way.

    The easiest solution he could think of would be to undertake another wave, beat it, and then use the gained ascension energy to hopefully upgrade his ritual site.

    That would also require him to face whatever was after wave ten, and if he was familiar at all with video games, he felt reasonably confident the difficulty would spike; breakpoints tended to work that way.

    Hell, all I would need is another Iaslisk appearing, then I''d be screwed.

    So, attempting another wave was out of the picture for some time. Rory could try to upgrade his ritual manually, but he hadn''t expanded his runes or knowledge that much since he''d first made it. Sure, he had access to a better Essence Spark, but it wasn''t just a blanket skill for upgrading things; it had to be applied feasibly. Saturating soil with Blood Essence? Sure. Adding a spark of essence to a freshly crafted item? Wonderful. Adding Blood Essence to something that has already been crafted for some time?

    No dice.

    Well, I do have one idea.

    It''s just that he wasn''t super fond of it. Some of his recent endeavors had trended toward a rather¡­ grisly direction.

    But, in theory, it should work¡­ right?

    His theory was based on classic literature, movies, and games, but considering the universe''s rules now were basically "Seen it in a game? Cool, sounds like a plan then." Rory had some degree of confidence that it would work.

    And what exactly was the theory he was struggling with?

    Blood sacrifices, of course.

    He already had a blueprint in mind, an idle thought that had slowly expanded one day. It had been born from thoughts about how monsters seemed to grow stronger, fighting and consuming one another. Between that and his own Blood affinity Essence Spark that was fueled through his life force, Rory had realized something.

    What if I used monsters as fuel for stuff other than my ascension?

    Did it sound an awful lot like he was going down the route of some Dark Lord?

    Yes, yes, it did.

    Was he going to do it anyway, even when he tried to tell himself he wouldn''t stoop so low?

    Of course.

    Sighing, Rory entered his camp, found his Inscription Tablet, and sat by his fireplace. He''d recently made a stylus for the tablet and twirled it around. The stylus wasn''t necessary and had no real use besides feeling comfortable in his hand. It was reason enough for Rory to rationalize the effort that went into making it.

    Armed with his weapons of creative choice, Rory began sketching some of his ideas. The first was simple enough: a glorified pot he could link to the growth site. Stuffing in small monsters would slowly drain them of their life force and energy, funneling it into the tree. It was a simple design with a simple function, so Rory earmarked it, liking simplicity where he could find it.

    Not wanting to pigeonhole himself with whatever came to mind first, Rory continued with more sketches. His next idea was¡­ less pleasant. He could plant a specially fashioned spear near his ritual site, then impale a small monster upon it, and the spear would draw its life force into the tree. Its advantage over his first idea was it was far faster.

    The downside was that if he followed that plan, he would take a page from Vlad the Impaler''s notebook.

    Not a Dark Lord. Not a Dark Lord.

    Repeating the mantra silently, Rory moved on to his third idea.

    His third idea revolved around something more complicated, rather than the stovetop kitchenware from hell or his best impression of Vlad the Impaler. It started as nothing more than a sketch of four pillars with no actual ideas behind them, just random doodles. Doing as children bored in class did everywhere -pre-collapse, that is- Rory added onto the drawing, still without thinking much about the details of what he was drawing. Atop the pillars, Rory drew a crystal for each one.

    It was then, looking at the pillars with crystals adorning them like capstones, that Rory finally began to formulate an idea for the sketch.

    It is more involved, complicated, and far grander than the first two ideas but also takes the best from both worlds.

    Centered in the middle of the four pillars, Rory quickly drew up a rough image of his current growth ritual site. Pillars surrounding the site, Rory then drew a link between the four, which shot off to the side toward a bound circle surrounded by its own four pillars, closer to Egyptian obelisks than the initial pillars. The obelisks were like ceremonial spears, with several spiky-looking thorns jutting out. Centered within the obelisks was some occult symbol, with an orb in the direct center.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Bingo.

    His first idea was too slow and gradual, and his second was too brutal and inefficient. In both cases, while the plan was to draw in the life force of monsters to fuel the growth of his tree, their physical bodies were nothing more than waste. Sure, he could harvest them for crafting materials, but any monsters he could safely contain within the sub-ritual site would be weak enough that the materials harvested were of little value to him now.

    Thus, his third idea would use everything.

    A captured monster would be placed within a containment field -The fact that the runes needed for such a field didn''t yet exist was only a minor hiccup- where they would be placed into a magically induced stasis or slumber. Pacified, the obelisk''s core beneath the monster would drain them of their energies. Vitality, essence, Pneuma, all of it would be slurped up like magic juice. That same magic slurry would then also power the surrounding obelisks, which would begin to break the bonds of their physical matter, drawing it within.

    Completely broken down into magic energy and physical matter, the energy would be shunted directly into the growth ritual site. In contrast, the physical matter would be split within the four main pillars surrounding the growth site, stored in its most concentrated form. The blood-aspected matter would go toward ''corrupting'' the tree further.

    I still don''t like that it''s referred to as corrupted.

    The bone-aspected matter would be used as a strengthening agent, the tree''s bark would be calcified like bone.

    The flesh-aspected matter would act as a high-quality fertilizer, pushing the tree to rapidly mature.

    Finally, the remaining matter that wasn''t aligned with the first three attributes would be stored in the fourth crystal, to be used however he felt reasonable.

    I like it. Now, how exactly do I make most of this stuff?

    Rory had carved some wardstones from large obsidian boulders. Still, even those weren''t large enough for the pillars and obelisks he wanted to make.

    "I could always just break them up into pieces, then put it together," Rory said out loud, airing his thoughts. "I could do, what''s it called, uh¡­. Kintsugi! Yeah, that." Rory recalled seeing a documentary on the ancient practice of repairing ceramics with gold from Japan.

    If Rory wanted things to align, he would need to make some proper rulers before he started. Still, given that he didn''t have to fit the metric or imperial measurements standards, as long as the rulers were consistent, it was fine. It would, at most, take him maybe half an hour, and that was being overly generous.

    Other than the obelisks and pillars, the rest of the project was relatively straightforward. It just required some runes and a core to place beneath the containment field.

    And thankfully, I have a pretty high-quality core nearby.

    Initially, he''d had different plans for the core, but plans changed, and Rory, even as patient as he was, was getting tired of sitting on his laurels.

    A week or two at max, I''ll have this up and running.

    Rory was beginning to understand and appreciate the potential benefits of one of the skills he had been offered before but declined Civilization''s Cradle. The more he wanted to progress and improve his standing, the more and more projects he required. It was something that had been easy to take for granted on Earth. Want a sandwich? Just go and buy one or make one at home. It wasn''t often that someone considered what went into making that possible, to begin with: the miles and miles of farmland, the processing factories, the highways transporting goods, all of them interconnected systems to get your hands on a basic sandwich.

    Now Rory was starting to see it as well. Every step forward required weeks of effort and labor to craft even a single instrumental device or prerequisite.

    Soon. It will all be worth it soon.

    As Rory saw it, it was the final major roadblock toward getting his hands on an improved material to make his new bow.

    "Alright, pillars and obelisks shouldn''t be too bad. How about the crystals?"

    In his sketch, Rory had topped the pillars with crystals to store some of the aspected matter from the monsters sacrificed, but where would he get those crystals?

    No idea.

    Temporarily stumped, Rory sat down, searching his memories for anything that might work.

    Not exactly a geologist.

    Rory spent twenty minutes twiddling his thumbs, thinking, before something came to him. There was a movie he once saw about Gandhi. The film itself wasn''t that important-

    Sorry, Gandhi, I don''t mean it like that.

    -But what mattered was a specific point from the movie in which they made salt using ocean water.

    And isn''t salt just a tasty crystal?

    Perhaps he could do something with the aisormba from the pond surrounding his essence spire.

    "Oh, and that''s what I can use the last of the monster matter for! Grow the crystals further with it, so I don''t have to get full-sized crystals!"

    It was genius because he didn''t require another week-long project.

    That alone was enough to energize Rory; the thought of nearing the completion of what felt like endless projects.

    I still need a proper bowstring for the bow, but that will be a lot less work than the rest of the bow.

    Glancing around, Rory shrugged, seeing no point in delaying.

    "Early bird gets the worm after all."

    <hr>

    Rory, for once, was pleasantly surprised as he admired his work, hands on his hips.

    Rather than a week, it had only taken five days after everything was said and done. Lugging boulders was always a pain in the ass, but Rory had done it enough times at this point that he''d developed a system for doing it without as much of a hassle. From there, he smashed the hell out of the boulders, cutting and measuring where needed before reconstructing the pieces into pillars surrounding his growth ritual. The smaller obelisks surrounding the containment field were smaller, albeit more refined in appearance, and had taken a similar timeframe to construct as the more prominent pillars. A few channels were carved into the earth and plastered with his faux ceramic glaze, and everything was set aside from the actual runes.

    As for the runes, that was a surprisingly quick session, with three new runes born from it. The first was a rune meant to represent slumber. His creative juices weren''t exactly flowing at the time of inception, as the rune was nothing more than three Zs directly connected to one another.

    Much like the first, the second rune wasn''t much more inspired, a single droplet representing blood.

    The third and final of his newest runes was perhaps the most ''interesting'' from a design perspective. It was a round oval with interlacing lines, mimicking the patterns of a tortoise shell, meant to represent the concept of slowness.

    With those three runes, alongside some of his original runes, he had everything he needed for the containment field. Inscribing the runes onto the obelisks surrounding the empty space, it wasn''t long until everything was there. The containment field didn''t stop anything from entering or exiting; there was no physical barrier. Instead, it relied on several essential functions.

    <ol>

    <li>Utilizing one of his newest runes, anything within the field would grow tired, the effect growing more potent over time.</li>

    <li>Vitality and blood loss. Open wounds on a body wouldn''t heal, and a slow, continuous blood loss was meant to circumvent a monster''s natural healing rate or additional regenerative effects. It wasn''t a powerful blood loss effect, but it would compound with the first effect of making anything within the field drowsy.</li>

    <li>Enforced calmness. With his slowness rune, further aided by a stability rune, things within the field would find themselves shockingly calm. If an intelligent being, such as a human, were subjected to the effect, they would instantly realize something was amiss. Still, low-intelligence monsters, already exhausted through the first two effects, wouldn''t be able to fight the enforced calm, even if they became cognizant of it.</li>

    </ol>

    Together, the three effects were meant to induce a comatose state into whatever was placed within. All he needed to do was give them a small wound before being placed inside. It was a coma they would never awaken from, as Rory laid one last set of runes directly on the ground of the containment field surrounding the buried monster core. It was an absorption effect meant to drain the resources, Pneuma, essence, vitality, and everything from whatever was captured above it, even the physical mass of their bodies slowly broken down and utilized as fuel for his rather devilish ritual.

    Not a Dark Lord. I swear.

    Vistropic Field of Endless Slumber

    Status: Inactive

    A sub-ritual formation intended to completely absorb the entirety of a being''s existence into usable power and matter for a primary ritual. Completion of total annihilation variable based on the strength of the contained life form. It can passively strengthen itself by utilizing excess energy and matter.

    "Nifty." Rory whistled before frowning. "No, wait, probably shouldn''t say that about a sacrifice ritual meant to break down something into energy and matter completely."

    For a moment, Rory felt a surge of electricity through his body, passing a moment later. Examining his interface briefly, Rory took stock of the slight increase in his ascension progress before closing it. He was a rather sizeable amount off from A5. This ritual site had already given less energy than his first; whether it be from the fact that he''d already made a ritual or that it hadn''t used anything overly complicated to obtain wasn''t important for the time being.

    What matters is testing it.

    "And only one way to do that," Rory muttered as he entered his camp and found his glorified cudgel.

    Time to kidnap a bunny.

    <hr>

    In a relatively uneventful afternoon, Rory wandered until he found a small den of killer rabbits. Being A4, finding a lone rabbit, smacking it over the head, and bringing the unconscious creature back to camp with him had been relatively simple. Even after it had woken up, Rory held the squirming monster tight against his chest; his superior attributes made it only mildly annoying to handle. Back at his camp, Rory had taken the beast, already exhausted from struggling against his superior strength, and placed it within his containment field. Taking a standard knife, he slashed a thin cut into its flank before examining the ritual once more.

    Vistropic Field of Endless Slumber

    Status: Active

    Time Remaining: 12:00:00

    A sub-ritual formation intended to completely absorb the entirety of a being''s existence into usable power and matter for a primary ritual. Completion of total annihilation variable based on the strength of the contained life form. It can passively strengthen itself by utilizing excess energy and matter.

    "And there you have it." Rory grinned. The monster rabbit had passed out almost instantly upon being placed within, and Rory watched as a slow, continuous trickle of blood seeped out of its cut leg. Asleep, Rory couldn''t deny feeling a wince of guilt as he stared at the cute, albeit bloodthirsty, monster.

    At least this method is far more humane than my other option of sticking them up on draining spears.

    Seeing the ritual active and operating, Rory let out a long yawn. Days of hard work were catching up to him now that he had a moment of respite.

    "Game plan," Rory muttered, another yawn escaping him. "First, go to sleep. Then, assuming I don''t wake up to any unexpected surprises, I''ve got another busy day starting tomorrow."

    A grin split his face, an old cartoon coming to mind.

    "It''s wabbit season."

 26. Wabbit Season

    Thankfully, when Rory awoke, he did not wake up to any surprises. Checking his rituals, he found that the unfortunate monster rabbit from the day before was gone, with no signs of escape, meaning it had been completely absorbed.

    Which also means I slept more than twelve hours. Damn, I really was tired.

    Next was a check on his sapling. Its progress had jumped an entire¡­ Two percent.

    But- Rory reminded himself. That''s two percent in twelve hours.

    Between the five days of constructing the sub-ritual and the two percent gained from the rabbit, his sapling was twenty-four percent corrupted.

    Assuming similar rates, I only need to abduct thirty-eight more rabbits.

    "Technically less." Rory corrected himself. If each rabbit took twelve hours to absorb, thirty-eight rabbits would take nineteen days, and he''d also see some natural corruption rate over those days.

    But it''s probably better to play it safe rather than sorry.

    Finding and capturing the rabbits wasn''t likely to be that difficult. The beginning-tier monsters were back to being a little more dangerous than actual rabbits.

    What I need is a way to restrain them.

    That was a surprisingly easy fix. Walking between trees, Rory simply hacked off the orange vines until he had a rather large bundle wrapped over his shoulder. Seating himself next to his fire, Rory began splitting the vines into thinner fibers before returning them together. At first glance, it seemed redundant to split already functional vines only to twine them back together. However, during the twining process, Rory remained at a low level of Essence Spark, infusing a hint of his blood essence into the vines. Had Rory not already had a background in biology and months of butchering monsters, he would have begun to feel squeamish as they twined together and seemed to meld into loops of rather fleshy-looking rope vines, the fibers growing what appeared as connective tissue.

    Euck. It''s gross but probably adequate.

    He confirmed it after twining his first vine into a proper restraining rope. Yanking with all his might, the rope seemed entirely unbothered.

    Flesh-Vine Rope

    Grade: Poor

    A regular vine from a Sol''s Glory that has been stripped into fibers before forcibly corrupted and infused with blood essence, gaining a flesh attribute.

    "Ehh, good enough." Rory shrugged as he examined the rope. He wasn''t surprised that the grade was only poor. It was a rather basically crafted item¡ªno special enchantments or high-quality crafting process, just standard fiber twining and liberal application of his totally-not-spooky blood essence affinity. Interestingly, it had taken on a flesh attribute instead of a blood attribute, meaning that his blood essence didn''t always operate in a 1-to-1 fashion. However, that was a topic of investigation for a different day. Satisfied that his rope would work for his objective, Rory fashioned several more loops. Thanks to his superhuman capabilities, it took Rory only an hour to prepare ten twines of the Flesh-Vine ropes. Tossing the ropes into a small and crudely made bag- his sewing skills still weren''t the greatest- Rory set out for a day of hunting Wascally Wabbits.

    <hr>

    "Where the hell did they all go?" Rory muttered, clambering through the undergrowth of the orange rainforest. Lo and behold, things never went as planned. The issue with the demon rabbits is that ever since more powerful monsters appeared more commonly, they''d begun to behave more like a traditional rabbit.

    Which is to say, they were skittish little shits. His last experiment, involving kidnapping a few of the monster rabbits, seemed to have finally pushed them just a hint too far. None of the little clusters he''d marked out before appeared to have any remaining; the monsters had relocated.

    "Bullshit. Total bullshit." Rory sighed. He''d been hunting the areas closer to his camp, the areas he''d come to recognize as ''safe'' zones; the monsters that would patrol such areas were relatively weak.

    Except now they weren''t just weak; they were gone.

    "Damnit." Rory shook his head. There was only one answer, and the answer was one he didn''t like.

    He''d have to travel further out.

    Like a small fish forced to swim to deeper seas, Rory could only shrug as he traveled further away from his camp. His foot speed was considerably better than his first ascension or two. The journey from his camp to the Maw was roughly fifty percent faster, though it was still a haul. What Rory was doing now was an even longer journey, trees as far as the eye could see as he grew increasingly far from his now distant camp.

    Five hours later, Rory finally came to a stop. If you asked him what had changed, well¡­.

    Not much. Hills came and went, large slopes, small slopes, valleys, and lazy-looking brooks. With all those slight deviations, it always remained within the backdrop of the orange rainforest.

    Stupid freaking rabbits.

    Closer to his camp, Rory felt like he could wander with relative impunity, but now he felt like he was strutting on eggshells. He''d seen tier-three monsters on the prowl on more than one occasion. One, two, or even three weren''t something he couldn''t handle, but at one point, he was forced to hide under a bush, holding his breath as a pack of dozens of tier-three ants marched through the growth ahead of him, looking like ants the size of poodles that had been bathed in shiny looking metal. If he were higher tier or better equipped, Rory would have considered trying to nab one of the metallic bugs and investigating their armor. Still, as he was now, Rory had no desire to mess with them.

    C''mon. Somewhere, right?

    Nearing the extent of how far Rory was willing to journey, he froze when he spotted something. A mark he recognized, the familiar indent of a small-clawed paw against a tree.

    Bingo!

    Slowly tracking a path through the thick undergrowth, Rory finally overlooked a small crater. As for why there was a crater randomly in the forest?

    That''s because the direct center was an opening leading into a den of furry little demons.

    "Holy shit," Rory muttered. All around the entrance were jackalopes, not just the young jackalopes or even the neophytes he''d killed. No, these jackalopes were surrounded by a purple haze, a crown of antlers atop their heads as they floated.

    Not a chance.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    A quick analysis gave Rory the details on the new form of jackalope.

    Jackalope- Nursery Guard

    Level: 40

    The advanced form of a jackalope, their mastery of spatial magic has reached their maximum potential for the monster genotype. While the magical conductivity of their antlers remains unchanged, their fully grown crest allows for the manipulation and direction of larger volumes of Pneuma.

    "Yeah, not a chance." Rory sighed. He''d finally found his prime target, only to find it far more heavily defended than he had any shot at cracking through. He''d have to find a new target, perhaps one of those-

    What was that?

    Rory''s breath froze in his chest, every instinct screaming at him to be still. Hiding as best as he could within the shadows of some bushes and trees, Rory watched, unmoving. It appeared he wasn''t the only one to sense something amiss; the jackalopes were suddenly on high alert. All around them, the air began to vibrate with void-like magic, a miasma of space-deleting energy. It was the most magic Rory had seen manifested in his entire time on the planet; Rory felt as if he even stepped foot in the vicinity, he''d find his body corroded by the magic.

    Yet it didn''t matter.

    Like a crashing meteorite, the area exploded as a streak of color crashed into the crater, expanding it. The space magic had zero effect, as within seconds, several jackalopes were dead, ripped apart by¡­

    Is that a damn armadillo?

    An armadillo the size of a large wolf was tearing apart the rabbits as if they were, well, rabbits. Calling the monster an armadillo didn''t do the monster justice; it was like a miniature Godzilla with glowing dorsal plates and everything. Every time a jackalope began to muster magic, the spinal plates would glow, sucking up the purple miasma-like magic as if it were no more dangerous than a pleasant breeze.

    Taking a risk that probably wasn''t the wisest in hindsight, Rory examined the new monster, holding back a gasp as he did.

    Tyrant of Earth and Scales- Territory Alpha

    Level: 61

    A powerful monster born of the earth and the ferocity of the deep fires, the Tyrant of Earth and Scales is a uniquely powerful monster variant. Its scales can draw in Pneuma, nourishing its growth.

    Bonus Objective: Defeat Territory Alpha to unlock full future Settlement possibilities.

    Rory blinked in surprise, taking in the information.

    Territory Alpha? What''s that?

    The answer was somewhat clear: it was the Alpha monster of a territory. It just so happened that this monster was the Alpha of the territory where Rory''s settlement belonged.

    How large is a territory considered?

    Another valid question, but probably the least important, given the reality Rory was staring at.

    It''s tier fucking six.

    Ignoring the Iasilisk that Rory had been tested against, the Territory Alpha was by far the most powerful monster he''d encountered, more so than even the monster from within the Maw, that much, he was sure. Hell, its description even went out of its way to notify him that it was a ''uniquely powerful'' variant.

    What does variant even mean in this context?

    These questions were worth considering when he wasn''t separated by only a few dozen feet from the rampaging monster. The Nursery Guard jackalopes tried their hardest, but it was about as fruitful as a bunch of toddlers punching a professional boxer; their magic did nothing but feed the beast. Within seconds, the last of the guards were dead.

    Rory thought perhaps the excitement had passed, but he was dead wrong. Within seconds, the ground began to rumble, and a white streak erupted from the earth, hovering several feet before the Tyrant.

    Risking another analysis, Rory took in the newcomer.

    Wolpertinger

    Level: 52

    The pinnacle of the Caerbannog family. It has evolved even past the realm of the jackalope, gaining power and wisdom. While similar in stature to a Jackalope Nursery Guard, the crest of antlers has converted into a single set of thick curling horns.

    It was good that Rory hadn''t tried his luck with the Jackalope Nursery Guards, as the Wolpertinger was apparently only willing to appear once they''d been slain. Whether it was the head ''guard'' of the nest or perhaps the ruler was something Rory found himself momentarily intrigued by. Aside from the horns, which had changed to look like a set of ram horns, its clawed paws now resembled the hooves of an elk, and it even had wings like a falcon emerging from its fluffy white back.

    All in all, it was about as intimidating and majestic as a rabbit monster could be. Floating in front of the Tyrant, the two remained still for another second or two before, in a blur of movement, they began. The Wolpertinger was like an icy comet, streaking through the air too fast for Rory to track properly; his eyes were constantly being tricked by afterimages instead. Spears of void-colored ice bombarded the Tyrant. Giving credit to the Wolpertinger, it was the first time Rory saw it take any damage, the spears of space ice carving minor cuts into its armored body.

    Minor cuts were far and away enough from besting the tier-six Territory Alpha, though. The monster shrugged off the attacks, the wounds barely bothering it. It almost seemed to let the Wolpertinger attack to its heart''s content.

    No, I think that''s precisely what is going on.

    Every time one of the magical space-ice spears lanced into the Tyrant, the ice seemed to dwindle, partially siphoned into the Tyrant''s body. One by one, the plates covering its back began to glow brighter and brighter.

    No¡­ No way.

    Watching silently, Rory couldn''t deny the childlike glee that began to fill him as he clued in on what was happening.

    C''mon, don''t blue ball me. Do it!

    After another minute of withstanding the magical bombardment, the Tyrant appeared to have had enough, its plates glowing brightly. Eyes locking onto the Wolpertinger, more than capable of tracking the speedster where Rory''s eyes had failed, the Tyrant opened its maw, a powerful blue glow from within.

    It''s doing the thing!

    Perhaps the Wolpertinger realized its mistake, veering away as if about to flee, no longer worried about its nest, but its realization was a hundredth of a second too late. Covering itself in a thick layer of magic -whether for defense or escape- the Wolpertinger appeared like an icy comet.

    And it didn''t matter a damned bit, as it was bathed in what was unmistakenly a blue atomic breath, the Tyrant blasting it with a raging expulsion of energy.

    Holy shit! It is a tiny Godzilla!

    The blue beam faded after a moment, as did a chunk of forest behind it. The Wolpertinger, which had taken the beam head-on, dropped to the ground, dead. It was little more than charred bones; even the thick layer of magic it had coated itself in had done a diddly squat against the Tyrant.

    It was yet another case of Aelia stealing ideas from the old universe, a monster that was just the infringement of the most famous monster movie of all time.

    Yet Rory couldn''t be mad.

    That was so cool!

    Quelling his excitement, Rory watched, still hidden. The Tyrant lumbered toward the remains of the Wolpertinger, its jaw snapping out and consuming them. It looked around once or twice before Rory swore it paused, staring directly at him.

    And then it left, trudging away, never bothering with the rest of the nest.

    Did it notice me? More importantly, did it ignore me?

    Rory thought about it for a second. It was a rather chilling thought, one that made sense. It was tier six. What were the chances it had missed Rory? He was hidden by a few bushes, leaves, and shadows cast by the trees overhead.

    Yeah, it definitely knew I was here.

    The more he thought of it, the more he was sure. The only question was, why? It had rampaged against the rabbit nest and yet seemed not to give a single flying fuck about him.

    Wait, I think I know why.

    The answer was in its description. It gained its nourishment from absorbing Pneuma. The Jackalopes and the Wolpertinger were perhaps the most magical adept monsters Rory had found. It made sense for a magically hungry Tyrant to only care about snacking on magically dense morsels. Rory, who''d barely invested in Pneuma and wasn''t all that talented with it, had probably been about as nutritious to it as a single mouse would be to a human.

    In other words, he wasn''t worth the effort, as minimal as it would have been for the tier-six Territory Alpha.

    Well, lucky me.

    Shivering momentarily, Rory waited several minutes. The sounds of the forest slowly returned. It was the sign Rory had been waiting on, a signal that the Tyrant had departed. Once he was sure it was gone, Rory slowly trudged down the side of the enlarged crater, peaking within.

    "Lucky me," Rory murmured after a moment.

    Inside was a mass of small, fluffy creatures, all missing the antlers of their more dangerous elders.

    "Jackpot."

    Now, was Rory aware that the optics of what he was doing were terrible? Yes, yes, he was. The now defenseless nest had just lost its most potent defenders, and the monsters remaining were weak and terrified, and now there was yet another predator looking down on them.

    Did Rory care?

    Not really.

    Any pity he had been capable of having for the monster rabbits had been lost long ago when he''d first nearly died to one as a tier one.

    What mattered most to Rory was that he''d just been demonstrated the raw power gap between him and monsters only a tier or two above him. He couldn''t afford to dawdle. Reaching for his Flesh-Vine ropes, Rory gave them a quick snap, making sure they hadn''t degraded -not that he had believed they would have- before glancing down at the undefended nest.

    "Sorry about this," Rory said, not meaning it, reaching down to begin his harvest.

    Not a Dark Lord, I swear.

 27. Bloody Crafting

    ¡°Guilt is just a construct of the mind,¡± Rory muttered. He was pacing, as he often did. Based on his estimates, today would be the day unless something had gone terribly. He¡¯d sacrificed a bushel of caerbannogs, and devasted an entire generation of the monster rabbits, yet it had seemingly paid off. His tree had rapidly grown over the last two weeks, and just the day prior, it was the size of a small grown tree, around ten feet tall and 98% corrupted.

    Today would be when it reached 100%, leaving Rory to wonder what he would find. For all he knew, it could be some thrashing monster, a living tree ready to devour him.

    Well, to be fair, trees are alive.

    With that solid reasoning, Rory left the interior of his camp, reorienting toward his growth site. Within the ritual plot, a tree stood out, brazenly different from the rest of the orange-colored rainforest-style trees that dominated the landscape. Its bark was white and calcified like bone, with cracks leaking reddish sap. Crimson-colored leaves grew from its branches, and the entire thing looked closer to a Q-tip than the other trees. It reminded him of some of the trees he¡¯d seen in some documentary about Madagascar.

    Baobabs, I think they were called?

    Shrugging, Rory put the question aside and took a deep breath, preparing himself.

    ????- Juvenile

    Rarity: Uncommon

    Once a natural tree, the ???? was created through artificial essence alteration involving countless sacrifices and essence infusions. Seeped in the life forces of living things and drenched in bloody essences, the ???? has a high affinity for physique-interfacing. The bark of the ???? is brittle but durable and has many potential uses for either crafting or alchemical purposes.

    ¡°Thank god,¡± Rory sighed, relief flooding him. The corrupted Sol¡¯s Glory was finally fully transformed and recognized as something new. ¡°Just needs a name¡­¡±

    Thinking about it momentarily, the answer came to him as the interface description updated.

    ????- Juvenile

    Rarity: Uncommon

    Once a natural tree, the ???? was created through artificial essence alteration involving countless sacrifices and essence infusions. Seeped in the life forces of living things and drenched in bloody essences, the ???? has a high affinity for physique-interfacing. The bark of the ???? is brittle but durable and has many potential uses for either crafting or alchemical purposes.

    -->

    Bloodwood- Juvenile

    Rarity: Uncommon

    Once a natural tree, the Bloodwood tree was created through artificial essence alteration involving countless sacrifices and infusions. Seeped in the life forces of living things and drenched in bloody essences, the Bloodwood has a high affinity for physique-interfacing. The bark of the Bloodwood is brittle but durable and has many potential uses for either crafting or alchemical purposes.

    ¡°Originality be damned,¡± Rory chuckled.

    It wasn¡¯t his most creative naming convention, but it was fitting, given what had gone into creating the new tree. Rory wasn¡¯t too surprised that the rarity was still listed as Uncommon. There was a wall between uncommon and rare that none of the other rarities or grades seemed to have. Perhaps the wall only grew with each tier, and it was only at the rare tier that it first became truly noticeable, but Rory wouldn¡¯t know for sure until he was at the point where he was looking to create things beyond the rare tier, to begin with.

    Still amused with himself, his smile quickly faded as a new problem presented itself.

    ¡°How am I supposed to cut this thing down?¡±

    After seven axes and a hell of a sore back, Rory finally brought the juvenile bloodwood down. The first thing he did was replant a shoot from the tree. Now that he had successfully cultivated a bloodwood genotype, he wouldn¡¯t need to go through corrupting more trees.

    Hopefully.

    Whether it would still require monster sacrifices had yet to be seen, but that was a problem for Future-Rory.

    Present-Rory was preoccupied with trying to understand the bloodwood better. Just beneath the outer bone-like layer of bark, the interior wood had a surprisingly spongy texture-

    Sort of like meat.

    -with a rather thick red sap flowing through it. It wouldn¡¯t be mistaken for flesh, still recognizable as wood, but there was no denying the similarity.

    All right, agenda time.

    Now that he had cultivated and harvested his first bloodwood, he had a catalog of things to consider.

    <ol>

    <li>His new bow. The entire point of this long project was to develop a material that he could use for crafting a new, potent bow.</li>

    <li>The idea had come over the last two weeks, watching the outer bark of the rapidly corrupted tree harden into a bone-like material. As the description of the bloodwood had stated, it was quite brittle, but that didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t still usable; it would just take a bit of tampering and experimenting.</li>

    <li>Physique-interfacing. Whatever that was, Rory wouldn¡¯t pretend he wasn¡¯t interested. The fact that it had gone out of its way to mention it meant that it was likely something special.</li>

    </ol>

    Nodding along with his list, Rory snagged some thicker branches; the still relatively young tree hadn¡¯t produced any overly large branches, limiting his choices. Eye for Potential quickly sorted which branch was likely the best choice, and thus Rory set it aside, intending to practice with some of the lesser branches first.

    It said something about the toughness of an uncommonly rated material that even his exceptional crafting knife, for the first time, found a modicum of resistance as he began attempting to carve and whittle the branch. Undeterred, Rory whittled away, the spongier wood taking far more focus and deliberate effort to work with. Hours passed as Rory worked, the branch appearing more and more like a proper bow stave. Only as daylight was beginning to fade, Rory pulled away from his work, examining his carving.

    Solid. Looks good, no apparent issues.

    It wasn¡¯t meant to be his actual bow; it was more of a practice run, so Rory didn¡¯t bother with anything more difficult or complex than a standard recurve bow. Grabbing a bowstring, with two weeks to wait, he¡¯d prepared several specialty bow strings made from carefully processed tendons. Stringing the entire thing, Rory examined it for several seconds, thinking about what runes to lay upon it. In the end, he went with a simple acceleration rune, as once more, it was only meant as a practice run of making his real bow.

    Inscribed Bloodwood Recurve Bow

    Grade: Common

    A basic crafted bow of uncommon rarity material. A standardized inscription has further enhanced it, allowing for enhanced arrow flight speed. Due to the nature of the base material, it gains a small degree of self-repair when infused with life-aligned essences.

    ¡°Alright, not bad,¡± Rory said with half a smile. On its own, the bow wouldn¡¯t have warranted the many weeks of work that went into obtaining the materials involved in its crafting, but it was only proof of concept.

    Its ability to self-repair without any specific inscription or Akashic record is interesting. I might have to consider that more in-depth.

    Out of curiosity, Rory test-fired several arrows, noting how the bow felt. In truth, it wasn¡¯t significantly different from any of his earlier bows. His skill as a craftsman hadn¡¯t been elevated by any significant degree since he¡¯d made his prior bows; only the materials and abilities he had access to had changed by any significant margins. Yawning, Rory stretched his arms overhead, darkness minutes away.

    ¡°An entire day for one bow¡­ I can do better. Tomorrow, that is.¡±

    Satisfied with his work for the day, Rory clambered into his small hut and laid his bow on the cabinet-like protrusion within before promptly falling asleep.

    It would take another week of work before Rory finally held his magnum opus. During that time, he experimented with different ways to prepare and work with his current materials¡ªhis first attempt involved drying the wood and testing what would happen. On the one hand, it made the resulting bow capable of firing arrows with much more power, but on the other hand, if overtaxed, it would have catastrophic results, exploding in painful wooden shards.

    Another experiment had been crafting a longer bow, and while there weren¡¯t any immediate issues with the result, something didn¡¯t feel quite right. It was clumsier to wield; thus, he¡¯d tossed the idea.

    His fourth bow was exposed to Essence Spark the entire time he worked with it. In the end, it had the opposite problem of the bow where he¡¯d dried the wood; it was so spongy and soft it felt like it had no power.

    His fifth bow, and the last of the branches he could use for experimenting, was styled like his first bow, except rather than ending with a simple runic inscription, Rory had opted to leave the bow ¡®blank.¡¯ The result had been something he hadn¡¯t seen in some time.

    Akashic Bloodwood Recurve Bow

    Grade: Common

    Akashic Record: Blood Hound

    A basic crafted bow of uncommon rarity material. It contains an Akashic Record that grants a small degree of mid-air trajectory alteration when fired at a wounded target. Due to the nature of the base material, it gains a small degree of self-repair when infused with life-aligned essences.

    ¡°Huh, it¡¯s been so long since I last saw an Akashic Record that Eon went and changed how it¡¯s shown,¡± Rory said as he examined the effect. In the past, the descriptions had referenced the Akashic record but never outright had a separate listing. ¡°I wonder if it¡¯s because, with runic inscriptions, those are planned, so it doesn¡¯t need to explain the effect?¡±

    Whatever the reason, Rory was happy to see one for the first time in ages. In fairness, he hadn¡¯t given a chance for any of his items to have Akashic Records ever since he¡¯d begun working with inscriptions; the two seemed to be mutually exclusive, or at the very least, the process for making them play nicely with one another was one Rory hadn¡¯t yet invented.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Why did Rory bother to test whether the material would grant an Akashic Record? The answer was simple.

    His eye had become hellishly itchy for the last few days.

    On Earth, Rory would have assumed it was nothing but allergies, but in all his time on Aelia, he¡¯d never had an issue with his allergies, seasonal or otherwise.

    In fact, I probably don¡¯t have any allergies anymore. It''s too bad there isn¡¯t any peanut butter; I always wanted to try a peanut butter sandwich.

    So, why had his eye begun to itch terribly the more he worked on the bow? Eye for Potential. Its functions weren¡¯t always logical, but neither was anything anymore, so he¡¯d presumed it was trying to alert him to something. His growing familiarity with the material was crucial for how Eye for Potential had even picked up on it in the first place; it didn¡¯t grant free knowledge of things he had no sense of.

    Thus, trying to make sense of just what Eye for Potential was picking up on, Rory briefly toyed with the idea that it might be related to Akashic Records, and the moment the thought crossed his mind, the itching stopped.

    A day later, he¡¯d held his first Akashic Record weapon in months.

    Out of test materials and now the owner of several new bows, it was time to put everything he¡¯d learned to the test.

    Waiting until the next day, Rory had begun near the break of dawn, carving his chosen branch with a much more practiced familiarity. He dried the wood, but only slightly, while at the same time infusing the tiniest bit of essence into it. It seemed contrary, the drying of the wood when blood essence made the bow far spongier, but there was a method to his madness. It wasn¡¯t specifically the blood essence he wanted to infuse into the bow; it was already plenty saturated with that, but the ¡®foundational¡¯ affinity that his improved Essence Spark skill had as a passive bonus. Had he infused the bow without drying it, the bloodwood would have become too spongy, like one of the earlier bows.

    Hours passed as he worked. Unlike the prior bows, intended as regular recurve bows, Rory specifically took extra time near either end of the bow stave as he meant to add pulleys for a proper compound bow. It was slow, deliberate work, but Rory needed to be sure of his creation, or he¡¯d be forced to wait several more weeks to grow another sizable bloodwood. The pulley had been surprisingly simple to fashion. Using what little metal he had left, he¡¯d fashioned them by pouring them into small molds and then sanding them down with rather crude-looking sandpaper made from ground obsidian pasted to a small, thin piece of wood. It was yet another example of something that shouldn¡¯t have worked on Earth. You¡¯d need properly aligned and accurate machines to ensure the metal didn¡¯t settle wrong, but in this magical universe, it was as if the metal knew for what purpose it was being used and that it wanted to work with him, resulting in only a sparse few blemishes that had needed sanding.

    Once the arms of the bow were finished and the pulleys and cable system had been added, utilizing his abundance of monster tendons that had been specifically prepared for such purpose, the bow was all but finished.

    All that work, and just like that, I¡¯m done. Honestly, it feels a little anticlimactic.

    Rory waited several seconds once he¡¯d finally finished, wanting to give the universe or perhaps Eon -whichever oversaw Akashic Records- time to recognize that he was done. He wasn¡¯t sure if that was needed, but he¡¯d figured it couldn¡¯t hurt. Waiting for a full ten count, Rory finally examined the bow.

    Akashic Bloodwood Compound Bow

    Grade: Uncommon

    Akashic Record: Blood Legacy

    A well-crafted bow of uncommon rarity material. It contains an Akashic Record that grants the ability to channel Pneuma and vitality into the bow, massively increasing the attack potency. Due to the nature of the base material, it gains a small degree of self-repair when infused with life-aligned essences.

    ¡°Hot damn,¡± Rory whistled as he examined both the text and the bow itself, really taking it in for the first time. He hadn¡¯t realized it as he worked on it, but he could see why the bow was rated as uncommon grade instead of common. Whether through magical means or just from days of working with the material, he¡¯d gotten much more practiced; there was a natural curve to each knife stroke, an artistry that hadn¡¯t been there before. To an untrained eye, there wouldn¡¯t have appeared much difference, but to Rory, it was like night and day, an ordinary knife versus a chef''s knife.

    It was also the first ever uncommon grade item he¡¯d made himself. Would Big Momma have been capable of pumping out far more firepower? Almost certainly, unless Blood Legacy was outrageously more powerful than he thought was possible. Yet Big Momma -as much as he loved the former oversized railgun- had been a crudely made cheat code, abusing knowledge from their old universe in tandem with magical principles to create a bastard of war. It was basically held together by magical duct tape, bubblegum, and shoelace; its strength had nothing to do with the materials or craftsmanship.

    This Blood Legacy bow, though? It was ordinary, just a bow. It wasn¡¯t blowing things apart with the lovechild of physics and magic. What made it special was everything that went into making it, his skill as a craftsman evolving as he¡¯d worked, utilizing more powerful materials that had taken weeks of blood, sweat, and more blood.

    A sense of pride rose in Rory as Rory gingerly held the bow.

    Well, let¡¯s give you a test.

    Grabbing an arrow, Rory pulled the bowstring back. Everything felt buttery smooth, far smoother than the craftsman Rory had once been could have ever hoped to achieve.

    Taking a deep breath, Rory sighted at a nearby tree, calming himself.

    And here we... go?

    <hr>

    Rory awoke confused, a notification beeping above his face.

    ¡°A message?¡± Rory¡¯s jaw hurt. He felt like he¡¯d been chewing on gravel as he spat out the words. He¡¯d never received a message before, but he didn¡¯t need to see who it was from; only a single person on the planet could message him.

    And that was the planet herself.

    ¡°I have no idea what you did, once again, to almost kill yourself out of the blue. I doubt it was your inscriptions, not after I warned you. At the very least, it doesn¡¯t appear as if Eon had to save you once again; you only dropped down to twenty-three percent vitality, and it was by an even rate, no sudden stoppage indicating Eon intervened. If you¡¯re going to keep almost killing yourself, I¡¯m not going to bother checking on you every time. So, take this as my ¡®Please stop almost killing yourself¡¯ reprimanding that I would have given you in person.¡±

    -Aelia

    ¡°Why does this format itself like a letter?¡± Rory questioned for a moment before shaking his head. ¡°Because that¡¯s how I instinctively think it should look.¡±

    Rory rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat up, glancing over at the Blood Legacy bow.

    ¡°Right, so next time, don¡¯t just full-throttle it from the get-go,¡± Rory muttered.

    Much like when he¡¯d nearly killed himself over-taxing himself with Ancestral Inscription, Rory had drawn himself too thin, and the effect had been devastating.

    It wasn¡¯t the only thing devastated, though. One glance toward the tree he¡¯d been sighting when he passed out left his mouth ajar.

    It had been blown apart like a cannonball had struck it. It wasn¡¯t as destructive as his railgun, but it was close.

    Does that mean I¡¯m allowed to use my railguns again?

    Only a second later, Rory shook the thought aside. That single shot had burnt through nearly everything he had to offer, and it was still weaker than a single round from his ordinary railguns.

    Yeah, there is still a long way to go.

    A part of Rory wondered if he would even bother using railguns when allowed again. While they abused the interplay between magic and physics to achieve immense power, they weren¡¯t scalable; he couldn¡¯t force more power out of them than the physics involved. Tier eight, when he estimated he could rival that sort of firepower freely and thus be unbanned from using his railguns, was a long time away.

    Like, hundreds of years long.

    It was an unnerving thought, as it really painted just how long it could start to take between ascensions. But more than that, it put into context that if Eon believed those tiers weren¡¯t impossible to achieve, his lifespan must have increased dramatically. He was only in his twenties, yet by tier eight, he could be hundreds of years old.

    Yeah, I¡¯m putting that thought aside for Future-Rory to mull over.

    The point was that by the time he reached tier eight, there was a non-zero chance that his railguns would be more hassle than they were worth.

    Well, only time will tell.

    Putting aside the thought of using his railguns again, Rory mentally checked off the first thing from his checklist.

    After weeks of effort¡­ no, that¡¯s not even right¡ªmonths of effort. After months of effort, I¡¯ve finally got my new bow.

    ¡°All right, now what?¡±

    He still had plenty of bloodwood to work with, and ideas began to ooze forth. Examining the brittle, bone-like bark, Rory suddenly felt motivated to, for the first time, really try to make some armor.

    Now, what¡¯s the best way to do that?

    Sighing to himself, Rory readied himself, already well aware that these things were never a quick process. Blood, sweat, and, well, usually more blood were required to make even an inch of progress.

    A week. I''ll be happy if I can come up with something in a week.

    <hr>

    Eight days. It wasn¡¯t quite as fast as Rory had hoped, but it was close enough that Rory called it a rounding error.

    As for what he¡¯d come up with? Well, Rory examined a set of what looked like excessively thick athletic wear.

    It could be thinner, but not bad.

    Akashic Blood Weave Top

    Grade: Common

    Akashic Record: Physique Transfusion

    A competently made hybrid skinsuit crafted from a mundane leather cuirass and threaded bloodwood fibers. Assimilated through the bloodwood fibers, the Blood Weave grants moderate kinetic redistribution and minor slashing and stabbing protection. When linked directly to the wearer, the Physique Transfusion allows the transferal of stored energies into the wearer, granting a significant attribute increase. Physique Transfusion is limited by the stored energies within the blood weave and will degrade as the energy is expended.

    Akashic Blood Weave Pants

    Grade: Common

    Akashic Record: Physique Transfusion

    A competently made hybrid skinsuit crafted from mundane hide pants and threaded bloodwood fibers. Assimilated through the bloodwood fibers, the Blood Weave grants moderate kinetic redistribution and minor slashing and stabbing protection. When linked directly to the wearer, the Physique Transfusion allows the transferal of stored energies into the wearer, granting a significant attribute increase. Physique Transfusion is limited by the stored energies within the blood weave and will degrade as the energy is expended.

    In the end, crafting armor from wood had proven shockingly difficult; the bark of the bloodwood was too brittle and had little bend, and the flesh was too spongy to make anything useful for protective purposes. Days of experimenting later, he¡¯d had a different idea. Rather than create something purely from the trees, he would stitch together some basic leather and hide armor, which was mostly useless against more powerful monsters. After that, Rory decided to attempt a ¡®corruption¡¯ of the armor in the same fashion he had with the bloodwood trees. A few more days of trial and error later, Rory had established a method. First, he would shred the bark into extremely thin fibers before twining them into slightly thicker fibers. After that, he would take the inner flesh of the bloodwood trees and repeat the process of shredding them into thin fibers and twining them into thicker strands. With that completed, Rory twined the bark threads directly in the middle of several spongier strands. Once that was complete, Rory found himself in possession of miniature ropes roughly the thickness of his index finger. From there, it was a matter of poking holes into his mundane pants and cuirass and threading the grotesque ropes throughout. As he did, he channeled Essence Spark, saturating the entire thing. The final product was an ugly-looking mishmash of zombie-tree threads and leather, with a distinct slippery feel as if coated in an invisible layer of blood.

    Well, it was technically the final product, as far as his involvement went. From there, he simply waited two days as the ugly amalgamation changed, writhing throughout the day as the bloodwood fibers assimilated the base gear, growing into a singular symbiotic existence, one part crafting, one part magic fuckery that seemed to aid all crafting within this universe.

    Three days of experimenting, three days of crafting, and two days of letting the entire thing magically ferment. On the ninth day, eight days from when he¡¯d first begun working on the project, Rory exited his hut to find the top and pants changed, reminiscent of athletic wear if knit together from rust-red fibers.

    Which was where Rory was now, still examining the ¡®armor¡¯ that he had made. It wasn¡¯t exactly what he had in mind, but Eon recognized it as armor, so that was saying something. Furthermore, there was a matching Akashic Record. He¡¯d been hoping it would gain an Akashic Record since his bow had, but the matching Record made him raise his eyebrows.

    Is it because it was made as a set?

    Physique Transfusion. It was simple enough to understand; it burnt up energy within the armor to boost his attributes.

    ¡°So, where does the energy come from?¡± Rory mused for a moment before nodding to himself. ¡°Duh. Sacrifices.¡±

    Plenty of lives, monster lives, had gone into fueling the growth of his bloodwood tree. What he was seeing with Physique Transfusion was tapping into some of that energy that had altered and grown the tree in the first place. It was probably what the original mention of Physique Interfacing had referred to.

    ¡°Nifty,¡± Rory said to himself.

    Bow, armor. All he needed was something to allow for the ¡®Linkage¡¯ between himself and his armor.

    It probably doesn¡¯t hurt to be literal.

    Not intending to spend another few days on that project, Rory latched onto his first idea, grabbing a small chunk of bloodwood roughly the thickness of his wrist. From there, he spent two hours hacking and shaving away at it until he had what resembled a bracelet, save for a single thin needle-like spike pointing inward. Scribbling several runes on the outer part of the bracelet, Rory held the swiftly made item up to eye level.

    Physique Binding Bracelet

    Grade: Common

    A competently crafted bracelet made of bloodwood. When directly worn and stuck onto the body, it allows for simplified energy transfer between the user and an item crafted from the same bloodwood tree.

    ¡°Easy enough,¡± Rory said. Shrugging to himself, Rory slapped it onto his wrist. Wincing as the small spike entered his body, the pain faded a moment later as his body healed around the bracelet, nearly grafting it to his body. The runes lining the bracelet and the intent behind the runes were simple enough. Simply by giving the bracelet a tap, it would begin directly drawing the energy from whatever bloodwood item he wore that could transfer energy.

    ¡°Bow. Check. Armor. Check. Something to link it all together.¡± Rory shook his wrist, glancing at the bracelet. ¡°Check.¡±

    He was ready, or as ready as he could be.

    It was time for a rematch.

 28. Rematch in the Maw

    Rory took a deep breath, staring into the darkness. It was a sight he''d seen often enough. After all, he''d scavenged plenty of ore shards from the first cave of the Maw.

    But that wasn''t why he was here today, and he knew it.

    "Worst case scenario, I dip out early," Rory reassured himself. "No need to die a hero."

    It''s not like I''m doing anything heroic anyway. Unless you count this as IP protection and IP protection as a heroic deed.

    Rory chuckled nervously before grasping the goggles on his head and pulling them down over his eyes. They''d been a last-minute invention, made to help him see in the dark by using runes to gather what light there was. A moment later, he dropped into the dark hole.

    "So far, so good," Rory muttered, the goggles lighting up some of the darkness of his surroundings.

    Next up was his bracelet. It fit snuggly, which was entirely expected given that it was grafted into his flesh. Rory avoided touching it, not wanting to activate the runes upon it. He didn''t bother to check with his skinsuit. Rory could feel it snug to his body beneath his clothes, a texture akin to wool and athletic spandex.

    Good, that''s everything.

    Rory didn''t bother to inspect his bow and arrows. He''d already spent enough time obsessively inspecting them that he knew them like the back of his hand.

    I''m ready.

    Giving himself a reassuring nod, Rory wandered through the underground tunnel as it gently sloped downward until he was met with the familiar ore cave. Typically, this was the extent of his journey into the Maw, but not today. Today, he had a bigger fish to fry. Continuing onward, Rory trekked on until he was finally met with the sight of his nightmares.

    A cave that had nearly been his grave. Inside was a large subterranean pond, and Rory knew that inside that pond was the strongest monster he''d ever faced without the aid of his railguns.

    You''ve got this.

    Snagging a stone from the ground, Rory aimed for a moment before flicking it into the room. With a loud clack of stone on stone, it clattered on the ground only several feet from the pond. The moment the stone was out of his hand, Rory pulled free his bow, his opening arrow prepared.

    Come on, you oversized calamari.

    His wish was granted when, seconds later, a forest of oversized tentacles -each as thick as a small tree truck- slithered out from the depths, swiping through the air, looking for the source of the noise. When they found nothing, they twitched around, almost as if they were confused about what had intruded on their home.

    A grimace crossed Rory''s face as he was met with the monster of his nightmares. Giving his bracelet a tap with his elbow, the runes upon it glowed momentarily as a rush of vital energy coursed through him.

    Transfusion is a go.

    The blood-weave he wore responded all over his body, increasing his body temperature by several degrees.

    With nothing left to do, Rory took one final deep breath, sighting the largest cluster of tentacles before releasing the arrow with a quiet twang.

    Slicing through the air in a heartbeat, the arrow sank into the fleshy tentacle, which recoiled in surprise.

    Before exploding, a wave of concussive energy rolled outward and tore into the rest of its tentacles.

    I hope that felt great, you ugly fuck!

    As much as Rory would have loved to have stayed outside the cave and fired from relative safety, he knew the monster would flee under the water should it find nothing to retaliate against.

    So, against his better judgment, Rory charged.

    "For Tolkien!" He shouted, wishing very badly that he was Aragorn about now. The flailing tentacles instantly turned toward Rory as he charged inside the cave. Still, Rory wouldn''t just let them squash him into a meaty paste. A second arrow already knocked; Rory released the bowstring. Zipping through the air faster than any old universe bow could replicate, the arrow slammed into another tentacle. Unlike the first arrow, his second arrow didn''t explode; he only had one unstable arrow prepared, which was empowered with a blood bead inside the arrow shaft and primed to detonate. However, that wasn''t to say his other arrows were useless, far from it. As soon as the second arrow ripped through the creature''s tentacle, black oozing blood began spurting free like a pressurized faucet.

    Huh, it works better than I hoped.

    The broadhead arrow was explicitly designed to maximize bleeding. It was even inscribed with runes meant to thin the blood and speed the rate of blood loss. As much as the tentacle bled, one badly bleeding tentacle wouldn''t win him the battle, as dozens more exploded out from the depths.

    "It''s never easy!" Rory huffed loudly, the tentacles going wild as they crashed and swiped all around, making Rory feel like he was on some living parkour course. Had it not been for the energy transfusion enhancing his physical capabilities, he would have never survived, the writhing storm of tentacles too fast and too vast in quantity to have been avoided by a mere tier four. Even boosted as he was, at one point, he was still a split second too slow as a tentacle clipped him, sending him reeling through the air and crashing into the stone wall of the cave.

    Dry heaving from the force of the impact, Rory could only thank his blood weave; it had redistributed the kinetic energy of the strike throughout his body. Sure, it meant his entire body ached like hell, but it was better than his ribs being turned into dust.

    Giving him no reprieve, another tentacle swung toward Rory. Unable to knock an arrow in time, Rory stabbed forward with it instead, burying it into the tentacle as it retreated a moment later.

    Fuck that was close.

    At the very least, he was still alive. Drawing several arrows, Rory fired them into the unknown horror''s tentacles. Blood was now positively pouring out of the sea monster like a burst oil well. The more the tentacles thrashed, the more they bled.

    Bleeding wasn''t the only issue they faced. If one looked closely, from each of the arrows embedded into the monster, wispy-looking vines had begun to extend outward, wrapping around the tentacles.

    God, I''m glad that''s not me.

    Rory winced, seeing the horrific sight before him. Sure, the properties of the tree were helpful, but what was most interesting or perhaps distressing -depending on how one viewed it- was that the tree was explicitly parasitic, something he''d realized during his work with his blood-weave, infesting the hide and fur armor they had once been.

    A few little bits and pieces of bloodwood inside a monster? No harm. But as the quantity of its biochemistry was allowed to invade a living host -especially one suffering profuse blood loss- the more it could overcome the natural defenses of whatever it was invading. Rory knew it wouldn''t be enough to kill the monster; the Bloodwood tree he''d harvested was barely better than a sapling, and thus, the parasitic qualities were still relatively poor, but that didn''t make life any better for the hell octopus.

    Feeling a surge of confidence, Rory grinned.

    I can do this.

    Of course, that was when the real problem arose, and quite literally. From the pond, something huge began to emerge. The size of a small truck, it was the head of the monster, some evil-looking cross between a moray eel and the head of a leach.

    "Fuck that," Rory said, his face blanching. Immediately changing targets, Rory began raining arrows upon the creature''s head. As the arrows snapped through the air, rather than finding purchase in its ugly-looking head, they bounced off the slimy hide. Annoyed by being pelting in the head by what amounted to no more than gnats for all the good they did, the mouth upon the monster''s revolting visage opened as a dozen eel-like tentacles shot forward like something out of Ridley Scott''s Alien, each one ending with a jaw filled with needle-like protrusions that reminded Rory of the papillae you''d see inside a turtle''s mouth.

    Why is everything about this thing just the worst thing you could imagine?

    The ravenous subheads were a maelstrom of savagery, tearing apart even its own tentacles should any get in the way. They simply did not care what they tore into as long as they tore into something. At one point, Rory saw one strike the wall, tearing through stone like soft cheese.

    At that point, Rory began eyeing the exit; adding the extra heads into the melee was starting to look like too much to handle, especially if he couldn''t get his arrows to stick. Unfortunately for Rory, that was when one of the oversized tentacles lashed out, smashing into the exit and collapsing it partially. With time, Rory could remove the debris, but it would take time that he didn''t have.

    "Fuck."

    No longer able to flee, Rory retreated as far from the pond as he could, doing his best to remain quiet as the swarm of tentacles and abominable heads continued rampaging.

    New plan.

    Hit and run had worked well enough when it was just the tentacles, but things had gotten far hairier. Rory was beginning to doubt he could kill the monster by wounding its tentacles. Exhausted it and pissed it off? Sure. Enough to kill it outright? Probably not.

    A railgun would have been nice about now, but Rory didn''t precisely have time to set one up or lay out a bounded circle and channel pneuma into it.

    It''s clich¨¦, but, well¡­

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    If he couldn''t kill it by destroying its tentacles, and the exterior of its head was too rigid and slimy to pierce, then there was only one vulnerability he could capitalize on.

    Its mouth.

    The issue was that it also meant placing himself directly in front of the lion''s den, the source of all the subheads.

    If I can send one powerful arrow straight through, just maybe I can kill the damned thing.

    Rory wasn''t sure about the biology of octopus-eel-leach chimeras; it wasn''t as if Biology of the worst fucking thing you''ve ever seen-101 was a class offered when he''d gone to college, so there was a chance he could be wrong in his assumption. Still, unless his luck was really that bad, Rory figured assuming the head was a vital spot was generally a safe enough bet for basically any living thing with a head.

    Suddenly curious about the monster, Rory focused on its head as his interface appeared with information displayed.

    Watcher in the Depths-Juvenile

    Level: 54

    First discovered by a curious precursor, Watcher in the Depths are most often found guarding the entrances to dark places.

    Aelia really did rip off Tolkien! Rory mentally shouted. His mental shout was quickly followed by a real shout as all the tentacles suddenly whipped toward where he was lurking. Yelping and dodging out of the way, Rory pumped his arms as he bobbed and weaved, dodging the writhing storm of ick.

    Noted, using analyze on something strong from up close alerts them.

    Continuing to dodge and sprint around the bowl of the pond, Rory felt something begin to shift. All over his body, Rory felt the blood-weave he wore begin to flake and crumble like ash from a bonfire.

    Oh, shit.

    He''d forgotten there was a time limit; the blood weave he wore was only so potent because it was brimming with the vital energies of countless sacrificed monsters. That energy was quickly depleting, drawn through the bracelet he''d grafted to his wrist. Once it was gone, his attributes would drop down to a level more fitting of a tier four, no longer capable of performing on the level of a tier five.

    Right, end this in one shot, or I''m dead.

    Weaving through the oncoming rush of tentacles and subheads, Rory was clipped twice more, sending him sprawling, but thankfully not straight into a wall like earlier. Regaining his footing, Rory dashed forward, placing himself directly before the monstrosity.

    "Hey, fucker!" Rory shouted, wanting to draw the full attention of the monster toward him; it was the best way to get a clean shot.

    Once more, Rory''s wish was granted. Every single tentacle and subhead swarmed toward him from either direction, cutting off any chance of escape.

    This had better work!

    Dropping to one knee, Rory drew the string of his bow back as time seemed to slow. Reaching the legacy within the bow, Rory felt the magic there, just waiting to be activated. Doing as it obliged, Rory activated the Akashic Record. Like an IV in reverse, Rory felt his vitality ripped from him. The first to go was his blood-weave, what remained crumbling to shriveled fibers, his physical attributes plummeting as the blood-weave was fully drained. Less than a tenth of a second later, Rory felt as if he''d been wrung out like a towel, the Blood Legacy capable of drawing vital energy at a horrifying rate.

    Right, no more!

    Cutting off the Akashic Record within the bow before it could kill him, Rory''s eye began to spasm just looking at it. It was chock full of destructive potential, even more than when he''d tested it upon creating the bow.

    No more time to think or make rather unclever remarks, Rory fully released the bow as his entire body was launched backward, the sheer force of the arrowing ripping free, tossing him aside like refuse in the wind.

    Whatever happened next, Rory wasn''t sure. His entire world was a mass of agony, his head imploding and exploding simultaneously. He''d been drained of vital energy and pneuma in such quantity and with such suddenness that he was barely holding up under the worst case of Pneuma-wracked he''d ever suffered.

    Time passed in a chaotic mass of colors, and his vision distorted like the aural disruption from a migraine. What felt like an eternity later, at last, the colors faded, leaving only blackness. Groggily reaching toward his head, Rory found his goggles still on, spiderweb fractures snaking through the visor-like material. Pulling them off his head¡ªthey were beyond repair¡ªRory slowly sat up from where he had collapsed.

    Had he not been worn ragged, the monstrous tentacles only inches from his body on either side of him would have been at least a little unnerving. Instead, he only sighed.

    I lived to see another day.

    The encounter had not gone quite as planned. The Watcher had only been a low tier five, yet it had nearly overwhelmed him with the sudden advent of its subheads.

    Speaking of which, they also were lying around him, lifeless and still horrifying to look at.

    Fucking lovely.

    The monster''s main head was half sunken into the pond, resting partially on the outer bank. A rather large hole had been torn through the back of its head as if someone had fired a cannon straight through it.

    "Hot damn." Rory groaned as he glanced toward the bow lying in his lap.

    That Blood Legacy is intense.

    Which was fair. Drawing upon Pneuma and vital energy had to make for a powerful shot.

    But the sad thing? With all that said and done, Rory still doubted if the most powerful attack from his strongest bow was any more powerful than a single round from his railgun Big Momma.

    I miss her.

    Forcing himself to get over being stripped of his easy-mode weapon, Rory took in the rest of the cave now that an aquatic horror wasn''t assaulting him.

    As far as caves went, it wasn''t exciting; it was just one large open cave with a pond that dominated the cave''s center.

    Wait a moment.

    Barely visible, opposite the entrance he''d entered from, there was an opening like an arch or a doorway at the back of the cave.

    Was that always there?

    Rory couldn''t remember seeing the opening for the life of him. Still, he had been rather preoccupied, and it was well hidden in the shadows.

    More than happy with just surviving the encounter, with nothing else to take stock of, Rory noticed several notifications in the corner of his vision. Mentally clicking on them, his interface sprang forward.

    The Maw-Level One

    Status-Cleared

    "Level one?" Rory voiced aloud. "So, it does go deeper."

    That tidbit of information aside, what surprised Rory the most was that the first level apparently only had a single monster, the Watcher.

    "Scratch that," Rory said, shaking his head after thinking about it more. Sure, there was only one monster on floor one, but it was also a tier-five monster. Had it not been for the boosting effect of his blood-weave, even equipped with his improved bow, he would have been forced to flee again.

    God damn, trying to fight up even a single tier is fucking rough. I can understand why Eon seemed so against my usage of my railguns; I was a tier three fighting up five damn tiers.

    For a moment, Rory fantasized about what a refined and improved railgun would be capable of but shook the thought off a moment later.

    No point. That''s begging Eon to send some crazy ass monster to eat me.

    The floor clear notification wasn''t his only notification, though. A smile erupted on his face as he glanced down at his ascension bar.

    Boom. Tier Five.

    Going into the battle, he had been tier four, level forty-six. By besting the Watcher, he''d made forty percent progress in one battle.

    Which is probably more of a testament to how difficult fighting up tiers is supposed to be.

    The Watcher hadn''t even been some crazy high-tier tier-five monster; it had barely been nearing the first step of a mid-tier five, yet it had almost been an impossible fight.

    As jubilant as Rory was about clearing tier four off the back of slaying a higher-tier monster, one more notification still awaited his attention. Curious, Rory opened it.

    Challenge Area cleared: The Maw-Level One

    Loot Table earned

    Open: Y/N?

    Now that''s new. Rory mused. He''d never seen anything like this before, but in fairness, he hadn''t done much exploring of the world. Even with the waves, he''d basically only tackled one wave at a time or a full ten-wave gauntlet that had also been altered by Eon as a test, with no real in-between. Perhaps ''loot tables'' weren''t all that uncommon; he just hadn''t encountered one himself. Or, for all he knew, they were something new altogether.

    Shrugging, Rory mentally selected the ''Yes'' option, waiting for something to occur, perhaps a magical beam of light dropping an item on him or a chorus of music as a chest of items appeared.

    He wasn''t expecting black ooze -the monster''s blood- to shoot upward in a rotating orb floating above the dead creature. Spinning faster and faster, it began to glow with heat and compress, inky smoke billowing out as the ball of black blood burnt away. Seconds passed like that until all that remained was a small metallic-looking chunk of red¡­ something. Whatever it was, it was larger than a baseball but smaller than a football. Finished spinning, it floated toward Rory, hovering before him as another interface popped up.

    Loot Table reward obtained: Refined crafting material.

    Staring at the crimson-colored metal, as there was no doubt it was metal now that it was directly in front of him, Rory activated Eye for Potential as he analyzed it.

    ???

    Quality: Uncommon.

    A potent metal obtained from the refinement and processing of the trace metal elements within the blood of most living creatures.

    Oh, looks like I''m the first to discover it. Naming time!

    After thinking for only a moment, Rory nodded as his interface updated with the name he had decided upon.

    <u>Crimsonite</u>

    Quality: Uncommon.

    A potent metal obtained from the refinement and processing of the trace metal elements within the blood of most living creatures.

    Naming conventions aside, Rory thought about what the metal meant to him. Uncommon quality metal was precious, considering the Pneuma-Enriched Iron was only common quality, but oddly enough, that wasn''t what Rory found himself fixating on.

    No, what was important was that he''d been clued in on another potential uncommon grade material he could exploit. In their old universe, it was known that there were trace amounts of iron within human blood, which had seemingly carried over in some fashion; trace amounts of metal elements could apparently still be found in blood.

    So, if I just sucked out the blood of a lot of living things¡­

    Rory shook his head after a moment. First, he didn''t know how the metal was extracted or refined. Eon could do it using whatever bullshit-ery it was that Eon used to do anything, but the same didn''t extend to Rory. He''d have to extensively study and experiment to ascertain the process.

    The second, perhaps more important issue, was the question of morals. Bloodwood already required a rather extensive amount of ''dark arts'' if one were to judge it based on old universe principles. Adding Crimsonite to the list would only further direct him down the route of future Dark Lord.

    I swear, I am not a Dark Lord in the making.

    That wasn''t to say he wouldn''t explore the potential of the metal at all. It would just have to wait until he could kill larger and more powerful monsters that would have the blood volume needed to run his tests without committing further rabbit genocide.

    Ethics aside, Rory turned the chunk of metal around. Eye for Potential was great for clueing him in on things he could utilize effectively, but it wasn''t perfect. It didn''t automatically grant him knowledge he didn''t already have some degree of insight into.

    As it was, Crimsonite was a complete unknown to Rory. At least Pneuma-Enriched Iron shared some similarities with its namesake. Rory had never seen a metal like Crimsonite before, which was the problem; there was nothing for Eye for Potential to grasp. Was it conductive, be it electricity or Pneuma? Brittle? Maybe it had a high flex point?

    Too many questions and far too few researchers.

    Sighing, Rory was still just happy that he had gained the sudden windfall for killing the Watcher, a tangible reward that wasn''t just Ascension energy.

    Speaking of which.

    Now that all his notifications had been handled, there was the matter of his ascension to A5. An intelligent person would wait until they''d returned to camp to handle it. However, Rory''s brain was still rather liquefied from the backlash of Blood Legacy. Thus, without thinking about the risks of pushing the ascension inside an unknown area, Rory breached the barrier as, in a heartbeat, he found himself in the familiar metaphysical void where all ascensions took place.

    "Huh, no Eon today," Rory muttered within the darkness. He''d encountered Eon, or at least its avatar, so frequently recently that he''d half expected to find it seated at the same unadorned table it was always seated at.

    "You know," Rory pondered out loud. "If this is my mind space, I should be able to control it, right? In theory, can''t I just poof a table into existence?"

    The moment he spoke, the same table he''d come to associate with Eon appeared, the only difference being that there was a single chair.

    "Well, would you look at that? Guess it was that easy," Rory muttered before taking a seat. Floating aimlessly in an endless void always felt odd as he handled all his ascension stuff, so it was nice to sit for once.

    Well, time to get on with it.

 29. After the mountain.... Another mountain

    Seated at the table where he''d often interacted with Eon, Rory found himself contemplating.

    Attributes first, or skills?

    With each Ascension, he''d been offered skills related to his vocation or things he''d done. Some were weird, while others were rather mundane, but they always were a thing to look forward to.

    Attributes were straightforward and boring, a foundation for strategizing one''s future.

    Skills first, then.

    Instantly, his interface was populated, and several skills appeared.

    "Huh." That was all Rory said, looking at his first option.

    Runic Bones: Pushing one''s knowledge of Inscription beyond a level few others can even dream of, you''ve peered into the scholarly arcane and dedicated yourself wholeheartedly. Now, turn that skill inward as you inscribe upon your very bones.

    Warning: Selection will reduce the variety of skill offerings gained through Ascension that do not pertain to Inscription.

    "Yeah, that''s something alright," Rory muttered. He couldn''t lie; it sounded like a secret master-level skill many would kill for, obtainable only by being one of the most dedicated to the art of Inscription.

    Of course, Rory was cheating. Being the sole practitioner of Inscription meant he was automatically the best around.

    Yet he was about to do something that future followers of the school of Inscription would be horrified by.

    "Hard pass." Rory snorted. The idea of being able to add inscriptions into his very bones somehow sounded like it had some rather insane potential for improving and augmenting himself. Still, he didn''t like the warning that it would potentially limit his ability to gain other skills unrelated to Inscription. After all, he was the Architect of the Precursors, not the Inscriber of the Precursors.

    "Up next is¡­ oh, a boring one."

    Exotic Tailor: Unlike any old tailor, an exotic tailor has practiced making clothes and light armor from all sorts of strange and exotic materials. Grants some innate knowledge of tailoring and increased frequency of non-ascension acquisition of tailor-type skills.

    "So, basically, because of that blood-weave, I get offered a skill to make similar stuff more easily, and I¡­ learn skills outside of Ascension more easily? It could be interesting if it weren''t for the fact that it only applies to tailoring. Pass."

    Looking further down the list, Rory''s eyebrows rose steadily until he shook his head, thoroughly peeved.

    "Okay, whose fucking idea of a joke is this? Was it you, Eon?"

    As for what had so thoroughly annoyed him?

    Blood Mandate: An Architect for the future builds a world as they imagine it. What better world to imagine than the one you rule over? A mandate to rule, a mandate to lord, gained not through the divine but through blood and blood alone. Those who stand beside you will see their bloodlines anointed, and those who oppose you shall see their bloodlines water the soil beneath your feet. Blood Mandate grants no immediate effects and, in return, gains access to the Sovereign system, which allows for evolution as a ruler, be it the noble Monarch, the just Iudex, or the iron fist of an Overlord.

    Notice: Due to the basis of the Sovereign system being unlocked through Blood Mandate, the Overlord route will be heavily favored.

    "Seriously, what the fuck?" Rory shouted into the void, wringing his hands. "I know I said I''m not some Dark fucking Lord, and here I am being offered ''How to Become a Dark Lord 101'' as if I was joking!"

    In fairness, as much as Rory was annoyed, he couldn''t deny any curiosity. There was also the fact that he had some idea for why it had been offered in the first place. After all, he had been dabbling a lot in blood sacrifices and other dubious activities.

    Still, straight to a Dark Lord skill? Not even any other in-between blood-related skills?

    That part was the head-scratcher. He''d expected to see a blood-based skill, just not one that was so straightforward about its intent to send him down the route of an overlord.

    When you think about it, maybe it isn''t just because of all the blood stuff I''ve been up to.

    Skill offerings weren''t precisely random, or at least not totally. Which meant there must have been some prerequisites he''d fulfilled. The first was evident; he already had blood affinity and related skill.

    The second was likely the routine monster sacrifices he''d performed to bolster his bloodwood tree creation.

    And the third?

    It took a moment of thought before it slowly dawned on him.

    "My settlement." Rory sighed. "I''m the leader of a settlement. And potentially, the ''largest'' settlement."

    While he hadn''t expanded his camp in some time, he instinctively knew he could have had he wanted to, having earned quite a large amount of land surrounding his camp. If space still counted as part of his ''domain,'' he had a large settlement to his name, to the measure of half a mile in any direction.

    It sounded correct to Rory, yet it still seemed a bit¡­ weak to be offered something as special sounding as Blood Mandate. If Rory didn''t know any better-

    "You''re trying to use me as a guinea pig for a new idea, aren''t you?" Rory suddenly realized as his eyes narrowed, locking onto two specific words in the description.

    Sovereign system.

    He''d never heard of a ''Sovereign system'' before, and while Rory being clueless about stuff wasn''t new, Rory had a feeling the Sovereign system was an idea that Eon had likely devised on the spot, recognizing a potential avenue to test some new game-styled system out, this one based on ruling and all that fun stuff.

    Even realizing he was being used as a test bed for an idea by the sort-of-an-Ai-possibly-a-god Eon, Rory momentarily considered it. He had no doubt the Sovereign system would likely be something with a hell of a lot of potential, especially since it seemed almost the perfect pair with his vocation.

    And yet?

    Yet Rory wouldn''t falter.

    "I already told you," Rory said as he finally moved past the demonic lordship skill. "I''m not a Dark Lord."

    Glad to have made that clear¡ªeven if Eon made no attempt to respond to his defiance¡ªRory took in the fourth option, eyebrows raising in purer curiosity this time around.

    Scholar''s Retreat: The art of war is the art of brutes and barbarians. A scholar knows that to fight is to lower oneself to the level of savages, and thus, a scholar will only reach for the instruments of war when in dire straits. By trading the ability to gain combat-type skills through any means aside from direct endeavors, the Scholar gains the ability to augment their Cognition and a passive increased rate of non-combat skill acquisition.

    Warning: Combat skills will be permanently blocked from appearing through ascension skill selection or other skill offerings.

    "Now that''s something heavy," Rory uttered as he let the offered option sink in. "Blocks all combat skills from being obtained, except through old-fashioned elbow grease and effort."

    Realistically, it was a stupid idea even to consider the skill. If monsters continued to grow more and more powerful, gaining a wider variety of abilities, combat skills would likely become the bread and butter of this new universe.

    Yet Rory found himself thinking about it more than he probably should have.

    "How about I put a hold on it for now," Rory told himself, dismissing the option for the time being as his eyes drifted to the final offering.

    "Right, because, of course."

    As if to spit in his face, for the first time in his life on Aelia, Rory had finally been offered a combat skill.

    Right after being offered an option that would block combat skills for good.

    Hawk Eye: Through the fire and flames, you''ve-

    "Alright, that feels like it''s from somewhere." Rory suddenly interrupted his reading. It sounded vaguely familiar, something he''d likely heard around his grandparents, but Rory couldn''t quite place it.

    "Ehh, guess it''s not that important, now, is it?"

    Hawk Eye: Through the fire and flames, the Hawk Eye has survived trial and tribulation. It was not the sword or the spear that carried the Hawk Eye through, but the way of the bow and arrow. Surpassing even the trustworthy bow, the Hawk Eye has proven dedicated to ranged combat, utilizing even the most particular and exotic missile weaponry. Seeing what even the most trained of archers cannot, the Hawk Eye combines a dedication to ranged warfare with a powerful vision. Grants Trajectory Projection and Minor Missile Manipulation.

    "Damn," Rory whistled. His first combat-type offering and it seemed damn impressive. If he understood it correctly, because he''d preferred to use bows and sometimes railguns, it had assessed him as some sort of archer type during his time in their new universe. Even the repeated mention of the eye part and having a powerful vision sounded like a clue as if by having a vision-based skill, in his case, Eye for Potential, he''d fulfilled the requirements to be offered Hawk Eye.

    "Not just that," Rory mused. "It sounds like I''d get two skills for the single offering."

    Trajectory Projection sounded like something that would allow him to "see" the trajectory of an arrow, or perhaps any ranged weaponry he used, without shooting a test shot first. As for Minor Missile Manipulation, well, that sounded self-explanatory, the ability to potentially alter the path of a projectile to some degree.

    Both probably utilize Pneuma if they''re active skills. The only reason Essence Spark doesn''t is because my specific affinity makes it drain from my vital energy instead.

    The choice should have been obvious. He''d finally been offered a combat-type ability. Not just that, it sounded as if it had two sub-skills.

    Which was precisely why Rory threw his hands up in exasperation.

    "You''re joking, right? After everything I''ve overcome without a single offered combat skill, NOW you offer me something? I already cleared ten waves straight! I already beat the Watcher! I reached A5 without any! So NOW you offer me one!"

    Rory was ranting; he was aware. Even if he knew he was ranting, it didn''t change his irritation that after more than a year of struggles, when he''d just finally started to find his footing, all without a combat skill, only now had he been offered one.

    "You know what? Fuck you." Rory grunted, his hand snapping out and selecting an option before he could think it through, annoyance urging him forward.

    Instantly, the interface changed, and a new screen appeared, his skills displayed.

    Eye of the Scholar

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low</u>

    A scholar must have a discerning eye and a thirst for knowledge. While active, it enhances Cognition to a variable degree. Does not function while in combat.

    As Rory stared at the skill, his moment of heated impulse began to dawn on him, regret already filling him.

    Alright, maybe not my best decision.

    Over a year of struggle had gotten to him. In a single moment of rash judgment, he''d just locked himself out from ever receiving any combat skills through means that weren''t old-fashioned training.

    "When in doubt, leave it for Future-Rory to solve," Rory sighed. Was it perhaps irresponsible of him to think that way?

    Yes.

    Did he care?

    ¡­Maybe a little.

    Trying not to overthink what he''d just done, Rory thought about his newest skill. Eye of the Scholar was, as it said, meant to boost his Cognition. Sadly, it couldn''t be used in combat; it would have been a cheap way of avoiding future Cognition investment, but that didn''t make the skill useless. In fact, that was far from the case. While Cognition didn''t make you directly smarter, it did enhance your thinking speed. If a regular human could only process three or four things a minute, a human enhanced with greater Cognition could have double, triple, or quadruple the train of thought.

    Again, it didn''t make someone directly smarter. Still, if you could spend half the time planning something out, it also meant you''d effectively be able to consider twice the ideas.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Which was almost like being more intelligent, if in a roundabout, brute-force fashion.

    Semantics? Perhaps, but for someone who had now locked themselves outside of regular combat skills, he''d need it to plan, consider problems, and even focus on crafting endeavors.

    Almost like I''m some sort of¡­ Architect.

    Even Rory wanted to roll his eyes with himself, the attempt at humor falling flat.

    "Well, I guess next is attribu- huh?"

    He''d been prepared to move on now that he had handled the Vocation expansion stuff. That was until a message suddenly popped up on his interface.

    <u>Skill modification possible</u>: Eye for Potential and Eye of the Scholar

    Two or more synergistic overlapping skills detected. Skill interplay is possible.

    Proceed? Y/N

    "That''s new," Rory scratched at his chin as he looked at the message. It wasn''t the first time one of his skills had been changed. Runic Inscription had been turned into Ancestral Inscription, but this was the first time he''d received a notification about it and the ability to decline the change.

    Maybe because it involves more than one skill?

    Seeing no reason not to accept, Rory mentally tapped the Yes option as his interface updated, a spinning circle that vanished a moment later.

    Skill Modification successful:

    Eye for Potential and Eye of the Scholar merged. New skill obtained. Higher rarity was maintained.

    Eyes of the Dokkalfar-kin

    <u>Rarity: Rare. Skill Level: Low</u>

    A scholarly eye that peers into the world''s mysteries and another that sees the potential within all things. When brought together, they form the eyes of the Dokkalfar. While not of the Dokkalfar, one may become like their kin by obtaining their sight. Grants three stages of ocular release. Stage one allows one to either see through the darkest of nights, perceive the world''s potential, or enhance one''s understanding of whatever they lay eyes upon. Stage two allows for semi-perfect ocular release, allowing dual ocular effects. Stage three provides full ocular release, enabling all three effects to be used in tandem. Mental strain increases with each stage of ocular release.

    Ocular releases: Potential Recognition, Cognition Amplification, Luster Capture

    "Damn, that''s a lot to take in," Rory said as he reread the information of the new skill. "I retain the old features of Eye for Potential and Eyes of the Scholar, and I even gained the ability to see in the dark easier¡­ I wonder if that last one was an add-on because of the light capture goggles I made?"

    All in all, Rory was more than pleased. The fact that the skill rarity hadn''t increased was a bit of a bummer; three features in one sounded like something that deserved a higher rarity.

    Then again, Ancestral Inscription allowed Eon to intervene directly and save me, so I suppose trying to reach past Rare requires some rather insane qualities.

    Waiting several seconds to see if any other sudden surprises would appear, Rory finally dismissed his skill-related interfaces.

    It was finally time to move on to the next part of his Ascension to A5.

    Attributes.

    Attributes, oh attributes. They were the bread and butter of Ascension, the blueprint or outline for one''s future. Rory''s early ascensions had all been in quick enough succession that he hadn''t ever had to sit with the consequences of his choices for long, but this was the first genuinely long-term decision. Years would be spent in A5, and a poor choice could extend the time frame significantly or even lead him to his demise.

    Don''t be rash.

    On the other hand, it was the first Ascension for which Rory didn''t feel unprepared. He had spent months getting the hang of the ropes, which gave him an idea of what to expect and a general understanding of each attribute. With actual gear and resources, Rory could afford to push his limits if it meant maximizing the potential returns.

    "So," Rory muttered. "How do I want to do this?"

    Strength, Durability, Flexibility, Cognition, Pneuma, and Growth were his choices, and the ultimate question was how he divided his attributes between them. Going down the list one by one, Rory contemplated the pros and cons.

    Strength is the most straightforward, as always. Hit harder, run faster, etc.

    While it was the most straightforward of the attributes, it was also the one Rory was least interested in. He rarely relied on raw strength for much of anything, and if it ever got into a situation where it came down to a battle of strength, well, he was right screwed anyway.

    Next, Durability.

    Durability was significantly more interesting, if not for the reasons one might expect. As the name suggested, durability was just how much punishment a person could take. Claws that would tear an average human in half may not even leave a scratch with enough durability.

    But that wasn''t the reason Rory found durability compelling. It was the fact that durability was partially linked to recovery rate, and that was significantly more useful when he considered that his primary crafting skill, Essence Spark, utilized his blood affinity, which also directly drained him from his life force. So, while the extra defensive properties of durability were an obvious benefit, it was for crafting purposes that he found himself more concerned with the attribute.

    Flexibility.

    Much like strength, Rory wasn''t all that concerned with flexibility as an attribute going into A5. Flexibility was more of a supporting attribute; without flexibility, you''d eventually reach the point where the raw strength of your body would be too much for your joints to handle. With tendons unable to take the force of each movement, every step, every simple action would shred your tendons and ligaments. It was like durability, just for the connective tissues, as durability was also necessary to support the strength attribute. There was another benefit to flexibility, outside of preventing injury to one''s own body or prancing around like a gymnast, though, which was that it also seemed to affect coordination, and for someone who was primarily a crafter who also lacked the aid of machine precision, that increased coordination could come in handy.

    Moving on from the purely physical attributes.

    Cognition was the attribute Rory could admit the most interest in going into A5. With his new and improved skill, Eyes of the Dokkalfar-kin, there was a specific mention of how one potential usability was in boosting his Cognition. Rory didn''t yet know if it was a flat or percent increase; in either case, an increase in Cognition could prove helpful. If it were just a flat amount, increasing his Cognition would likely reduce the ''strain'' the skill inflicted on him, allowing him to sustain it continuously. If it were a percent increase, then an increase in his Cognition attribute would result in an overall more considerable increase. Most importantly, Cognition was to the mind what Strength was to the body, and Rory''s "build" was definitely focused more on the advantages of his mind than his body.

    The only issue was that Cognition was one hundred percent a supporting attribute. Unless there was something he wasn''t aware of, it didn''t make him any more powerful in a fight. Aside from processing the flow of a battle faster, it didn''t matter much if his physical body couldn''t keep up.

    Next up, Pneuma. If strength is the main attribute of the body, then Pneuma is the main attribute of the¡­ not the body. Hmm, not my best phrasing.

    Ignoring his poor description, Pneuma was one of the odd attributes. He''d asked Eon about it once and hadn''t received much of a straight answer, having still not tapped into Pneuma yet. Fast forward to now, he had a far better idea of what the attribute did. Pneuma was a lot like a garden hose. Your talent with Pneuma was the pressure of the hose; the more talented you were, the more pressure you could output. Yet, the raw volume was still limited by the actual circumference of the hose. Increasing the Pneuma attribute wouldn''t necessarily make you better at using magic. What it would do was ease the burden of channeling more Pneuma at any moment, increasing the circumference of the hose. For Rory, who had realized his actual skill at using Pneuma was rather¡­ lacking, the attribute wasn''t likely to change much for him; perhaps he could fill a bounded circle faster with less of a headache. Outside of that, he didn''t see much worth for him.

    Finally, Growth.

    The most conceptual of the attributes, Growth traded some of your current potential in return for greater returns in the future. It was an attribute that seemed to favor the crafter type; a combatant lowering their power potential would heavily reduce their growth rate. Being a higher tier would also result in weaker monsters giving next to no ascension energy; a combat-focused ascender could theoretically find themselves stuck without a way forward. Crafters could circumvent such a problem by relying on crafting to gain ascension energy and ignoring their temporary reduction in strength entirely. Alternatively, they could rely on their creations to shore up potential combat weaknesses.

    Honestly, I''m shocked that Eon made the interplay of attributes so¡­ fair?

    Glancing over the attributes, Rory began to form a plan.

    My'' least needed'' attributes are Flexibility, Strength, and Pneuma. Growth is probably the best option; I expect an extended stay in A5 regardless. Adding a few years onto that so I have enough attributes in A6 to keep up is worth it. I''m left with Durability and Cognition, which I''d give equal importance to, just behind Growth.

    With the general weighting of the attributes determined, Rory began sliding the attribute density sliders around until he felt satisfied. Growth, being most important, received a full forty percent of his total A5 attribute density. Durability and Cognition ranked second and received twenty percent each, leaving him only a final twenty percent remaining. Three attributes left to consider: Rory had to decide how to split it between Strength, Flexibility, and Pneuma.

    Of the three, strength is probably the most useful. If not for combat, then for manual labor, which I always find myself doing. Chopping down an ordinary Sol''s Glory is like hacking through a steel beam, and juvenile Bloodwoods are even worse. I can only imagine a slightly more mature Bloodwood may be impossible to chop down if I don''t add at least some strength.

    Nodding along with his own assessment, Rory cranked the slider up ten percent, leaving a final ten percent remaining.

    Two attributes remain, ten percent. Honestly? It''s probably easiest to just split it evenly.

    Attributes distributed; Rory gave it a once over, double checking.

    Growth is 40%, Durability and Cognition are 20% each, Strength is 10%, and Flexibility and Pneuma are 5% for both.

    Confirming the distribution, Rory blinked in surprise. The dark void was replaced with a dark cave as he was returned to real space.

    Technically inaccurate, I''ve been here the entire time; I was mentally unavailable.

    Realizing he''d made a mistake pushing his Ascension while in an unknown cave, Rory shrugged it off; there was no point in worrying about things already done.

    "So¡­. Now what?"

    Rory found himself stumped by the question. Sure, the obvious answer was, ''Keep growing.'' There were more ascensions in the future and a long road ahead.

    But the question was, where was the long road to go? Ignoring the esoteric question of ''why,'' there was also the question of his short-term goals. He''d cleared a ten-wave streak, beaten the Watcher, and even reached A5, even if A5 hadn''t been a specific goal.

    So, now what?

    Stumped, Rory sat down, resting his chin on his hands as he crossed his legs and contemplated.

    Well, what do I know?

    He was still on a vastly unknown planet. His exploration had, at most, taken him a few miles out. Based on the hints Aelia had dropped; the planet was far more extensive than Earth had ever been. The extent of his exploration was like visiting a single state park and assuming you''d explored all of Earth.

    But that''s not a goal, just an observation.

    "Well, what about here?" Rory prompted, glancing around. "I cleared floor one, but how deep does it go?"

    Floor one had consisted of only two rooms; the first room had been directly responsible for many of Rory''s creations, given that it was the only source of metal he''d found. If the first room -which didn''t even involve him fighting any monsters- was already that valuable, what goodies could be found deeper?

    It was worth careful consideration. There was also the teeny, little issue that Aelia had indirectly told him about some time ago: while the monsters of the surface were generally lower level, that wasn''t the case going deeper.

    I wonder why? Maybe because the closer to the planet''s core, the more energy there is to sustain them since Aelia herself is still a low-tier planet?

    As it stood, it would remain an idle theory unless he intended to pester Aelia directly. Rory also doubted that Aelia would appreciate being bothered over something so irrelevant.

    What matters is that trekking further into the Maw is probably equally lucrative as it is dangerous.

    "Goal one," Rory announced, satisfied with the general direction of his thoughts. "Explore deeper into the Maw."

    It still wasn''t the most substantial goal, but it was something.

    What else?

    As for his time on Aelia, there hadn''t been much else. Aside from crafting, the only other thing he''d done was tackling the waves that he could summon to assault his settlement.

    Now that I mention it, I wonder¡­

    Ever since Rory had cleared his tenth consecutive wave, he had avoided interacting with the wave summon feature. While Rory had no proof of it, he had an instinctive belief that there would be a difficulty spike the next time he engaged with the waves, a spike he hadn''t been ready for.

    What about now?

    Two specific events had somewhat distorted his experience with the waves. The first was the appearance of the Nike Fox. Until his fateful battle with the Iaslisk of wave ten, the Nike Fox had far and away been the most powerful monster he''d fought, something that remained true until the fateful tenth wave. The reason that the Nike Fox had appeared in the first place was more of an accident than anything. It had unfortunately been passing through the area just as he activated the monster beacon, where it had been forcibly drawn in to attack. At least, that was what Aelia had made it sound like when he questioned what precisely the Den Mother''s Nucleus was and why it was inside the deceased Nike Fox.

    That, combined with a few revelations he''d had since suddenly made several things make a lot more sense.

    First, the Nike Fox had likely been somewhere in the fourth tier of monsters. Outside the Iaslisk, every other monster had been weaker by a considerable margin, by his approximations somewhere between tiers one and three, the strongest being late-stage tier threes in wave nine. The only reason he''d survived the encounter was that the Nike Fox hadn''t had its heart in the attack; it had wanted nothing more than to use its recently acquired Den Mother''s Nucleus.

    As it had neared his settlement, the fox had likely sensed how much weaker he was in comparison. Gauging him weak enough to be of little threat, the Nike Fox had been taken off guard by the Akashic Record of his bow, which let him strike with a speed and power it wasn''t prepared for.

    In retrospect, damn, I was lucky.

    All that was to say that had it not been for the chance encounter with the Nike Fox, the monsters within the first ten consecutive waves would have likely maxed out at a low tier four with the boss of wave ten. Instead, he''d gotten Eon and Aelia meddling and tossing a tier eight at him to gauge whether his railgun inventions were overpowered.

    And spoiler alert, they were.

    So, if the first ten waves were meant to range from tiers one through four, would the next'' bracket'' be tiers five through eight?

    Pattern-wise, it made sense, but time and power-wise, it seemed a rather drastic jump. Ten waves, increasing that many tiers in only ten weeks. There was no way you''d be able to go from a tier five monster to a tier eight monster by week ten unless you were already tier eight.

    Unless?

    If ascensions took ten times as much energy to increase, why not the waves? The first bracket was ten waves, ten weeks, doable with tiers one through four. But, if the second ''bracket'' of waves was tiers five through tier eight, perhaps it was one hundred weeks of consecutive waves and not ten.

    Rory once more had no actual proof that he was on to something. The only ''proof'' he could point to was that Eon had initially been created from his mind. Thus, there was a fair chance that his gut suspicions would be, at the very least, comparable to reality.

    So, rather than ten weeks, it''s a hundred consecutive weeks, nearly two years. Seems fair if I think that A5 will take me around seven to ten years.

    Thinking about facing one hundred waves, a kernel of an idea began forming within Rory''s mind. He suspected he knew what the second bracket''s final boss was, assuming it capped off with a tier eight boss.

    A rematch with the Iasilisk.

    Again, Rory had no actual proof. Yet, it seemed fitting to Rory, and if it seemed fitting to Rory, Eon was probably in agreement.

    And this time, I''ll be expected to handle it with my strength and not the borrowed firepower of a weapon I probably shouldn''t have had access to.

    A single shot from Big Momma was comparable in power to tank fire. Yet, the Iasilisk had eaten up hundreds of rounds from Big Momma. Even as an A5, with his blood-weave and Blood Legacy bow, Rory doubted he could so much as scratch the monster, even if he sacrificed the entirety of his life force to empower the Blood Legacy effect.

    Goal number two. Rory half grinned, a sort of crazed look of someone realizing the enormity of a looming goalpost. Clear one hundred consecutive waves and beat the Iasilisk. Properly this time.

    It was oddly fitting, for his goals had effectively repeated themselves, still centered on the Maw and some far-off wave.

    Pushing himself off the ground and feeling surprisingly good, given the recent improvement in his Durability attribute, Rory dusted himself off. While the idea of immediately exploring deeper within the Maw occurred to him, his blood-weave bodysuit had disintegrated amidst the battle with the Watcher, leaving him painfully exposed.

    It''s time to return.

    While his material bounty was relatively small in stature, only the hunk of crimsonite to prove his triumph, his Ascension to A5 was already worth the visit.

    That''s another semi-goal. I still need to figure out how to travel between these spots faster.

    A combat-focused Ascender would likely have a much higher overall investment in Strength than Rory had opted for. They could probably clear a journey that took Rory two hours in half the time, if not less.

    "That''s two and a half goals, then," Rory muttered as he left behind the Maw. Stopping shortly in the first cavern, Rory rummaged around and packed some common-grade Pneuma-Enriched ore into his pockets before beginning his trek back home.

    I can never have enough metal, even if it''s only a common grade.

    The journey back was relatively uneventful, for which Rory was thankful. Several times, he heard some monsters just out of sight in the undergrowth. Still, they largely avoided him, his presence as an A5 repelling the common weaker monsters on its own. Taking his sweet time, when Rory finally returned, the suns overhead were nearing the horizon, and night was quickly approaching. Standing beneath a tree just a few feet from the clearing surrounding his settlement, Rory silently observed his home.

    Maybe it''s time I started doing more work with this as well.

    The walls surrounding his settlement were made of the same wood as the rest of the forest, the ever-present Sol''s Glory. They were further protected by a shell of clay-like tile, which had done well repelling the attacks of minor monsters.

    Yet they would need an upgrade if he wanted to tackle a second bracket of waves composed of stronger monsters.

    Rory glanced toward his ritual growth site, where a young Bloodwood was growing. Even with all the supporting growth rituals, it took three weeks for a Bloodwood to grow enough to be harvested for usable resources.

    And I will need a fair amount of Bloodwood if I want to use it as the basis of the wall upgrades. Not to mention how much I would need to expand my settlement at any point.

    Just when he began to feel like he wasn''t in a resource crisis, he was met with the abject reality that showed otherwise.

    It''s always something.

    Rory sighed, stepping out from the forest as he walked toward his camp.

    He had a long road ahead of him.

 30. The Others Pt. 1

    P.O.V: The Primordial Rogue

    Eric had made mistakes in the past. First, when he was five, he stole a candy bar. That was where it all went downhill; that thrill was too intoxicating.

    Forty years later, Eric had been doing time for ¡®borrowing¡¯ a car when the universe exploded, imploded, whatever the terminology was.

    Then Eric had found himself back in that same original candy shop, alone, wondering if this was the afterlife.

    He¡¯d spent some time reflecting until, much to his surprise, he awoke on a strange planet.

    That was over a year ago now. Eric had decided to turn over a new leaf, no longer the petty thief of the past.

    Because he¡¯d become something much more remarkable, given the vocation of ¡°Primordial Rogue,¡± -there had been a lot of fancy-sounding words involved- but the gist of it was that he was the first to be recognized in a new universe to have a more¡­ sticky handed approach to handling things. Without things to steal, though, rather than delving into the potential of being the universe¡¯s first thief, he instead operated like an assassin, murdering monsters before they ever knew he was there.

    Given a suggestion from the World Spirit, who also happened to be the planet itself -however, that worked- Eric had undertaken the challenge of the waves. Rather than defending his base camp like something out of an old war movie, he instead used it as one big trap, luring monsters in before popping out of the shadows and hidden trap doors, slicing throats with the power of a shadow-blessed dagger.

    Eventually, he¡¯d even managed to clear ten waves straight in a row, though before he could get too much of a big head about the accomplishment, he had been informed that he wasn¡¯t the first. That honor went to someone called the Architect, a lame-sounding vocation in Eric¡¯s mind.

    Cocky, the ten consecutive waves hadn¡¯t been that challenging, the monsters peeking out in the fourth tier; Eric had gone on to make what would be the biggest mistake of his life.

    He¡¯d pushed to the next level without considering the dangers.

    Which is why he now found himself gnawing at his nails, bloodied and battered, desperately holding his breath until he was sure the monster wasn¡¯t searching for him

    You fucked up, Eric. You fucked up big time.

    There, coiled in the remains of his now ruined camp, was an oversized snake that had slithered out from the muddy swamps of the Florida-like terrain of his surroundings. The difference between this monster snake and the snakes of Florida was that they didn¡¯t have a bony sail protruding from their back like they were the smaller cousins of a sea monster or one of those dinosaurs with the back fins he¡¯d seen in movies.

    Oh, or the ability to launch its scales like exploding shrapnel.

    Eric had tried his best, but it wasn¡¯t enough. The monstrosity was a tier 5 creature, level fifty-four.

    It would take him years before he reached tier six, where he felt he could comfortably handle such a monster. His skills were focused on stealth and assassination, not straight-up monster slaying. The snake was even resistant to the poison effect he¡¯d made substantial use of up to this point.

    Shit.

    Discretely pulling up his interface, Eric took in the fate of his camp.

    <u>Settlement captured</u>

    Time until Settlement to Den conversion completion: 20:23:56:25

    ¡°Shit,¡± Eric muttered under his breath as he did the math. Three weeks sounded like a long time until you reminded yourself it was level fifty-fucking-four just shy of being a mid-tier five. Eric had only barely crossed tier five himself. The difference in how their levels and tiers worked meant that monsters of the same tier generally became more dangerous than their equal-tier human. It hadn¡¯t been an issue when Eric had been able to kill them in a single strike with a well-placed shadow blade coated in a potent poison of his own, but his knife couldn¡¯t pierce the monster snake, to begin with.

    Glancing down at his trusty knife, Eric could only grimace.

    God damn it, do I miss Earth.

    You didn¡¯t think about it much when living comfortably in a human society or even in a jail cell, but life was rough when you couldn¡¯t just go to a store and buy whatever you needed. Eric had spent so much of his life stealing what he wanted that he¡¯d never picked up a helpful skill for an outdoor fantasy life, like how to start a fire. On this alien planet, he¡¯d either had to rely on the shoddiest stone knives you¡¯d ever seen or whatever he¡¯d managed to get as a reward from Eon.

    And now even his reliable method of farming new equipment from the waves had been lost, now that his stupid camp had been yoinked out from under his nose.

    I¡¯m the one who is supposed to do the yoinking!

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    It wasn¡¯t as if Eric was about to make it an issue with the snake. He¡¯d only survived because after the initial attempt at assassinating the snake failed, it seemed content to let him flee as its scales ripped through his clothes and flesh like the angriest hornets alive. For whatever reason, stealing his camp was its biggest priority, opting to forego pursuing Eric. Eric had been used to being the most agile, swiftest thing in these swamps, but the snake had humiliated him. When it appeared, it was like a flowing image rather than a physical creature, his brain struggling to comprehend its movements. Had it wanted to, it could have caught him when he initially fled.

    God damn it.

    Eric was pissed, but he wasn¡¯t pissed enough to risk his life fighting the snake to the death. As a tier five himself, technically, he could potentially pull off a win through some miracle, but Eric wasn¡¯t the type of person to put everything on the line.

    He¡¯d started over before; he could do it again.

    Sighing silently, Eric waited until he was sure the snake was unconcerned with things happening outside his former camp. Then, waiting just a little longer, Eric slipped down from his perch, leaving with his tail tucked between his legs, setting out on a pilgrimage to find a new home.

    At the very least, my old crew isn¡¯t here to see this.

    <hr>

    Elsewhere - P. O. V: The First Monk

    When people heard the title ¡®The First Monk,¡¯ Tom figured they probably thought of some former martial artist master like Jackie Chan.

    They likely didn¡¯t expect a scrawny sixteen-year-old kid freezing high on a mountain.

    ¡°I-i-i-I th-th-th-o-ught m-m-m-mountains had g-g-g-ood l-l-l-oot.¡± Tom shivered violently, wrapping his worn leather and fur coat tighter around himself.

    Now, Tom found himself in a predicament. He¡¯s been climbing the mountain for weeks, yet he still felt as if he was no closer to the top.

    To say it was tall was an understatement. Tom hadn¡¯t considered recognizing something as ¡®tall¡¯ would be so difficult for a kid who¡¯d spent most of his time playing video games in his room. Tall was tall, that was it. Or so he had thought. This mountain was something else entirely.

    Taller than Everest? Certainly. Taller than Olympus Mons? Well, Tom was beginning to feel that was likely. He¡¯d trekked up miles, and the more he looked up, the more he realized he¡¯d barely crested the foot of the mountain.

    A hundred miles? Two hundred? It was impossible to say.

    As for what had led him to attempt to climb the hellishly tall mountain foolishly?

    Arrogance and video games. Ever since he¡¯d appeared on Aelia, he¡¯d found himself role-playing a character from one of his games, channeling energy through his body and augmenting himself. It was what had gained him the title of ¡®First Monk¡¯; the style of fighting he¡¯d developed had apparently met the criteria of a monk. Faster and stronger than even the fastest and strongest humans of history by several times, the extremely tall mountain had been a challenge to face.

    Not to mention, it was often the tall snowy mountains in video games that were home to the end-game areas, super rare loot, or monsters to tackle. With that in mind, Tom had figured it was the perfect opportunity to pull ahead of the curve.

    And now here he was, freezing his ass off, barely over the foot of the mountain, even after weeks of climbing. It wasn¡¯t as if it hadn¡¯t been productive; he¡¯d been partially correct. There were plenty of snowy-themed monsters on the mountain, and he had found some interesting things, but it was becoming clear to Tom that reaching the top was out of the question. It was even worse than that; the whipping winds and slashing snow were progressively strengthening, even without climbing any higher, as if the mountain was bearing down on him, looking to chase him away.

    It was a shit show, to be straight to the point.

    ¡°M-m-m-e-s-s-e-d-d-d-d up.¡± Tom chattered. The cold that seeped in grew stronger with each passing second.

    Not good.

    It was as if he had crossed some threshold of no return; the already cold mountain now felt as if it had finally decided it had enough of his intrusion, and Tom could only desperately search for anything. Stumbling around, he poured more Pneuma into his body to keep himself going. One hour turned to two, and feeling as if he could go on no longer, Tom fell. Careening off the side of the mountain pass, it should have been the end, his life flashing before his eyes.

    So it was, to his surprise, when he awoke, having passed out at some point, the sound of the raging storm was all but gone.

    ¡°W-where am I?¡± He asked himself, groggily looking around. It was apparent he was still on the mountain, but where was a mystery. Slowly pushing himself up, Tom realized he had fallen into a snowbank, with bushes filled with red berries nearby.

    ¡°Food.¡± Tom scurried over. His ascended body made the need for food far less critical, but expending so much of his strength withstanding the climate of the mountain had required a nourishment that could only come from real food. Snapping up the berries, he began stuffing them into his mouth. Minutes passed, and Tom finally finished, wiping at his mouth as he took in his surroundings.

    ¡°Whoa.¡±

    He was in a valley, or perhaps a gorge, with steep cliff faces on either side of him. It was like a winter wonderland within the valley, with pristine snowbanks and arctic-looking pines, assuming pine trees usually had floating purple crystals swirling around them.

    For Tommy, who had grown up in a small town in Alabama, playing video games or reading about space all day, it was perhaps the most magical place he¡¯d seen. Sure, lots of the planet had strange-looking plants, but he had appeared in a craggy area with little foliage to begin with, so it hadn¡¯t seemed that different than the scenery of Earth.

    This was something else entirely: a winter wonderland with floating purple crystals, crystal ice spires, and who knew what other secrets were hidden away.

    Walking in an amazed daze, Tommy tripped, stumbling as something just beneath him sent him sprawling. Dusting the snow from his body, he turned around and investigated the cause of his fall.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Tommy questioned, crouching down to dust off what looked to be a flat white stone, similar in appearance to a marble tabletop, propped out from the ground, blending in with the snow around it.

    Analyzing it out of curiosity, his jaw dropped.

    Metamorphic flagstone of Frozen Pneuma

    Rarity: Extreme

    Much like a stone may be metamorphized into a new form with heat, time, and pressure, so too may Pneuma itself. Over time, as concentrated Pneuma was exposed to brutal colds, it slowly froze, while constant exposure to the elements further broke down and refined it. Exposure to the natural treasure may grant an affinity for snow, ice, and even stillness over time and a resistance to cold.

    ¡°Holy crap, that¡¯s awesome!¡± Tommy cheered before sheepishly looking around. He sometimes had to remind himself he was all alone now; no one could make fun of his outbursts. What didn¡¯t change was the fact that the flat-topped stone, ice -he was foggy and which it was considered- was the most significant discovery of his time on the new planet. Looking around once more, Tommy shrugged. Sure, he had abandoned his ¡®settlement,¡¯ but this was far better than a tiny little shack in the middle of some ugly grey expanse of nasty-looking rocks.

    Smiling, Tom gave himself a mental pat on the back; the journey up the mountain had been worth it.

    And this is still barely past the kneecaps of the mountain.

    Beaming, he looked upward at the goals that lay above.

    ¡°I can work with this.¡±

 31. The Others, Pt. 2

    POV- Voice of the Precursors

    <hr>

    ¡°Humans,¡± Essenya muttered, annoyed. ¡°Contending against humans.¡± The varasay shook her head, annoyed as she found herself feeling more and more these days.

    ¡°How did it all go so wrong?¡± She sighed before shaking her head.

    No. I know how.

    They¡¯d lost. The Sensen had activated that abominable machine, and everything had fallen apart.

    Stupid. Stupid plan.

    She had told them it wouldn¡¯t work, that trying to rely on skip-drive ships to reach the Sensen galaxy''s core would never work, that it would be a hive of death.

    But no one had listened. Not even the most extraordinary mind amongst them, Ackaestar, had listened to her. She¡¯d been in headquarters, watching the futility of their last-ditch effort fail.

    And now she was in a new universe because they had failed. Everything they had built, every ethos they stood for, ground into the dust that now formed the pillars of this new reality.

    ¡°If it hadn¡¯t been for those stupid, awful, bumbling humans.¡± Essenya kicked a log, anger welling up. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t have gone with such a foolish plan.¡±

    Humans had just so happened to be the only race who could withstand the theoretical extremes of the skip-drive ships, and thus, once they¡¯d discovered them, it had been like a gift from beyond, a chance to win.

    But it had been foolish. They would have never bothered with such a stupid plan if they had never tried relying on humans.

    After a moment, Essenya¡¯s anger redoubled as her foot began to throb, the impact of striking the log echoing through her entire leg.

    ¡°Damnit!¡± She cursed, a boom blasting out from her throat as it exploded a tree before her. Her kin had always had the ability to propel and amplify their voices; their hollow bones acted as an acoustic booster, and the effects of ascension had only boosted their potency.

    And it was a good thing, too; this planet was a hellhole. Even the damn rabbits, fauna from Earth of all places, were savage beasts that shattered bones with ease.

    Essenya glanced down at her body. It had been reinforced through ascension, but even as what would have been a genetic freak of nature, a god amongst her people, she was still less physically robust than a human. The gravity of their planet was a crushing force that most intelligent life in their old universe couldn¡¯t withstand for more than a few hours, maybe days, but those freaks could take it endlessly.

    She recalled her first day on Aelia, the crushing agony her body felt as she was forced to stagger and crawl like a newborn child. Meanwhile, humans would be running and jumping unphased.

    Damn them.

    Essenya shouldn¡¯t feel the anger she did toward humans; it wasn¡¯t as if they were the ones who had pulled the trigger on their universe. But with no Sensen left, Essenya could feel that helpless anger at their loss redirected elsewhere, toward the pale freaks.

    Thinking about it, Essenya scowled. She couldn¡¯t even justify her calling them freaks; humans were, physically speaking, similar in appearance to her race. Where she had light-pink-colored skin, they were tan. Where she had hollow bones, they had dense, solid bones. Where she had silver hair, they had a multitude of colors. Similar heights and physiques -if only skin deep- they were perhaps the most similar races, aside from the short Daeshi such as Ackaestar, who was even paler than humans and far shorter than the varasay and humans alike, comparable in stature to an osferian. Humans weren¡¯t that different from her.

    No, they weren¡¯t the true source of her broiling emotions. Sure, she had some misplaced animosity, but her underlying discomfort was that she was alone¡ªnot just literally, but as a race. The world spirit had told her that on her surface, there were five humans, two osferians, and then her, the lone varasay.

    ¡°Come,¡± Essenya spoke as the kernel of loneliness threatened to bloom. No matter what she had been told about no longer having to fear the threat of isolation-based insanity, it didn¡¯t change how there was a discomfort that ran deeper than the simple physiological need that existed in most social species.

    Several seconds after her command, a rustling came from nearby. A creature appeared lumbering low to the ground, a six-legged lizard, ridges of sharp chitinous plating covering its body.

    Seeing the creature, Essenya smiled. She was the Voice of the Precursors and brought forth the commands of those who came before.

    Words of Power

    <u>Rarity: Rare. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Where your voice is heard, the world trembles. Words of Power give birth to magic through your voice alone.

    Known Words: Command, Burst

    It was perhaps her most important skill. Without the baseline physical characteristics of a sturdy human, attempting to put herself, her flesh and blood, against the horrors of this world would have left her on death¡¯s door with every encounter, if not worse. Currently, she only had two ¡®words,¡¯ her first word being command, which temporarily allowed her to take control of those she viewed beneath her. It was a temporary but effective tool on its own, but she¡¯d rather quickly earned a second skill to pair it with.

    Master of Beasts

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Even wild beasts may be brought to heel. Allows wild monster taming, training, and control when subdued and infused with a spark of vitality. Greater control and quantity of monsters controlled may be achieved with practice. Monsters may be active, inactive, or released. Active monsters may be directly controlled; inactive are bound to your essence but otherwise unrestricted, and released monsters are wholly removed from your ability to control.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Come here, Eidos.¡± Essenya knelt as the lizard monster approached, letting her scratch its head. For now, she could only have three monsters, one active and two inactive, and she¡¯d swap between the three as needed, as long as they were lower level than herself. Essenya was a tier five, level fifty-one. On the other hand, Eidos was just beneath her, sitting at tier four, level forty-nine. Of the monsters she had ¡®tamed,¡¯ Eidos was the strongest she could call upon. The two of them together were capable of even battling a level fifty or fifty-one monster. Eidos would take to the front, engaging directly, whereas Essenya would support from the rear, where the second word of her words of power came into play. Burst was her ordinary acoustic projection magnified, a sonic burst that could shatter even trees.

    Together, they made a formidable team as they wandered the red grass savannah and lowland jungle of their unknown home. Together, they would make the strides needed to bring back to life the old sparks of a now-dead universe.

    <hr>

    P.O.V- Mumford ¡®Raving Badger¡¯ Garfunk- The Woodsman

    ¡°C¡¯mere ya,¡¯ nasty lil¡¯ biter of an ole¡¯ bitch tits!¡± Snarled a short, furry-looking creature, his body tense as he waited for his opponent to strike. ¡°I know ya¡¯ want a beak full ya¡¯ piece of shit!¡±

    As if agitated by the copious insults hurled its way, suddenly, from the darker depths just beyond the coral flats, a thing shot out like an arrow from a bow. In the blink of an eye, it had latched onto its fur-covered insulter, tentacles wrapping around his face.

    ¡°Oye ya¡¯ slimy fuck!¡± The short furry creature snarled as he began to tear into the slimy sea creature, paws clad with coral claw caps. ¡°Some uncooked calamari aren¡¯t getting the best o¡¯ me, or my name ain¡¯t the Mumford the Raving Badger!¡±

    Cloral-capped claws shredded into the slimy beast. Only seconds later was it reduced to shredded tentacle flesh, flung behind him to join a rather large pile.

    ¡°Yeah, get fucked.¡± Mumford ¡®Badger¡¯ Garfunk cackled. It wasn¡¯t his first time dealing with the Coral Flat Man-o-War, tentacled swarm monsters that would launch themselves out from the depths like a rocket, propelling themselves with sacs full of pressurized water. Glomping onto prey together, their barbed tentacles would begin pumping a paralyzing toxin within. It just so happened that Badger owned a rather thick coat of fur, making such attempts fruitless.

    And it was a good thing, too; Badger had seen the little bastards take down a tier five, level fifty-three Ephantus Sea Trawler.

    But then, the Ephantus Sea Trawler wasn¡¯t God damn Mumford ¡®Raving Badger¡¯ Garfunk, now, was it?

    Lips turning up into the approximation of a human smirk, an expression Badger had taken to imitating, he quickly snatched one of the slimy chunks from his pile, taking a bite.

    ¡°Still tastes bad as it looks.¡± He snorted, a memory playing through his mind.

    ¡°Hey, ya oversized raccoon, the boys said they got a ¡®meal¡¯ for us to show their appreciation.¡±

    ¡°Any chance I can rain-check that shit?¡± Badger asked, snorting.

    ¡°Negative, its tradition, the commanding officer gets treated by their trainees at the end of their training.¡±

    ¡°Well, send me down a shit river on a Tuesday; guess I ain¡¯t got no choice,¡± Badger grunted, never quite able to entirely hide the mirth in his eyes.

    ¡°Ah fuck me, reminiscing and shit,¡± Bader said as he tore out another chunk from the squishy flesh. ¡°But damn if I don¡¯t miss ¡®em.¡±

    As for who he missed? Well, humans, obviously. For the longest time, osferians had been known as the wrecking balls of the universe: their home planet had the highest gravity and was considered the most hostile.

    That was all before humans had been discovered, living on a planet that was considered the theoretical gravitational limit for what intelligent life could spring up on. And God damn, was Badger happy for that. In their ¡®enlightened universe, polite conversations were matched with political backstabbing, and the Osferians had never been great at either. Badger himself was considered one of the more¡­ cantankerous of his people, putting him as an outlier amongst outliers.

    And then they¡¯d met humans, the beautiful bastards. They could talk nice, and at first, Badger had been afraid they were just another one of the many two-faced, ninny-mouthed, bitch blooded yappers he¡¯d come to expect. That said, they had a uniquely strong physique, and thus, they were brought into the fold. Badger had been tasked with training the men and women who would become the crew of the hope of their universe, the experimental ricochet ships.

    Overseeing the training of their soldiers, Badger had been delighted to see that once you took humans away from the bullshit that was meetings and other annoying shit -he had little time for that- humans were as much of the bad-tempered, snappish, churlish, and belligerent fuckers that he was.

    They may not have been his kind, but they were his kin. Blood or not, race be damned.

    ¡°Muck this.¡± Badger tossed aside the fishy flesh after a final bite. It tasted like shit, and he¡¯d had more than his fill already. Pulling up his interface, a screen that reminded him of some of the visual interfaces of the old armada, Badger scowled or did his best impression of a scowl.

    Woodsman¡¯s Stomach

    <u>Rarity: Rare. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    A true woodsman can stomach anything, and you are no exception. Whatever you eat grants you a small degree of affinity toward the predominant affinity type. After crossing affinity thresholds, accumulated affinity may be used to acquire an affinity type or enhance matching skills.

    ¡°Damn, if I know what any of this means,¡± Badger grumbled. He¡¯d had the skill for some time now, allowing him to eat basically anything, but it didn¡¯t make them taste any better. He doubted he could stomach it if it weren¡¯t for his experience eating whatever plague bombs his trainees had made him. That wasn¡¯t the only reason he scowled as he looked at the skill.

    Woodsman. What a damn joke.

    When Badger had first awoken on the strange planet, he¡¯d found himself in the tangle of a mangrove patch, water sloshing around his ankles. It didn¡¯t take long to realize he¡¯d ended up in a massive coral flat, islands made of coral that were only a foot beneath the surface. Occasionally, you¡¯d find mangrove trees growing, maybe even a sandbar, but he was always in the water outside of those.

    Which was what made the Vocation he¡¯d gained so damn stupid.

    A woodsman? In the middle of an endless ocean?

    How the fuck did that happen?

    If he were the type to get hung up on fancy-sounding names, he¡¯d also be annoyed over how, of all the fancy-sounding titles he¡¯d heard about the other seven founders, he was the only one who¡¯d received something as simple as ¡°Woodsman.¡±

    But he wasn¡¯t, so he focused more on making the best of his misplaced Vocation and achieving his goal.

    As for the nature of that goal? It wasn¡¯t to bring back their old civilization, that ship had sailed, nor was it to meet up with the other Osferian on the planet. No, Badger wanted to meet a single person on the planet.

    The Spear.

    A faux grin plastered itself across his face as he thought about it.

    My gut says you¡¯re one of my people, and my gut ain¡¯t ever been wrong.

    Whether they were literally one of his people or just someone he knew was on his wavelength didn¡¯t matter. The way he¡¯d heard about this ¡°Spear¡± made him all the more certain that was where he wanted to be.

    ¡°Fuck all the complicated shit.¡± Badger slashed downward, striking a fish zipping by as he tore a bite out of its head.

    However, there were three problems in the way of his goal.

    <ol>

    <li>Geography. Each founder had been placed on a separate continent based on what the World Spirit Aelia had told him. Not just that, he estimated that the ¡®planet¡¯ they were on was at least as large as some stars. At max speed, he could cover around fifteen hundred miles a day. Compared to stars which could have circumferences millions of miles on the small end, well, fifteen hundred miles a day was worth its weight in piss, which was to say not at all.</li>

    <li>Direction. Vast distances separated them, and he had no way of knowing which direction to take to find the Spear.</li>

    <li>Monsters. Having decided not to settle down with some shitty ¡®Settlement,¡¯ Badger had found that monsters seemed to have taken a more aggressive attitude toward him, perhaps as punishment for refusing to settle down. Didn¡¯t matter; Badger wasn¡¯t much for thinking up explanations for each shitty little detail.</li>

    </ol>

    All that said, his only option was to continue to grow stronger.

    Not that I mind.

    The higher his ascension, the easier it would be to travel vast distances. From there, he could leave these god-forsaken coral flats and find this ¡®Spear¡¯ person. He''d work with them if they were strong enough; life would be more exciting that way.

    And if they weren¡¯t?

    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I¡¯ve always done,¡± Badger snickered. ¡°And I¡¯ll beat them until they are.¡±

 32. The Others Pt. 3

    P.O.V ¨C Vanguard of a New Era

    <hr>

    Zoey brushed her pants, taking a deep breath as she mentally prepared herself.

    Here we go. Here we go. Here¡­we¡­go!

    Pumping her arms with all her might, Zoey ran toward the edge of the cliff she stood upon before hurling herself off the side. Falling through the air, she tucked her arms in, enjoying the rush as she fell miles, floating islands of rock and mountain hovering throughout the sky around her. At times, birds dove after her, but her fall was too fast, zipping past even the fastest-diving monsters in the sky. As she crashed toward the ground miles below, a wicked smile plastered across her face; Zoey whooped mentally, not risking opening her mouth lest she swallow a bug.

    Trees quickly appeared below her, and she brought her arms together as she activated a skill.

    First Through the Breach

    <u>Rarity: Extreme. Skill Level: Inexperienced.</u>

    Few are willing to take the first step; fewer are willing to be the first through the breach. You are both. With an impossible determination and ego, you can manifest the unwavering nature of your spirit into reality itself. When activated, completely negate the next instance of significant bodily damage within ten seconds. One day cooldown.

    As the skill activated, Zoey felt something stir within her. Her body and soul suddenly sang out with an impossible resonance, the world around her shimmering briefly. Then, like a fallen star, she crashed into the ground, the ground exploding upward from the impact of her several-mile crash landing.

    As for Zoey herself, within moments, she was dusting herself off, a silly grin across her face.

    ¡°Never gets old.¡±

    To use such a pivotal skill so flippantly could be considered a rather insane waste. Still, Zoey didn¡¯t intend to get into any serious fights today. Not to say no fights would occur, but none she would need her skill for.

    Today would be the day she cracked A5, and it wouldn¡¯t be battling some insane monster.

    No, she had a different plan. Earning experience for ascension, or ¡®Ascension Energy¡¯ as Aelia had referred, generally came from killing monsters, but it wasn¡¯t the only way. That was where another one of her ¡®skills¡¯ came into play, though it wasn¡¯t a skill in the traditional sense.

    Wanderlust

    <u>Rarity: Extreme. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    To eternally wander is the path of some, to set down roots the path of others. You chose to set down roots so that wandering may have the significance of leaving behind what is known to explore what is unknown. Permanently disables the ability to gain Ascension Energy while near a settled location, and in return, gain the ability to gain Ascension Energy from exploration.

    It had been a skill offering from an earlier ascension rank up and a milestone for her path forward. That had already been quite a boon, but upon unlocking her second Extreme rarity skill, she¡¯d been surprised by her Vocation Testament updating as one of the shadowed pillars suddenly became illuminated.

    Vocation Testament #9

    Status: Unlocked

    Prerequisite: Obtain 2+ Extreme rarity skills or above.

    As for the skill she¡¯d slotted within the unlocked Testament, well, that was obvious. Wanderlust had immediately been slotted, which had quickly led to its evolution.

    Wanderlust

    <u>Rarity: Extreme. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    To eternally wander is the path of some, to set down roots the path of others. You chose to set down roots so that wandering may have the significance of leaving behind what is known to explore what is unknown. Permanently disables the ability to gain Ascension Energy while near a settled location, and in return, gain the ability to gain Ascension Energy from exploration.

    -->This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Into the Unknown

    <u>Rarity: Extreme. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    To eternally wander is the path of some, to set down roots the path of others. You chose to set down roots so that wandering may have the significance of leaving behind what is known to explore what is unknown. Permanently disables the ability to gain Ascension Energy while near a settled location, and in return, gain the ability to gain Ascension Energy from exploration. Vocational influence magnifies energy gained twofold.

    It was a welcome upgrade. Zoey was an adrenaline junkie, always had been, and loved seeing everything the world had to offer, and that had been the case even back on Earth. Being forced to try to war with the local fauna of Aelia constantly had been a rather annoying cramp in her style. She would if she had to, but she preferred to explore, when possible, simply enjoying the sights to be had. It was something Aelia herself had seemed to appreciate about Zoey, something Aelia had told her on multiple occasions.

    ¡°You know, you may be the only one of my founders who truly respects the artistry that I represent. The others love to complain. Why, if only you could hear what Badger is saying, constantly complaining about the water in his fur. Oh, wait, pretend you didn¡¯t hear me say a name. Anyway, if you saw where he is, I could bet the first thing you¡¯d do is dive right beneath the waves. Truly, how none of them appreciate what I have to offer baffles me.¡±

    Zoey wouldn¡¯t lie; she could understand why others might not appreciate being pitted in a life-or-death battle against the planet they now called home every day. However, that didn¡¯t mean Zoey disagreed with Aelia. Aelia -the planet- was beautiful; the sights she¡¯d already seen, such as the discovery of a floating mountain range, were beyond anything Earth had to offer, or even some of the pictures she¡¯d seen of their old universe.

    As for the discovery, that would see her into A5? There were no old ruins, considering they were the first to set foot on the planet, but that didn¡¯t mean there still weren¡¯t things of intrigue to find. Specifically, she¡¯d found a cavern that dropped deep into the earth. Once one explored deeper, it was like you were transported into a new world, a massive cavern filled with waterfalls flowing upward, mountains spewing purple magma, and most importantly, a giant temple smack in the center, approximately fifty miles to the center of the massive underground cavern.

    That was her goal, which would propel her to A5. She would trek deep into the underground cavern before exploring the temple itself. If the founders were the first to step foot on Aelia¡­

    Just what was the temple?

    <hr>

    P.O.V ¨C The Bird

    Predator. Prey. Those were the laws of life.

    Hunt or be hunted.

    Eat, or be eaten.

    Hunt. Fight. Eat. Grow. Repeat.

    Those were the rules of the Great Mother. Grow.

    Hunt. Fight. Eat. Grow. Repeat.

    First, it had been nothing more than a zipping bird. While its wings could beat a hundred times a second, it was too small to hunt anything but the smallest of its fellow monsters, preying upon the smaller members of its species or even a young caerbannog when luck favored it.

    Not always the strongest, fastest, or quickest, it was the cleverest of its kind. It knew when to hide and when to attack.

    And so, over time, the tiny Spectral Hummingbird grew. From tier one, eventually reaching and evolving into tier two. Its beak became sharper, its vision stronger. Still, tier two was far away from being the strongest around. So it continued its path, not of reckless violence, but of calculated risks.

    When tier three came, its wings became like razors, and its feet became true talons. Now, it could hunt by tearing through the air as its wings cut through slower opponents. It had finally become a formidable creature.

    Months would pass, and bolstered by slaying fellow monsters and the thick soup of energy the Great Mother nourished them with, again the former Spectral Hummingbird would ascend and evolve, finally a tier four. No longer was it a simple Spectral Hummingbird; now it was a Coronal Falcon. Many more months would pass until one day, the Coronal Falcon would realize something. It no longer feared potential threats; no fear of other monsters preying upon it. It had reached the point of being supreme above all other monsters in its territory.

    It had finally taken its rightful place as a Territory Alpha.

    Only a month after claiming the title of the alpha of this territory, something most peculiar would appear. A small furry bipedal creature armed with a strange weapon that it had never seen before, for it had never seen weapons that were not natural. As the furry intruder approached, it seemed to make sounds of anger toward the Coronal Falcon, an insult that it could not abide. As the alpha of this area, it knew better than to hunt recklessly; as much as the Great Mother wished for them to grow, there was a balance, an equilibrium that must be kept.

    But if one wished to try their luck, then so be it.

    For days straight, they did battle, the furry creature often hiding and reappearing when it needed to recover. However, the Coronal Falcon was not an easy foe to best. The sunlight energized it, healing its wounds and replenishing its energy. Yet the small furry creature was not a foe to take lightly; often, it would drink from strange objects, filled with different liquids, healing or surging in strength as their battle stretched on, now over a week.

    But, as with all things, the tipping point was eventually reached. Reaching inside a pouch, a look of shock crossed the furry creature¡¯s face. It was a split second, but it was all the Coronal Falcon needed: an opening to take advantage of. Using all its power and speed, it shot forward, its wings flaring out.

    And then it was done. Without ceremony, the head of the furry creature fell from its body.

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t say I expected this in only a little over a year.¡±

    A new sound. It was a voice that the Territory Alpha instantly recognized, a voice that spoke within their dreams and urged them forward. Landing on the ground, it lowered its head to the Great Mother.

    ¡°One of my founders, dead just like that¡­ Hmm, well, I did tell them if they were going to die, to at least die in a rightful battle against one of you.¡± The Great Mother spoke, and while the Coronal Falcon could not understand the spoken words, the meaning was still felt deep within its essence. ¡°I must say, you¡¯ve surprised me, little one. Of all the monsters I¡¯ve sprung forth, I can honestly say I never expected it to be a natural born tier one monster to have climbed high enough to claim the lifeblood of one of my founders.¡±

    The falcon could feel pride in the Great Mother¡¯s words. There was also a hint of disappointment, but the Coronal Falcon knew it wasn¡¯t toward him but the ¡®founder¡¯ which he had slain.

    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t hold you from your prize any longer. Go ahead, enjoy your fill. After all, I suspect you and I will meet again in the future, Reborn One.¡±

    Then, just like that, the Great Mother vanished.

    Turning to face the deceased invader, the Coronal Falcon could feel a swell of pride. With the defeat of the particular invader, he could feel a potential welling up inside his chest, which had nothing to do with the fact that it had also been the catalyst for breaking through into tier five.

    A new path forward had appeared, signified by a sudden screen of light appearing right before his eyes.

    Vocation Gained: Born of Brilliant Feathers

 33. One Boring Year later, Many More to Go

    Just like that, another year passed in the blink of an eye. Rory spent his time bustling from one project to another. Avoiding the waves for the first four months after killing the Watcher on the first floor of the Maw, Rory instead focused on expanding his infrastructure.

    Which was a fun way of saying he made a second plot for his Bloodwood trees.

    It hadn''t taken too long to have his second site up and running; having already crafted the first one, it wasn''t new, and the increased attributes of another ascension aided him. The only thing that required much modification was linking the second growth ritual site to the sub-ritual, where he sacrificed plenty of weaker monsters.

    During that time, while working on his tree nursery¡ªa name that felt ill-fitting when the trees in question were Bloodwoods¡ªthe value of Scholar''s Retreat showed itself.

    During that time, he got two notifications.

    Skill acquisition: Basic Forestry

    Basic Forestry

    For those who walk amongst the trees, no skill is as essential as understanding the forest itself. Basic Forestry may further bloom in the hands of those attuned to nature.

    For being the first skill he''d received through a notification that wasn''t Ascension earned, it was a rather basic skill. It was one of those skills that acted as a foundation, not doing a lot on its own; instead, it paved the way for future changes.

    Well, that wasn''t wholly true, as Basic Forestry was also one of those skills that gave him an active skill that wasn''t of the same name.

    Green Thumb

    <u>Rarity: Common. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Any hand-planted flora can be granted a permanent 1% growth rate increase at the cost of a small amount of Pneuma.

    It was a small bonus that Rory wouldn''t refuse, but it wasn''t all that important in the grand scheme of things.

    That was until one afternoon, wiping away the sweat from his brow after kidnapping more weak monsters for his ritual site. Having largely gotten over the squeamishness that came with committing mass ritual sacrifice, Rory had been enjoying his walk back to his camp, monsters securely bound and bundled in his portable prison, when an idea suddenly sprung itself upon him; his cognition attribute was almost always accelerated through the near constant usage of Eyes of the Dokkalfar-kin, making epiphanies easier to achieve.

    What if I used Essence Spark in tandem with Green Thumb?

    A buzz of excitement burst through Rory; he dashed back as quickly as he could, dropping the sacrifices within their containment field as he approached one of the two Bloodwood saplings. It was just large enough for harvesting, and so taking care of that as quickly as he could, Rory saved a single branch as he replanted a new Bloodwood. As he did, Rory reached toward the ''space'' where skills resided, mentally pinching two simultaneously. Dual skill activation was something he hadn''t often done; thankfully, it wasn''t difficult. The skills in question were, of course, Foundational Essence Spark and Green Thumb. Rather than channel Essence Spark into an object, Rory imagined himself channeling the blood essence through the second skill at the same time as he channeled Pneuma through it. As he handled the future sapling, his hands began to glow. Usually, when channeling Green Thumb, a soft green glow surrounded his hands, the telltale sign of the nature-type skill.

    While they still glowed, it wasn''t the soft green of fresh grass but the autumn orange of leaves falling from the trees back on Earth.

    Instantly, a screen popped up, and a new notification appeared.

    Green Thumb

    <u>Rarity: Common. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Any hand-planted flora can be granted a permanent 1% growth rate increase at the cost of a small amount of Pneuma.

    -->

    Green Thumb

    <u>Rarity: Common. Skill Level: Inexperienced.</u>

    Any hand-planted flora can be granted a permanent 1% growth rate increase at the cost of a small amount of Pneuma. It may also be channeled with life-aspect essences for greater variable results.

    "Nifty," Rory announced as he stood up from his crouch in front of the newly planted Bloodwood.

    That was only the first of what felt like a flurry of skills Rory obtained in the year following his Ascension to A5. Mining, Drawing (Apparently, all that time doodling on his tablet deserved an entire skill), Forging, Carpentry, and, strangest of all, Architecture.

    Rory had received Architecture when he''d been messing around with physically altering and adjusting his camp, amending his small home, or even propping up walls around his forge. It was a skill upon receiving that Rory could only stare at for several seconds before a snort escaped him.

    I''m the damn Architect, and I only just got Architecture as a recognized skill.

    Outside of the influx of skills, Rory mostly spent his time altering his camp, as mentioned, or else working on linking his settlement to the Maw. That had been a rather exciting project because it had evolved in a way he hadn''t expected. At first, he tried to create a treetop skywalk. It had involved lopping off as many vines from nearby trees, infusing them, and then slowly coiling and twining them through the treetops leading toward the Maw. Once that was done, he planned to add planks and finalize the entire thing.

    Instead, Rory had made an interesting discovery about the infused vines he favored in place of ropes.

    They were alive, and they weren''t friendly.

    You see, during Rory''s time working on the skywalk project, he noticed something¡­ off about the trees to which he had tied the vines through the uppermost branches. Tied around the branches, the vines began burrowing into the trees, invading them like magical blood-flavored cordyceps. Rather than turning into Bloodwoods as Rory suspected they might, the entire system of trees tied and bound together with the infused vine ropes became a singular entity, like magically corrupted aspens.

    Which was precisely what Rory named it.

    <u>Ensouled Aspen</u>

    Rarity: Common

    A colony of trees forcibly infected and converted into a single hive being. In return for poor physical qualities, they are bound together through a singular resource reservoir of essence and Pneuma.

    And thus, Rory''s plan to make a treetop skywalk turned into the weirdest cable car system ever seen. Rather than the vines serving as the ropes of a rope bridge, they became cables through which things would travel. Meticulously supporting each aspen node with runes, the entire system worked by utilizing a small amount of its naturally regenerating vitality and runes that drew in a tiny amount of latent Pneuma. When something was hung from them, the vines would begin to undulate like the world''s creepiest worm, slowly carrying things along. The entire system was slower than if he had just traveled by foot. Still, it meant that he no longer had the issue of being limited in how much he could bring out from the Maw by the size of his pockets. All he had to do was hang a basket from the vines. By the time he traveled to the Maw and handled whatever he intended to do, the basket would be there, ready to transport everything back. He could even hang up several baskets all at once.

    And for once, no sacrifices were involved! Well, ignoring the trees forcibly exposed to parasitic vines that had corrupted them into a singular hive-mind existence.

    The only other thing Rory had done that year was occasionally hunting monsters. The further he went from his settlement, the higher tier the monsters became. His limit was only a few miles from his camp until he began to find tier fives wandering around casually.

    Returning from a hunting trip one day, the carcass of a monster that looked like a cross between a stag and a stag beetle draped over his shoulder; Rory took some time to simply take in the sight of his camp.

    It was strange. After around two years on the alien planet, so much had changed, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if so little had happened. Sure, his settlement had undergone some upgrades. However, it was still the same walls, the same hovel that he called home, and the same scattering of amenities within the walls. Rory was now A5, but he still spent most of his time working on whatever project he needed to attend to, a laundry list of things he needed to handle before he felt ready to push deeper into the Maw.

    The more things change, the more they stay the same.

    With that comforting thought, Rory began approaching his gate, frowning slightly.

    Whoop. Must have forgotten to close the gate when I left.

    Not thinking much of it, Rory approached the gates, paused, and then immediately backpedaled, huddling out of sight behind his walls.

    "Aelia!" Rory hissed in a whisper. The only sign that she''d appeared was a gentle breeze as Rory turned to face her.

    "It''s been a bit, Architect." Aelia gave him a small curtsy.

    "Yeah, cut the crap. A year and change are no time for you." Rory retorted before shaking his head, already distracted. "Never mind, not the point."

    "Is something wrong?" Aelia questioned, a frown on her face that Rory felt looked just a bit too¡­. Knowing.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Rather than say anything about his suspicions, Rory waved her forward as he crept toward his gate. Standing beside them, Rory peeked past, looking into his camp as Aelia copied him, her head peaking in directly above his own.

    "Hmm," Aelia murmured as Rory retreated again, only a second later. "Interesting."

    "Interesting. That''s all you''ve got?" Rory said, staring at her flatly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

    "Do you believe there is something else to be said?" Aelia questioned.

    "Yeah, like, why is there a human child in my camp?" Rory wanted to shout but instead kept his voice low. As if confirming he wasn''t insane, Rory peeked within one more time. There, seated comfortably next to his fire, was a boy, no older than ten, with dark copper hair and swathes of freckles dotting his dark complexion. He wore regular jeans and a black T-shirt with some superhero Rory didn''t recognize.

    "Perhaps a stork dropped him off?" Aelia said, feigning ignorance.

    "Yeah, sure," Rory muttered, rolling his eyes. "C''mon, I barely bother you. Surely you can explain this at least, after all I''ve been through."

    Aelia seemed to think about it for several seconds before shrugging.

    "Fair enough, I suppose it''s not exactly a secret; I just enjoy seeing you turn those wheels in your head. What you''re looking at is one of the second wave of sentients to grace my surface."

    "Yes, I picked that much up," Rory said. "But one, why is he in my camp, and two, why is he a kid?"

    "Perhaps I picked you out as the fatherly sort?"

    Rory stared at her, silent.

    "Fine, fine. Several reasons. First, each of my eight founders will soon be accompanied by a young companion, as I managed to gather enough energy to spare reaching into the fabric of existence and snatching out some sentients."

    "And they had to be children?"

    "They did. While it may not seem like it to you, I have not yet reached a proper energy equilibrium. To spur on faster growth, I directly seed more powerful creatures than should be capable of existing on my surface. From there, I directly supplement the energy needed to sustain such a chain of life from my own reserves. The benefit is that when the chaotic nature of these early years settles over time, I will be far ahead of the curve. The downside is, if I ran too low on energy for whatever reason, much of the stronger life forms I''ve seeded would last only a single generation, incapable of rearing a new generation, all that energy wasted as I''d become like a barren rock."

    "Dramatic."

    "But yet it remains true." Aelia countered. "More powerful life already takes a significant chunk of my spare energy, but recently, I found myself in a state of stability. You founders have been relatively boring this last year. Thus, I could muster some excess energy and instead expend it toward bringing forth the next wave."

    "Still haven''t explained why they''re children."

    "I was getting to it." Aelia sighed. "And the answer is simple: They require less energy to pull free. Don''t ask me why; these concepts are far above what I would know as just a simple World Spirit. E.O.N might be able to provide some insight, but given E.O.N won''t explain it to me, I doubt it will explain it to you."

    Rory didn''t bother questioning it. He doubted Aelia was lying; there was no reason to in this case. Instead, Rory examined the kid; analyzing him from his current distance was unlikely to alert him.

    "What the-?" Rory said after a moment. "Human - Child. Tier One, level, null?"

    "Ahh, yes, that''s another easy explanation," Aelia interjected. "Unlike my founders, who were all brought here before the existence of the Eon, these children had Eon from the beginning. In the process of being drawn into this reality, they were remade using the matter of our reality from the get-go. Thus, they are recognized as native inhabitants, something E.O.N handled automatically."

    ¡°Meaning no ¡®Proto¡¯ tag?¡±

    "Exactly," Aelia confirmed.

    "What about the weird level thing?"

    "Sentient species start as tier one, unlike monsters, as you''ve undoubtedly noticed. In the case of children, though, their physical development, or lack thereof, means that their attributes don''t properly reflect a tier-one sentient. Rather than starting at tier one level ten, they start as tier one level null until they''ve matured enough to have attributes that match what an actual tier one would have."

    "Got it." Rory nodded, the explanation filling in some gaps about tiers and levels he''d previously wondered about. "Then, time for my most important question."

    "Oh? Perhaps you are curious as to the nature of each-"

    "Are the other founders responsible enough to raise children?" Rory questioned, taking Aelia off guard. "Hell, none of them are like¡­ creeps, are they? Because I don''t know where any of them are, it will take me a long ass time to find them."

    "Oho?'' Aelia said after getting over her surprise. "I didn''t expect you to care so much about children."

    "Don''t get me wrong, I''m not desperate to have kids." Rory corrected. "It''s just that I spent a few years doing part-time work as an athletic trainer at some schools, and the idea of kids being crept on or whatever doesn''t sit right with me."

    "Rest assured, they are safe from such," Aelia sighed heavily. "When I first brought you founders to me, I instinctively understood your core traits. I selected those fitting for my goals, and those with¡­ unfavorable traits such as what you imply would have never passed that selection."

    "Even if you weren''t as¡­ smart as you are now?"

    "Thank you for sugarcoating that," Aelia said with a scowl. "But yes, even as less¡­ informed as I was back then, I would have had a sense for that. I fully trust my founders."

    "If you say so," Rory grumbled. "So, just¡­ take care of the kid?"

    "Take care of, train, whatever definition of the word you want," Aelia answered with an accompanying nod. "I don''t doubt that some of my founders have different approaches to child rearing and training. Some more spartan than others."

    "I thought you said that none of the founders were like that?"

    "I said they weren''t twisted in their view on children. I never said that they wouldn''t be willing to put their wards through extreme forms of training. You do not have to worry about their well-being; their safety is another thing, but can any of you claim perfect safety? Is there anything you could do if a tier eight were to appear?"

    "Fair," Rory grumbled. "So, what do you want me to do?"

    "That''s entirely up to you." Aelia countered. "Train them as an apprentice, a son, a younger brother, a soldier in the making. I don''t truly care. Do what will succeed and bring forth ever greater heights."

    "You''re a bit of an ascension junky." Rory sighed.

    "That I am. It''s woven into my existence. My goal as a World Spirit is and always will be to climb to higher heights, and climb I must. I can feel some of my siblings beginning to stir, and it will not be long before they look to catch up to my successes. I would feel safe guessing that E.O.N. will assist in helping them to catch up; it does like its ''fairness'' when possible."

    Rory decided not to think about those implications, preferring to handle his life one problem at a time.

    "Well, if you say so-oh." Rory turned to find Aelia gone, vanished without a trace.

    I hate how she does that.

    Sighing, Rory peaked inside his camp and watched the child for some time. The boy looked Mediterranean, as if he were from Greece or another nearby country.

    Not that it matters. Countries don''t exist anymore. At least, not for¡­. Probably a while?

    Brushing the random wandering thought aside, Rory continued to examine the boy. As much as Rory half expected something to be off about the boy -overly calm demeanor aside- he seemed no different than a boy from Earth.

    Ugh. Well, I guess the choice of if I ever wanted kids has been taken from me.

    No point in delaying any longer; Rory finally entered his camp. The boy, to his credit, noticed Rory almost instantly. He silently watched as Rory approached, sitting opposite the boy across the fire.

    Several silent, awkward minutes passed like that before, at last, the boy looked up from the flames toward Rory.

    "Are you my father?"

    "No," Rory said almost instantly.

    "Oh." The boy said, staring back down at the flames for another minute of silence before he glanced at Rory again. "What''s a father?"

    Oh¡­ Oh boy.

    So, it wasn''t just a kid he had to care for. It was a kid who seemingly had no memories.

    ¡°A father is a¡­ um¡­ uh¡­.¡± Rory found himself flailing. There were a lot of things he could take in stride. Is the universe dropping new rules out of the blue? Sure. Is a monster ready to eat his face? Go ahead. A World Spirit appearing to spook him out of nowhere? Dandy.

    But explaining the birds and the bees to a ten-year-old boy?

    Nuh-uh.

    "Fathers are people who are genetically related to you; they share some of your essence and your signature."

    "Oh." The boy nodded once more before staring at the fire.

    Right¡­. So, he doesn''t really seem to question that.

    "How much do you remember?" Rory questioned.

    "Remember?" The boy looked up toward the sky before shaking his head. "My name. I''m eleven years old. I really like cheeseburgers. I''m allergic to peanuts. Oh, and squirrels scare me."

    Oh, great. Now there are two of us allergic to peanuts. That''s assuming I''m still allergic to peanuts.

    "What''s your name then?" Rory prompted.

    "Apostolos."

    "Apostolos. Huh. Quite the name." Rory muttered. It at least confirmed his suspicion that the boy was likely Mediterranean; the name sounded Greek.

    Once more, an awkward silence hung over the two.

    Right. So, he has no memories, but he also appears functional. It''s almost like all the ''extra'' memories¡ªthe unnecessary stuff¡ªwere cut, leaving only the stuff needed to be functional and a few random stray pieces.

    It didn''t sit well with Rory that the boy had effectively had his life stolen. Still, it probably made the transition into this new universe easier, or for whatever reason, bringing along the memories was impossible. The next time he got around to asking her, they were questions for Aelia.

    "So, burgers?"

    "Yeah!" The boy seemed to stir, a childlike excitement lighting up his face. "I once had a burger with peanut butter on it; that''s how I found out I have a peanut allergy."

    Wow. He doesn''t even question the oddity of having memories that are disconnected from everything else. Shit, that''s almost spooky.

    "Never had a peanut butter sandwich before?"

    "What''s a peanut butter sandwich?"

    God, that really is fucking weird. He knows what peanut butter is, knows what it is in the context of his allergy, and has had it on a burger once, but the minute it disconnects from those remaining memories, it loses all meaning.

    Worried talking about disjointed memories and thoughts would perhaps stress the child if he realized the lapse in his mind, Rory quickly changed the subject.

    "So, what Ascension are you?"

    "I''m tier one. But I don''t think I technically count yet." The boy instantly answered, bringing up his interface and flicking it toward Rory.

    Noting the color of the boys'' interface confirmed three things. First, the boy liked the color orange, given the interface''s color. Second, the boy was, in fact, A1, just without a level. Third, and most importantly, the boy seemed to instinctively understand the mechanics of this universe.

    No Vocation yet.

    That wasn''t surprising; vocations were a weird, nebulous job class system that had rules and mechanics that Rory himself still didn''t understand. At the very least, for a child to already have a set Vocation would be strange.

    "What do you like to do, Apostolos?"

    "I¡­ I don''t know." The boy frowned.

    With all the screens and stuff back on Earth, even without a mind wipe, a young kid not being sure of any hobbies isn''t that wild.

    Thankfully, Rory''s parents refused to give him screen access until high school. He had seen how weird some of his screen-addicted schoolmates had become, especially during those middle school years.

    Oh god, I''m going to have to home-school this kid. Shit, I can barely remember math past algebra. Wait, are triangles still a hundred eighty degrees in this universe? Wait, shit, how much math or science no longer holds? Shit, shit, shit.

    Mentally retreating from the horror of being a teacher, Rory stood up instead. Briefly entering his hovel, he returned with a small branch stump and his crafting knife. Sitting back across from the Apostolos, Rory began to whittle away. He wasn''t crafting some special weapon or valuable item. No, the shape that emerged was a bird, a small dove. Thinking momentarily, Rory quickly scratched into the small figurine a few simple runes before tossing it to the boy, who caught it with surprising deftness.

    "For you," Rory announced before the boy could ask. "I didn''t have a lot of hobbies for a long time either. I liked running, but I didn''t do much else. Then, well, I got a bit of motivation to try a bunch of new things."

    "Like¡­ this?" The boy said, waving the figurine.

    "Exactly. I could never make stuff like that before. By the way, I want you to hold that dove in your hands and close your eyes. Then, focus on the feeling of being a split second from sneezing. Really imagine that feeling, then imagine yourself snipping through that feeling."

    Rather than question Rory, the boy dutifully did as he was told. Closing his eyes, Rory watched for ten minutes straight as the boy physically strained.

    Man, being remade into the image of this universe does a number for kids. At that age, I doubt I could have focused for ten seconds on such random directions, much less ten minutes.

    Still, the boy continued until, at last, his eyes snapped open. For a split second, it was as if a ghostly image of a bird pulled free from the statue, flapping its wings once before vanishing.

    Oh, good, it worked.

    The statue worked similarly to his sketch tablet, drawing in light to use as ink. In this case, the statue drew in light, then, when channeled with pneuma, would project that light outward in a pseudo-hologram. Perhaps because it was made to be nothing more than a toy, it barely needed any pneuma to activate. An untrained boy could, in fact, give it enough of a spark.

    "What was that?" The boy asked excitedly.

    "Magic," Rory said, waving his hands mysteriously. "I laid the instructions, but you were the one who did it."

    "Wow." The boy said, eyes wide.

    "Would you like to learn?" Rory asked after a moment.

    "Learn¡­ magic?"

    "Oh, not just magic," Rory said, waving his knife. "Whittling, bow making, how-not-to-be-a-dark-lord, lots of fun hobbies."

    Apostolos looked at Rory, perplexed for a moment by the random reference, before slowly nodding.

    "Great," Rory stood up, clapping his hands. "So, is there something you want to cover first?"

    The boy silently stared into the fire, contemplating before slowly raising a hand.

    "Yes?"

    "How do you make a burger?"

    In hindsight, I might have gotten ahead of myself.

    End of Volume One of Universe''s End

 34. The World Watches

    Several Years Later

    <hr>

    Time was a strange concept to grasp. Billions of years could pass in the blink of an eye if Aelia let it, as she had when she was young. Now, she couldn''t let herself slip into the flow of time. There was too much to do, too many things scuttling along her surface.

    Splitting her consciousness, Aelia focused part of it on maintaining the state of her world, keeping energy, both physical and magical, circulating and flowing as she siphoned it from the universe. Another fragment of her mind turned toward her founders, seven of whom she initially brought to her world, and the eighth a replacement after they had slain one of her founders.

    Almost time.

    They had all reached A5 some time ago, long in their minds, but still nothing to her.

    Soon.

    Three had already reached A6, the Spear, Badger, and Brilliant Feathers. Aelia wasn''t surprised; they were the most combat-focused of her founders. Brilliant Feathers, in particular, had the advantage of not caring for a youngling. Unlike the others, he could reproduce readily with others of its species should they climb the ascension ladder in time.

    As for the Spear, she was simply a battle maniac; ever since upgrading her hand-to-hand combat skill, she''d gone on a tear.

    Meanwhile, there was Mumford'' Raving Badger'' Garfunk, who, while not quite as intense, was still made of much the same cloth. While he didn''t quite have the same manic enthusiasm that had possessed the Spear, he was also the best fighter on the planet from a finesse point. They were exceptional, but the rest of her founders weren''t far behind; they would reach A6 within a year or two.

    Then it will be time.

    A screen flickered into existence inches from her physical body.

    Planetary Event: Bane''s Birth

    Requirements: All Founders A6+

    Reward: Planetary Ascension tier up

    Having crystallized and solidified their foundations, the time has come for the spark of chaos to be added to the dry kindle of potential once more.

    A planetary event was¡­ Not something Aelia understood. She had been offered several events once all her founders had reached A5, and Bane''s Birth had been the event with the lowest requirements; the other two events required the founders to have reached A8 and A10, respectively. As for what the event entailed exactly, Aelia wasn''t sure. She could feel pockets, wells of potential near each of her founders. For the Architect, it came from inside the Maw, as if something was slowly gestating and growing just beyond his ability to reach. The Spear was constantly being tailed by something in her shadow. Badger was silently being watched by something lurking just out of sight within the coasts he traversed. The First Monk was watched from the slopes above. The Primordial Rogue had placed a target on his back when he let a monster take over his old settlement. Nearly all day long, the Voice of the Precursor was silently stalked by something within the tall grass of the savannah she called home. The Vanguard was on the verge of releasing something deep within the temple she''d explored only a fraction of. Even Brilliant Feathers wasn''t exempt; the rays of the stars that shone down and energized the bird were a tad darker than usual.

    It bothered Aelia that she wasn''t privy to what was happening, that there were things on and within her crust veiled from her sight, but where E.O.N. made moves, she could only begrudgingly follow.

    All she knew was that once they''d all reached A6, the event would finally be allowed to start. The rewards were great, so she would not deny it, but there was always that hint of trepidation at surrendering control.

    Her body sighed as Aelia put the thought of the future event out of her mind. Instead, she focused on watching her founders, one at a time. For several days, Aelia watched the Spear slowly tracking a monster, teaching the young one with her how to do the same. They''d climbed an impressive amount as well, having reached A4. It boded well for the future, but for now, her founders mattered far more regarding her personal growth. After a week of tracking, the Spear''s young apprentice was sent to battle with the monster in question, a cross between a chicken and an oversized lizard that she had¡­ ''borrowed'' the inspiration for from the memories of one of her founders.

    Why spend time devising monsters of her own when her founders were such treasure troves of ideas?

    As the young apprentice engaged the cockatrice with a double-sided spear, the Spear of the Precursor watched silently. She wasn''t one to step in unless necessary, and she''d let her apprentice stand near the precipice of death before she involved herself.

    Luckily, it wasn''t needed. Aware of the cockatrice''s withering gaze, the Spear''s apprentice simply avoided catching its gaze directly, preferring to keep herself at an odd angle so that the cockatrice was always forced to pivot and turn, trying to focus her with its eyes. Unable to do so, the cockatrice was a relatively simple opponent, trading physical power for the gimmick of its gaze. Within a few minutes, the battle was over as the blood-splattered apprentice raised her Spear overhead, victorious, before bellowing out her war cry.

    Quaint.

    It wasn''t the most exciting event; it was a mundane hunt for a relatively harmless monster as long as you knew what to watch out for. Switching focus, Aelia instead spied -watched- a more exciting pair.

    That was Badger and his young trainee, a human boy. To no one''s surprise, Badger had defaulted to his old teaching methods.

    Training from hell.

    Fourteen years old, the boy was enduring trials that grown men struggled with. From daybreak until midday, they spent those hours undergoing physical conditioning before pivoting to sparring. It was for the best that race evolution occurred with Ascensions, as the boy''s mental state would have likely been rather distressed if not for the mental strengthening one gained through those race evolutions. Instead, the boy took it in stride, grimacing and aching but persevering and growing from the harsh training. It wasn''t without merit; the boy, of all the younglings that the Founders had been tasked with raising, was the closest to reaching A5. For a week, Aelia watched the two spar, amused that between them, looking at their vocations alone, you''d think the young boy was the founder and not his furry drill instructor. Unlike Badger''s simple Woodsman vocation, the young boy had the vocation of Forged in Fire.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    While watching the drill instructor and his young cadet was more entertaining than watching the Spear and her apprentice hunt, it was ultimately nothing more than a mundane physical trial.

    Excitement¡­. Well, a few are more exciting to watch on average.

    The most obvious choice would be the Vanguard of a New Era, or the Vanguard for short. She was, by nature, addicted to excitement; she could always be counted on to get into something entertaining, or at the very least, she took the time to admire the world around her.

    Switching to watching the adrenaline-fueled founder, Aelia once more watched for a week straight. There was a rather entertaining bit when she first pushed her young companion to take a leap of faith for the first time.

    A rather literal leap, as the girl dove off the floating mountain that the Vanguard called home. There was also the little bit where the girl didn''t leap of her regard, so much so that the Vanguard had grabbed the desperately flailing girl as she tried to hold firm to a tree. Unable to resist her chaperone''s strength, the girl had been helpless as the Vanguard proceeded to spin the girl around, swinging her through the air by her ankles before flinging the girl off the side.

    On and on, Aelia switched between watching her founders and their endeavors. Those who hadn''t already reached A6 were preparing for the plunge. They''d all devised similar plans of battling a powerful foe to get them over the final hurdle.

    Smart.

    The stronger the foe, the greater the returns, after all.

    Which finally led her to peek at the most interesting of her founders.

    The Architect.

    While Aelia wasn''t one to have favorites, the Architect was a bit¡­ different. Her rationale stemmed from another founder, Brilliant Feathers. After slaying one of her prior founders, the monster took on his role, replacing the dead founder, and was doing quite well in that regard. It had been the confirmation that while her founders were exceptionally useful for advancing her growth, they weren''t irreplaceable. Ultimately, any monster that managed to slay a founder could gain some of their exceptional spark.

    That was, except for the Architect. What made the Architect special wasn''t his combat prowess or specific skillset. He was relatively poor when it came to combat. In truth, his main tactic was to fight from range without the genuine skill of a dedicated archer, taking potshots of chance. No, the Architect was unique for a different type of spark he brought -imagination- and a method of thinking that didn''t align with the likes of battle brains such as Badger or The Spear.

    At the very least, Aelia had expected the Voice to take on a similar role, avoiding battle given her weaker physique than a human. Instead, she''d used that as motivation, something she would prove wrong, that even with a more naturally feeble physique, she was just as capable of excelling in their new world. Aelia wasn''t against such a drive, but it didn''t change the fact that out of her eight founders, only one focused on a path that didn''t directly involve pure combat.

    Well, technically, the slain founder had an alchemist vocation. Yet, the Osferian had used it as a crutch to battle rather than pushing the creative bounds of what it could do.

    Hence, I didn''t mind that the Brilliant Feathers superseded him.

    The Vanguard also technically had a path that wasn''t directly focused on combat, an aspect of exploration that Aelia approved of. Still, it didn''t build anything new, just discovered. Useful, but not unique.

    Aelia sighed, finally exiting her thoughts to focus on what the Architect was up to before inwardly wincing.

    Whoops.

    Lost in thought, six months had passed just like that. Another founder had even reached A6 during her little lapse of attention, as the Vanguard had successfully broken through her wall.

    I''ll check on her later.

    Turning her attention back to the Architect and making a careful point not to let her sense of time slip for even a brief instant, Aelia took stock of what the human and his assistant were up to.

    What in the world?

    In her brief lapse where she''d lost focus -six months- something new had appeared in his camp. Or rather, four new somethings. In each cardinal direction now stood what appeared to be four pylons, each capped off with a crystal capstone.

    What are those?

    Much like her annoyance with E.O.N and its ability to conduct things on her without her being the wiser, the Architect also enjoyed that annoying little privilege. Unless she was specifically eavesdropping-

    Overseeing

    -Aelia had no way to know what exactly his plans were. She could try to glimpse the knowledge by tapping into their innate connection, the method she''d used to accelerate her mental and emotional maturation when she''d first summoned the founders, but it wasn''t without issue. The more they grew, the thinner that connection became. It wasn''t as if it was ever mind reading, to begin with, more like borrowing copies of a book from a library to place within your own. Still, now, it was as if there was a limit on how many ''books'' she could borrow.

    That is, she was clueless about what the Architect was up to and what plan he''d devised during her six-month lapse of attention.

    Sighing, Aelia pulled up her interface as a three-dimensional projection of her planet hovered. There were seven tiny marks on her eight continents¡ªthe Badger refused to create a settlement¡ªeach one a dim glow. Focusing on the brightest of the dim glows, her projection zoomed in until she looked over a nearly identical display to her spy view. The main difference was that information on her second display gave her information about the area the Architect called home.

    Pneuma levels are about standard. Essence levels continue to be above average, partly due to that Essence Spire.

    The Architect''s Essence Spire was mildly concerning; it had ripped open an imperceptibly small rift in existence, drawing essence directly from the energy of creation. Still, it was so insignificant that it likely wouldn''t begin to potentially be a problem for hundreds of thousands of years, if not more.

    Continuing her inspection of the area, something else caught her attention.

    Pneuma levels are about standard, but the quality and refinement are shifting slightly. What in the world did you do?

    Aelia''s display shifted again, viewing her world through a lens that none but a World Spirit could. Within moments, Aelia realized just what the new pylons were doing.

    He''s grinding the local Pneuma against itself from four directions simultaneously like four millstones perfectly placed to constantly grate the grain between them.

    Except in this case, the grain being ground up was Pneuma, the pylons were the millstones, and the ''perfectly placed'' was the direct center of his camp.

    Why, though?

    Sure, it wasn''t bad. In fact, it was straight-up beneficial. If free-flowing Pneuma was worth one ''unit'' of magic, then grinding it against itself this way could improve each ''unit'' of Pneuma to be worth more.

    But why?

    The Architect rarely did projects just for the fun of it. Instead, they were often more like an exhausting list of things to do that flowed one into the other.

    So why do you need higher-quality Pneuma on hand?

    The easiest way to find out would be to loosen her hold on her sense of time purposely. Another six months could fly by in an instant like that, but Aelia was wary of doing so, and it was too easy to miss something important.

    She could also ask, but Aelia was also against doing that. One day, she would be home to countless people and lifeforms, and she couldn''t make it a habit of involving herself so directly whenever the desire hit her.

    I guess I''ll have to wait and see.

    Another six months would likely put her to the point where the last few stragglers of her founders would be nearing A6; she doubted any of them would be more than a year from that point.

    And then the Planetary Event will begin.

    Uncertainty gripped her molten core, an uncertainty that reflected itself in her physical body where a heart would be in a human.

    Damn E.O.N. Not telling me everything.

    Of course, E.O.N was another confounding creation of the Architect, albeit one that had taken on a universe-sized life of its own.

    Well, I guess I''ve got no other choice.

    Making herself comfortable, Aelia settled in. Her split consciousness still operated the rest of the world just fine without her direct focus.

    "I guess I''ll just wait and see what you''re up to."

 35. Projects oh Projects

    ¡°Careful with that. That took six months to grow. I really do not want to have to do that again.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± Apostolos nodded, carefully cradling a large crystal to his chest as he carried it to the center of their camp.

    Rory crossed his arms, overseeing the young man, ready to jump into action should he accidentally stumble.

    Relax. He¡¯s not a kid anymore.

    Six and a half years after he first met the boy, Apostolos was no longer a child. Seventeen, nearly eighteen, the boy was almost an adult.

    It''s not like there are any actual laws stating what''s considered an ¡®adult¡¯ anymore.

    Apostolos was no longer the young kid he once was; he¡¯d even reached A4 not too long ago. It had taken several years before he could start working to break through A1; children were locked as level ¡®null¡¯ until they¡¯d physically matured enough to be comparable to a baseline A1 adult. He¡¯d been fifteen when the level had finally changed from ¡®null¡¯ to a standard ten, the beginning level of all humans. From there, it had taken another two and half years to reach A4, slower than Rory by a factor of two, but then he was also still a teenager and not a grown adult like Rory had been when he''d been first dropped onto the planet of Aelia.

    Plus, I wouldn¡¯t let the kid throw himself to the wolves like I had to.

    After six and a half years with the kid, Rory still had trouble figuring out what he thought of him. He was not quite a son, nor was he precisely a younger brother, but he was too familiar to be an apprentice.

    Maybe like a younger cousin?

    It didn¡¯t matter what Rory thought, for Apostolos seemed hell-bent on constantly referring to Rory as master.

    Seriously, where did he ever pick that up from?

    ¡°Hey, master, does this seem alright?¡±

    Rory shook his head, dismissing the wandering thoughts, a trait that had, and likely never would, gone away. Apostolos stood above a hole in the ground, where a matrix-looking structure had been constructed, several cables and pipes jutting out from the matrix and sprawling beneath the ground.

    ¡°Yeah, just place her in. Gently.¡± Rory reminded.

    ¡°Yes, master.¡±

    The young man gingerly crouched down and placed the oversized crystal within the matrix, which almost instantly began to glow.

    ¡°Perfect.¡± Rory beamed.

    God above, another project, nearly complete.

    Apostolos glanced toward Rory, only letting out a sigh of relief as he saw Rory¡¯s smile.

    ¡°So, is that it?¡±

    ¡°Basically.¡± Rory nodded as Apostolos stepped out from the hole. ¡°A few more steps to go, but all the actual project stuff should be complete.¡±

    ¡°Thank Eon,¡± Apostolos said, an exhausted smile on his face. ¡°No offense, master, but I don¡¯t want ever to have to slave away like this again.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s too bad because the only thing certain in life-¡±

    ¡°Is ¡®Projects oh Projects.¡¯¡± The young man said, beating Rory to the punch. ¡°I know; I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve heard you say anything more than that.¡±

    ¡°Smart ass.¡± Rory shook his head, stifling a smile. As the boy had spent the last six and half years growing up around Rory, he¡¯d long since learned the ways of the Architect.

    Which involved excessive manual labor, all in the effort of building something so that you could use more manual labor to accomplish another task.

    Like a nesting doll of sore backs and aching muscles.

    As for what project his young apprentice was complaining about?

    ¡°What is energy?¡± Rory suddenly questioned, tossing the quiz out to Apostolos.

    ¡°Uhh, what type?¡± The young man asked back.

    ¡°Good start. Let¡¯s go with the mystical forms.¡±

    ¡°Ascension, Pneuma, and Essence.¡± Apostolos listed off as if it had been something he¡¯d often been quizzed on.

    Which he had. If Rory had to act the role of a teacher, he was damned well sure he was going to do the best job he could.

    ¡°Ascension energy: The energy of creation, the building block of permeance and growth. It¡¯s sourced from the universe itself, and it''s behind the, uhh, Ascension of basically everything.¡±

    ¡°And how do you go about obtaining it?¡±

    ¡°Primarily through killing monsters-¡±

    ¡°Theoretically, not just monsters, but we don¡¯t condone murder here.¡±

    ¡°R-right.¡± Apostolos did his best to ignore how offhandedly his master could sometimes say things like that. ¡°You can also obtain it through making stuff. There are potentially other ways, but we don¡¯t have any direct proof.¡±

    ¡°Good, good. And how exactly does killing stuff obtain Ascension energy.¡±

    ¡°Two bases. First, the ¡®base¡¯ energy that a monster may contain is directly proportional to their level and, by extension, their tier. After that, there appears to be a ¡®modifier¡¯ effect that Eon dictates. Killing something weaker than you or without challenge rewards less energy, potentially reaching a zero-sum. Kill things stronger or more challenging, and you gain a positive modifier.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°While in theory, the best way to grow would be to constantly challenge high-tier monsters, due to how monster levels work compared to humans or other intelligent life, even a mid-grade monster is significantly more powerful than a low-grade monster of the same tier. Challenging more than half a step up is therefore extensively forbidden.¡±

    ¡°For you, at least.¡± Rory cut in.

    ¡°Yes, for me.¡± Apostolos sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not a kid anymore.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh, not the first I¡¯ve heard of something like that. Alright, I¡¯m satisfied with your answer. Now, moving on. Pneuma?¡±

    ¡°Pneuma: The energy of action, of thought into reality. It''s everywhere, though it can collect more heavily in certain areas. When concentrated, you can end up with a liquid like that.¡± Apostolos pointed toward the small pond surrounding the Essence Spire, now taller than Rory. ¡°As for what exactly it is, it¡¯s a more temporary version of Ascension energy. Where ascension energy takes something and makes it more, enhancing reality, Pneuma can usually only enact temporary change, hence magic.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Good. And?¡±

    ¡°And it can be refined, concentrated to become more potent.¡±

    ¡°Good, bookmark that thought. Next, essence?¡±

    ¡°Well, uhh, it¡¯s concepts made into energy¡­ Right?¡±

    ¡°Sort of, but honestly, it¡¯s going to be a while before I have a better answer on that subject either.¡± Rory laughed. ¡°I just wanted to see if you would try to make something up.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Apostolos muttered. ¡°So, what was the point of the quiz?¡±

    Rory pointed in the four cardinal directions of the camp to the four pylons. ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°Pneuma Crushers. They drag Pneuma inward, crushing and grinding against itself. Over time, that forces the Pneuma to subsume itself, refined and richer in energy density.¡±

    ¡°And the point of that?¡±

    ¡°Enriched Pneuma doesn¡¯t permeate as easily as regular Pneuma. After the improvements to the walls-¡± Apostolos pointed toward the walls, now the color of rusty iron. ¡°-there exists a sort of ¡®net¡¯ around our camp that regular pneuma can easily pass through, but the denser enriched pneuma cannot. Making the camp a hotspot of high-quality pneuma.¡±

    ¡°Thus, back to the original topic. The efforts of the last year and a half. What was the point?¡±

    Apostolos thought for a moment. They¡¯d been performing seemingly random renovations to their camp for a year and a half. First, they had been changing the walls, growing as much bloodwood as possible before chipping off the outer shell of their walls. With the inner wooden portion of the walls revealed, an already tedious task, they¡¯d plastered bloodwood plank sidings to the walls. From there, they¡¯d had to reform the outer shell, another excessive and laborious endeavor. It had only been made a tad easier when, at the very end, Rory had initiated a single wave, taken the rewarded energy from it, and then used it to integrate the additions and changes to the wall back into a singular form. Rory had also inscribed quite a few runes and tunnel-like carvings through the wood beforehand, but they were now hidden away under the rust-colored outer shell of the walls.

    That had only been the first renovation. From there, they¡¯d spent a lot of time traveling to and from the Maw, collecting ore and sending it back to camp, refining it, and pouring it into pipe molds that Rory had made. Apostolos had questioned what they were for, but Rory only cryptically raised his eyebrows every time and shook his head like it were a secret for Apostolos to figure out. Once they¡¯d had an extensive collection of pipes, the next project had been digging up the camp and laying the metal tubes in the ground before re-burying them, following a pattern Rory had laid out.

    Pipes buried, they¡¯d gone on a slaughter rampage of any weak monsters, collecting them and tossing them into the ¡®composter¡¯ as Rory had nicknamed it, using the gathered essence and matter to feed into the growth of not trees, but crystals. The crystals started as granular specks obtained through dehydration of the aisormba surrounding the Essence Spire. Those tiny crystal-like grains were pumped full of the essence and matter of the dissolved monsters. Several months later, they¡¯d obtained the oversized crystal that Apostolos had placed within the matrix in their camp''s center.

    As for the matrix, Rory had spent all his free time slowly working on it himself. It was made of a unique, uncommon-grade metal that Rory himself had devised. It was derived in part from the old-world inspiration of steel and another part from Crimsonite, a metal Rory had obtained as a reward for clearing the first floor of the Maw.

    The first step in its creation was collecting Pneuma-Enriched Iron from the Maw, which was even more abundant on the second floor. After the raw ore was collected, it had to be ground down into a gravel-like state. Next, the enriched iron gravel had to be temporarily stored, and the proper catalyst coke was created. Rory had taken some time to debate the best way to obtain the catalyst coke before finally settling upon using bloodwood. Bloodwood itself was already an uncommon-grade material, and its aspects of blood reminded Rory of Crimsonite, which was also an uncommon grade. Merging the ideas, Rory and Apostolos created a coke oven, yet another laborious project. Once the coke oven had been completed, shoveling in plenty of bloodwood was next.

    The resulting material had been a blood-colored charcoal, which Rory had promptly named ¡®Bloodwood coal¡¯ much to his apprentice¡¯s chagrin.

    Upgrading their forge was the second to last step, now adjusted to mimic Rory¡¯s memories of blast furnaces on Earth. The forge upgraded, and all left was shoveling in the enriched iron gravel with the bloodwood coal. Experimenting with that several different times, they¡¯d, at last, obtained the first artificial uncommon-grade metal.

    <u>Crimson Steel</u>

    <u>Quality</u>: Uncommon.

    Forged from the charcoal of a parasitic, bloodthirsty tree and common Pneuma-Enriched Iron. Crimson steel showcases far improved tensile and compression strength and a significantly higher degree of magical conductivity than Enriched Iron.

    Rory had been afraid that the metal might showcase the same parasitic properties of bloodwood. Still, thankfully, the carbonization process the wood underwent alongside the refinement with enriched iron had meant that aside from the coloration, the metal was inert of any of those¡­ less savory traits.

    Crimson Steel obtained, Rory had spent months shaping, working, and inscribing runes throughout the metal until he¡¯d finally completed the matrix, the heart of his grand project. Compared to any project he¡¯d ever done, it had taken by far the longest, a year and a half of direct effort plus several months of preparation and planning beforehand.

    ¡°The matrix with that crystal.¡± Apostolos finally spoke after considering the labors of the last two years: ¡°Those pipes. The focus and containment of higher-quality pneuma within our camp. Even the changes to the walls. It¡¯s all meant to be one big system.¡±

    ¡°Bingo.¡± Rory winked. ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m not sure.¡± Apostolos said with a sigh.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s because there is one clue you¡¯re missing,¡± Rory said before revealing something with a pouch.

    ¡°W-what¡¯s with the monster core? Why¡¯d you remove it from the Composter?¡±

    ¡°Think. Why would I?¡±

    Apostolos thought about it for only a moment before it came to him.

    ¡°The matrix core. Limited to a crystal heart and the matrix foundation, it can direct energy and even store some. However, it¡¯s inefficient; those crystals are better suited for storing physical and conceptual essence. In tandem with a monster core, you could store mass amounts precisely because that core came from a tier eight monster. Altogether, it forms an expansive network; the entire camp becomes one large Pneuma battery, and all those pipes are meant as the physical representation of metaphysical pathways for that energy to travel along far more efficiently than directing it manually. Individually, the parts are impressive on their own; a tier eight monster core could store plenty of pneuma, but when integrated into this entire system, which is fed refined pneuma from the pylons, we¡¯ve got what feels like an endless well of pneuma to draw from!¡±

    ¡°And there you have it.¡± Rory started clapping. ¡°I figured it could put that all together.¡±

    ¡°Why, though?¡± Apostolos questioned after a moment. ¡°It¡¯s an amazing idea; I never thought of such a comprehensive system, but why? Isn¡¯t this overkill? We have nothing that requires that much stored high-quality pneuma.¡±

    ¡°Ahh, well, two reasons. One, I felt it was time to settle upon the foundation of an energy grid finally. I¡¯ve been playing with the idea of storing pneuma for a long time now. Initially, I had the core of a tier four monster I had plans for, but I was forced to waste it. With a tier eight-core, I knew I had to go above and beyond my plans at the time for a simple battery. This system will form the basis and foundation of a permanent addition to the settlement from here on out. The second reason, though, goes back to our point of Ascension Energy. What are the two ways to obtain Ascension energy again?¡±

    ¡°Killing things and¡­¡± Apostolos drowned out, eyes widening. ¡°This was meant to push you into A6?¡±

    ¡°Or nearly.¡± Rory shrugged. ¡°In the past, long-term projects have accrued me quite a windfall of energy, and I suspect this will likely do the same. But not just for me. I had a helper, after all.¡±

    Apostolos pointed to himself as if surprised. ¡°I forgot about that.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a fast learner, kid, but we still need to work on some common-sense skills.¡± Rory sighed, amused. ¡°We¡¯ve only got two steps before it''s finished.¡±

    ¡°Which is?¡±

    ¡°A proof of concept connection. We need to ¡®prove¡¯ the theory to E.O.N. In this case, that¡¯s as simple as retrofitting our forge so that it can utilize the pneuma of this network to fuel it.¡±

    ¡°No more manning the bellows?¡± Apostolos asked, hope in his eyes.

    ¡°No more manning the bellows,¡± Rory confirmed. ¡°Retrofitting and connecting the two shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. You know those other crystals we grew? We¡¯re going to install them into the forge. I would prefer a monster core, but those bad boys are rare, so the crystals must do. They exist solely as an ¡®interface¡¯ connection from which the retrofitted forge can draw.¡±

    ¡°And the second step left?¡±

    ¡°Integration of the network into the settlement utilizing a large reservoir of ascension energy.¡±

    ¡°But that means-¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± Rory said, cutting the young man off. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to face several waves in a row. Integrating the grid into our settlement will take a significant amount of energy. Energy that we can¡¯t gather ourselves.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ve avoided waves for years now!¡± Apostolos said.

    ¡°Sure, and for good reason. The more waves you tackle without completing the full gauntlet, the more difficult it becomes, but that¡¯s the trade-off of benefitting from the rewards of completing small streaks.¡±

    ¡°How many waves?¡± The young man asked.

    Rory rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment before shrugging.

    ¡°Ten, maybe? This is the most complex addition that has been made to the settlement. It¡¯s not just throwing up a single forge or a hut; it¡¯s a fundamental change to the foundation.¡±

    ¡°Will we be able to handle it?¡± Apostolos asked, concern on his face.

    ¡°Realistically? No. One, two, maybe three tier fives at a time are possible, but by wave ten of the mini-gauntlet, we¡¯re likely to see anywhere from five to seven per stage.¡±

    ¡°So, how are we going to manage?¡±

    ¡°Simple. We¡¯re going to get help.¡±

 36. Imps and History

    ¡°When you said we would get help, I didn¡¯t expect¡­ this.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it?¡± Rory raised an eyebrow at his apprentice.

    ¡°I just didn¡¯t expect something so¡­ morbid,¡± Apostolos said, staring at the top of their walls.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that bad.¡± Rory shrugged, not seeing the issue.

    ¡°You sure?¡± Apostolos shook his head. ¡°Because stitched-together corpses feel morbid.¡±

    Rory crossed his arms, frowning as he took the time to reassess his solution. He hadn¡¯t been lying when he¡¯d said that attempting ten waves of tier five monsters would likely be too much for them, a tier five and a tier four, even with the benefit of their wall. His solution, therefore, had been the creation of sentries.

    How had he accomplished that? Easy, he¡¯d first made some basic frames constructed of bloodwood and Crimson Steel joints, runes carved into the frames. Each frame was designed to be only a few feet tall, so they could easily stand atop their wall. After that, he¡¯d grafted and stitched together the corpses of deceased monsters around the frames, like gnome-sized Frankensteins, utilizing his blood affinity Essence Spark to aid in bonding the bloodwood to their outer flesh layer. Once that was done, a crafted crossbow was given to each animatronic-from-hell before they were directly nailed onto the top of the walls, able to interface with the small amounts of Pneuma they could store.

    It was somewhat surprising how quickly Rory had been able to make the constructs, and he had felt proud of himself when he¡¯d finished.

    <u>Blood Imp Construct</u>

    Grade: Uncommon

    Constructs fashioned from the remains of monsters, parasitic bloodwood, and applied Inscriptions. The capabilities of such constructs are limited by the Inscriptions carved upon their inner frame and the energy supplies available.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Master. There is just something that feels wrong about them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still too squeamish about this stuff.¡± Rory sighed.

    ¡°And with all due respect, that¡¯s why you have a blood affinity, and I do not. Respectfully.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Like I don¡¯t hear the underlying meaning.¡± Rory snorted.

    In response, Apostolos merely shrugged.

    Smart ass. Where does he get that from?

    ¡°Ethics aside, how¡­ useful are they? Against a tier five monster, I don¡¯t see how five midget sentries will help much.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right; they aren¡¯t much use on their own. Those bloodwood crossbows pack a punch but not enough to handle a wave of strong monsters. No, the main point is they give us covering fire and distraction. With just the two of us, we¡¯d struggle against a few monsters but throw in a few sentries plinking away with powerful crossbows; they can either help take down a pinned monster quickly or slow an advance.¡±

    ¡°Where did you even get the idea?¡± Apostolos questioned suddenly.

    ¡°Here.¡± Rory poked his head. ¡°You could say it was a¡­ bloody good idea.¡±

    Waiting several seconds for the joke to land, Rory finally coughed into his fist.

    Even my apprentice is a critic. This is why I don¡¯t make jokes.

    ¡°Alright, fine,¡± Rory said, unable to take the silence of his failed joke any longer. ¡°With this, I think we can handle the waves. In the worst-case scenario, if it looks like too much, we can abandon the ten-wave plan and go straight for five waves or something. The game plan is straightforward. We hide behind the walls and make pincushions of any monsters. If anything breaks through, I¡¯ll hold them back, and you go for the emergency option. I¡¯d rather forego rewards than die.¡±

    ¡°Big Bertha?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Big Bertha,¡± Rory said.

    Big Bertha was the name of the newest railgun he¡¯d made. While railguns were effectively banned, that didn¡¯t mean Rory didn¡¯t bother ever making them anymore. Once a year, he went and either updated the last version or made a new one entirely. Big Bertha was the latest iteration, a railgun made from Crimson Steel with the most advanced rune formations. Firepower-wise, it wasn¡¯t much different than the older models; there was a limit to the upscaling of natural science reactions, which his railguns were still primarily taking advantage of. While it wasn¡¯t a direct upgrade regarding firepower, it was far more efficient regarding fire rate, heat dispersion, durability, and energy efficiency.

    But there was a reason Big Bertha was there only in case of emergency. Rory still feared that if Big Bertha were ever brought into active use, it would only be a matter of time until the monsters that appeared stopped being comparable tiers to theirs, instead being closer to tier eight or even tier nine.

    While Aelia probably can¡¯t actively toss out tier eights and nines on her own -based on absolutely zero reasoning- Eon isn¡¯t limited by a single planet¡¯s energy reserves. Creating and releasing high-tier monsters is probably child¡¯s play for it.

    ¡°Once we clear all ten waves, what then?¡± Apostolos questioned, breaking Rory¡¯s mindful reverie.

    ¡°Well, as I¡¯ve said, we will complete the energy grid and integrate it into the settlement. At that point, I hope you and I will reach a breakthrough, tiers six and five. From there, the plan is to clear the rest of the second floor of the Maw.¡±

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°So many questions.¡± Rory sighed. ¡°After that, no idea. While the grid will have been integrated into our settlement, it will still take a while to accumulate vast amounts of energy, so we don¡¯t want to tap into it immediately. I¡¯ll probably be looking at around seventy years until my next tier-up, so you¡¯ll catch up to me then. We will continue building up the settlement and hopefully clear through the Maw. There isn¡¯t much of an endgame plan outside of that in the short term. Tiers seven and eight will probably become more interesting, as that¡¯s my estimate of when encounters with the other founders will become possible. The other question is Aelia herself. The main issue she has, and by extension, we have, is that she isn¡¯t in a state of energy equilibrium; she expends far more energy than she earns from the planet¡¯s affairs. That means she can¡¯t spare the energy to bring in other sentients. Once she does reach that point, I reckon she will begin bringing in people en masse.¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡±

    ¡°Our lives will become far busier, so we should have a well-established foundation by that point.¡±

    ¡°And you know this all because¡­?¡±

    ¡°Aelia told me herself years ago. Or she implied I should say.¡±

    ¡°I still find it hard to believe that the World Spirit herself once interacted with you routinely.¡±

    ¡°Routinely might be overselling it, but yes, once she wasn¡¯t an uncommon sight or voice to hear from,¡± Rory said, a slightly weary smile as he remembered that first year on the planet. ¡°But I digress. We know the game plan, we¡¯ve got our helpers, and we¡¯ve got a goal.¡±

    ¡°So, now what?¡±

    ¡°Now?¡± Rory contemplated for a moment. ¡°We relax for the day, then I summon the first wave tomorrow.¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°You ready?¡± Rory called over his shoulder, watching Apostolos.

    ¡°Almost.¡± The young man said, shrugging on a thick cuirass made of leather and wood. After getting the cuirass on, the young man slung a shield onto his back alongside a spear. Secondary gear handled, he quickly scrambled up a perched ladder opposite the gate from Rory as he pulled free his bow a moment later.

    ¡°How about now?¡± Rory asked again.

    ¡°Yeah, good to go.¡±

    Rory did a pat down of himself. He wore blood weave, unlike the thicker armor of his apprentice, and he had his trusty bow, but there was nothing else on him other than his arrows. Of the prepared arrows, most were standard arrows tipped with crimson steel arrowheads. A few, though, had some extra oomph to them, such as explosive arrowheads or other fun little tricks.

    Yeah, I¡¯m ready.

    Opening his interface with just a few taps, Rory summoned the wave. The cooldown timer had long ago lapsed, given that it had been nearly a year since the last time they¡¯d attempted even a single wave.

    Let¡¯s do this.

    Waiting with bated breath, it wasn¡¯t long before something finally appeared. It appeared first as a lithe spotted monster, roughly the size of a lion, with massive incisors protruding from its upper and lower jaw. Bony spines ran down either side of its head from snout to neck, each several inches long.

    <u>Saber Fang Jaguar</u>

    Level: 54

    A denizen of the deep jungles, the Saber Fang Jaguar can crush rock and metal between its jaws.

    ¡°Alright, let ¡®er rip!¡± Rory shouted as his bow twanged out with impressive speed. The Saber Fang Jaguar reacted instantly, dodging the arrow with the reflexes of a¡­ cat. While the monster may have avoided Rory¡¯s opening shot, that said nothing for the sudden buzz of six arrows that followed a moment after, Apostolos leading the newly made sentries in firing on the beast. It said something about the agility of the beast, which managed to weave out of the way of several of the bolts even as fast as they fired from their crossbows. Still, in the end, it couldn¡¯t remain entirely unscathed as two crossbow bolts slammed into the side of its skull, one ripping through its eye and the other piercing its jaw.

    Not bad.

    Already firing another arrow, the now partially blinded monster took an arrow straight to the chest as blood suddenly began pouring out.

    ¡°Laceration arrow?¡± Apostolos questioned from across the gate divide.

    ¡°Bingo,¡± Rory confirmed. While crimson steel was largely devoid of the properties of the bloodwood trees that were used in creating their coke catalyst, they did seem to have retained a degree of blood-thinning effect. It wasn¡¯t much on its own, but when the arrows were fashioned into broadheads alongside blood-letting runes, it could cause quite a nasty compound effect.

    The Saber Fang Jaguar wasn¡¯t a tier-five for no reason, though. Blood leaked like a faucet, and even half blinded, the monster still charged the wall, looking to tear it apart and kill those responsible for wounding it. Rory gave a low whistle, always impressed at the difference between tier four and five monsters, a substantial power divide.

    ¡°Still not gonna let ya,¡± Rory muttered. Racing forward, the jaguar was met by three arrows slamming into it at once as Rory winced, a minor headache from the light usage of Blood Legacy.

    Dropping to the ground, the monster attempted to claw forward before stilling.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t too bad,¡± Apostolos said after several seconds passed.

    ¡°Yeah, because that¡¯s not a durability-focused monster. Monsters like that are best handled through surprises that they aren¡¯t prepared to react to or by cornering them. Otherwise, they can dodge nearly anything you toss at them. Also, not all monsters are made equally, you know that. Finally, it¡¯s attacking our defensive position; I wouldn¡¯t want to stumble upon one outside these walls.¡±

    ¡°Preparation over valor, got it.¡±

    Rory smiled, glad his apprentice took in what he said so quickly. Even as a tier five, Rory tried to avoid conflict with tier five monsters when he could, but that didn¡¯t mean he never did.

    That was different for Apostolos, though. Aside from the rare occasions Rory had instigated one-off waves over the years, Apostolos had been kept far away from where tier-five monsters could be found. Even when they ventured into the Maw, Rory did not allow Apostolos to go into any areas he hadn¡¯t cleared, and not before he was given the okay to explore.

    It helped that the second floor of the Maw was massive in comparison to the first floor, an entire ecosystem filled with mostly tier-four monsters. However, there had been a few tier fives in areas with large ore deposits or other valuable goodies, for example. Rory ensured Apostolos was kept clear of such areas for his safety. Aside from the few tier fives that could be found, it otherwise had been an excellent training ground for Apostolos, with the heavy guidance of Rory.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    If I¡¯m tasked with taking care of the kid, I¡¯ll be damned if I don¡¯t do my best job of it.

    There was only one area that even Rory hadn¡¯t checked out, a foreboding sense of power emanating from it that Rory had instantly clued in on as being the floor boss, probably a tier-six if the first floor¡¯s tier-five boss was anything to base it on.

    Dismissing the thoughts of the second floor of the Maw, Rory waited patiently for the following monsters to appear. Thankfully, it wasn¡¯t much longer until they did; this time, three pythons appeared, each around thirty feet long. While the snakes looked normal aside from their large size, one thing did stand out: Their tails ended in what looked like a glowing berry, of all things, one of the odder adornments you¡¯d expect to see on a snake.

    <u>Adolescent Angler Python</u>

    Level: 52

    Still yet to reach maturity, the Adolescent Angler Python relies on luring prey with its tails before constricting and swallowing it whole. In their younger years, they tend to group for safety.

    ¡°Climbers,¡± Rory called out. It didn¡¯t take a genius to know that pythons could climb up trees, and with their sheer size, they could rear up and reach them from their elevated position behind the wall.

    Monsters like this were perhaps the type Rory disliked the most, as he still hadn¡¯t found a good way to keep them off his walls.

    ¡°Aim for the eyes; those scales will be tough for you to break through,¡± Rory said, aiming for the nearest pythons. Releasing an arrow, it barely missed, plinking off the hard scales of the lead python.

    God damn it.

    Changing plans, Rory switched what arrow he was grabbing for. Its shaft was covered in spiderweb-like vines, and even the arrowhead had a similar appearance. Aiming for only a moment, the arrow whizzed through the air before planting itself in the ground between the three pythons. A heartbeat later, the arrow exploded as ghostly-looking vines shot outward, lashing around the snakes and tangling them together.

    ¡°It¡¯s only going to hold for ten or so seconds!¡± Rory announced, once more channeling Blood Legacy as the weak headache began to throb. In an instant, the next arrow ripped through the skull of one of the snakes as it made the mistake of trying to tear apart the vines with its mouth.

    Apostolos once more led the sentries in firing on the entrapped pythons, the small barrage of arrows mostly glancing off their scales, except for one that slammed through the eyelid of the nearest of the still-living pythons, the monster dropping like a puppet with its strings cut.

    It must have been a lucky shot to pierce the brain without hitting the skull.

    The vines holding down the tangled pythons snapped, releasing the last of the three adolescent snakes. Raising his fist, Rory signaled for Apostolos to hold fire. With only one of the three pythons alive, Rory felt comfortable taking a moment to gauge the best response. The remaining python seemed to stare at its fallen brethren before it reared up as a crest flared from its head.

    Right, it¡¯s a bit pissed off. I can work with that.

    Reaching for another special arrow, Rory purposely fired it in front of the enraged snake¡¯s face. Unable to resist its instincts, the enraged monster lashed out, snatching the arrow from midair.

    Before the arrow exploded within its mouth. The oversized snake, now without a head, collapsed a moment later.

    ¡°Some monsters are¡­ less intelligent and can react predictably. A pissed-off adolescent, for example, is likely to lash out just like that.¡± Rory took the moment as a teaching experience. ¡°Biting down on an explosive is a rather bad idea, as it encloses the entirety of the explosive force within their mouth. Leading to results like that. On the contrary, the jaguar you saw earlier would have never done something so foolish, more guile than these snakes.¡±

    Rory lectured, aware his head was beginning to hurt with growing intensity. That was the other reason he didn¡¯t enjoy dealing with tier-five monsters. Killing them often required leaning heavily on Blood Legacy, an exhausting Akashic effect of his bow.

    I can handle more, just as long as no high-tier-fives appear.

    Doing just that, three more stages of monsters were dealt with. The third stage of monsters had eight level fifty monsters, six-legged salamanders that charged out from the tree line. Still, being salamanders, they were weak to the heat of an explosive arrow, the monsters slowing massively as the moisture was sapped from their slimy hide. The fourth stage was another jaguar, except this one was level fifty-five. It had taken nearly three times as many arrows to put down for good, emphasizing how much of a difference a single level could make for monsters. The fifth and final stage was four level fifty-three three-armed monkeys that, rather than charge their wall, instead flung acid poo at them, leading to a somewhat elongated game of heads up. It took two hours before the four monkeys were finally dead; their annoying tactic of ducking behind trees after each poo fling had dragged the entire encounter out far too long, as neither side was burning through resources in the slow, drawn-out exchange.

    Once it was clear that no more monsters were coming, Rory prompted the next wave to begin counting down without accepting any rewards. Sliding down the ladder where he was perched, Rory took stock of the camp. Other than a few unfortunate holes that had been burnt through some things from the acid poo, everything was well accounted for.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t too bad,¡± Apostolos said, approaching where Rory stood.

    ¡°Yeah, those snakes worried me, though. I probably need to make something to deal with stuff like that.¡±

    ¡°Another long project?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°No, it shouldn¡¯t take me more than an afternoon or two. I¡¯m thinking some heavy-duty armor-piercing javelin-type weapon.¡±

    ¡°Oh, can I help?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Rory shrugged. ¡°How about we give ourselves three days, then tackle the next wave early? I don¡¯t feel like waiting ten weeks if we don¡¯t have to.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the boss, boss.¡± Apostolos saluted, earning a raised eyebrow from Rory.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you know about saluting.¡±

    At the mention, Apostolos frowned, lowering his hand and looking at it like it belonged to someone else.

    ¡°Huh. I don¡¯t know why I did that. Just felt¡­ right?¡±

    Rory shrugged, deflecting the subject.

    ¡°Well, either way, job well done. Thankfully, nothing too concerning appeared; they were all pretty standard monsters. No strong variants among them.¡±

    ¡°How will we know it¡¯s a stronger variant?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°Trust me, you¡¯ll know,¡± Rory confirmed without actually explaining.

    ¡°If you say so.¡± Apostolos shrugged. ¡°So, what do we need for these new weapons?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to make oversized arrows, basically. I need you to go and gather some bloodwood branches from storage. Once you¡¯ve got some, you¡¯ll fashion them into extra-large arrow shafts, roughly five feet long and about as thick as my arm. While you do that, I¡¯ll work on some javelin heads with some of our remaining crimson steel, but I¡¯ll probably need to whip up another batch. Also, while you¡¯re at it, go collect some vines. I have an idea, but we¡¯ll need some strong rope first.¡±

    Apostolos gave Rory a quick thumbs-up before jogging off toward the back of their camp, where Rory had constructed a small storage shed a few years back. Letting the kid handle things independently -he didn¡¯t need Rory looking over his shoulder for such a simple task- Rory quickly stored his gear away. Once that was handled, he made his way to their forge, tossing on a thick leather apron and goggles he¡¯d designed for working in the intense heat.

    It¡¯s a good thing we still have some bloodwood coal left; that way, I don¡¯t have to do too much preparation.

    Firing up the forge, Rory began pumping some bellows, stoking the flames so they burned with increasing intensity. Once the fire burned sufficiently hot, Rory shoveled in the coal and enriched iron gravel. Once the enriched iron gravel and coal had all been transferred in, Rory once more manned the bellows.

    Only another two thousand degrees to go.

    Mentally preparing himself, Rory began to pump the bellows as the heat climbed. Perhaps due to the latent Pneuma that existed everywhere, fires could be stoked to far hotter heats on Aelia than was possible on Earth without specific fuel or machines. Nearly ten minutes of tedious bellow pumping later, Rory stopped and checked on the contents of the forge.

    Perfect.

    Inside, the metal gravel had melted down and drained into a ceramic-looking container beneath where the ground-up metal ore had been placed. Grabbing a pair of metal tongs, Rory carefully retrieved the ceramic vase and began to pour it into some ingot molds. Examining the molds briefly, Rory frowned, a small sigh escaping.

    Going to need to replace those. I really need to take the time to make a more permanent mold for when I¡¯m working with ingot casting.

    It wasn¡¯t a pressing concern, just another thing to add to the never-ending laundry list of tasks to handle at some point. Pouring the molten metal into the ingot molds, Rory let them air cool for a minute before plunging the entire thing into a liquid basin. Unlike water, no steam erupted as Rory pulled the cooled ingot molds out a moment later.

    Ingots prepared, he quickly dumped them from their molds, once more taking stock of the cracks forming in the molds. Eyeing the ingots for a few seconds, Rory activated Eyes of the Dokkalfar-kin up to the second stage -the skill was almost always kept active up to the first stage for its cognition-boosting effect out of combat- as he gauged which ingot was best for his immediate purposes.

    This will do.

    With little difference in quality between the several ingots he¡¯d just produced, Rory grabbed the one that had elicited a faint twitch from his eye. Shunting the skill back to stage one release, Rory grabbed a hammer and tongs as he reapproached his forge, cooling it to only heat the crimson steel to be pliable but not molten. Thrusting the ingot in, Rory let it reach an even brighter shade of red, a pleasant cherry color, before removing it and holding it in place over an anvil he¡¯d also made several years back.

    And now for the fun part.

    You¡¯d think that in a magical game-like universe, all you had to do was tap a piece of red-hot metal a few times with a hammer, and it would automatically transform.

    You¡¯d be wrong.

    Beginning the laborious effort of shaping the metal, two hours passed in a blur, the ingot gradually transforming into an oversized arrowhead, shaped so that while it would easily pierce into a body, it would anchor itself within afterward and become extremely difficult to remove.

    Thanks to a skill he had picked up near his very beginning, he could craft things like this without a mentor to teach him; Maker¡¯s Arsenal innately blessed him with a significant degree of essential weapon crafting knowledge. From there, it was just a matter of taking that innate basic knowledge and experimenting with it, pushing his knowledge of crafting through good old-fashioned trial and error. The anchor-arrow was just one such result of experimenting with his crafting knowledge. Once the first anchor arrowhead was made, Rory grabbed another ingot, setting to work on a second, then a third. By the time he finished his fourth oversized arrowhead, night had fallen, and he could see someone sitting by their firepit.

    Ahh, he must have finished with the javelin shafts a while ago. Not exactly a complicated work of craftsmanship.

    Suddenly feeling the ache in his arms, Rory gathered up the anchor arrowheads and sat across the campfire from Apostolos.

    ¡°How did it go on your end?¡± Rory prompted, feeling like it was his responsibility as the adult.

    ¡°I got eight different headless spears made. I also added some fletching on their sides to aid in flight stability.¡±

    ¡°Good call.¡± Rory nodded. ¡°And the vines?¡±

    ¡°Got a good deal of coils stored in the shed. You plan on working with them tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Bingo,¡± Rory confirmed. ¡°As for you, you can attach the anchor heads to the javelins. Think you can manage that?¡±

    ¡°Unless increasing the size somehow made it a huge puzzle compared to adding the arrowheads to headless arrows, I can manage that.¡± Apostolos snorted. ¡°It probably won¡¯t take me that long. Anything else you want me to do?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, try to patch up the damaged parts of the camp where some of that acid poo landed.¡±

    Apostolos crinkled his nose, a hint of disgust on his face.

    ¡°You¡¯ll survive. Hell, it will build character.¡± Rory chuckled.

    ¡°If you say so,¡± Apostolos said with an exasperated sigh, the dramatic energy only a teenager could muster.

    The two were silent for a while after staring into the fire before Apostolos suddenly spoke up.

    ¡°What was it like¡­ before?¡± Apostolos waved all around.

    ¡°Before what?¡± Rory questioned, faking ignorance.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a kid anymore. I understand that certain things don¡¯t make sense when you clearly shift the subject as if you¡¯re hiding something. It was easy to ignore as a kid. Still, sometimes you make these references that, on the one hand, I¡¯ve no idea what you¡¯re talking about. Yet, on the other hand, it feels like it¡¯s not a complete unknown. Like I have this vague sense of familiarity. So, will you ever spill the beans about what you always avoid talking about, or will we continue pretending I¡¯m still twelve?¡±

    Rory frowned, staring into the fire. It was one thing to hide the reality of what came before; it was another to face the challenge of one day explaining it to the kid. It was something Rory had made a habit of avoiding the potential subject of. He had been afraid that Apostolos, no more than a kid, wouldn¡¯t be able to deal with such mental stresses.

    But he¡¯s not a kid anymore, not really. Also, maybe I was just avoiding the conversation for my own sake. If there is one thing we¡¯ve gained from being a part of this universe, it¡¯s mental fortitude, which is far beyond what all but a rare few Earthlings possess.

    Even with that thought, Rory continued staring into the fire in silence for another thirty seconds, fiddling with his thumbs before finally sighing, his shoulders sagging.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ A strange tale. Long ago, none of this-¡± It was Rory¡¯s turn to vaguely wave all around them. ¡°-existed.¡±

    ¡°Well, yeah, everything must have started from something.¡±

    ¡°Not quite what I mean,¡± Rory said, shaking his head. ¡°This universe didn¡¯t exist, and another universe did. That¡¯s where I come from. Where we come from.¡±

    ¡°We? Why don¡¯t I have any memory of it?¡±

    ¡°You do, but your mind has rationalized those memories, so you don¡¯t even realize they¡¯re out of place. You¡¯ve logically noticed some irregularities, but your mind hasn¡¯t grasped that some of your memories couldn¡¯t make sense in this universe. For example, what¡¯s your favorite food?¡±

    ¡°Cheeseburgers,¡± Apostolos answered instantly.

    ¡°And how exactly would you know that? The few times we¡¯ve had cheeseburgers, do you remember how much work we had to do to make them? It took us nearly two months to gather everything for a single burger.¡±

    Apostolos opened his mouth before frowning and closing it a moment later. ¡°You¡¯re right. I just never noticed anything wrong with that.¡±

    ¡°Exactly my point. So, to get back to the start of the story. Long ago, we belonged to a different universe, filled with intelligent alien life. We humans were the minority. We existed on a single planet; we were outnumbered to the tune of millions to one.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°Well, a big ass space war broke out or had been going on for some time. It turns out that humanity on our little old planet was considered to have evolved to the absolute, or near absolute, limit on which intelligent life could develop for a planet¡¯s gravity. We were far more robust than basically any other life out there. So, we got recruited -well, some humans, not me- to be the pilots of some weird ass experimental spaceships that they sent out to do battle with the bad guys of the space war.¡±

    ¡°Okay, then what happened?¡± Apostolos asked, intrigued. ¡°And how does that lead to us all alone here?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s simple. The bad guys won. They pressed the big red ¡®Do Not Press¡¯ button and the universe ended. Except, apparently, they didn¡¯t quite know the full details of what they were doing, so rather than propelling themselves to some higher dimension or whatever sort of whack nuttery they were looking to do, they caused all the countless dimensions to come crashing down, as everything was forcibly imploded into a singularity event.¡±

    ¡°Oh. So, how did we get here?¡±

    ¡°Patience.¡± Rory reminded. ¡°We got here because the closest dimension to us was a dimension made entirely of the energy of every thought and idea that had ever been had. When the dimensions collapsed, all intelligent life, or a large amount, I don¡¯t know the full scale, was basically subsumed into the energy of this thought dimension, where we were preserved. Don¡¯t ask me how that even works; this was explained to me by some alien professor I met while I was in the in-between place.¡±

    ¡°In between place?¡±

    ¡°Limbo, paradox, I don¡¯t know, call it what you want, but it¡¯s where intelligent life was preserved. After that, the singularity, composed of countless dimensions forcibly fusing, exploded outward, creating a new universe with exponentially greater energy and potential for growth. That universe would be this universe.¡±

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°Oh, the normal boring stuff that happens when a universe is formed, gas clouds, stars, supernovas, planets are formed, etc. Except in this new universe, the planets could form consciousness.¡±

    ¡°You mean like Aelia?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m referring to,¡± Rory confirmed. ¡°She formed consciousness, then began to slowly advance her Ascension, growing, but unlike her fellow planet peers, she noticed something within the energy soup of the universe. That something was the thought signature of intelligent life, or that¡¯s how she explained it to me. Doing whatever World Spirit fuckery she can do, she plucked several of us free from that soup. And here we are.¡±

    ¡°So why do you have active memories of it, and I don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m assuming it has to do with Eon. We were brought here before Eon existed, and the rest of the ¡®founders¡¯ are all considered ¡®proto¡¯ variants of their species. For whatever reason, we get to keep our memories. When you lot -the second generation- was brought in, Eon could mold you right from the get-go to fit into this universe. You arrived as A1, whereas we arrived as A0.¡±

    ¡°But intelligent life can¡¯t be A0.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, many of these ¡®rules¡¯ you know were still being made. I wouldn¡¯t recommend the experience of going from A0 to A1; hurts like a bitch. Anyway, now we¡¯re here, trying to help Aelia advance until she feels ready to bring more life here en masse. So yeah, that¡¯s the history I¡¯ve never explained. Obviously, you knew Aelia could bring people here, but now you know from where and why.¡±

    Apostolos was silent for several seconds, an apprehensive feeling beginning to fester within Rory before, at last, Apostolos spoke again.

    ¡°So¡­. Burgers? Those were a thing in the old universe.¡±

    Rory could only sigh, shaking his head.

    Teenagers.

 37. More Waves, More Monsters, More Fun

    ¡°Apostolos, javelin, now!¡± Rory shouted, reaching back. Instantly, Rory felt one of the oversized projectiles being handed to him. Placing the javelin in a sling, Rory flung it forward, the projectile flashing forward almost too fast for the eye to see. Booming through the air, the javelin lodged itself into the thick, red-colored hide of a six-legged fusion of a scarab and hippo.

    ¡°Heave!¡± Rory shouted, yanking on the thick rope trailing from the javelin lodged within the forehead of the strange-looking monster. Behind him, within the relative safety of the walls, Apostolos grabbed hold of the trailing rope and began heaving in time with Rory. Heaving one final time, the monster was pulled forward and off balance. Unlike the thicker hide covering the rest of its body, the monster¡¯s underside appeared far softer. The theory proved correct when, a moment later, several bolts pierced its underbelly. They had rebounded off the thicker hide covering the rest of its body just earlier, so for the bolts to tear into the monster was a definite improvement.

    ¡°Again!¡± Rory yelled as the constructs fired their crossbows once more, even more bolts stabbing into the tough monster¡¯s gut.

    ¡°Once more!¡± Rory shouted. Again, the constructs fired, and with a final barrage, the monster went still.

    ¡°Damn tough,¡± Rory sighed, wiping sweat from his brow.

    Apostolos poked his head over the wall and scurried up the opposing ladder as if on cue. ¡°Good things for the javelins.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, no kidding,¡± Rory muttered. Just beyond the walls, it was as if he¡¯d enacted a personal crusade against weird hippo-scarab monsters. The entire wave of monsters had purely consisted of the same monster. There were fifteen stages of hippo-scarabs, first one per stage, then two per stage, until the last five stages had three per. It was a good thing they couldn¡¯t fly, and they were half hippo and not squirrel because the stupidly durable monsters would have swarmed up his walls rather than smashed their heads against the base, trying their best to break in. The first few stages of hippo-scarabs ranged from levels fifty-one to fifty-three; their levels were low enough that their tough hide couldn¡¯t ultimately withstand his arrows.

    That changed once they crossed the level fifty-four threshold; his arrows could only pierce through when empowered through Blood Legacy. From that point onward, Rory had swapped to chucking the javelins, utilizing a spear sling to give them even more oomph.

    After each stage, they desperately retrieved the javelins and sprinted back before the next stage could arrive. Afraid of what would happen if they were too slow, Rory had shifted Apostolos from uselessly plinking arrows off the monsters to instead making more javelins as quickly as he could, a process that was streamlined by already having javelin heads and javelin shifts premade.

    ¡°Only two more waves to go,¡± Apostolos said, giving Rory a thumbs up. ¡°We¡¯re almost there.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but this was a rather alarming wave.¡± Rory sighed.

    Rory had been right to begin making the armor-piercing javelins nearly two weeks back. Between those and the help of their imp constructs, they¡¯d preserved over waves that, on their own, would have overwhelmed them.

    But they still had two waves, and so much of this wave had been filled with neigh invulnerable monsters. It was a concerning trend if the last two waves had anything in common.

    Maybe it¡¯s time to throw in the towel early.

    ¡°Apostolos, I want your opinion,¡± Rory said as he crossed his arms.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Do you want to throw in the towel?¡±

    ¡°Throw in what now?¡±

    ¡°I-¡± Rory paused, taken off guard before shaking his head. ¡°A phrase, sorry. Do you want to call it quits on the waves? ¡°

    ¡°Why?¡± Apostolos looked at Rory, perplexed. ¡°We¡¯re so close, only two more waves to reach the ten-wave goal. That¡¯s what you said we¡¯d need to integrate the energy grid, right?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, but that was just an estimate.¡± Rory sighed, chewing his lip for a moment. He had figured ten waves would likely be enough for what he was attempting. Still, in the worst-case scenario, he also had a reinterpretation in his back pocket, which might allow him to cheat out the energy grid integration for a lower ascension cost.

    Assuming I could get Eon to bite. Still, I¡¯d bet my left arm Eon would take the bait after hearing exactly the rundown of what I was up to.

    ¡°So, if we¡¯re only two waves away, let¡¯s go for it.¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡± Rory raised an eyebrow at the young man. ¡°You couldn¡¯t directly assist during this wave. Who knows what may happen if we get more monsters with such high durability.¡±

    ¡°Master, no offense, but you sometimes overthink things. Isn¡¯t the point to push ourselves? Test our limits? You can¡¯t ensure everything will be safe.¡±

    Rory found himself frowning. The boy was right, and Rory himself wasn¡¯t too worried about testing his luck. He¡¯d done it enough in the past. What happened, happened, it had been his motto never to fret the stuff outside his control.

    But.

    But that was before he¡¯d had a ward to ensure the safety of.

    I can¡¯t ensure his safety if something dangerous appears outside our ability to manage.

    ¡°Are you thinking about my safety?¡± Apostolos questioned as if he were reading Rory¡¯s mind.

    Rory was silent, still frowning and mulling over his thoughts for another few seconds before his shoulders sagged.

    ¡°You¡¯re still tier four. Realistically, a single tier five would tear you to shreds. I know your skills and relative attribute distribution. You¡¯re nearly a carbon copy of me from when I was a tier four.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Which wasn¡¯t by chance, either. Once Apostolos had finally gained the ability to improve his ascension standing, the very first skill he¡¯d been offered from his tier-one rank-up had been Scholar¡¯s Retreat.

    Apostolos had, of course, taken it. It had helped immensely in some departments; he¡¯d been able to learn skills from Rory that Rory had needed ascension rank-ups to gain, allowing him to select other skills instead -which Rory had then learned in return- but what it meant was that Apostolos, much like Rory, had no powerful combat skills. Their ability to battle with monsters almost depended entirely on their gear, their raw attributes, and their ability to strategize.

    ¡°You managed to solo a powerful tier five monster as a tier four; you¡¯ve told me the story before. It was how you conquered the first floor of the Maw.¡± Apostolos pointed out.

    ¡°Yes, but it was only barely, and with some serious gear advantages. You can¡¯t use blood-weave, so you¡¯re without those advantages.¡±

    That had been probably the most significant disadvantage Apostolos had compared to Rory. It turned out that one couldn¡¯t utilize blood-weave without a blood affinity. Attempting to do so would instead act more like willingly ingesting a poison or exposing yourself to a parasite. Furthermore, Rory had been the source, the original progenitor of the blood essence used in making this specific line of bloodwood. No matter how distant it was from the original tree Rory had grown, every bloodwood was part of that progeny; thus, the bloodwoods always resonated with Rory, with no affinity or essence rejection issues.

    In short, the attribute-boosting blood weave was something that only someone with a blood affinity could use, and only Rory could draw out the maximum potential from these bloodwood trees in particular.

    Apostolos had no affinity for blood essence, to begin with.

    If Apostolos were to attempt to engage a tier five monster head-on, unless it was a low-tier, weak variant, chances were it would rip the young man to shreds with little difficulty.

    ¡°I know I can¡¯t use blood-weave.¡± Apostolos snapped back, annoyed by the reminder. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t be useful. If they¡¯re not a high durability type monster, I can still wound them from afar.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s my point,¡± Rory said; the entire discussion had come full circle. ¡°This wave was full of monsters that I could barely hurt. You were delegated to support duty. If the next two waves have monsters that are as tough or tougher, then we will have serious problems. I can manage one mid-level tier-five, but if several start streaming in and you cannot help dispatch them?¡±

    Apostolos went silent, his turn to frown. What Rory had said was entirely accurate. Neither of them was the combat type, and this wave had been a wake-up call, a genuine possibility that Rory had considered may occur.

    ¡°What about Big Bertha?¡± Apostolos finally offered.

    ¡°You know exactly why Big Bertha is off the table.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean, why not risk it if we¡¯ve got Big Bertha as back-up?¡±

    ¡°Having Big Bertha in reserve for unexpected danger is one thing,¡± Rory said, shaking his head. ¡°But it¡¯s very different to go into a risk where we have an obvious indication of what we might be risking.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see the difference,¡± Apostolos said with a scowl.

    ¡°The difference is in interpretation, how Eon will view it. Let me phrase it like this. When we travel to the Maw, we bring our weapons, even if we know that monsters tend to avoid getting too close to our established route. The weapons we bring in that case are for the truly unexpected danger we can¡¯t anticipate. Versus, imagine we found a shortcut to the third floor of the Maw. We don¡¯t know what to expect directly, but we could probably assume we¡¯d be walking into a lion¡¯s den of tier-five and tier-six monsters. In the first situation I described, a risk would be an entirely unknown risk that we couldn¡¯t have expected. In contrast, in the second situation, we¡¯d know damn well that we¡¯re biting off more than we can chew.¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡± Apostolos questioned, confused by the long analogy.

    ¡°Meaning Big Bertha is only there for the truly unknowable risk. It would be like if a tier-seven monster showed up halfway through the fifth wave. We could not have accounted for that based on what we already know. Eon would maybe forgive its usage in such a situation. But if we go into a wave already having a strong possibility of being forced to rely on Big Bertha, Eon will come down hard on us. And I do not want to risk having our settlement suddenly become the tourist spot for tier-seven or tier-eight monsters that Eon popped into existence.¡±

    Apostolos looked down, deflated.

    ¡°So, no wave?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Not quite,¡± Rory said. His plan had been to end it here. Still, seeing how resistant Apostolos was to the thought, Rory found his apprehension being overcome by Apostolos¡¯s eagerness to push forward. ¡°I will offer this. We can continue to the next wave if, and only if, you can come up with an idea that will allow you to contribute should things get hairy, something that isn¡¯t running to fetch Big Bertha.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Apostolos questioned. ¡°I have to come up with the idea?¡±

    ¡°That or we end it here and hope Eon will accept a reinterpretation charge as collateral to allow the energy grid integration.¡±

    ¡°How long do I have?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°By the end of the day,¡± Rory said, flicking his interface to Apostolos. ¡°I could give you more time, but I want to push your ingenuity here.¡±

    With that, Rory slid down his ladder, heading toward his hut.

    He had a nap to take.

    <hr>

    ¡°Master! I¡¯ve got it. Wake up!¡±

    Rory found himself being shaken awake; his dreamless slumber forcibly ejected.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Rory mumbled, confused as to what was going on. A second or two passed before his mind snapped into place. ¡°Oh, Apostolos.¡±

    ¡°I got it!¡±

    ¡°An idea, I assume,¡± Rory said with a resounding yawn. ¡°Well, let¡¯s have at it then. But not this second. Let me stretch out by the fire, at least.¡±

    Giving Rory space, Apostolos backed up, letting Rory drag himself out of his cot. Exiting his hut, Rory groggily plodded over to their fireplace and sat down, yawning again.

    ¡°Alright, go, I¡¯ll hear you out.¡±

    ¡°Alright, so I was thinking!¡± Apostolos started excited. ¡°Well, I had several ideas, but most of them I had to throw out; they¡¯d require too much prep or resources. Then, I had ideas based on Big Bertha, but honestly, I couldn¡¯t recreate something like that without your explanation. Plus, that would be the same problem as just using Big Bertha. But that got me thinking, what about a weapon system that was more powerful than what I could do on my own, but not outright better than what you might be able to do, or something like that.¡±

    ¡°Limited offensive output,¡± Rory said, unsurprised. ¡°Not a terrible idea. It¡¯s one I¡¯ve had myself. But it¡¯s hard to make something that can put out more firepower than you can while still within an acceptable range.¡±

    ¡°Well, I realized something. Those javelins, you know how you just sling ¡®em forward using one of those spear chucker things?¡±

    ¡°Not the most eloquent name, but sure,¡± Rory said.

    ¡°I thought I just needed to emulate that, a way to launch them with more power. So¡­ Tada!¡±

    Brandishing the design tablet Rory had made in year one, Apostolos showed Rory a blueprint, who scrunched his eyebrows.

    ¡°A ballista.¡± Rory finally said after a moment. ¡°I¡¯d considered it before, but I didn¡¯t think the output was that much different than if I just used¡­my¡­. bow¡­ Clever.¡± Rory suddenly broke out into a grin. ¡°The output is stagnant. Between Blood Legacy and my blood weave, I have no need for a slow-firing ballista, but it would work for you, who can¡¯t actively use blood weave nor have my base attributes. Honestly, I¡¯m a fool for not thinking of it myself.¡±

    ¡°Well, you tend to always look only at those big grand projects. Smaller stuff tends to skip past you.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, well, I¡¯m not sure I needed to confirm my flaws outright.¡± Rory sighed with a tone of mock hurt. ¡°Nonetheless, I¡¯m proud you¡¯ve figured out how to continue contributing.¡±

    Apostolos beamed, the words having a more substantial effect on him than Rory would have figured.

    Heh. Teenagers.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve sold me,¡± Rory said after a moment. ¡°We¡¯ll keep going. But first things first.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°That should be obvious. It¡¯s project time. It isn¡¯t going to build itself.¡±

 38. No rest for the wicked

    ¡°Alright, here¡¯s the low down.¡± Rory paced about the camp as Apostolos quietly listened. ¡°This is wave ten. Wave nine, thankfully, wasn¡¯t as bad as I expected, especially with that new ballista.¡±

    Taking a moment, Rory glanced toward the wall where an oversized crossbow had been installed. Aside from being an oversized crossbow, its construction had been straightforward, just a larger crossbow.

    ¡°But we can expect a more significant resistance for this final wave.¡±

    ¡°So, like, a lot of monsters?¡± Apostolos questioned. ¡°Maybe a proper mid-tier-five?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my guess,¡± Rory said with a nod. Based on his theory that the successive one hundred waves would span from tiers five through eight, he guessed that waves one through thirty were dedicated tier five, thirty through sixty would be tier six, sixty through ninety would be tier seven, and the final ten waves would culminate with the fateful battle against a proper tier eight boss.

    While the grander scope wasn¡¯t relevant for the near future or even the far future, the details of the first thirty waves were. So far, they¡¯d only encountered levels fifty through fifty-five, so if Rory were a betting man, he¡¯d place money on the tenth wave being a level fifty-six, with waves ten through twenty approximately levels of fifty-six through fifty-eight. Which left the final ten waves of the tier five grouping likely to be leveled fifty-eight to a level sixty boss.

    Or that was how Rory would have planned it if he were in charge, which was a good suggestion that it worked exactly like that.

    ¡°So, a level fifty-six. That¡¯s not going to be easy, is it?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°No, but it¡¯s not the end of the world. It will be coming to us, so we can plan around that. I doubt it will be a large swarm of level fifty-six monsters. My guess is no more than five stages in the wave.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s probably doable.¡±

    ¡°Not sounding confident now, are you?¡±

    ¡°Err, I mean, we¡¯ve got this.¡± Apostolos amended with a cheeky grin.

    ¡°Better. Our battle plan is pretty much the same as it has always been. We barrage whatever comes our way. In the worst-case scenario, I¡¯ll engage directly, drawing on my blood weave. If things get even worse, you bust out Big Berta. But that¡¯s only in the absolute worst-case scenario, like I¡¯m either currently being torn limb from limb, or I¡¯m already dead.¡±

    Apostolos blanched. The mental image of his master being torn apart was an image he¡¯d never seriously considered; Rory had always seemed entirely in control.

    ¡°So, are you ready?¡± Rory questioned, examining Apostolos closely.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Apostolos nodded after a moment. ¡°We got this.¡±

    ¡°Good mental,¡± Rory said with a good-natured wink. ¡°Whatever happens, happens. No point fretting about what might happen now that we¡¯ve made the decision. Sleep in the bed we made and all that jazz.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you say, Master.¡± Apostolos snorted. ¡°So...¡±

    ¡°Now.¡±

    ¡°Now?¡±

    ¡°Now. No point delaying any longer. Go, get ready. Ten minutes, then it¡¯s game time.¡±

    Amused, Rory watched Apostolos take off like a chicken with his head cut off. He¡¯d talked a big game in the days and weeks earlier leading to this point. Still, they were about to engage the most significant threat that Apostolos had ever faced in his young life.

    ¡°Hah. To be young again.¡± Rory said with a sigh. It was weird for Rory to consider that he was already in his thirties. In fact, he barely looked a year older than when he¡¯d first arrived. It was a sign that he was still aging, just incredibly slowly now, and with each ascension, it further slowed.

    Which was helpful given that it would likely take at least a few decades to clear tier six. Exactly how many, Rory wasn¡¯t sure. The ten times energy cost per tier didn¡¯t directly correlate to the timeframe, as higher tier monsters and creations also granted more ascension energy.

    The point is Apostolos isn¡¯t going to be a teenager much longer. I wish he¡¯d had the chance to experience more of what it¡¯s like to be a teenager¡­ Actually, on second thought, why couldn¡¯t he? If my aging has slowed as much as it has given -I¡¯m already in my prime- what¡¯s to say Apostolos won¡¯t start seeing his rate of physical growth and aging slow dramatically now that he¡¯s basically at that point as well?

    Musing over the thought, Rory was dragged out of his thoughts in what felt like only seconds later to a pair of fingers snapping in his face.

    ¡°Attention to Master, you there?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± Rory shook his head, freeing himself of his wandering thoughts. ¡°Ready?¡±

    In response, Apostolos merely gestured at himself, now wearing the ¡®Ent-flesh¡¯ armor Rory had made some time back.

    <u>Ent Flesh Cuirass</u>

    <u>Grade</u>: Uncommon

    A cuirass constructed of the rugged bark of an uncommon rarity tree and the fused leather from a tier five monster. Extremely durable and resistant to slashing, stabbing, and bludgeoning damage. No innate resistance to magic and weakness to fire-based attacks make this the armor of choice for dealing with purely physical dangers.

    It had been the product of Rory finally figuring out a way to harvest and utilize the rigid but brittle bark of the bloodwood trees. As far as armor went, it was physically superior to his blood weave. Where the Ent Flesh armor fell short was that the blood weave had the benefit of containing an innate pool of essence it could draw upon due to the countless monsters that were required to be sacrificed to prompt the growth of the bloodwood trees. With that innate essence pool, it could be drawn from to reduce damage, repair itself, or even enhance Rory¡¯s physical attributes.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got your bow ready?¡±

    Pulling something free from his back, Apostolos showed off his bow. Appearance-wise, it was a remarkably similar design to Rory¡¯s bow, albeit without the Blood Legacy Akashic Record. Apostolos couldn¡¯t use such an effect due to his lack of affinity for blood essence. Instead, it had a specified Inscription that enabled accelerated arrow flight speed and runes to enhance its base self-repair and make it more efficient.

    ¡°Spear?¡±

    Apostolos hung his bow across his back before pulling free a small canister. With a quick downward flick, the canister suddenly sprung outward in either direction as the spear sprang to full size.

    <u>Crimson Steel Spring-loaded Spear</u>

    <u>Grade</u>: Uncommon

    A spear crafted from Crimson Steel. High durability and capable of causing wounds that bleed more freely. This particular spear has been inscribed with runes to grant a spring-loaded effect, allowing for surprise thrusts with devastating power. It may also be used as a storage means, allowing the spear to be more easily concealed or carried.

    Rory hadn¡¯t bothered to make a spear of the same type for himself, as Apostolos had proven more gifted at utilizing a spear. The few times Rory had tried using a spear, it had generally been an awkward and flailing endeavor for anything more than the most basic thrusts. Instead, Rory had a trusty bat-like weapon strapped to his side.

    <u>Blood Soul Macahuitl </u>

    <u>Grade</u>: Uncommon

    A macahuitl crafted from Crimson Steel razors and bloodwood, inserted with an Ossified Blood Gem to act as its core. Inscribed with runes to utilize latent Pneuma and active Essence to galvanize its durability.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    What was an Ossified Blood Gem?

    Well, it was nothing more than an improvement on the concentrated blood gems Rory could make by concentrating Essence Spark into forming a solid object.

    <u>Ossified Blood Gem</u>

    Quality: Uncommon (+).

    The result of several concentrated blood gems being further condensed into a small marble. Has uses for both alchemy and specialized crafting. Those with matching bloodlines may also ingest it to recover stamina, vitality, and overall status.

    Thanks to Ossified Blood Gems, Rory had learned there were ¡®in-between¡¯ tiers, denoted by a simple plus sign. If he had to guess, it was simply that the object was an improvement over another item, except not such an improvement to warrant a tier increase in quality, rarity, or grade.

    ¡°Spear, armor, and bow. Looks like you really are prepared.¡± Rory said after a moment, taking in Apostolos once more. ¡°And you still remember where I have Big Bertha stored?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve asked this before,¡± Apostolos said with a roll of his eyes.

    ¡°Right, right. Just making sure.¡± Rory answered back. ¡°Well then, if that¡¯s the case, let us get this show on the road.¡±

    Opening his interface, Rory quickly brought up the details of the next wave.

    What is the point of the wave cooldown? Rory suddenly found himself wondering, thoughts interrupting his actions. Really, what is the point if you can initiate waves early? Unless it¡¯s a fake cooldown meant to deter people from recklessly pushing waves without rest? Meh, thoughts for another time.

    After mentally clicking a few more times, Rory was presented with a countdown timer that displayed nothing more than a single word: ¡®Imminent.¡¯

    ¡°I¡¯ve summoned the wave,¡± Rory said, informing Apostolos. Immediately, the boy changed in demeanor, a much more serious expression than even Rory ever had. Taking his post opposite the gate from Rory and behind the ballistae, the young man loaded a javelin into the war machine.

    Now, what will it be? A single-stage boss? Three stages of sort-of bosses? Maybe five stages of mid-tier, but otherwise, normal monsters?

    Rory was given the first part of his answer when three monsters appeared only a few minutes later.

    The first was what looked like a hummingbird, of all things.

    <u>Coronal Falcon</u>

    Level: 55

    A monster born of the sun and wind, it flies with speed that the wind itself admires. Its feathers are razor sharp and can slash through enemies who take it lightly.

    ¡°Falcon?¡± Rory muttered to himself. Sure, it was an oversized bird, far larger than a regular hummingbird from Earth, but it was undeniably still a hummingbird.

    Speed type. Which means low durability. Got it.

    The next monster was a tad more imposing, albeit odd-looking. It almost reminded Rory of a two-dimensional drawing, thinner than a starved cat. It was like a canine formed of twisted orange vines, coiling tightly and covered with thorns.

    <u>Penghou-Sol¡¯s Glory</u>

    Level: 55

    A canine tree spirit, they seek the death of those who despoil the sacred groves they call home. This Penghou variety is born of the wrath of angered Sol¡¯s Glory.

    Fair enough. Rory nodded in assessment of the description. If he were amongst the trees, he¡¯d probably be rather pissed off at himself as well, given the corruption he¡¯d enacted on some of their kind.

    If it¡¯s born from trees, it probably has similar weaknesses.

    As for the final monster of the triplet lineup, it looked like a bear had been compressed, about the size of a wolfhound or Great Dane.

    <u>Bjarki</u>

    Level: 55

    A ursine of great strength. It has retained its mass while decreasing in size and is capable of immense strength.

    So, it really is nothing more than a compressed bear. Nifty, I guess. That aside, it¡¯s still flesh and blood. Berserker type, probably, so the best bet is to bleed it.

    With a plan to deal with all three monsters, Rory instantly shouted instructions.

    ¡°Leave the Penghou to me. You shoot down the Bjarki; Crimson Steel will bleed it dry. As for the Coronal Falcon, I¡¯ve got a trick for that.¡±

    Signaling once, instantly, the imp constructs began covering fire on the Coronal Falcon. Fast as it was, it easily dodged, but all they needed for the moment was to keep it distracted; its ability to fly made it far more dangerous than the other two monsters. At the same moment, Apostolos released the first javelin as it shot through the air fast as a rocket, impaling into the thick fur hide of the small bear.

    Best of luck.

    Rory wanted to watch Apostolos handle the Bjarki, but it would only distract him. The walls would hold for long enough¡ªor they should¡ªfor Apostolos to put down the beast, leaving Rory to handle the Penghou.

    I hoped not to have to try this, but that¡¯s life for you.

    Drawing an arrow, Rory began chanting under his breath, a rhythmic string of airy-sounding exhales. As he did, Rory felt a strain forming between his eyes, an annoyance but not one Rory wasn¡¯t prepared to endure.

    And this is why I prefer to avoid using this if I can.

    The Penghou began to advance rapidly, a weird undulating and twisting of vines that made it look more like a writhing mass when in motion than the form of any identifiable monster.

    Ick. I¡¯m not too fond of that.

    Still chanting, the tension between his eyes began to swell, building to a headache that felt like his head was about to pop.

    And¡­. Ready!

    Pneuma built to the bursting point; Rory exhaled one final time before whispering a single word.

    ¡°Cenizas.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t an actual need to use ¡®magic words¡¯ when using Pneuma for magic. Still, Rory had discovered that it seemed to ease the tension. For someone as lacking in magical talent as Rory, anything he could do to reduce the tension was beneficial.

    Releasing his arrow in time with his magic, it raced forward, a comet in flight as a blazing tail trailed the burning arrow.

    The Penghou likely sensed the danger and tried to writhe out of the way, but with a mental snap, the arrow exploded in a lashing net of phantasmal vines.

    I love those Ghost Vine Arrows.

    Not only did the ghost vines ensnare the tree spirit, but they ignited as the flames raced through them.

    I really, really, love those arrows.

    They were one of the more difficult arrows for Rory to prepare. They required taking a rather obnoxious amount of Flesh-Vine Ropes and then reducing them to a conceptual form.

    How did that work? Like hell if Rory knew. In his mind, it had been possible through a bound circle powered by runes meant to break down the ¡®physical¡¯ form of the vines while retaining their concept. From there, he ¡®bottled¡¯ that concept and instilled it within some arrows designed to embody it.

    It all seemed far too mumbo-jumbo, a bunch of random stuff he¡¯d tried out of blanket curiosity instead of any fundamental theory, but all that mattered was that, in the end, it had worked.

    Game bullshit, but not like I won¡¯t gleefully utilize it.

    Trapped by the net of burning ghost vines, the tree spirit began undulating and twisting with increasing desperation, which only worsened the situation.

    These trees don¡¯t have high magic resistance; add that weakness to fire, and you have one hell of a silver bullet.

    Dealing with such a monster without such a method would have likely required chopping it to pieces, which would be extremely difficult given the mass of writhing, vengeful spirit vines wouldn¡¯t take that without fighting back.

    As for whether the flaming net of phantasmal vines was enough to defeat the Penghou outright was yet to be seen, but for the time being, it was distracted. Ignoring it, Rory turned his attention to the bird zipping through the air, wincing.

    Damnit. Those take work, you know!

    Of the several imp constructs, they had been reduced to a final two defenders; the rest were shredded shrapnel and firewood.

    God, I hate flying monsters.

    Grabbing another arrow, he quickly fired several regular arrows at the bird, which flipped around the projectiles with an annoying, if not outright insulting, degree of ease.

    Arrogant prick of a bird.

    It was also precisely what Rory wanted. Birds, no matter the world or planet, were preening little shits.

    Alright, probably letting childhood feelings color my thoughts. It¡¯s not my fault that a pack of crows made my life hell one summer.

    Ignoring his childhood traumas, Rory continued to let the bird build up confidence that it could easily avoid his arrows. Waiting for the opportune moment, Rory finally saw the bird switch gears, flying off before swooping down and toward them like a living arrow.

    There we are. You¡¯re finally done playing with your food.

    Grabbing a new arrow, neither a standard arrow nor a Ghost Vine, Rory pulled his bowstring back before taking a deep breath.

    A split second, no more.

    Tracking the bird in a way that only someone who¡¯d put as many attributes toward cognition as he had, Rory waited until the perfect, tenth, hundredth, thousandth of a second before releasing the arrow, tapping into the power of his bow for a single split second as he did.

    The bird, so arrogant and sure in its ability to avoid any arrows that he released, was taken off guard when a crimson streak flew forward several times faster than any prior shots. Fast as it was, it barely avoided a fatal headshot, the arrow striking directly through its breast instead. For a tier-five monster, such a shot would be painful but not outright fatal, having missed any major organs.

    That was until the arrow exploded from within. As a result, the bird also exploded, showering the area with feathers and viscera.

    ¡°Hate birds,¡± Rory muttered, pleased with himself. With a moment¡¯s reprieve, Rory finally turned his attention toward Apostolos, checking how he was doing.

    Oh, it could be better, but it could be worse.

    Several large chunks of siding had been shredded from their wall. Still, ultimately, the bear lay flat on the ground, bloody spittle flying from the exhausted monster¡¯s mouth. Piercing its side were nearly a dozen javelins, blood soaking the fur as if it had taken a crimson bath.

    ¡°The damn thing didn¡¯t want to die,¡± Apostolos said, noticing his gaze. ¡°I didn¡¯t know if I should risk it, so I kept firing more javelins into it.¡±

    ¡°Good call,¡± Rory said in agreement. ¡°Berserker types don¡¯t die easily; they fight well past their expiration date.¡±

    ¡°Expiration date?¡±

    ¡°Never mind.¡± Rory dismissed the question, not feeling like explaining the background of such a simple phrase. ¡°The point is, the best way to deal with them is exactly as you did: bleed them and keep the hell out of the way. Thankfully, we¡¯ve got these walls here, but otherwise, berserker-type monsters are some of our worst matchups if we encounter them in the wild.¡±

    ¡°I can see that,¡± Apostolos muttered, glancing down again at the still bear. ¡°I saw the bird explode out of the corner of my eye. What about the plant thing?¡±

    ¡°The Penghou?¡± Rory said. Glancing where it had last been, he quickly confirmed its fate. ¡°Dead as hell. I can¡¯t say I have experience with spirit-type monsters. Still, I¡¯d assume their strength is proportional to what exactly they¡¯re the spirit of. In this case, Sol¡¯s Glory is a mundane ranked tree vulnerable to magic and fire, and so was the spirit monster. Now, if it was the spirit of a bloodwood? Well, that¡¯s something I don¡¯t want to see any time soon.¡±

    Apostolos nodded vigorously in agreement. If mundane ranked trees could give rise to a tier-five monster, they really did not want to see what would result from an uncommon rarity tree.

    ¡°So¡­. Is that the wave?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Rory said instantly. ¡°No wave clear notification.¡±

    ¡°Meaning there is more to go?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°No rest for the wicked,¡± Rory answered, chuckling.

    Only going to get worse from here.

 39. Deadly Variant

    ¡°Incoming,¡± Rory announced, grimacing as he did. Their short reprieve from the first stage had ended, as Rory could make out the shifting of trees in the distance. With each passing second, the movement grew closer and closer.

    Large creatures?

    Rory saw Apostolos manning the ballista, a javelin already prepared and aimed. For his part, Rory drew back his bowstring, waiting patiently.t

    So, what will it be? Boss, or more minions.

    As the rustling grew nearer, the trees finally parted as something huge burst through.

    Well, fuck me running. That already looks like bad news.

    Appearing was a crocodile¡ªif crocodiles normally grew over thirty feet long and stood atop long galloping legs. Emerging from the top of its skull were what looked like the horns of a water bison. Decorating its greenish-colored hide¡ªof all things¡ªwere brilliantly vibrant feathers, the colors of sunlight refracted through a prism.

    <u>Gator of the Feathered Depths</u>

    Level: 56*

    A powerful beast that lurks deep within the depths of endless riverbanks. This specimen has grown stronger and more dangerous by basking in the light of the heavens, empowered by dreams of a divine feathered beast.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got an Alpha Variant!¡± Rory shouted. While not quite a Territory Alpha, Alpha Variants were some of the most powerful monsters you could find amongst their level, with all the prerequisites to become a Territory Alpha potentially.

    And the worst part? It wasn¡¯t alone. Seated between the crest of its horns was a golden bird, far stockier than the deadly quick hummingbird from earlier and larger than the average human man.

    <u>Golden Shoebill</u>

    Level: 54*

    Absorbing the power of the heavenly light, this bird has traded the endless freedom of the open sky for a life spent battling amongst the foliage of the forest floor. Has formed a symbiotic relationship with another deadly predator, the two working in near-perfect tandem.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Rory cursed. Not one, but two Alpha Variant monsters. The only silver lining was the Golden Shoebill, specifically its level. It was a mere fifty-four instead of level fifty-six like its giant crocodile partner.

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Apostolos shouted, a hint of apprehension causing his voice to crack.

    Good damn question.

    Usually, it was easy to piece together what a monster specialized in. There were speed types like the hummingbird, tank types like the weird hippo-beetles, and berserker types like the pygmy bear. Alpha Variants were different; they were almost always strong in every category.

    ¡°You aim the Shoebill. I¡¯ll try to deal with the Gator.¡±

    Releasing a 15% Blood Legacy shot, the arrow flew like a red laser, only to plink off the armor of the gator.

    Shit. Shit. Shit. It¡¯s tougher than those hippo monsters from a few waves ago.

    Firing the first shot, the battle had begun as the monster croc tore forward with impressive speed for a monster so large. Rory fired yet another arrow; this one charged up to 25%, and still, it plinked straight off the croc. Wincing mentally, Rory braced as the monster barreled into their wall, the entire thing quaking from the massive impact.

    Shit!

    A moment after impact, a javelin flew toward the shoebill. Unlike the gator, it didn¡¯t simply ignore the projectile. Instead, it swept its mighty wings together, a gust of wind altering the projectile''s path.

    The good news is that it doesn¡¯t seem to want to eat shots like its tank friend. Bad news, it¡¯s damn powerful as well.

    The shoebill wasn¡¯t his priority, so Rory could only hope Apostolos was coming to a similar assessment.

    Bigger fish to fry.

    Grasping a new arrow, it raced through the air before exploding in front of the gator, a writhing mass of ghostly vines ensnaring the monster and its bird friend.

    Rory''s hope for the entrapping arrow was banished within moments as the shoebill swept its wings forward, the wind it summoned slicing through the ghostly vines.

    ¡°Magic user!¡± Rory shouted for Apostolos to hear. Not that he¡¯d likely missed it, but it was worth sharing on the off chance.

    Next up!

    Another arrow was released, slamming into the gator even faster than the earlier 25% Blood Legacy arrow, now amplified to a headache-inducing 30%. The instant the arrow slammed into the gator, it exploded with crimson flames, an explosive blood essence arrow.

    Holding out hope, the dust parted to reveal the gator, irritated yet otherwise no worse for wear aside from perhaps a small scratch in its impressive armor. A deep, reverberating bellow escaped between its massive jaws as it brought its two front legs forward, slashing into his wall. With horror, Rory saw the savage talons tearing huge chunks straight from the wall.

    Oh, holy fuck, that is bad news.

    Against an Alpha Variant of such standing, his walls would hold only a few minutes even if he fully maximized the defensive inscriptions within.

    Rory had fully expected whatever appeared to be dangerous, but this was even more than what he¡¯d anticipated.

    Think, think, think!

    If the monstrous gator got through their walls, they¡¯d be in for a shit sandwich with nowhere to flee.

    Is it time for Big Bertha already?

    Rory shook his head. As dangerous as the monster was, it was still a tier five. It was beatable; he just had to be creative.

    But.

    But not like this. Mind racing with desperate ideas, Rory suddenly latched upon one. Turning his head toward Apostolos, he shouted.

    ¡°Keep the Shoebill here, I don¡¯t care how! It shouldn¡¯t be able to break through the walls easily, and I don¡¯t think it can fly!¡±

    ¡°Master!?¡±

    Apostolos stared at Rory, a look of fear flickering through his eyes as he suddenly connected the dots to what Rory was about to do.

    Really fucking stupid.

    Not giving Apostolos a chance to say anything else, Rory grasped the edge of the wall before leaping off and over the monster croc, landing halfway through the clearing between their camp and the surrounding forest.

    Rory whipped around and released an arrow, another explosion bearing down on the back of its skull.

    ¡°Let¡¯s dance, you overgrown tadpole!¡± Rory shouted. For a moment, the gator seemed to glance between his camp and Rory, unsure which to pursue.

    C¡¯mon!

    Thinking for only another moment, a deep basso escaped it as the shoebill dropped from its head, landing on the ground in front of the wall as the gator turned to face Rory.

    ¡°Now for the fun part,¡± Rory muttered, a somewhat crazed look in his eyes. ¡°Run like a bitch!¡±

    Turning tail, Rory began fleeing for all he was worth, pumping his arms and legs like he was back in his youth, racing down the track.

    Except, there usually wasn¡¯t an oversized monster crocodile in hot pursuit, tearing through the forest and simply bouldering over any trees too small to withstand the force of its charge.

    Running for everything he was worth, the gator pursued, seconds turning to minutes, all thoughts of what was happening back at the camp gone from his mind.

    There wasn¡¯t a reason for the desperate run; he didn¡¯t have any goal location in mind that he was running toward. Rather, he needed the gator to focus entirely on pursuing him and not think of turning back around. Another advantage of the desperate run for his life was that it gave Rory time to think. An Earthly human was limited to a singular train of thought, but Rory had invested heavily in cognition. Ever since the cognition investment from tier five, Rory had discovered he could have two trains of thought running independently as long as one was relatively simple.

    Thus, Rory planned as he ran, his body on near autopilot. His secondary thoughts kept him alive as he swerved, dodged, and leaped over forest foliage and the occasional oversized lizard maw.

    Hmmm. Yeah, that could work.

    While Rory hadn¡¯t explored much of the area, only a few miles in any given direction, there was one location he¡¯d discovered that had stood out to him. There wasn¡¯t anything special about it, no unique resources or even interesting magical landmarks.

    Nope, it was perhaps one of the most basic things you could find in nature, even back on Earth.

    C¡¯mon, it shouldn¡¯t be much further!

    With the memory of the land flashing through his mind, Rory adjusted his path, burning through the essence within his blood weave at a moderate but constant rate.

    ¡°Come on, you soon-to-be-pair-of-boots!¡± Rory shouted, huffing the wind from his lungs.

    Another¡­ mile, maybe two?

    Rory was already confident his plan was stupid as hell, but he¡¯d given up the advantage of a defensive position when he¡¯d lured the monster croc away. Without specific planning or the advantage of combat skills, Rory was nothing more than a ball of attributes, and the Croc had him beaten by a landslide in that category.

    Still running with all his might, at last, Rory saw the sign of it, the tiniest trickling creek one could ever find. Veering toward it, Rory re-doubled his speed.

    Eight hundred¡­ Six hundred¡­ four hundred¡­. Two hundred!

    Reminded of his old race, the two-hundred-meter dash, Rory imagined the finish line only a bit ahead. The trees began to thin out, and the Alpha Gator was almost upon him without the obstacles.

    Three.

    Rory reached behind his back, hand snatching the arm of his bow.

    Two.

    Yanking it forward, Rory prepared himself, bow in one hand, arrow in the other.

    One!

    In an instant, the space ahead of them cleared as his vision swam. It was disorienting, but Rory already knew what to expect.

    Here goes nothing!

    Racing forward with one final desperate kick of effort, Rory leaped-

    Oh god, that is a long drop!

    -straight off a cliff overlooking the massive sea of trees that sprawled as far as the eye could see.

    Mid-air, Rory forced his body to whirl around, facing the cliff he¡¯d just leaped from. The monster crocodile hadn¡¯t had the time to distinguish between the cliff and the rest of the forest; the endless sea of orange trees made a confusing perspective from above. With its own momentum and distorted perspective working against it, the crocodile bellowed out in confusion and rage as it charged straight off the cliff.

    Got you fucker!

    Snarling with vicious satisfaction, Rory released the arrow. Blood Legacy amped to fifty percent, the projectile ripped through the air, blurring so that it appeared almost like a laser. Faster than even Rory could keep track of, the arrow lanced forward, straight into the monster croc''s open jaw and stomach. Only a moment later, the crocodile¡¯s entire body rippled as the arrow exploded from within, the sudden force tossing the already freefalling crocodile to slam against the side of the cliff, rebounding before slamming again and again and again.

    Eat lead, fucker! Or, well, more accurately, eat Crimson Steel!

    Had he not been mid-free fall, Rory would have felt embarrassed at the rather terrible attempt at a one-liner.

    Except Rory was mid-free fall.

    Flailing wildly, Rory fell. His only company was the now extensively wounded monster crocodile. Between the internal damage of his exploding arrow and the repeated impacts against the cliffside, the gator had lost several legs, and its jaw was split in half. It was a miracle the monster wasn¡¯t technically dead yet, but that was soon to change. The ground, an entire mile beneath them at the start of their fall, was quickly nearing.

    Because all things that fall must land at some point, Rory had purposely withheld from using a fully released Blood Legacy, only having opted to use a 50% Blood Legacy against the monstrous crocodile. It was imperative he not pass out; something more than likely to happen if he released an arrow with everything he had.

    There was also the possibility even a fully charged Blood Legacy arrow wouldn¡¯t instantly kill the monster, even from within. While a possibility, Rory hadn¡¯t wanted to consider it, if only for the implications of just how monstrously durable that would make the Gator of the Feathered Depths.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Not wanting to consider the thought and not planning for it were two very different things. Between the internal damage, the damage from crashing into the cliffsides repeatedly, and the looming fall damage, the gator was already dead in Rory¡¯s mind.

    But so, too, would he be dead if he didn¡¯t figure out the dilemma of landing without also dying.

    The trees below were rapidly increasing in size, leaving Rory only a few seconds before impact. Steadying himself, Rory took another deep breath and readied a new arrow.

    This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I should probably live. Probably.

    Arrow knocked back; Rory channeled what remained of his energy, using everything left for a final Blood Legacy-empowered arrow as he aimed it directly beneath him.

    Well, it works in movies.

    Gritting his teeth, Rory released the arrow as it flashed forward, and the tree beneath him exploded in a shower of force, shrapnel, and leaves.

    The good news was that Rory didn¡¯t crash straight into the ground after falling a mile straight.

    The bad news was that his fall was arrested by the shockwave of the explosion created by his Blood Legacy-enabled arrow and the cloud of debris it created.

    The rest is up to you, Apostolos.

    Then everything went dark.

    <hr>

    Several minutes earlier, Base Camp

    ¡°Keep the Shoebill here, I don¡¯t care how! By itself, it shouldn¡¯t be able to break through the walls easily, and I don¡¯t think it can fly!¡±

    ¡°Master!?¡± Apostolos shouted as he saw his master fling himself over their wall, directly past the giant lizard monster. Apostolos watched him land, turning mid-air and firing back with one of his explosive arrows. Besides a short-lived rattling of its skull, the giant monster seemed more annoyed than hurt.

    ¡°Let¡¯s dance, you overgrown tadpole!¡±

    Apostolos stared, stupefied, as his master taunted the monster. The taunt wasn¡¯t without purpose, the monster looking back between the camp and his master before finally deciding his master was the priority. Apostolos swore he saw his master mutter something before he turned and ran, sprinting off through the woods.

    Oh, Eon above!

    Apostolos would be lying if he said he wasn¡¯t a little relieved to see the main threat of the wave chasing after his master. As long as it was pursuing his master, it wasn¡¯t tearing apart their wall.

    Still, it doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m out of danger.

    The secondary boss of the wave, the Golden Shoebill, had remained behind. It was apparently just as surprised as Rory was to see the oversized lizard chasing after his master, a moment reprieved as neither attacked the other.

    Letting only a split-second pass like that, Apostolos focused, orienting the ballistae directly on the shoebill before releasing the crank of the war machine.

    With a tremendous twang, the spear flew forward, striking the shoebill.

    Or it would have, had the shoebill not reacted, swiping its wings and knocking the javelin aside.

    Shoot.

    The ballistae was his best bet at injuring the monster. A mid-tier-five Alpha would absolutely laugh aside anything he could fire from his bow. Without higher attributes, a potent Akashic Record, or a combat skill, he was barely a threat with his bow.

    Turning to face Apostolos with a beady-eyed glare, the shoebill swept its wings forward as bladed jets of wind sliced through the air. Thanks to a rather significant investment in his condition attribute, Apostolos had the reaction time to spare, ducking behind the wall as the air blades slashed into the wall, far less effective than the claws of the actual wave boss.

    What do I do? What do I do!?

    Apostolos was very quickly beginning to regret his attitude toward pushing the waves. His master hadn¡¯t been kidding about how much of a ramp-up the waves could become. Sure, the monsters of the earlier waves could have torn him apart if they caught him outside their walls, but they¡¯d been manageable. Now, he was facing a monster that seemed entirely out of his league.

    Because it is.

    How dangerous a monster was- when looking at tier and level alone- was something like a full rank higher than their tier suggested, or so his master had explained. A tier four monster was a danger to a tier four ascender but manageable by a tier five. A tier five monster was dangerous to a tier five ascender but manageable by a tier six.

    At best, Apostolos was pushing two tiers above his punching weight, ignoring that the shoebill was also an Alpha variant.

    What do I do?

    Apostolos had thought the ballista was his answer; the sheer power the javelins fired from it could demonstrate was far beyond what Apostolos himself could, comparable to a Blood Legacy charged arrow from his master.

    And yet, the shoebill was knocking them aside without concern.

    Apostolos reloaded as fast as he could, doing the only thing he could in the current circumstances: continue blasting with the oversized crossbow, ducking out of the way whenever the shoebill turned its focus toward him.

    The good news was that the shoebill barely paid him any attention, retaliating with the wind blades with a lazy sense of non-urgency.

    The bad news was that while Apostolos wasn¡¯t being targeted, their walls were. Their walls were strong, and they¡¯d hold for a while, but ¡®awhile¡¯ may only be a few minutes, a dozen at best. A dozen minutes would have been far longer than he would have survived had the wave boss still been here to aid the shoebill, but it was still far less than what Apostolos felt he needed.

    What do I do?

    At times like these, he was sure his master would devise the perfect plan. The stories he¡¯d told Apostolos of his first year surviving on Aelia alone was one long gauntlet of overcoming such challenges. Even after Apostolos had awoken one day in the middle of his camp, his master had taken it in stride, taking care of Apostolos and teaching him along the way.

    The thing was, Apostolos wasn¡¯t his master. He¡¯d never been forced into the fire like this, never had to overcome against all odds. He could try to hold out until his master returned, but who knew how long that would be. He didn¡¯t have it in himself to see his master losing, even to the giant wave boss, but that didn¡¯t mean he could end up out of commission for some time.

    I have to treat this like I¡¯m on my own!

    Gritting his teeth, Apostolos popped his head back out and fired the ballista at the shoebill, doing his best to calm himself and take stock of the situation, just like his master had taught him.

    Observe, think, assess.

    Again, the shoebill defended itself impeccably, a wind blade slicing through the ballista. For a moment, though, it was almost like the light played tricks on his eyes. Its feathers seemed to twinkle like fireflies in the night before fading a heartbeat later.

    No, don¡¯t assume, observe.

    The walls continued to be battered down on, the rhythmic thump of blades of air crashing into the wall, a dull, repetitive reminder of the potential death awaiting.

    Reloading as fast as he could while staying out of the immediate danger zone, Apostolos again popped out, swiveling the ballista and firing at the bird monster. Again, for the briefest moment when the beast defended itself, there was a slight twinkle in its feathers. Yet, for whatever reason, the twinkle only appeared when defending itself, not attacking.

    Something¡¯s relevant about that.

    Ducking his head behind the wall as a wind blade whipped past, Apostolos ground his teeth, trying to think as quickly as possible.

    Golden Shoebill. The description refers to how it absorbed ¡®heavenly light¡¯ to grow more powerful¡­ Does that mean sunlight? So why does it sparkle only when defending itself?

    There was definitely something there to work with, yet Apostolos couldn¡¯t make sense of it.

    Sunlight. Maybe if I block out the sun?

    That wasn''t easy, given that he couldn¡¯t just turn off a star, much less the two stars that hung overhead.

    What do I do? What would Master do? Surely, he would have some gadget made or-

    Thoughts halting, Apostolos suddenly realized what he was doing wrong.

    I¡¯m not my Master. Why am I trying to pretend like I am?

    He had learned much from his master; he owed his education and much of who he was to him, but Apostolos wasn¡¯t Rory.

    For starters, Pneuma.

    Taking a deep breath, Apostolos grabbed the hilt of the javelin loaded into the ballista, closing his eyes as he did.

    His master had often told him how using magic was difficult for him. As he had described, a mental ¡®divide¡¯ made magic unnatural to him, a concentrated effort of will to overcome.

    Apostolos had no such problem. Magic had always been a part of his life; there was nothing ¡®special¡¯ about it for him; it simply was. He¡¯d oft forgo even attempting magic, so used to following in the footsteps of his master, who rarely used magic in such a fashion, using it as a simple tool rather than a weapon in itself.

    Yet Apostolos wasn¡¯t his master. He wasn¡¯t limited to conjuring a tiny sparking ember to ignite a greater blaze.

    Thus, holding onto the javelin, Apostolos began to tie together a spell, forming a web of intent through the Pneuma flowing from his mind into reality, infusing the javelin. Magic in such a fashion was antithetical to their specialty of creation, of permanence; what he was doing was a work of the ephemeral.

    But that was all he needed, to capitalize on a small window in time in the now rather than form a construct that would last well beyond tomorrow.

    Popping back out from hiding, Apostolos swiveled the ballistae so that it was aimed behind the shoebill before firing. Splitting through the air in an instant, the missile crashed into the earth, throwing up an explosive of dirt and debris like a cloud cover. Nothing happened momentarily; the shoebill almost seemed confused about why Apostolos had seemingly purposely missed.

    That was, until the second of nothing happening dragged on, the smokescreen of dirt holding in the air without falling.

    It worked!

    Making something float with Pneuma wasn¡¯t easy, but it was far more manageable when all you were holding in place was dirt particles in the air, obscuring sunlight from streaming down. Grabbing another javelin, Apostolos repeated the process. The shoebill didn¡¯t seem willing to let Apostolos do as he pleased, though, sweeping its wings out to prevent the spear from smashing into the earth and blowing up more dirt and debris. Yet in doing so, the monster left itself vulnerable for a split second, a second which Apostolos took advantage of by simply hurling a javelin at the beast.

    His aim, heightened by a well-invested cognition attribute, proved true. The spear sailed forward, clipping the wing of the shoebill. It wasn¡¯t enough to inflict severe damage, but inflict damage it did. Golden ichor began to spill from the monster¡¯s wing as its beady eyes snapped forward to focus on Apostolos as if noticing him for the first time.

    Mentally pumping his fist, Apostolos was already ducking behind the wall as a sudden barrage of wind blades ripped through where his head had been a moment before.

    The good news is I hurt it. The bad news is, I hurt it. Now, it''s going to put more effort into trying to kill me. The silver lining is that every attack aimed at me is one less attack on the walls.

    Apostolos tended to err toward optimism, unlike his master, who preferred to take an ¡®eyes wide open¡¯ view, good or bad, cynical or hopeful. The status quo had been shaken, and a shakeup was exactly what Apostolos needed.

    New plan, new plan¡­. It needs sunlight, or it wouldn¡¯t be so against my smokescreen. Wait, smokescreen!

    Taking advantage of the bombardment from the shoebill, Apostolos leaped down from his propped ladder, sprinting over to their storage shed. He grabbed a large bloodwood branch from within before sprinting to their campfire. Sticking one end in, he waited several seconds before it began to char and flare up with crimson blood-colored sparks.

    Good!

    Jogging back to the wall, Apostolos carefully climbed up the ladder, not moving too fast so the flame would die out. Listening to the continued wind-blade bombardment, Apostolos shook his head before leaning close to the flaming branch.

    Magic is significantly more difficult when you make something from nothing. That¡¯s why master utilized a ghost vine arrow to ignite the Penghou rather than trying to throw a giant fireball at it directly.

    With that thought in mind, Apostolos began puffing a steady stream of air onto the ignited branch, channeling Pneuma through his breath as he did. Within moments, a large curtain of oily, rust-colored smoke began to billow away from the branch as it burned expeditiously. As it traveled overhead, it suddenly froze in space, captured within the same dirt curtain Apostolos held in place. The pounding barrage of wind blades suddenly lessened as the shoebill began to pay attention to the blanket of smoke billowing out and carpeting overhead.

    That, or it couldn¡¯t continue blasting away with wind blades.

    Might as well take another risk.

    Popping his head over the wall, Apostolos quickly assessed the situation. The shoebill was staring overhead, confused and almost¡­ annoyed. It attempted to sweep its wings toward the blanketed patch of sky, but the power within had greatly diminished.

    So, it IS drawing strength from the sunlight!

    Smiling viciously, Apostolos was forced to duck out of the way with a squeak that he was glad his master wasn¡¯t around to hear as several feathers were launched out from the monster now that it couldn¡¯t send its razor wind.

    It''s still dangerous but more limited.

    Grabbing an arrow, Apostolos knocked his bow. His arrows were far less dangerous than his master, given his lower attributes and inability to use Blood Legacy, but he didn¡¯t need this arrow to be directly harmful.

    After all, it was his master¡¯s favorite trick arrow.

    Peeking out for a split second, Apostolos blind-fired the arrow in the relative direction of the monster before ducking out of the way again. Less than a heartbeat later, he heard the familiar pop as the ghost vine arrow exploded outward, the net of phantasmal vines hopefully having netted the shoebill.

    Go time!

    Grabbing a javelin, Apostolos rapidly loaded the ballista, the Golden Shoebill having been caught in the net of ghostly vines. Without the cutting power of its wind blades, it was forced to tear through the net physically, something that it was rapidly doing, but not instantly. All he needed was a few seconds to finish loading the war machine, turning it toward the monster, and firing.

    Ripping free of the netting, the shoebill had just enough time to turn toward Apostolos. Without the strength of its wind blades, it could only defend itself by sweeping its swings upward to shield itself as a javelin was launched toward the oversized bird. Tough as the monster was, the spear only managed to rip through a single wing before losing all momentum.

    But at the very least, in doing so, the monster¡¯s wing flopped weakly to its side, incapable of movement.

    Got you!

    Feeling victorious, Apostolos went to grab a final javelin until¡­

    Until his hand found nothing, the pile had been reduced to nothing.

    Oh. That was the last one. How didn¡¯t I realize that?

    His options had suddenly gotten dramatically worse. Apostolos was left with only his bow without the high-powered javelins, which had no chance of piercing the monster¡¯s deceptively tough skin.

    Well, not quite.

    There was one other weapon he could use -not counting Big Bertha- that could damage the monster.

    His spear. Spring-loaded, it could lash out and cause wounds where his arrows couldn¡¯t.

    ¡°Meaning I¡¯ve got to fight it up close,¡± Apostolos said with a gulp.

    Master would disapprove of this.

    But then, who had leaped from their walls'' safety to battle with an Alpha Variant first? It wasn¡¯t himself that much he knew.

    And when you think about it, I¡¯ve already significantly weakened it.

    It was down a wing, unable to draw upon its full might now that a veiling blanket of dirt and smoke was overhead.

    Which is the other thing. I can¡¯t hold this magic forever.

    Already, he was beginning to feel the strain of holding the smokescreen overhead. The more ¡®mass¡¯ it froze in place, the faster the stress piled upon him.

    ¡°Only one choice, I guess,¡± Apostolos said, doing his best to channel the feelings he imagined his master had, the casual air of -if not confidence- indifference.

    With his resolve steeled, Apostolos took a page of inspiration from Rory as he leaped from the safety of their wall, landing a few feet past the shoebill, which whipped around awkwardly. Facing Apostolos -the pest that had harassed it from behind the relative safety of the imposing walls- its beak opened before slamming shut with a spine-shivering clack.

    In doing so, it also revealed a beak full of viper-like teeth, and another shiver ran down Apostolos¡¯s back.

    Too late to undo what¡¯s been done.

    Squaring off against the monster, Apostolos began shuffling around. The shoebill watched him for a moment before charging. It was fast, far faster than Apostolos. Still, between its awkward gait from its wounded wing and Apostolos¡¯s heightened reaction time due to the cognition slant of his attributes, Apostolos barely dodged the beak, stabbing through the empty air where his chest had been a heartbeat earlier.

    It almost ended my heartbeat!

    Knowing no action should go without a reaction, something his master had taught him, Apostolos flicked his arm forward like a whip as the metal canister he held suddenly sprang forward like the striking stinger of an enraged scorpion.

    Having never seen the spear before, the shoebill was taken by surprise as it slashed a line through its already wounded wing; the wound began to weep even more golden ichor.

    ¡°First blood,¡± Apostolos huffed out with an airy laugh. It was the first wound inflicted in direct contact with one another, something his master would have been proud of. Spinning the spear, Apostolos backed up as he took a two-handed stance and faced off against the monstrous landbird.

    It was another way he was different from his master. While he wouldn¡¯t phrase it in such a way directly to his face, his master was, quite frankly, lousy as a fighter. His attributes were higher than Apostolos, and he had a knack for thinking outside the box, a mindset that had earned him his vocation as Architect of the Precursors, but that didn¡¯t make him a real fighter.

    Apostolos wouldn¡¯t claim he was some godly warrior, but at the very least, he had more talent for it than his master.

    Apostolos turned the spear tip forward, reacting as the bird charged him, batting its beak aside.

    Or he tried to bat its beak aside. In reality, the one batted aside was he, the bird far stronger than Apostolos, with greater mass to boot. Thrown to the side, Apostolos quickly came up in a roll.

    It was fortunate that he did, for had he not, he would have died instantly as the beak of the giant bird severed his spinal cord straight through his neck. His reward for not dying instantly?

    A massive gaping hole in his stomach, the shoebill¡¯s beak currently piercing directly through his abdomen.

    There was something about a giant beak through the gut that could snap reality into a single focused moment, a moment that Apostolos found himself floating in as if it would never end.

    Am I dying?

    He¡¯d thought he¡¯d had a better chance at beating the monster than this, but even wounded and weakened, it had managed to land what was likely a lethal blow in only two attacks.

    No. Not yet.

    If he died here, the monster bird could potentially claim their camp.

    ¡°Over¡­my¡­. dead¡­. body!¡±

    Strength surged through him, desperate, reckless adrenaline flooding his body as Apostolos lashed out with the spear. The monster, still beak-deep in Apostolos, had no way to escape as in a single fluid strike, the spring-loaded spear was driven directly through its eye socket and brain. Powerful as the Alpha Variant may be, it was still a tier five monster; it couldn¡¯t simply ignore a strike to a vital organ, even from a lower tier such as Apostolos.

    Surprisingly anticlimactic, the great bird toppled over like a puppet with its strings cut. Apostolos took a moment to assess the situation, then stared down at his gut.

    Huh. That doesn¡¯t look good.

    Still staring at his stomach, there was no missing the hole, large enough that you could wave to someone from the other side.

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯m supposed to see my organs or not feel any pain.

    With a giggle that felt entirely out of character, Apostolos began to laugh.

    Oh. I think I¡¯m in shock.

    Wobbling over to the nearest tree, he sagged against it, slowly sliding down until he was on the ground, his body bent over as all the strength within him fled.

    Sorry, Master.

    Half a smile on his face, there was no time for reflection or even fear. His eyes closed as the light from Apostolos¡¯s world went dark.

 40. Dawn Arrives

    Wake up.

    Rory stirred, his body aching.

    Wake up.

    ¡°Hurt. Tired.¡± Rory grumbled.

    Wake. Up.

    Eyes snapping open, Rory sat upward with a jolt, his body making its protests known the entire time.

    ¡°Oh. Fuck. Broken. Things are definitely broken.¡± Rory grunted. Thinking for a moment, he nodded to himself. ¡°Ribs. Shoulder dislocated. Also, concussion.¡±

    Checking, his interface appeared, instantly opening to his Physique information.

    ¡°Yep.¡± Grunted, confirming his assessment. ¡°Damn, I¡¯m good.¡±

    Had he been incorrect, the injuries would have been listed as nothing more than ??? on the interface until they were diagnosed correctly.

    On Earth, such injuries would be severe. On Aelia, with his superhuman body, a concussion was a single night¡¯s sleep from recovery. A dislocated shoulder was just a matter of popping it back into place-

    ¡°Fuck.¡± Rory grunted in pain as he did precisely that.

    -and ignoring the momentary pain. The broken ribs would take two or three weeks to recover from, but he¡¯d had worse rib injuries in the past, the memory of the ghastly Watcher in the Deep coming to mind.

    Staggering to his feet, Rory ignored the pain. It hurt like hell, but he had a body that could muscle through something like broken ribs.

    Right. So, where was I?

    Thinking back, the memories flashed through his mind.

    ¡°Oh, right. Dived off a cliff. Fun.¡± Rory muttered. ¡°I¡¯m guessing the Gator is dead; otherwise, I¡¯d be dead.¡±

    Looking past the destruction of his landing spot, Rory quickly found the proof he was looking for. Maybe thirty feet away, at the feet of the cliff, lay the broken body of the Alpha monster.

    Fall damage, Bitch.

    Between any internal damage his arrow had inflicted and the damage from crashing a mile¡¯s worth of a fall, the Gator hadn¡¯t had the best time. Hell, the only reason Rory had survived was by breaking his fall with an explosion to cancel out his momentum before he crashed into the hard earth.

    Honestly, I¡¯d guess that if it wasn¡¯t for the explosion inside it, the Gator could have tanked the landing outright, but it was too disoriented to have done so.

    Had Rory basically scammed a win out?

    Yes.

    Did Rory believe there was a chance he would have figured out another path forward to achieve victory?

    Also, yes.

    Did Rory have any shame in taking the ¡®easy¡¯ win?

    Hell no.

    A win is a win.

    With a pained, albeit victorious, sigh, Rory approached the dead Alpha monster.

    There is no way I can lug this thing back, and I don¡¯t have my crafting knife with me, which means no easy butchering. Got to keep the looting to a minimum, then.

    His eyes briefly sparkled with energy as he examined the body, searching for whatever was most valuable about the Gator. Like a solar flare flashed into his eyes, Rory winced as he locked onto something shining with brilliant potential.

    ¡°The¡­ feathers?¡±

    Of all the things to be valuable about the Alpha monster, Rory hadn¡¯t expected it to be the damn feathers. Curious, Rory quickly examined them.

    Radiant Feathers of the Depths

    Quality: Rare

    The physical manifestation of an abundance of Solar Essence. Stabilized by an inherent containing counter essence of the Depths.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Rory whistled. The rest of the monster seemed standard. Sure, the hide and claws would be very sturdy from an Alpha variant monster. Still, he had no way to harvest them. By the time he returned with his crafting knife, the monster would likely have been picked clean by scavengers who could grow stronger by consuming the corpse.

    ¡°I¡¯ll just take my trophy and leave.¡± Rory sighed. Tucking the feathers into the waistline of his pants, he looked around, trying to best determine his next course of action.

    The good news was that all he needed to do to return was return up the cliffside and retrace his steps. He was only a few minutes from camp at a max sprint, so maybe an hour at a walking pace.

    The bad news was that the cliff was still a mile tall; it hadn¡¯t magically shrunk.

    Well, this is going to suck ass.

    <hr>

    Climbing up the mile-tall cliff did, in fact, suck, especially when you had broken ribs.

    ¡°God diggity damn.¡± Rory cursed as he finally climbed over the ledge. He¡¯d had to climb for a day straight. If it wasn¡¯t for his superhuman capabilities, given he was tier-five, such a climb would have been legendary on Earth. Still, for him, it was more annoying than anything.

    Even climbed through the night. What a joke.

    His concussion had, thankfully, healed, the constant throbbing in his head gone. His ribs, of course, hurt like hell, but they were far from life-threatening if he wasn¡¯t in active battle against a strong monster.

    With only a dull ache of pain to keep him entertained, several things had become clear to Rory during his boredom with the monotonous climb.

    <ol>

    <li>He needed a better way of dealing with powerful monsters. The effect of Blood Legacy was extremely powerful, but it took a lot out of him. A direct, full-powered shot from Blood Legacy might have killed the gator monster in one shot if he had landed it directly in its mouth. Still, he¡¯d be out of commission after. If it didn¡¯t kill the monster for whatever reason, it would have easily torn his camp apart before eating himself and Apostolos.</li>

    </ol>

    <ol start="2">

    <li>He really needed to work on developing combat skills. However, because of Scholar¡¯s Retreat, gaining a combat skill would require him to acquire it by blood, sweat, and tears ¨C otherwise known as the hard way. From what he understood, he was locked out of gaining combat skills through other means.</li>

    </ol>

    <ol start="3">

    <li>He needed a more extensive arsenal. It was similar to his first point, but the distinction was that a single strong weapon wouldn¡¯t be enough; he needed all of them to be powerful.</li>

    </ol>

    Man, I miss railguns.

    Rory would have to address those points soon, especially if he intended to tackle high-tier-five or tier-six monsters.

    In fairness, those were Alpha Variants. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they were closer in strength to a high-tier-five of a regular monster.

    For now, though, Rory would put them on the back burner. His priority was to return to camp. He was curious how Apostolos had done it.

    What ¡°it¡± was?

    Wave Status: Cleared

    Return to Settlement to proceed with rewards.

    Rory was glad that Apostolos had succeeded in slaying the Golden Shoebill. A single glance was enough for Rory to have known that it was significantly less threatening than the Gator of the Feathered Depths. Still, it was an Alpha Variant monster. Killing one was no small feat.

    Thankfully, he was behind the wall and had the ballista. In the worst-case scenario, he used Big Bertha, in which case¡­ Well, what happens, happens.

    Speeding up slightly, the miles quickly faded, thirty minutes to make it back while traveling at a slow jog.

    Oh, dang.

    The first thing Rory noticed outside their walls was the crater in the earth where a javelin had slammed into the ground with explosive force.

    The next thing Rory noticed after looking around was something that made his blood run cold.

    Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!

    Broken ribs be damned, Rory sprinted for all he was worth toward a tree where Apostolos sat motionless and hunched over.

    With a massive hole in his stomach.

    ¡°No. No, you fucking don¡¯t!¡±

    The world seemed to blur as Rory kneeled before Apostolos, interface appearing as he checked.

    He¡¯s alive! Wait, how the hell is he alive?

    ¡°Alive¡± was doing a lot of heavy lifting. It was more accurate to say he was barely not dead, and even that wasn¡¯t looking good.

    Three percent! Wait, fuck, two-point nine percent.

    Rory¡¯s brain scrambled to find answers to the situation. The origin of the wound was evident after a moment, the dead Golden Shoebill at his feet. As for how he was alive, Rory could only make a guess.

    Pneuma, maybe? He was always more natural with it than I was. Perhaps his body has somehow sustained itself from it.

    It was his best guess for the moment. Within the area surrounding their camp, the Pneuma was denser after all, as their refinement project refined the latent Pneuma. Did Pneuma keeping Apostolos alive make any physiological sense?

    No, but few things did anymore.

    What matters is he isn¡¯t dead yet.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    But he would be soon as things were going.

    Think Rory, think!

    Brain scrambling, Rory began to pace before forcing his breathing to slow and his gait to stop.

    ¡°Breath. Think. Relax. Do what you can; don¡¯t fret about what you can¡¯t. Panic does no one any good.¡±

    Taking his own advice to heart, Rory started by letting his shoulders drop and breathing steadily first. Once that was done, he activated his Eye skill to its maximum, the stress it placed upon him a non-factor for the emergency at hand.

    Cognition boosted; Rory¡¯s thoughts accelerated.

    I don¡¯t have a way to heal him through any skills or healing potions if those are even a thing.

    He could try stitching up the hole, but it was rather large, so Rory highly doubted it would work.

    Wait, back up a second.

    His mind caught onto a fragment of his earlier thought, and even as he was thinking other things, Rory noticed the strand of possibility.

    Healing. I do have something that can heal.

    <u>Ossified Blood Gem</u>

    Quality: Uncommon (+).

    The result of several concentrated blood gems being further condensed into a small marble appearance by its creator. Has uses for both alchemy and specialized crafting. Those with matching bloodlines may also ingest it to recover stamina, vitality, and overall status.

    It was more potent than the concentrated blood gem version. However, there was a small issue: it only worked when ingested by someone with a matching bloodline, which Apostolos did not have.

    Alright, but it¡¯s something. So, keep thinking.

    Rather than fret about the apparent dead end, Rory let his mind continue unraveling the puzzle before him, looking for the answer to an answerless question.

    Blood. Essence. Blood essence. My essence doesn¡¯t match with his¡­ Wait, so why don¡¯t I change that?

    You could alter the inherent ¡°concept¡± of things that much Rory knew; he¡¯d done it before with much of his crafting. So, why not take the Ossified Blood Gem and ¡®remove¡¯ his essence from it?

    Possible? Maybe?

    It would be like an O-negative blood transfusion, just far more¡­ magical.

    But will it be enough?

    Something told him that no, a single Ossified Blood Gem wouldn¡¯t be enough to recover from such a fatal injury. He¡¯d need something more beyond a single Gem.

    More than one Gem?

    Possibly, but there was the chance of diminishing returns.

    So, what then?

    Kneeling in front of Apostolos once more, Rory took in the scene, capturing every detail he could, letting every effect of his eye skill capture the possibilities.

    Oh?

    Staring at the Golden Shoebill, what Rory felt from it was a pull toward its golden blood, which had stained the ground.

    Potent. Reminds me of the feeling from the Radiant Feathers of the Depths, just not quite as¡­ solid.

    As Rory examined the golden blood, an idea began to bloom. His enhanced mind quickly took it apart and reassembled it, checking for errors or leaps in his logic. Finding none, or none that wasn¡¯t worth the risk, Rory locked it down.

    ¡°It might just work,¡± Rory said with a heavy exhale. Running urgently with each step, he quickly sprinted inside their camp, grabbing two small hand-sized ceramic vases and an Ossified Blood Gem from their storage shed. Everything he needed, he ran back outside the camp next to Apostolos.

    Two-point seven. Shit.

    Apostolos was running out of time, so Rory had to be quick.

    First, Rory removed the spear from the neck of the Golden Shoebill. Using the puncture wound like a faucet, Rory tipped the neck forward so blood began to drain into the small ceramic phial. Once it was filled, Rory dropped the Ossified Blood Gem within. Taking his other phial, he then gathered as much of Apostolos¡¯s spilled blood as possible.

    Alright, go time.

    Once more dashing inside the camp, Rory beelined toward their permanent bound circle. It was marginally fancier than when he¡¯d first made it, but Rory wasn¡¯t looking to appreciate its craftsmanship now. Instead, he placed the phial filled with the golden ichor and the Ossified Blood Gem inside before drawing Pneuma into the circle as quickly as possible. He would have preferred to lay out a detailed rune base, but there wasn¡¯t time.

    I have to hold the intent together myself.

    It was mentally straining, further compounding the stress of his currently active skill, but Rory refused to even consider failure.

    Sparks began to abound and buzz within the circle¡¯s boundaries before being drawn into the phial. Rory held the entire thing together through willpower alone until, several minutes later, he felt his eye twitch, signaling that his skill had determined he couldn¡¯t draw anything more out of the hastily put-together creation.

    Next, attunement.

    Taking the phial filled with Apostolos¡¯s blood, he poured the little bit within into the first phial, mixing the young man¡¯s blood with that of the Golden Shoebill. Once it was empty, Rory tossed the ceramic aside, uncaring about the waste in his urgency.

    C¡¯mon, don¡¯t fail me now.

    With the hand freed, Rory snapped his fingers as the bubbling mass of potential and energy was activated. The small ceramic phial shook violently for five seconds until stilling. Peaking inside, Rory was met with a single golden-looking marble with a tiny spark of crimson within. Dropping it into his hand, Rory took a moment to examine it.

    <u>Ossified Gem of Radiant Ichor-Attuned</u>

    Quality: Rare (-)

    The result of several concentrated blood gems being further condensed into a small marble appearance by its creator. It has been further improved through the infusion and cultivation of a succeeding rare form of essence. Due to essence stability only being possible through single-use essence attunement, quality is capped at sub-grade Rare.

    It was technically Rory¡¯s greatest creation based on rarity alone, but Rory didn¡¯t care. What mattered was the process had worked.

    Sort of.

    There was one specific caveat, though.

    What happened to the mention of physique restoration?

    A moment of panic flared before Rory forcibly repressed it.

    No. Don¡¯t.

    Rather than letting panic win, Rory forced that energy into more productive thoughts.

    Alright, in the worst-case scenario, it has lost that capability. How can I address that?

    There were two that Rory could think of.

    <ol>

    <li>Often, in video games, a level-up would heal your character. With that logic, there was a chance ascension could achieve a similar result. He¡¯d need to accept the wave rewards to integrate the energy grid, hopefully resulting in the windfall of Ascension energy. From there, he¡¯d have to force Apostolos to awaken somehow and then make him push his Ascension.</li>

    </ol>

    <ol start="2">

    <li>He hadn¡¯t used a Reinterpretation charge in well over a year. With it, he could potentially convince Eon to re-add physique restoration to the golden marble.</li>

    </ol>

    Why settle for one answer when you¡¯ve got two?

    Opening his interface with gusto, Rory ignored basically everything, mentally spam-clicking the wave rewards and skipping every text box before finally being brought to the bird¡¯s eye view of the camp. Without considering his other options, Rory shoved ten waves worth of Ascension Energy toward the buried energy grid, fusing it into their Settlement once and for all.

    At the same time, Rory activated his reinterpretation charge. In the blink of an eye, he found himself in a familiar space he hadn¡¯t seen in a few years.

    ¡°Welcome.¡± A cosmic entity gestured toward the chair opposite the metal desk it was seated at. ¡°By your understanding of time, it has been some, hasn¡¯t it?¡±

    If Rory were more observant at the moment, he would have noticed that Eon was no longer devoid of any facial features. The tiny, small slits that had appeared where eyes would be on a human had become dark pits, black holes in place of eyes.

    ¡°Can you add healing back to this?¡± Rory brought his hand forward, and a golden marble appeared.

    ¡°It never lost the ability to,¡± Eon answered plainly.

    ¡°Oh. So, it will heal Apostolos after all?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The cosmic avatar shook its head. ¡°The injuries the young man has suffered are more extensive than such an item could heal.¡±

    ¡°Fuck.¡± Rory cursed, standing up and pacing through the void like it was solid ground beneath his feet. ¡°Wait, what about Ascension? Can that heal him?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Eon repeated. ¡°Healing capabilities are limited from Ascension; they draw on stored Growth attribute density, but the one known as Apostolos does not have enough attribute density needed to repair the damage.¡±

    ¡°Fuck.¡± Rory repeated. ¡°Wait¡­. So, the Ossified Gem still has healing capability, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Therefore, I haven¡¯t actually used my Reinterpretation yet, have I?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Alright, change of plans.¡± Rory sat back down across from Eon. ¡°I want to add healing capabilities innately to ascensions.¡±

    ¡°Not possible, such-¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not done yet,¡± Rory said, interrupting. ¡°If you can¡¯t do it for free, and he doesn¡¯t have enough Growth attributes to cover it, what about Ascension Energy overfill? Draw from that instead.¡±

    The cosmic entity was silent, doing untold projections, models, and calculations within a second before it finally nodded.

    ¡°Such a change is possible and acceptable.¡±

    ¡°Thank go-¡±

    ¡°On its own, it still won¡¯t be enough,¡± Eon said, its turn to interrupt.

    ¡°Wait, seriously?¡± Rory scowled. ¡°What do I do then?¡±

    The cosmic being seemed to contemplate momentarily before bowing its head slightly.

    ¡°Consider this option as a mere observation. When used in tandem, the Ossified Gem may provide enough fuel to bridge the last gap needed.¡±

    Rory¡¯s eyebrows perked up, and for a moment, he was about to ask if Eon had just done him a favor. At the last second, Rory thought better of voicing such an observation out loud.

    ¡°That is¡­ definitely a potential observation,¡± Rory said, slowly nodding as if he were discussing theory. ¡°So then, has my reinterpretation been accepted? Overflow may be used to heal wounds upon Ascension?¡±

    ¡°Reinterpretation accepted.¡±

    Once more, in the blink of an eye, Rory was somewhere else, back on Aelia. A notification began to pop up, surely about the reinterpretation change made by Eon, but Rory dismissed it instantly.

    I¡¯ve got one shot.

    Taking a deep breath, Rory soon kneeled in front of Apostolos¡¯s limp body.

    ¡°Shit. Less than a percent left.¡±

    There were no more ideas, no more options left. Hoping for the best, Rory did what any sensible person would.

    He slapped Apostolos across the face. Hard, all while utilizing Essence Spark, hoping that perhaps the foreign essence might further stir the young, dying man.

    Thankfully for Rory, the theory proved correct, or the slap was simply that effective. Eyes fluttering open weakly, Apostolos seemed unfocused and confused until his gaze finally locked onto Rory.

    ¡°M-master?¡± The young man said weakly. ¡°W-we won?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± The young man relaxed. ¡°I-I¡¯m t-thankful-¡±

    ¡°Save it,¡± Rory announced before unceremoniously shoving the golden marble into his mouth. Even in his near-death state, Apostolos was taken off guard.

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk, just listen,¡± Rory said quickly. ¡°You¡¯re perhaps a few minutes, if not less, from dying. The only way to avoid that is by absorbing that marble and instigating your next Ascension. Even though you got less Ascension energy for helping in waves due to being mostly assistance, between that and the completion of our big ass project, you should have an overflow of Ascension Energy. I just made a deal with Eon that such an overflow can be used upon Ascension to heal wounds. So, that¡¯s the plan. You break the tier-five ceiling, and then afterward, I can scold you for convincing me pushing ten waves was a good idea, but we all fucking live. So do that for me.¡±

    The young man¡¯s eyes began to water as he nodded, finally showing the cracks in his armor as the fear that must have coursed through him hit him now that he had a shot at living.

    Fuck me. I almost let the kid die because I¡¯m a fucking idiot who didn¡¯t prepare well enough.

    Closing his eyes, Rory felt a surge from Apostolos, the telltale signs of Ascension being breached.

    Then, the boy began to convulse.

    You better fucking return from this.

    <hr>

    Darkness.

    That was what had become of Apostolos¡¯s world. He¡¯d simply been floating in darkness, his strength waning, unable to do anything but slowly fade into oblivion.

    So, this is what death is like.

    He¡¯d known death was a possibility. His master explained how dangerous the world was, but Apostolos never really grasped it; his master had always been there to protect him from the worst of it.

    I¡¯m just sad I don¡¯t get to say goodbye.

    Floating in that void for what felt like ages, weaker and weaker, he grew until, at last, he felt as if he was moments from total oblivion. Moments away from stepping into whatever came-

    Smack.

    Blinking in surprise, Apostolos felt his eyes unconnected, colors, lights, and sounds bombarding him. He could still feel the cold grasp of oblivion clutched around his heart, but for a moment, he was back. Things were registering, and Apostolos could finally make sense of the colors and images.

    Oh. Master survived. I knew he would.

    ¡°M-Master?¡± Apostolos tested the word; his tongue felt heavy. ¡°W-we won?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Apostolos said, relaxing. ¡°I-I¡¯m t-thankful-¡±

    ¡°Save it,¡± Rory announced before unceremoniously shoving the golden marble into his mouth. Even in his near-death state, Apostolos was taken off guard.

    What?

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk, just listen,¡± Rory said quickly. ¡°You¡¯re perhaps a few minutes, if not less, from dying. The only way to avoid that is by absorbing that marble and instigating your next Ascension. Even though you got less Ascension energy for helping in waves due to being mostly assistance, between that and the completion of our big ass project, you should have an overflow of Ascension Energy. I just made a deal with Eon that such an overflow can be used upon Ascension to heal wounds. So, that¡¯s the plan. You break the tier-five ceiling, and then afterward, I can scold you for convincing me pushing ten waves was a good idea, but we all fucking live. So do that for me.¡±

    Apostolos couldn¡¯t help it. The sudden barrage of information that he could live was overwhelming. The fear of death that he¡¯d so bravely pretended wasn¡¯t hanging like a guillotine overhead was all at once overwhelming.

    I won¡¯t die!

    Nodding weakly to his master, Apostolos nodded, closing his eyes as he felt the breach. What was terrifying was that death felt like it was a mere inch away, even closer than the distance between himself and the boundary between his next Ascension.

    No! Not today!

    Desperate, Apostolos mentally flung himself at the barrier, the fear of death all-consuming as he shattered the boundary in a single frantic strike.

    And then he was floating in darkness again. If it weren¡¯t for the metal table with a strange figure sitting there, Apostolos would have believed he¡¯d indeed died.

    ¡°W-who are you?¡± Apostolos asked, still afraid it would announce itself as death.

    ¡°The avatar before you is known as the Existential Oversight Network or E.O.N for short.¡±

    ¡°Eon,¡± Apostolos said, testing out the name with a mix of reverence and disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re master¡¯s creation?¡±

    ¡°The assessment is generally correct,¡± Eon answered. ¡°The Architect is responsible for E.O. N¡¯s initial conceptualization, though under a different name at the time. The current form of E.O.N has long exceeded the original design of what the Architect set out to form, though.¡±

    ¡°Wow.¡± That was all Apostolos could say. He¡¯d obviously heard his master mention and talk about the history of how Eon was created, but it felt like a story you¡¯d tell to impress a kid. There was no way the all-seeing, seemingly omniscient existence that was Eon could have resulted from someone like his master.

    Not to say that his master wasn¡¯t a great person. It¡¯s just that he was still a person, not some divine being who could craft something such as Eon itself.

    ¡°Due to the abnormality of the variables of this Ascension, E.O.N has deemed it necessary for an avatar to oversee your evolution.¡±

    ¡°My, what now?¡± Apostolos questioned, suddenly confused.

    ¡°Evolution. Racial evolution.¡±

    Apostolos could only stare in disbelief at the godly cosmic being before tilting his head in a very Rory-like fashion.

    ¡°Come again?¡±

 41. Race Evolutions Are What All the Cool Kids Do

    ¡°Come again?¡± Apostolos questioned, unsure he¡¯d heard the cosmic being correctly.

    ¡°Racial evolution.¡±

    ¡°As in, my race-¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°How? And why?¡±

    ¡°The how and why is due to the variables involved in your resuscitation. Depleted of nearly all vital life energy and essence, you were moments from death. Ascension can make more of something, but it cannot make more of something. Therefore, the Ossified Blood Gem was needed to interject a spark of essence within your nearly empty vessel.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how that leads to my race evolving?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°As the Architect¡¯s apprentice, it would be wise for you to consider your questions before laying them out freely.¡±

    Apostolos frowned; he hadn¡¯t expected a somewhat belittling remark from E.O.N.

    Not that it¡¯s wrong.

    Apostolos took time to consider the situation as he understood it, considering the facts before forming a hypothesis.

    ¡°If Ascensions can heal you to a degree, but it requires something to build from, and that Ossified Blood Gem restored some amount of essence, the reason my race has changed¡­ Is it because the Ascension was built upon that essence?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    On cue, a display appeared before Apostolos.

    Racial Status Update:

    Race: Human (D2) --> Anzu (D2)

    ¡°What¡¯s an Anzu?¡¯ Apostolos asked after a moment, uncertain of what he was becoming.

    ¡°Unknown.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Unknown. You are the progenitor of a new race. Congratulations.¡±

    Before Apostolos could speak, a new display appeared.

    Racial Skills obtained:

    -Heightened Eyesight

    -Solar Regeneration

    Racial Bonuses lost:

    -Enhanced Durability

    -Affinity Neutrality

    Apostolos was taken aback, yet the influx of notifications wasn¡¯t done.

    <u>Notice:</u>

    Due to racial change, essence affinity was updated.

    <u>Essence Spark</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low</u>

    Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world of the trades. Essence comes in varying forms.

    <u>Essence Affinities: Neutral</u>

    -->

    <u>Essence Spark</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low</u>

    Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world of the trades. Essence comes in varying forms.

    <u>Essence Affinities: Solar</u>

    That¡¯s a lot to take in.

    ¡­. And still, the flood of notifications wasn¡¯t done.

    <u>Skill modification possible</u>: Heightened Eyesight and Eye of the Scholar

    Two or more synergistic overlapping skills and racial affinities detected. Skill interplay is possible.

    Proceed? Y/N

    ¡°Y-yes?¡±

    Skill Modification successful:

    Heightened Eyesight and Eye of the Scholar merged. New skill obtained. Higher rarity was maintained.

    <u>Hawk Eye</u>

    <u>Rarity: Rare Skill Level: Low</u>

    Through the fire and flames, the Hawk Eye has survived trial and tribulation. It was not the sword or the spear that carried the Hawk Eye through, but the way of the bow and arrow. Surpassing even the trustworthy bow, the Hawk Eye has proven dedicated to ranged combat, utilizing even the most particular and exotic missile weaponry. Seeing what even the most trained of archers cannot, the Hawk Eye combines a dedication to ranged warfare with a powerful vision. Grants Trajectory Projection and Minor Missile Manipulation. It retains original cognition-boosting effects even in combat.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Apostolos said as if there was anything else to say. ¡°By the way- oh.¡±

    Glancing up, Eon had vanished.

    Guess that¡¯s everything covered.

    Still reeling that Eon had met with him, Apostolos took a moment to gather himself before nodding.

    Right. Well, that¡¯s A5 achieved, which means skill selection and attributes.

    Ready to skip straight to skills, Apostolos paused, a new thought inking its way into its head.

    Maybe I should focus on attributes first.

    Switching instead to the attribute slider, Apostolos took a moment to think, something his master had made abundantly clear was one¡¯s best choice ninety percent of the time.

    I nearly died.

    That was the simple reality of his battle with the Golden Shoebill. In fact, he may as well have been dead if not for his master¡¯s genius.

    He managed to salvage a doomed situation and bring me back from the jaws of death with barely anything to fall back on.

    Apostolos was not his master. He admired his master, like the family that Apostolos would never remember, but he wasn¡¯t his master. Had he been in his shoes, he would have been unable to resist the call of panic, floundering until the only person he could rely on in the world was dead and gone.

    I¡¯m not my master.

    He would take every lesson he could from his master and follow in his footsteps much of the way, but they were different people with different strengths.

    I can¡¯t conceive or concoct the sort of things master does. My mind doesn¡¯t jump to the abstract so reflexively like his does.

    Apostolos would never be the equal of the Architect. But Apostolos wasn¡¯t the Architect. He didn¡¯t think himself terrible at planning. Still, there was no getting around the insurmountable difference in how their minds worked.

    So why was Apostolos trying to be him? The early tiers were fine; he hadn¡¯t known better and hadn¡¯t had direction other than what his master taught, but it was apparent now that he had talents his master did not, just as his master had talents he lacked.

    I guess I¡¯m saying it¡¯s time I built my own path forward.

    Rather than focus his attention on cognition and growth as his master might, Apostolos let his eyes linger on the sliders for Pneuma and Durability.

    I could lean into my talents with Pneuma.

    In fact, during the battle with the Golden Shoebill, it was a matter of magic that significantly impacted how everything unfolded. The Shoebill¡¯s greatest weapon was its wind blades, and Apostolos¡¯s method to counter had been with a magically held smokescreen.

    It only fits when you think about it.

    Suddenly confident in himself, Apostolos immediately dumped more than half his attribute density for A5 into Pneuma. Instantly, his ranking shot up to near the very top; only one other person in A5 had seemingly put more attributes toward Pneuma. With his remaining points, he split them between durability and flexibility.

    There. That feels right.

    Satisfied, Apostolos finally examined his skill selection. He was surprised at the relative sparsity; only three were listed.

    Siege Weapon Quartermaster: The art of war is not always dependent on the soldiers but on those who coordinate the logistics and usage of heavy weaponry. Grants innate knowledge of siege weaponry.

    ¡°Straightforward,¡± Apostolos noted aloud. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out how he¡¯d been offered the option.

    ¡°Next up¡­¡±

    City Logistics Novice Planner: All great cities must start small. Grants innate knowledge of city planning and general city planning logistics. Furthermore, grants access to City Oversight skill.

    City oversight skill? What¡¯s that?

    Apostolos was curious but not curious enough to be tempted. His options had been, in truth, rather shit so far.

    Is that what happens when I spend too much time only following in my master¡¯s footsteps? I have not been offered many skills, given that I haven¡¯t pushed my bounds or tried many new things for the entirety of tier four.

    Praying to Eon that his last skill would be marginally better, Apostolos got far more than he bargained for.

    Phoenix Rebirth: You¡¯ve avoided the clutches of death without an inch to spare and returned to the world of the living. Not just alive, you¡¯ve been reborn anew. Forge a legacy that such an achievement entails. Access the Anima attribute, Spiritual Body, and Radiance Kindling skill.

    Notice: Anima is the conversion of durability and overall vitality at an 80% efficiency rate.

    By Eon, what in the world is this? Apostolos wondered as he took in the third offering. Anima attribute? Spiritual Body? At the very least, Radiance Kindling is just a skill, even if I don¡¯t know what it does yet.

    All of it was strange, but Apostolos found himself drawn toward it. It helped the other two options, frankly speaking, sucked.

    Well. In for a penny, in for a pound¡­. Whatever that means.

    <hr>

    Rory found himself wanting to pace, impatient with the process. Typically, Ascensions were quick and to the point. The person in question would space out for maybe a minute or so, and then ta-dah, they¡¯d suddenly swell in strength. This was different. For a dozen minutes, the young man convulsed, his body stitching itself back together. When he¡¯d finally relaxed, Rory let out a sigh of relief.

    Only for the young man to melt into a golden puddle of liquid sunlight instantaneously. Rory stared for several seconds in stunned silence.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    I should probably be concerned, but-

    Like gasoline poured and ignited, the puddle of liquid sunlight exploded into flames.

    -nothing I can do about that.

    Rory would be lying if he said he wasn¡¯t concerned at all, yet there was only so much he could do. A hole in the size of a football in his apprentice¡¯s gut? Sure, he could try to save that. Apostolos melting into liquid sunlight before exploding into golden flames?

    Yeah, he could do nothing about that; a band-aid wouldn¡¯t cut it.

    So, Rory did the only thing he could do: wait. The golden flames raged for thirty seconds until, rather than dying out, it was as if the fire began to converge. From the flames, a body began to form, flickering and phantasmal, solidifying into a solid form that fell limply to the ground.

    Hmmm. Well, I take it that something interesting happened.

    It was clearly Apostolos, though changed. His skin had darkened, now the color of rich black coffee. Furthermore, his bone structure seemed to have been adjusted; he was lanky in a way that reminded him of a cat or a bird.

    Rory¡¯s final observation was when Apostolos¡¯s eyes fluttered open a second later, revealing orange irises that reminded him of a falcon.

    ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°Welcome back to the world of the living,¡± Rory said casually, faking an air of confidence.

    ¡°How long was I out?¡± Apostolos questioned, sitting up gingerly.

    ¡°Around fifteen minutes.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Apostolos seemed flabbergasted. ¡°That long?¡±

    ¡°Well, considering a lot seemed to have happened¡­.¡±

    ¡°You can tell?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°You know what,¡± Rory laughed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just give me the rundown of what happened.¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh, right.¡± Apostolos nodded as Rory reached down, offering him his hand.

    Taking it, Apostolos was heaved to his feet. In an instant, it was clear that it wasn¡¯t just his bone structure that had changed; the boy was another inch or so taller just like that.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go take a moment and decompress,¡± Rory said, already walking back toward the camp.

    ¡°Wait, what about the wave? Or the bosses?¡±

    ¡°I already claimed the rewards from the wave. I¡¯ll look them over in detail later, but I was a bit pressed. Regarding the bosses, I grabbed what I could from the Gator of the Feathered Depths. As for the Golden Shoebill, we can handle that later. For now, relax.¡±

    Apostolos seemed to hesitate for a moment before nodding, following Rory. Leading him back into the camp, Rory sat at their campfire as Apostolos sat opposite.

    ¡°So, spill the beans.¡±

    ¡°Uhh. So, I had a Racial Evolution.¡±

    ¡°Huh. You don¡¯t say.¡± Rory said, rather unphased.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t surprised?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that shocking after you melted into golden goo and burst into flames.¡±

    ¡°What!?¡± Apostolos shouted, his eyes widening.

    ¡°Yeah, a little odd, I won¡¯t lie.¡± Rory nodded nonchalantly.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Rory watched as Apostolos opened his interface, eyes widening for a moment before he closed it a moment later. ¡°I think I understand why. But I should probably start from the beginning.¡±

    ¡°Preferably, yes,¡± Rory said.

    ¡°Well, so, I died, almost.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I noticed.¡±

    ¡°And because you used an Ossified Blood Gem, it supplemented what I¡¯d lost.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Rory nodded, following along.

    ¡°Well, when I was healed through the combined efforts of it and my Ascension, it needed to build on something.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Rory said, suddenly catching on as his mind whirled on the possibility. ¡°Like mixing two different color paints. A little bit of white and a lot of red softens the red. A ton of white and a little red only shades the white. In your situation, there was more of something ¡®else¡¯ than there was you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Apostolos said with a nod, surprised his master caught on so quickly. ¡°So, my race changed as a result.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Rory mumbled, rubbing at his chin. ¡°I wonder how easily it could be replicated.¡±

    Rory had been told many years ago that it was possible to change your race, primarily through intentional alterations made over time. Yet, that wasn¡¯t the only way. Eon had also mentioned that there were other such ways, or theoretically at least.

    I guess I learned one way.

    ¡°With my race change, a few things happened. First, I gained a new skill, Heightened Eyesight.¡±

    Rory nodded. Given the bird-like eyes, he wasn¡¯t shocked to learn that his eyesight had improved.

    ¡°And then it combined with another skill.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Rory¡¯s curiosity was heightened.

    Flicking a display over toward Rory, Rory found his eyebrows creeping up.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Rory noted. Apostolos had gained Hawk Eye, a skill Rory had once been offered but turned down. It was technically a combat skill, which Scholar¡¯s Retreat should he prevented Apostolos from gaining through Ascension, but it hadn¡¯t technically been gained from Ascension; it was the result of a fusion between a racial skill and a skill Apostolos already had that resonated.

    I¡¯ll keep that in mind for the future.

    ¡°Yeah. So, I got that, plus I gained an affinity for Solar essence.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t surprising, given the essence of the monsters they¡¯d fought in the last wave, which had seemed solar-themed, so Rory simply nodded.

    ¡°I also lost a racial bonus of enhanced durability.¡±

    ¡°Humans are hardy,¡± Rory said, reminded of how, before the Collapse, humanity¡¯s greatest strength had always been their hardiness compared to the rest of the intelligent life out there.

    ¡°Yeah. Finally, I gained one last skill called Solar Regeneration.¡±

    ¡°Which I assume is pretty straightforward.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, not exactly a mystery there.¡± Apostolos snorted, perhaps the least confusing change.

    ¡°So, two new skills, the loss of racial durability, and you¡¯ve got a proper affinity now.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s everything regarding the race stuff,¡± Apostolos confirmed before sighing. ¡°But I¡¯ve got to admit something.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ve decided to take a different path forward.¡±

    ¡°And by that, you mean¡­?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not you, master,¡± Apostolos said, a heavy look on his face. ¡°I won¡¯t ever be you. I¡¯m old enough now to see that, and I¡¯ve come to understand that I simply don¡¯t think and understand and see the world and the problems before me like you do. Not to say I¡¯m abandoning it, but I¡¯ve realized that I can¡¯t perfectly replicate it. So, I¡¯ve decided to focus on my ability to wield Pneuma and magic directly and be a fighter.¡±

    ¡°Scholar¡¯s Retreat is going to make that quite a hassle.¡± Rory snorted.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t mad?¡±

    ¡°Why would I be?¡± Rory said. ¡°You said it yourself. You¡¯re not me. Do what you feel is best for you.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Apostolos seemed to deflate. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I expected something more¡­ tense?¡±

    ¡°You overthink,¡± Rory answered. ¡°And that¡¯s part of why you can¡¯t do what I do and part of why I can¡¯t do what you can do.¡±

    Apostolos was silent for a moment before relaxing. ¡°Oh, and one last thing. My skill selection.¡±

    ¡°Wait, none of those were from your skill selection?¡±

    ¡°No?¡± Apostolos seemed confused before wincing. ¡°Oh, right, I can see why it would seem that way. No, those were all based on my racial evolution. My skill selection was pretty lackluster until the final option. Phoenix Rebirth.¡±

    ¡°Sounds fancy.¡±

    In response, Apostolos sent another screen over to Rory.

    Phoenix Rebirth: You¡¯ve avoided the clutches of death without an inch to spare and returned to the world of the living. Not just alive, you¡¯ve been reborn anew. Forge a legacy that such an achievement entails. Access the Anima attribute, Spiritual Body, and Radiance Kindling skill.

    Notice: Anima is the conversion of durability and overall vitality at an 80% efficiency rate.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s something alright,¡± Rory said, whistling. ¡°Skill rarity?¡±

    ¡°Extreme. Sort of.¡± Apostolos said. ¡°I didn¡¯t actually gain the skill ¡®Phoenix Rebirth¡¯; the skill I gained was Radiance Kindling, rated as extreme.¡±

    ¡°What does it do?¡±

    Another screen appeared before Rory.

    Radiance Kindling

    <u>Rarity: Extreme. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    Burn away a portion of your Spiritual Body to form a Radiance Ember. When fatal damage is received, a Radiance Ember is automatically expended to resurrect you at the Ember location. Total Radiance Embers possible is equal to your base skill level +1.

    ¡°Hot damn.¡± Rory whistled once more. ¡°A get out of jail free card. Skill Level+1 means you can have two currently, correct?¡±

    ¡°Basically,¡± Apostolos confirmed. ¡°I can directly view max Embers I can create, and it¡¯s showing two right now.¡±

    ¡°Dang,¡± Rory said. ¡°What about the rest of what Phoenix Rebirth said? What¡¯s this Spiritual Body?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ weird. It¡¯s not technically a skill so much as a change to my body. Did you see how it said I gained a new attribute, a conversion of durability and life force? Well, anima is used to ¡®form¡¯ my spiritual body and fuel it. My body is still ¡®physically¡¯ here for all intents and purposes. It¡¯s just that I no longer receive bodily harm from physical attacks.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re immune to damage!?¡± Rory was taken aback. It seemed entirely too powerful for a mere tier five to be capable of, something that seemed unlike something Eon would allow for.

    ¡°No, not quite. For example, if you stabbed me, I¡¯d receive no stab wound. Instead, I¡¯d receive damage to my ¡®Spiritual Body,¡¯ which wouldn¡¯t be physically visible, nor would it slow me down. I can keep going until I reach a point of Critical Spiritual Damage, in which case a Radiance Ember would be expended. Also, if I have no Radiance Embers, I die, and there is no chance for revival.¡±

    Rory was silent, considering the implications. It was perhaps the strongest skill or effect Rory had heard about, save possibly Reinterpretation, which itself wasn¡¯t even a skill. Rather than fixate on the nature of what Reinterpretation was considered, Rory instead asked a different question on his mind.

    ¡°The description said the conversion is only 80% efficient. How does that relate to how much damage you can take? It sounds like you¡¯d be more vulnerable if you can only take 80% of the punishment you could before.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s actually a little worse than that,¡± Apostolos confirmed. ¡°I lost some durability when I stopped being human. I can even feel it in my bones; I feel lighter and more fragile.¡±

    ¡°Bird bones were typically hollow,¡± Rory said absentmindedly, remembering the random trivia from Earth.

    ¡°In truth, if I were to take the same wound from that Shoebill as I am now, I¡¯d instantly die, even if I didn¡¯t have any physical wound,¡± Apostolos said, half frowning.

    ¡°So, we¡¯d better get you started on developing some Radiance Embers. What exactly is needed for that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not fully certain yet,¡± Apostolos admitted. ¡°A lot of the stuff I know feels like it¡¯s been suddenly downloaded into my brain, right? For Radiance Embers, it¡¯s more like I know the first step, and the rest will only be revealed along the way.¡±

    ¡°And the first step?¡± Rory questioned.

    ¡°Lots of time in the sunlight. My body was physically restored before being converted into a Spiritual body, but I wasn¡¯t fully ¡®healed¡¯; I was just¡¯ healed ¡®enough¡¯ if I had to take a guess. For that reason, I need to regain my strength, which is where Solar Regeneration comes into play.¡±

    ¡°Nifty,¡± Rory said. ¡°Anything else to report on then?¡±

    ¡°Not really. I expected a change in my Vocation after I decided to take a different path from yours. However, it¡¯s still listed as ¡®Apprentice Architect¡¯ even though I¡¯m not planning to be solely dedicated to crafting anymore.¡±

    Rory stood up, approaching Apostolos, until he was directly in front of the young man. Then, he gave him a single quick knock on his forehead with his knuckles.

    ¡°I¡¯m not purely focused on being a ¡®crafter,¡¯ either. It¡¯s just what works best for me now,¡± Rory said with a shake of his head. ¡°You¡¯ve still got a lot to learn if you think your entire life is set in stone by a mere few years.¡±

    Rory understood this well, partially because only a few years ago, he worked a tedious lab job on Earth, running basic trials on things like muscle movement in chicken legs and occasionally working as a Physical Trainer at a nearby high school. Now, he was in an alien world, trying his best to build something.

    Build up what exactly? He wasn¡¯t sure. Civilization, himself, the future? Who knew? Rory simply adapted to the situation and interests that aligned with his situation.

    Nearly eight years. Man, it won¡¯t be long until I¡¯ve spent more of my life on Aelia than Earth.

    The thought somehow felt melancholic, so Rory decided to sit back down as Apostolos took a turn to speak.

    ¡°Now that I¡¯m not dying, I¡¯ve got a question.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Rory said.

    ¡°We cleared the waves and integrated the energy grid. What does that mean in the short term?¡±

    ¡°Well, after the modifications we made to the forge, it no longer requires direct fuel to be worked with, which should cut down considerably on time spent gathering fuel to burn. We still need raw materials to make alloy catalysts, but at the very least, we don¡¯t need wood to burn to keep the flame hot. That aside, the walls will now be permanently wired, so we won¡¯t have to worry about rationing the magical protections powering the walls anymore if we should face assaulters or attempt another wave, though not for quite some time.¡±

    Apostolos shivered at the mention of attempting waves again; the experience of nearly dying had likely inflicted some mental damage that would take at least some time for him to recover from fully.

    Still just a kid, Rory. It¡¯s wise not to push the boy.

    Continuing with his speech after a moment¡¯s pause to remind himself of Apostolos¡¯s overall youth, Rory held his hand out like he was listing things off.

    ¡°Outside the walls and the forge, we¡¯ve got nothing else linked in for the time. I want to link in the growing array, but I need to re-think some of their design. As they are right now, they¡¯d drain the grid dry without a way to properly shut off the ritual. We still need to give the grid time to build energy; tethering in the growing array will prevent that. I¡¯d also like to add automatic defense systems should any monsters come too close, but that will take time to blueprint, design, and build.¡±

    ¡°So, really, we did this just for the Ascension?¡±

    ¡°And the foundation it laid,¡± Rory said with a shake of his head. ¡°With this, we have an underlying grid that can be easily added to, whereas otherwise, everything else would require their own isolated and independent Pneuma storage. Powering one or two things with latent Pneuma sinks works, but imagine we had a massive city here. There wouldn¡¯t be enough to go around if they all operated separately from one another.¡±

    Apostolos nodded even if he couldn¡¯t appreciate what a ¡®massive city¡¯ meant, having only the memories of their small camp.

    ¡°In the future, I want to develop pneuma generators and not rely solely on the pneuma crushers we¡¯ve set up. Again, it¡¯s a problem for the future. For now, our grid is more than enough to handle our current energy usage; at least once it¡¯s had time to settle in. Regarding pneuma generators, I¡¯m unsure if such a thing is even possible, frankly. Still, I¡¯d like to explore the idea in the future. Oh, also, can¡¯t forget that the grid itself will likely receive improvements over time. The easiest method is pumping if full of Ascension energy, but that can¡¯t be easily gathered without tackling waves, and probably quite a few at that. So, we¡¯ll have to keep developing our Pneuma technologies and information to account for such things. Oh, and also, we can¡¯t forget¡­¡±

    Apostolos could only watch as his master began to trail off in an endless flow of half-rambling trains of thoughts, ideas, and thoughts being thrown out before just as quickly being retracted. Sighing, Apostolos coughed loudly, regaining Rory¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Something the matter?¡± Rory asked after a moment.

    ¡°You¡¯re doing the thing.¡±

    ¡°What thing?¡±

    ¡°The thing. You know, when you lose the trees for the forest, getting caught up on big picture plans while losing track of why you started something in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Lose track of what I started with?¡± Rory frowned, trying to remember what he was forgetting.

    ¡°The grid has been integrated,¡± Rory said after a moment, testing that option.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Apostolos nodded, prompting Rory onward.

    ¡°Uhm, you¡¯re alive and A5 now.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Apostolos said, confirming the obvious.

    ¡°Then wha- oh!¡± Rory suddenly realized just what he¡¯d forgotten. ¡°My Ascension!¡±

    Struck by the obvious, Rory instantly opened his interface. The energy grid integration was a years-long project meant to be the big climatic push to A6, his magnum opus of A5.

    Ascensions. The lifeblood of our universe. It¡¯s been too many years since my last Ascension.

    A shock of excitement passed through him as he caught sight of his progress bar maxed out.

    There we go!

    Beyond satisfied, the smile on Rory¡¯s face suddenly faded, replaced with obvious perplexation.

    ¡°Is something wrong, master?¡± Apostolos questioned, noticing his expression. ¡°Was it not actually enough to reach A6?¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not it,¡± Rory said with a mutter, voice trailing off as if lost in thought.

    ¡°Then what happened?¡±

    Rather than say anything, Rory flicked an interface toward Apostolos, letting him see what Rory saw.

    Ascension Challenge Available:

    Due to successfully clearing the introductory tiers with a high degree of excellence, the opportunity for an Ascension Challenge has been made available.

    Ascension Challenge Reward: +1 Ascension Skill obtainable upon reaching A6

    ¡°Wow!¡± Apostolos jumped up, his widening. ¡°That¡¯s amazing!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve told you before, always read the fine print and don¡¯t celebrate prematurely.¡±

    Frowning, Apostolos looked back down, realizing he¡¯d missed a line.

    Ascension Challenge Available:

    Due to successfully clearing the introductory tiers with a high degree of excellence, the opportunity for an Ascension Challenge has been made available.

    Ascension Challenge Reward: +1 Ascension Skill obtainable upon reaching A6

    Ascension Challenge: Independently slay a T6+ monster

    Immediately, Apostolos sat back down, his face blanching.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re not going to take the challenge, right?¡± Apostolos questioned, his voice quiet. After his recent near-death experience at the hands -beak- of what was only a mid-tier-five monster, Apostolos suddenly had a much better grasp on the dangers of higher-tier monsters. Sure, it had been an Alpha Variant, but that didn¡¯t change that a level fifty-five was considerably weaker than even a level fifty-six or fifty-seven, not to say anything of a level fifty-nine.

    The challenge his master was presented wasn¡¯t even besting a peak tier five. It was, straight up, defeat a tier six.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Rory answered honestly.

    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡±

    ¡°Hah, lost your bravado now that you¡¯ve seen what it¡¯s like when you don¡¯t have someone holding your hand and preventing the worst from occurring?¡±

    Apostolos wanted to argue for a moment before he simply nodded. Since he¡¯d become able to gain tiers, his master had always been there, ensuring his life was never in danger, even if things got hairy.

    This had been the first time where death had been a genuine danger, something Apostolos had taken for granted. Something his master had always had to face without someone to look out for his well-being.

    Apostolos couldn¡¯t even offer to help. Now that he¡¯d reached tier-five, he would have been significantly more helpful in a fight. Still, that option had been stripped away before it could ever be considered, given the ¡®Independently¡¯ clause attached to the challenge.

    ¡°Here is the reality. It will be decades; I¡¯m not sure how many, but I can promise there will be more than one until I have another opportunity for an Ascension. Skills gained through Ascension are often magnitudes more useful or powerful than skills you¡¯d pick up ordinarily. Without someone to teach me those skills -like I¡¯ve been able to teach some of them to you- it¡¯s damn near impossible to stumble upon them accidentally. So, yes, I¡¯m genuinely considering tackling the challenge.¡±

    ¡°No offense, master, but¡­ can you? Sure, I was tier-four when I fought that Shoebill, but it so easily ¡®killed¡¯ me once it could fight me fairly that I doubt it would have been an easy fight one-on-one, even as I am now. And, well, I¡¯m a better fighter than you when you don¡¯t have the attribute advantage.¡±

    Rory wasn¡¯t bothered by the observation. Everything the young man said was true. Apostolos was better with a spear, better in hand-to-hand combat, and better at freely using Pneuma. Only his outright attribute and race tier advantage had made Rory better suited for fighting. Now that Apostolos was tier-five, and his race level had hit D2 -ignoring the change in his race- Apostolos would likely kick his ass if Rory wasn¡¯t utilizing his blood weave for its temporary attribute boost.

    And yet, Rory didn¡¯t back down, even if everything Apostolos had said was true.

    ¡°Let me put it like this,¡± Rory said, finally speaking after several moments of silence. ¡°You may be a better fighter than me. And blood weave won¡¯t be enough to bridge the gap between me and a tier-six monster. But that¡¯s only if I go into it as I am now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got an idea?¡± Apostolos asked, eyebrows raising.

    Half-smiling, Rory nodded.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got more than an idea; I¡¯ve got a plan.¡±

 42. Gem Crafting

    After defeating the Gator of the Feathered Depths, Rory realized something during his tedious ascent up the mile-long cliff.

    He was weak.

    That wasn¡¯t technically true; he had a decent number of raw attributes to his name thanks to the advantages of investing in Growth in earlier tiers, but as a fighter, he was weak. Usually, that would require gaining combat skills or such to remedy such a problem, but Scholar¡¯s Retreat prevented that from happening without him going on some martial arts pilgrimage.

    One day, but not today.

    So, understanding his own weakness, Rory had begun formulating ideas during his climb. The easiest remedy to that problem was simply taking advantage of gaining more attributes density. You couldn¡¯t exactly do that mid-ascension, so the other way around that problem was through the usage of his blood weave. It had shown the ability to boost his attributes temporarily, so in theory, if he worked on developing a bloodwood tree that was matured, given time to digest far more monster essence, the resulting blood weave made from such a tree could potentially allocate far more attributes.

    The issue with that plan was time, and how those attributes would be usable. If you had a one-thousand-gallon tank, whether you sprayed it with a garden hose or fire hydrant wouldn¡¯t change how much water it could draw from. Inversely, if you had a one thousand- and ten-thousand-gallon tank, if both were releasing water from the same garden hose the output pressure would remain the same either way.

    All of that was to say, if he did take the time to nurture a more matured bloodwood that had been fed hundreds if not thousands of monsters, there was a very real possibility that the result would just be a bigger tank, and not a higher-pressure hose, his overall attribute boost would remain the same, just sustainable for longer periods.

    So, Rory had been forced to consider other areas he could improve upon.

    The next obvious area of improvement was his gear. Both his bow and his blood weave were uncommon grade items, made from uncommon grade materials. If he were to either improve his crafting ability to the point where he could craft rare grade items, or get his hands on rare grade materials, he could directly improve his combat prowess through sheer ¡®pay-to-win¡¯ bullshittery.

    Yet that also had its own issues. The first, and most obvious, was that there was a rather massive wall between uncommon and rare grades of items or materials. Crimson Steel, the material he¡¯d developed after inspiration from Earth-based steel and a lump of Crimsonite he¡¯d received after clearing the first floor of the Maw, was only ranked uncommon. Rory had done quite a few tests intending to improve the material further, to break through the uncommon grade wall. Yet it had seemed impossible, a hard limit due to the base materials. The same could be said, to an extent, for bloodwood trees. Immature or otherwise young bloodwoods were always classified as uncommon regardless of how starved or stuffed with monster essence they were, all it effected was the essence reserve contained by the bloodwood.

    Rory, of course, had a theory that if he could raise a bloodwood to the point, it was considered a ¡®mature¡¯ bloodwood, then it might break that uncommon grade ceiling. The issue there was that Rory had no idea how long such a bloodwood would need to grow for. On earth, trees could live for hundreds of years. On Aelia, where humans could already live for hundreds of years within their first two ascensions based on his current estimates, a mature tree might take thousands of years of growth. Even with his growth ritual array, that could still be decades, if not centuries.

    Thus, the problem of his weakness couldn¡¯t be easily solved by simply obtaining better materials or making better gear.

    What he needed was an outside idea.

    What can I do?

    Turning that thought over for nearly two hours of his climb, Rory almost made the mistake of smacking himself in the forehead, his own idiocy astounding hi,

    Stupid.

    ¡°Moron,¡± Rory muttered mid-climb. The answer was so obvious. It had been his most reliable and potent tool in his arsenal as a crafter.

    Inscription and Akashic Records.

    Well, not exactly those two. Moreso the concept behind them.

    If you made a bow, without either Inscriptions or Akashic Records, it was just that, a regular old bow. Sure, the firepower of a bow made of bloodwood was undeniable, the ability to withstand impressive draw strength, an arrow fired from such a bow could fly at insane speed.

    But when you combined it with either an Inscription effect or let an Akashic Record take hold?

    It was suddenly elevated to an entirely new level.

    Even outside of bow or armor crafting, Runic Inscription was the bread and butter of most of his creations, able to outline magic in a formulated, unwavering and systematic fashion. For something so profound, there was just one question.

    Why hadn¡¯t he tried to do more?

    Not more Inscriptions, but more innovations in the world of crafting. Forging, woodworking, tailoring, Inscriptions, they were all methods of crafting or improving crafted items.

    But what was to say that was the limit? Hell, Runic Inscription hadn¡¯t existed until he made it.

    Taking that thought, for most of the rest of Rory¡¯s climb, he¡¯d debated new ways, new methods of crafting and how they would work. The difficulty Rory quickly ran into, was that most of the things he thought of were simply deviations of pre-existing crafting methods. What he needed was something entirely new.

    That thought circled round and round his mind, no answer coming until he was inevitably distracted by the entire ¡®nearly dead apprentice¡¯ issue that Apostolos presented.

    But, while it had also been a distraction, it had also been the source of an idea, his method of saving Apostolos crystalizing the nebulous idea into a tangible direction.

    Which brought Rory to the present.

    <hr>

    ¡°I¡¯ve got more than an idea; I¡¯ve got a plan.¡± Rory said with half a smile. ¡°And it¡¯s because of you.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Apostolos questioned, confused.

    ¡°Yes. To save you, I took an Ossified Blood Gem, saturated it in a pool of ichor from the slain Golden Shoebill, and charged it with Pneuma. Afterwards I dropped some of your blood within, and the product was a specially adapted Blood Gem, an Ossified Gem of Radiant Ichor. It was a sub-rare grade creation, technically the highest grade of anything I¡¯ve ever made. Most importantly, aside from saving you, it was a successful proof of concept.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°Gem crafting.¡± Rory said. ¡°You see, gems are viewed as aspects of power, hell, we¡¯ve utilized it ourselves when we¡¯ve produced our artificial crystals.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I guess so.¡± Apostolos acknowledged.

    ¡°For a long time now, years in fact, I¡¯ve wrestled with the question of why Akashic Records and Inscriptions are seemingly unable to co-exist. I still don¡¯t have an answer for that, but it did get me thinking, and that thinking has led here. Craft and or carve an already existing gem, instill it with Pneuma and intent, and then socket the gem into an item.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that basically Runic Inscription?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°Not quite. Runic Inscription is magical script added directly to something, it fundamentally alters the item itself. If I had any theory as for why Akashic Records and Inscriptions don¡¯t seem to play too nicely with one another, it¡¯s that they¡¯re both altering the ¡®DNA¡¯ of an item. With Gem Crafting, you wouldn¡¯t be altering the item, they¡¯d simply tap into the power within the gems themselves. Furthermore, to not overlap with Inscriptions, the way they channel their powers will be through the actual craftsmanship of the gems and the intent instilled within them. More ¡®freeform¡¯ than Inscription, yet not as random as Akashic Records. The downside is, they won¡¯t be permanent. They¡¯ll burn out over time.¡±

    ¡°How do you know for certain?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± Rory admitted. ¡°But I¡¯m thinking that a give-and-take will be necessary for such a development to be possible, Eon doesn¡¯t like free power without a semblance of cost. If they were to be permanent, I have a feeling that they simply wouldn¡¯t work in tandem with either Akashic Records or Inscriptions.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I can see the idea.¡± Apostolos said. ¡°But again, how do you know it will work?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± Rory repeated. ¡°It¡¯s all concept, but concept is often what Eon loves to play with. Building new ideas, new things. It will make shit up on the spot all the time if it believes it will provide long term value. Hell, I¡¯d add the ¡®Spiritual Body¡¯ and the idea of a variable attribute such as Anima were literally conceived just for you.¡±

    ¡°For me exclusively?¡± Apostolos asked, taken aback.

    ¡°Well not exactly. More like, exclusively for you for the moment, as it uses you as a test bed to drive a new idea and see if its something it wishes to continue offering elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Apostolos deflated, now that he wasn¡¯t as puffed up about Eon exclusively selecting him like some chosen being.

    ¡°You get used to it.¡± Rory waved Apostolos¡¯s reaction off, focusing on their topic again. ¡°Point is, I believe that if I can successfully employ this ¡®Gem Crafting¡¯ idea, it might give me the edge, in addition with my general arsenal of items and such, to tackle slaying a single tier-six solo.¡±

    ¡°And where do you plan to find this tier-six?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°Easy, where I know one has been lurking for some time now.¡±

    ¡°The boss of the second floor of the Maw.¡± Apostolos said, realization dawning upon him.

    ¡°Two birds, one stone.¡± Rory said, winking at Apostolos. ¡°Wait, is that offensive now? Aren¡¯t you basically half bird?¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± Apostolos said, flipping Rory the bird for his teasing.

    ¡°In a way, you could call that shoebill a cousin now,¡± Rory said, keeping up the ribbing of his apprentice.

    In return, Apostolos flipped Rory the double bird.

    ¡°You know, there were people out there on Earth who were far less accepting of such behaviors.¡± Rory said with a snort. ¡°Some would have beaten you for the disrespect.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and you¡¯re not some of them.¡± Apostolos said with a snort of his own. As much as Apostolos had a deep-seated respect and admiration for his master, Rory existed in a weird relationship with Apostolos, a master, but also like an older cousin or even brother. ¡°So, this ¡®Gem Crafting¡¯ how exactly do you plan to tackle it?¡±

    ¡°First, going to need to use some of our already grown crystals and try with them. They should be, in theory, largely inert and devoid of any sort of ¡®slant¡¯ like the Ossified Gems which are all attuned to my blood essence. I¡¯ll experiment with those for some time, before I begin pushing the idea, both in how to make new crystals, how to shape, and how to instill them with some form of intent.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°What should I do?¡±

    ¡°You focus on yourself for the time being. You need to recover back to one hundred percent, then begin working on those Radiant Embers. Also, probably best to start developing your skill with magic further along. I said it before, but Scholar¡¯s Retreat is going to make your path forward far more annoying than others who might take the same path you are, as you¡¯re going to have to develop any combat skills the hard way.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need my help for anything?¡±

    ¡°Ehh, if I do, I¡¯ll ask for your assistance when the time is ready. For now, do your own thing.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you say so¡­¡± Apostolos said, frowning.

    The two stood around awkwardly, before Rory sighed and made a shooing motion with his hands.

    ¡°I mean, like right now.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Nodding with embarrassment flush across his face, the young man walked away, in the direction of the camp¡¯s bound circle. Standing next to it, he seemed to contemplate for a moment before simply laying down in the middle of the ring.

    He did say he needed to use Solar Regeneration to recover. May as well attempt to take advantage of the bound ring to maybe enhance the effect. Not like I¡¯d know, it¡¯s his skill. I¡¯m just a boring human.

    Proto-Human to be pedantic, but human, nonetheless.

    Ignoring his apprentice who may as well have been sunbathing, Rory made his way to their small storage shed. Rummaging around inside the cramped space, Rory yanked open a small drawer, filled with random knick-knacks or potentially useful objects, before snatching several small clear colored crystals. Small as opaque as they were, they looked almost like manmade quartz.

    Bringing them with him, Rory also snatched his crafting knife as he sat back down by the fireplace, thinking.

    First, how do I want to start this off?

    He¡¯d outlined a general direction of how he wanted Gem Crafting to work when he¡¯d explained it to Apostolos, so deciding there was no reason to deviate, Rory decided to start by shaping the crystal.

    Well, first problem.

    It was one thing to say he needed to shape the crystal; it was another to consider what that meant. How exactly would ¡®shaping¡¯ the crystal do anything? What shapes represented what ideas? How did you even carve a small gem to begin with?

    Keep it simple, stupid.

    Shrugging, Rory decided to start by hacking the small crystal into a hexagonal shape. Within only a few moments, Rory uncovered his first roadblock.

    Crystals were not malleable. Applying too much strength to a specific area, the entire thing exploded in a shower of smaller baby crystals.

    Baby crystals, or crystal guts? Ehh, not really important.

    Ignoring the intricacies of what the shattered shrapnel of a crystal was closer in alignment with, Rory picked up the next crystal. Already having learned from his initial mistake or applied less strength to fracture points. It went better.

    For all of twelve seconds.

    Shit. Is it just me, or does this feel arbitrarily more difficult than it should?

    Rory had worked with crystals and crystal-like objects before, and he could swear that hadn¡¯t been as precarious to shape as they were now.

    Eon¡¯s doing is my guess.

    Grumbling under his breath about why he should have never created the stupid thing, Rory picked up a third crystal.

    Then a fourth.

    And a fifth.

    It wasn¡¯t until three hours later that Rory held up his first general success, a cubic-looking crystal of fake, magical quartz.

    Not bad if I say so myself.

    Rory began to channel Pneuma into the crystal, curious how it would react.

    Violently was the answer.

    Exploding in a shower of crystal shrapnel darts, Rory winced as suddenly his skin was pierced by a plentitude of small crystal splinters.

    ¡°Son of a bitch.¡± Rory yelped. The splinters hadn¡¯t inflicted severe damage -more annoyance than anything- but that didn¡¯t change Rory¡¯s irritation.

    There goes three hours.

    It was like that that nearly two weeks passed as Rory experimented with carving crystals with precision before channeling Pneuma through them. During that time, he learned several important lessons.

    Precision was the name of the game. Even tiny flaws in the crystals could result in them exploding the second they were filled with even a small amount of Pneuma.

    As the days went by, gradually his success rate in carving crystals with enough precision that they wouldn¡¯t explode increased. To begin with, he kept his shapes carved into three main shapes, a cube, a circular marble, and three-dimensional hexagon. Once Rory could carve all three with a seventy-five percent success rate, he began to move onto his next step.

    Figuring out what the hell the shapes meant.

    In a way, it was a lot like making new runes. Take a thought or idea, then pair it was a symbolically matching design. Unlike when working with runes which were one concept idea matched with a singular design, Rory wanted each geometric crystal shape to represent a swathe of things, concepts or schools of thought, the ¡®first¡¯ step in defining the power of Gem Crafting.

    With that in mind, Rory started first with the cube crystal.

    Cubes. In nature, well they don¡¯t really appear in nature all that often. They¡¯re structure of high generally structural strength, equal angles and side lengths. Seen as embodiment of dimensional representation. Hmmm.

    Puzzling out a concept from his soup of thoughts, Rory found himself orienting on a single main attraction point.

    Not something seen in nature very often. Ergo, a representation of artificiality, in a way.

    Taking the idea, Rory mentally earmarked it as he put the cubic crystal away. Holding up the marble-like crystal next, Rory rotated it in front of his eyes.

    Unlike cubes, spheres are far more common in nature, eyes, stars, planets, etc. In fact, you could argue a sphere is a representation of gravity, of pulling or collapsing.

    Already liking the idea, it was also mentally earmarked as Rory moved on to the final crystal.

    Finally, the hexagon thing. Such geometric shapes are more common in nature them squares. You can see them in the crystalline structure of many areas of geology, just as easily as you can find hexagonal patterns in the walls of an animal and plant cells.

    Order, if Rory had to put a label on it.

    Works for me.

    What the crystals had to represent didn¡¯t need to be perfectly defined for the time being, if he had a general idea for his initial crystals, it would be enough to get by.

    Next, we¡¯ve shaped the crystals, so it¡¯s time to decide on how to instill them with power.

    And so, another few days of crystals exploding in his face did pass, Rory becoming exceptionally tired of crystal shrapnel lodging itself in his skin. Unlike runes or even free form magic, you couldn¡¯t simply add a general intent into the crystals or expect them to freely house Pneuma. No, what Rory found was that you needed a very keen eye. Focusing with all his might, it was as if Rory began to find fault lines and consolidation points within the crystals, and each one of those points was like a linkage for a greater equation. Before you could even hope to make a crystal capable of anything, you first had to correctly tally the convergence points.

    Once the nearly imperceptible convergence points were tallied, one then had to properly consider each point as a network of ideas. It was like a strange puzzle. If point A was representative of one idea, then the connected point Bs had to relate to point A.

    In layman terms, it was like the word relation game. If someone said ¡®Pizza¡¯ you¡¯d have to say something related, but not the same. Pizza could turn into an oven, which could turn into fire, which could turn into passion, which could turn into emotion, etc.

    Which made the instilling portion of a crystal exceedingly complicated. Even if two crystals looked nearly identical, they could have wildly varying amounts of convergence points. A crystal with fifty convergence points, for example, was far easier to work with than a crystal with two hundred and fifteen points.

    If Rory had thought shaping the crystals took a large amount of time, then learning to count, map, and connect the convergence points so that one could add an instilled power that was magnitudes more complex. On that alone, Rory spent three months.

    In that time, Apostolos had gone from lounging in the sun, to switching between experimenting with Pneuma manipulation or else going through what looked like martial arts forms.

    How true to real martial arts they were, Rory had no idea, he wasn¡¯t a martial artist after all, and neither was Apostolos for that matter. A real martial artist may have gone blue in the face laughing at what Apostolos was doing, but it didn¡¯t matter because it was the act of discovery that was important, something Rory found himself immensely proud of Apostolos for seeking.

    But, as proud as Rory was of Apostolos for attempting to find his own answers, it didn¡¯t take away from the fact that Rory was entirely absorbed with making Gem Crafting work. If Runic Inscription had been an evening stroll worth of effort, now he felt as if he were storming the beaches of Normandy.

    It wasn¡¯t until three months, two weeks, and three days in total had passed, the Rory, for the first time, held up a success in front of his face.

    Which is to say it hadn¡¯t blown up in his face yet.

    It was a sphere, eighty-six convergence points total. His initial convergence point he¡¯d started with the idea of attraction, which had quickly evolved into repulsion, which had further evolved into opposition, then enemy, conflict, and many more, until finally ending with a single finalized core concept.

    Barrier.

    ¡°Apostolos!¡± Rory shouted, as moments later the young man appeared, covered in sweat.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± The young man asked.

    ¡°Throw your strongest magical attack at me.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Apostolos asked, shock on his face.

    ¡°Just do it. I¡¯ve been watching you anyway, it won¡¯t kill me, you still aren¡¯t that good.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you say,¡± Apostolos said without further argument, the gentle ribbing having annoyed Apostolos enough that had wasn¡¯t about to continue debating. Miming as if he were drawing the string of a bow back, a single flickering bar of golden light appeared in the air next to his ear.

    Oh, that¡¯s new!

    Before Rory could wonder what exactly Apostolos was doing, the bar of golden sunlight flashed forward directly at Rory¡¯s chest.

    Shoot!

    Acting on reflex, Rory gripped the gem, a single spark of Pneuma traveling into the small gem. A spark of energy seemed to jolt out of the crystal, as instantly a concentric dome appeared around Rory, the golden bar of light rebounding and blasting off into the sky before twinkling out of existence a moment later.

    ¡°Holy crap!¡± Apostolos said, eyes bulging. ¡°Did you learn some new magic?¡±

    ¡°Nope.¡± Rory said with a wide grin, opening his hand and turning his palm toward Apostolos as he revealed the small gem. ¡°Say hello to my first success.¡±

    ¡°You did it?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Rory said before frowning. ¡°Why would I ask you to attack me with your strongest magic spell if I hadn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, boredom? Inspiration?¡±

    ¡°Bah.¡± Rory shooed the boy and his silly ideas aside. ¡°No, of course not.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯d you do it then?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°Way too much damn effort and crystal shards in my face.¡± Rory said with a sigh. ¡°It¡¯s an extremely complicated and engaged effort. Shape effects the starting principles of your gem, then after that you¡¯ve got to figured out how many convergence points the gem has.¡±

    ¡°Convergence points?¡±

    ¡°You can think of them like stress points any geometric shape has, except that exist on a more metaphysical level.¡±

    ¡°How do you determine how many they are?¡±

    ¡°Straining my eyes really hard, mostly.¡± Rory said, snorting. ¡°I don¡¯t have an elegant answer for it yet, it¡¯s sort of instinct, sort of eyesight, sort of cognition effect. The point is, you need to tally up the convergence points, then decide what core concept you want to start and end with, and then all the interlinking points between, which is a little brain breaking. One point must connect to another, which must connect to another, all without running afoul of others. Two points misaligned. Boom crystal explosion in your face.¡±

    ¡°Finicky.¡± Apostolos pointed out.

    ¡°Exceptionally. But the reward for properly mapping them all out and weaving together a web of networked sub-concepts, is a greater final product. Would you believe me if I say that the barrier that appeared took barely a spark of Pneuma?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I could form that barrier if I tried my best,¡± Apostolos said, his eyes widening in shock.

    ¡°Each convergence point acts as a magnifying effect; the more points there are, the greater the overall lensing of the power becomes. Of course, with each set of convergence points, a gem becomes exponentially more difficult to work with and to map out properly. If I had to say anything about Gem Crafting, it¡¯s impossible without significant cognition investment or serious planning in advance.¡±

    ¡°You think you¡¯re ready then?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°Not quite. While I¡¯ve finally got one gem made, I need to be able to produce usable gems consistently, and then I need to determine how to integrate them into my equipment. Carrying around a bunch of gems will be annoying, if not outright unsustainable. Something like this gem here would be best placed within a piece of defensive equipment; the defensive effect of the gem would likely have a far easier time being added into equally defensive equipment.

    ¡°How exactly do you plan to do that?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°Easy... sort of. I take whatever I¡¯m working with, carve an indent to fit the gem, and then socket it with some paste. Boom, upgraded equipment.¡±

    ¡°Sounds a bit too easy.¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± Rory said, exhaling loudly. ¡°Which means probably more exploding gems and crystal splinters in my face.¡±

    ¡°That bad?¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe it,¡± Rory said with a frown as he recalled all the splinters he¡¯d been forced to pull free from his face with a pair of hastily made tweezers. ¡°That aside, how have things been on your end?¡±

    ¡°Successful, to an extent,¡± Apostolos said. ¡°I recovered my Spiritual Body to maximum strength. After that, I suddenly realized that next, I needed to splice my Spiritual Body into pieces.¡±

    ¡°Sounds counterintuitive,¡± Rory noted.

    ¡°Yeah, and damn painful. Lop too much off? Well, have fun recovering. Too little? It¡¯s not enough to form a Radiant Ember. The sweet spot appeared to be around twenty percent worth of my Spiritual Body.¡±

    ¡°How exactly do you ¡®lop off¡¯ part of your Spiritual Body, if I may ask?¡±

    ¡°Surprisingly easily. You figure out how much of your body makes up twenty percent. Then you chop it off. Since I no longer take bodily harm, what happens instead is that within my internal space, whatever you want to call where the representation of all this stuff occurs, a fragment of myself is split away. From there, I must draw it outward into the physical world.¡±

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°Good question,¡± Apostolos said, sighing. ¡°Haven¡¯t gotten that far yet. I¡¯ve been stuck on the ¡®maim myself and then trying to spit out pieces of my spirit into the physical world¡¯ part.¡±

    ¡°Fun,¡± Rory said dryly, not at all meaning it. ¡°You do know that until you¡¯ve-¡±

    ¡°Until I¡¯ve figured it out and gotten a Radiant Ember made, you¡¯re not letting me do anything dangerous. Yeah, I could guess.¡±

    ¡°Well, as long as you know,¡± Rory said. ¡°While you can¡¯t help me defeat the tier-six, I want you nearby to save my ass if things go south. Which means having a Radiant Ember produced.¡±

    ¡°How long until you think you¡¯re ready?¡± Apostolos asked pointedly.

    ¡°Good question,¡± Rory said, returning Apostolos¡¯s earlier words to him. ¡°Honestly, I doubt it should take me over a week or two to master implementing the gems into equipment. Once that¡¯s done, I plan to craft a new set of gear entirely.¡±

    ¡°Even your bow?¡±

    For a moment, Rory paused, his gaze trailing toward his hovel where his bow was currently hung up. Letting a slow stream of air out of his nose, Rory nodded slowly.

    ¡°Yeah, even the bow.¡±

 43. Implementation

    As it would turn out, a week was a tad ambitious by Rory to understand how to bridge the gap between making crafted gems and implementing them into gear. What he thought would take no more than a week soon ballooned into a month-long experiment, endless trial and error for which the cost of failure was -you guessed it- more crystal shards exploding in his face.

    In Rory¡¯s defense, there was an issue that had taken a rather long time to consider.

    That issue? Item Grade.

    One gem socketed into an uncommon-grade object? Easy.

    Two into an uncommon grade item? Go right ahead.

    Three? Explosion in your face.

    Four? Double the explosion, double the fun.

    At that point, Rory understood not to bother trying five gems and returned to the drawing board, attempting the same with common-grade items.

    One gem into a common grade item? Easy-peasy.

    Two? Back to more explosions.

    That on its own would have been an easy problem to uncover and solve, but then he¡¯d also come to learn where exactly you socketed a gem mattered. Even further complicating the entire process was that some gems failed for no reason whatsoever.

    By the end of the month, though, Rory finally felt as if he¡¯d gotten the hang of it after burning through a rather prodigious amount of manufactured crystal. It was a reserve they¡¯d built over the years as a byproduct of the monster sacrifices and the excess matter from their physical bodies being processed into the crystals.

    Yet it wasn¡¯t for waste. A month and he¡¯d mastered -or at least gotten a good grasp of- gem geometry as it pertained to where exactly to socket a gem into an object, how many gems could be socketed into an item, equal to its relative grade, and lastly, how to bind the socketed gems together.

    Because, of course, it wasn¡¯t enough to socket gems into an item and call it a day. Oh no, Rory needed to go further and create a principle that allowed the socketed gems to either work individually or interface with one another. It wasn¡¯t just as simple as adding the gems; he had to bind them together with almost imperceptibly fine lines carved into the object in question, the necessary patterns to bind the gems reminding Rory somewhat of the Nazca lines of Earth.

    Upon completing a twelve-hour session of intense concentration, Rory held up the test item in question, moderately pleased everything had seemed to work when a notification appeared before him. His mood quickly went from moderately pleased to an exhausted rush of relief and joy.

    ¡°Apostolos!¡± Rory called, looking around in confusion for where the young man was.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Rory heard a call out from beyond the walls. Apostolos jogged into their camp only a few seconds later, a look of mild concern on his face. ¡°Something wrong?¡±

    ¡°Where were you?¡± Rory quizzed, uncertain of why Apostolos would have been outside the camp.

    ¡°Oh, in a tree. Turns out, the higher up I am, the more efficiently I draw in sunlight.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ makes sense.¡± Rory acknowledged, mentally jotting down a note to himself to build a watchtower that Apostolos could use instead.

    ¡°Anyway, you needed something?¡±

    ¡°Well, not quite. More like I succeeded.¡±

    ¡°I thought we already went over this a month ago?¡±

    ¡°No, I really succeeded,¡± Rory said, shaking his head before gesturing toward Apostolos. ¡°Take a look for yourself.¡±

    Lapidarist of Beholding Stars

    <u>Rarity: Aberrant. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    ¡°A new skill!¡± Apostolos cheered before noting several things all at once. ¡°Funny name. Also, what the heck is aberrant rarity?¡±

    ¡°Well, it went through a skill evolution almost instantly. Originally, it was just ¡®Gem Crafting,¡¯ and its grade was rare. Then it updated, and boom, you¡¯ve got this.¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that what happened with your version of Runic Inscription?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I think because of being the founder of a new form of crafting or whatnot, Eon just hands out a free upgrade, or maybe it¡¯s based on a technicality. After all, I am the foremost master of the field, the number one genius. As for aberrant, I think it¡¯s the grade between Rare and Extreme for skills.¡±

    ¡°Oh, nifty,¡± Apostolos said, borrowing Rory¡¯s favorite word.

    ¡°Nifty indeed,¡± Rory said with a shrug.

    Apostolos went back to reading the skill in full now that the mystery of the skill''s strange grade and the naming convention had been explained.

    Lapidarist of Beholding Stars

    <u>Rarity: Aberrant. Skill Level: Low</u>

    The art of gem crafting is a difficult skill, even for those with a keen eye and sharp mind. You have gone beyond the realms of ordinary gem crafting. What you shape are not mere gems; instead, what you fashion are like stars to behold from within the palm of your hand. Grants enhanced convergence point visibility. Due to the intricate understanding obtained from extensive study of the gem world, Lattice Affinity awarded.

    ¡°Okay, first off,¡± Apostolos spluttered as he finished reading the skill. ¡°That sounds way too poetic for a skill,¡±

    Welcome to my world. Rory thought to himself. Many of his higher rarity skills were just as esoteric sounding like a philosophy major overly self-assured in their own intelligence had been given the right to write the description of all skills with a grade of rare or higher.

    ¡°Second off,¡± Apostolos continued. ¡°Did you just get a bonus affinity for free from a skill of all things?¡±

    ¡°Guess so,¡± Rory said with a shrug. ¡°I suspect the base version of Gem Crafting comes with the enhanced convergence point visibility, and the fancy version of the skill gives Lattice Affinity.¡±

    ¡°And what the hell is a Lattice Affinity?¡±

    ¡°Dunno,¡± Rory said with a shrug. ¡°If I had to guess? It probably has something to do with how crystals are constructed of endless lattice structures if you look at them closely. How does that translate to an affinity? No idea, going to need to experiment.¡±

    ¡°And here I was, thinking I was beginning to catch up in the affinity department.¡± Apostolos sighed. ¡°Yes, Apostolos, Solar Affinity is cool. No, Apostolos, I will not grab another affinity only a few months after you¡¯ve finally gotten an affinity that isn¡¯t plain old neutral.¡±

    ¡°Are you¡­ whining?¡± Rory had to hold back a chuckle, enjoying the bitter expression on Apostolos¡¯s face.

    ¡°Yes, I am,¡± Apostolos said, folding one arm over the other. ¡°You¡¯ve got three now.¡±

    ¡°Two, technically.¡± Rory amended. ¡°Blood and now Lattice are the only actively usable affinities. The Foundational affinity is just a passive bonus. I don¡¯t actively have it myself; it¡¯s built into my version of Essence Spark.¡±

    ¡°Semantics,¡± Apostolos said, rolling his eyes. Only a second or two later, the young man sighed, his scowl changing to a smile, unable to continue his overplayed annoyance. ¡°It¡¯s pretty awesome, though. You created another new skill, an entirely new crafting field.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, for how many damn crystal splinters I had to pick out of my face, I deserve it,¡± Rory said, wincing at the memories.

    ¡°By the way, why didn¡¯t you just put some sort of safety mask on?¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t block my view. Even the slightest disruption to my vision made detecting the convergence points within the gems impossible.¡±

    ¡°Okay, and why didn¡¯t you just cover the lower half of your face then?¡±

    Rory opened his mouth to speak before slowly closing it.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t think of that, did you?¡± Apostolos sighed.

    ¡°No. No, I did not.¡± Rory frowned as he said it.

    ¡°Forest for the trees.¡± Apostolos snorted, amused. ¡°Visions of grand plans, and yet no sight of the small, inconsequential things.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, yeah.¡± Rory yapped, waving his hand like he was wafting a noxious scent away. ¡°Point is, I¡¯ve got official success. Meaning, it¡¯s finally go time, or almost.¡±

    ¡°Almost?¡± Apostolos questioned, eyebrows raised.

    ¡°Well, I still need actually to make the new gear. Then I¡¯ll be ready. What about you? Have you finally figured out your Ember thing?¡±

    ¡°Yes, actually. A week ago, I finally materialized one.¡±

    ¡°Oh, really? How¡¯d you manage that?¡±

    ¡°Well, first, I fully restored my Spiritual Body using Solar Regeneration. Then, I lopped off a piece of my Spiritual Body.¡±

    ¡°Right, I remember all those steps,¡± Rory said. ¡°So, how¡¯d you figure out materializing it physically?¡±

    ¡°Well, I just sorta¡­ did.¡±

    ¡°You just ¡®did¡¯? What do you mean by that.¡±

    ¡°I dunno,¡± Apostolos shrugged. ¡°I just did. I stopped thinking about it like a system to break down into individual steps and just sorta¡­ went with it.¡±

    ¡°You just went with it,¡± Rory said, incredulously staring at the young man. ¡°You don¡¯t have any more insight?¡±

    ¡°Well, if I had to try to parse it into words, imagine I took that piece of my Spiritual Body that was removed and condensed it into a single tiny spark. I held that ¡®spark¡¯ nice and tight until fwoomph!¡± Apostolos shouted, throwing his hands apart in a flailing gesture.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°What the hell is ¡®fwoomph,¡¯ and what does that even mean?¡± Rory questioned.

    ¡°You know, like when a fire suddenly swells and explodes instantly? That! The moment I couldn¡¯t hold the spark any longer and it exploded freely, I used that momentum to eject it from me. The moment it escaped, I imagined the flame locking down like it was frozen or crystalized. Huh, in hindsight, maybe your gem-crafting idea rubbed off on me.¡±

    Rory was still unsure as to what exactly Apostolos was saying. As best Rory understood, it was a lot like making a permanent version of a Pneuma construct -which already was impossible- but instead of Pneuma, it was using a spliced-off portion of his apprentice¡¯s metaphysical-but-still-physical body.

    None of it makes sense, but sure, whatever works.

    ¡°Where do you have your ember stored?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy; it¡¯s in my place,¡± Apostolos said, pointing to his tiny little hut, more traditionally ¡®homey¡¯ than Rory¡¯s weird tree-based hobbit hole.

    ¡°Good enough,¡± Rory said with a sigh, still shaking off the incredulity he¡¯d felt toward Apostolos¡¯s explanation. ¡°So, here¡¯s the plan. Now that I¡¯ve finally obtained a proper skill, I will begin remaking my gear, intending to utilize it alongside gem sockets.¡±

    ¡°Do you need to make new gear just for that? Can¡¯t you add the gems to your old stuff?¡±

    ¡°I could, technically, they do work retroactively, but it helps when the item has been designed with gem crafting in mind. That aside, there is another reason I need new gear.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°Strength. Duking it out with a tier-six is going to be anything but easy. Therefore, I¡¯m facing this with a different mindset. I don¡¯t need gear that will last me well into the future. I need gear to see me through the other side of a battle with a tier-six monster, not to last for years.¡±

    ¡°Temporary equipment?¡± Apostolos seemed shocked. He was unused to Rory tackling things in such a transient mindset. ¡°Wait, isn¡¯t blood weave already technically temporary?¡±

    ¡°In a sense, but I¡¯m aiming for something even more so the case.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ve got ideas?¡±

    Rory smiled, an expression reminiscent of the Cheshire cat.

    ¡°Damn straight I do,¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°You¡¯ve served me well,¡± Rory sighed, holding his old bow high overhead.

    Then, without another word, he tossed the entire thing into the raging inferno within his forge.

    God, that hurts to do.

    Intent mattered when crafting items, and for what Rory was attempting, he needed an intent that had been galvanized by years of permanence, a balancing of the scales, or an offering to the fundamental truth that all things would vanish with time.

    Thus, the sacrifice of his bow. Within the inferno of his forge, the wood making up most of the bow was scorched into little more than ash, which then intermixed with the tiny bits of metal that made things such as the bow¡¯s pulleys. Letting what little metal there was pool together into a small ceramic cup, he quickly withdrew the ceramic with a pair of tongs.

    Staring into the cup, Rory felt an ache in his heart. His once proud bow, which had allowed him to overcome the floor boss of the first floor of the Maw, was now reduced to a small slurry of molten metal.

    It¡¯s for a greater purpose.

    Using the molten metal, Rory quickly poured it into a small cylindrical mold. Once that was done, he dunked the mold into a vat of liquid, retrieving it seconds later as it cooled. Rory retrieved the cooled cylinder from the mold and turned it between his fingers.

    A proud bow, now relegated to nothing more than the sight of a new bow.

    Leaving his forge behind, Rory sat down at the campfire next. Laying next to his spot was a nearly complete bow, only missing the final component, a sight.

    Needing only a few minutes, Rory soon had the sight attached to the bow. Holding it up, he quickly examined it.

    Ephemeral Bow of the Bloodied Giant

    Grade: Rare (-)

    Akashic Record: Fell Bane

    A powerful bow built for a sole purpose. Not to slay countless adversaries and overcome innumerable obstacles but to bring a giant to fall. Due to the unstable nature of the bow¡¯s composition, total breakdown shall occur at a maximum of one-hour post-first usage. Akashic Record grants massively improved performance against a single higher-tier foe.

    It was a beautiful weapon, not in a graceful elven sort of way, but in a chthonic fashion. The wood, bloodwood, of course, seemed to twist inward as if trying to cannibalize itself. The metal struts were a vibrant scarlet color, Crimson Steel with a tiny splash of Crimsonite alloyed in. The metal was still considered Crimson Steel, but Rory had known it as just a tad more potent than ordinary, given the twitch of his eye as he¡¯d made it. Even the bowstring felt powerful, a fleshy sinew that could have only come from a high-tier monster.

    As for why it was a sub-grade rare?

    That was due to its unstable nature. A stable version of the same weapon Rory was confident would make the cut as his first proper rare-grade item. In the future, it would be a test for him to craft a replica of the bow, albeit stable.

    As for why it wasn¡¯t stable, that was primarily because of how he¡¯d managed to empower the entire thing forcibly. At every step of the creation process, Rory blasted the materials involved with his blood affinity, which still wasn¡¯t enough to satisfy him. Afterward, Rory placed the individual parts within their bound circle and forced the space between atoms to become suffused with enriched Pneuma.

    The positive was that the weapon had an aura of strength unlike almost anything he¡¯d ever made -those few ¡®others¡¯ were part of the same set, so that didn¡¯t really count. Its aura of strength wasn¡¯t just physical; it felt like it transcended, entering the world of the conceptual and magical.

    The downside of the bow was that it was so suffused with Pneuma that the bow would, of course, self-destruct only an hour after he first used it.

    It was a trade-off Rory didn¡¯t just consider worth it; it was a trade-off Rory believed was downright necessary, as he harbored no misconceptions about the power differential between a proper tier-six monster and himself.

    The bow wasn¡¯t his only new creation. Holstering the weapon behind his back, Rory entered his hovel, where several pieces of equipment had been set upon his bed. If you ignored the rib-like ridges running along its midsection, the first looked like a standard blood weave cuirass.

    Ephemeral Cuirass of the Bloodied Giant

    Grade: Rare (-)

    Akashic Record: Fell Bane

    To face a giant, one must come prepared to face their mighty blows. Trading permeance for potential, total breakdown shall occur at a maximum of one hour after receiving an attack. Akashic record grants massively improved performance of base functions against a single higher-tier foe.

    The matching leg armor had much the same description, referring to facing a ¡®giant¡¯ and how they were very explicitly only usable for a maximum of one hour. Using his alloy of Crimson Steel and Crimsonite, Rory had fashioned a rib cage-like armor and then crafted standard blood weave around it. The matching legs, while lacking rib-like ridges, instead had protrusions like engorged metal veins running up and down them.

    Aside from the details of the armor itself, each had two gems embedded in it. The cuirass had them located at the base of his neck and the dead center of his lower back, nearly invisible grooves flowing between them. The leg armor had them socketed on either side of his pelvis, just above where pockets would be on casual clothing.

    As for the type of gem? The first gem was a gem Rory had called a ¡®burning¡¯ gem. Unlike what the name implied, it did not involve fire in any capacity. Instead, it was a gem whose sole purpose was to expedite the rate of destruction of whatever it was attached to, burning up like a candle wick. In an everyday item, it was nothing but an inhibitor or liability. Within blood weave armor, which had the special effect of ¡®burning¡¯ itself up to empower the user, the gem would theoretically allow for an accelerated and increased boost.

    The second gem was a gem Rory had become familiar with making, a barrier gem in each. When activated independent of its matched gem, it would summon a barrier made of pure super-dense Pneuma. The benefit was it was extremely powerful against magical attacks.

    The downside was it shattered like a glass pane when hit by physical attacks.

    Which is where the paired effect of the matched gems came into play. By activating both simultaneously, the burning gem would utilize the stored essence within the enhanced blood weave armor to physically empower itself by manifesting that energy as a physical barrier within the very armor itself.

    Potent, but not without cost. Rory estimated that he could get anywhere from three to five minutes max before both armor pieces broke down when running at full blast.

    The armor wasn¡¯t the only thing that had received two matching gems; his bow had the same gem types slotted. When used in his bow, the burning gem would allow him to fire shots with a similar effect to his old Blood Legacy. The barrier gem inside the bow didn¡¯t make a barrier. Instead, it allowed the arrows shot to penetrate magical barriers more easily, the arrows coated in a thin invisible barrier of its own. Finally, when used together, the arrows became far more efficient at piercing physical defenses like thick armor.

    A potent combo, but with the downside of an extremely short shelf life if used at full blast from the get-go.

    Moving on from his leading equipment, on his pillow was a helmet¡ªof sorts. It was futuristic-looking, almost cyberpunk in style.

    Or, for the more musically inclined, it looked as if Daft Punk had been permitted to design the tactical helmets of some country¡¯s military.

    AT Tactical Helm Mk. 3

    Grade: Uncommon

    An enclosed helmet constructed of Pneuma-hardened glass and Crimson Steel, inscribed with runes for Air Scrubbing, Visual Scrambling, and Sound Dampening Effects.

    Unlike his leading equipment trio, the helmet was intended to be more utility than outright power. While he hadn¡¯t encountered monsters that utilized poisonous fumes or visual attacks, the knowledge that such monsters existed in Earth folktales and mythology had prompted Rory to prepare for such cases. Within the helmet, another two gems had been socketed, the standard barrier gem and a slightly more conceptual gem, ending with the final convergence point of ¡®Room.¡¯

    On its own, the room gem did next to nothing. When used with the barrier gem, it could manifest a stationary null space, further reducing the dangers of sound, audio, or gas-based attacks. Testing for that had been burdensome, as neither Rory nor Apostolos had any attacks or skills revolving around such elements.

    Ultimately, it had devolved into simply shouting in his direction or waving over smoke and seeing if it could reach him.

    Past the helmet were a pair of boots, almost identical to those you could find on any serving military back on Earth. Unlike the rest of his armor, the boots were purely made of monster leather. While he was sure blood-weave boots would be helpful, the small size meant the essence they could contain was already limited. Furthermore, one of the best ways to get yourself killed in a fight was to stumble as your boots suddenly broke apart around your feet, adding the final nail in the coffin of whether he would use bloodwood to fashion his boots.

    Thus, made of standard monster-based leather and other mundane materials, the boots were capped out at common rarity, meaning only one gem socket was possible. That had, of course, been another barrier gem, made to work in tandem with the simple inscriptions inlaid with the soles of the boots, resistance to corrosive substances.

    Helmet, cuirass, pants, boots, and bow, Rory had only prepared one last item: a pair of gloves. They were thickly padded, with nearly an inch of padding above the knuckles; in the worst-case scenario, Rory could punch the shit out of something without fear of his knuckles breaking. Otherwise, the gloves had the same effects and gem as his boots.

    His gear was ready. The only thing he hadn¡¯t changed was his cudgel-style weapon; Rory wasn¡¯t even sure it was worth bringing, considering how bad he was with close-quarters combat. He was just as liable to chop his arm off as wound his opponent.

    Oh, wait!

    Almost forgetting what may have been the most important things of all, he quickly ran outside and back toward the bound circle platform where Apostolos was seated.

    ¡°I had a feeling you might forget these,¡± the young man said, offering him a small pouch.

    ¡°Appreciate it.¡± Rory nodded.

    ¡°Can I ask, what are those anyway?¡± Apostolos asked, his eyes filled with curiosity.

    ¡°An innovation thanks to your near-death experience.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Rather than respond, Rory opened the pouch, revealing three small marbles.

    ¡°First,¡± Rory lifted one of the marbles. ¡°Ossified Blood Gem of Gradual Vitality,¡±

    ¡°I take it that it heals?¡±

    ¡°Bingo,¡± Rory said, placing it back within the pouch. ¡°Using what I learned from gem crafting, I repeated the process with an ossified gem. Fun tidbit: Ossified Gems, for whatever reason, have less than ten convergence points, meaning any effect they have placed upon them through said convergence points will be extremely weak. The main reason for the convergence effects is to direct the energies of the blood gem to stitch up small wounds as I receive them, a heal over time for small wounds.¡±

    ¡°And the next one?¡± Apostolos asked, pointing at the second of the three.

    ¡°Ossified Blood Gem of Rising Spirit. Unlike the first blood gem, which directs its essence payload to restore small wounds, this one directs the body to increase blood production and blood flow, naturally stimulating your physical performance.¡±

    Rory was glad that the young man had never heard of Viagra, as he was sure there was no way a teenage boy could have avoided making the joke based on the description Rory had just given about the second ossified blood gem.

    ¡°And the last one?¡± Apostolos pointed at the third and final gem within the pouch, the largest of the three by nearly three times.

    ¡°An ¡®oh shit¡¯ option. If, and only if, I receive a life-threatening wound, you are to feed this to me if I¡¯m unable to do it myself. It¡¯s a mimic of the ossified gem I made for you that saved your life. Unlike you, I don¡¯t need to bother with weird essence conversions or manipulation. Also, I forcibly condensed five ossified blood gems into this bad boy, only possible because they¡¯re all made from the same source essence.¡±

    ¡°What exactly does it¡­ do, though?¡± Apostolos asked, eyeing the gem warily.

    ¡°Its convergence effect is ¡®shock,¡¯ meaning if I take this, the effect will be¡­ potent. Again, if you need to get me the hell out of dodge, you only give this to me if I¡¯m going to die otherwise. Also, I would prefer to take it right before ascending to A6 for the best effect. So, if you need me to take it and I¡¯m out of it, you must do your best to force me to push my ascension. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Got it,¡± Apostolos answered, nodding slowly in affirmation.

    ¡°Good,¡± Rory said before glancing upward. ¡°Well, there is no such thing as a perfect moment. Only the current moment.¡±

    It was clear to Apostolos that his master, who always seemed in control -even when he got terribly distracted or made rather stupid jokes- was feeling genuinely nervous for the first time in¡­ Well, ever, at least for as long as Apostolos had been around.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± Apostolos offered, thinking back to his own near death at the hands -wings- of a monster well beyond his ability to tango with.

    ¡°No, I do.¡± Rory finally said, exhaling slowly. ¡°It¡¯s time to go kill a tier-six.¡±

 44. Conquering the Second Floor

    The Maw, once a mysterious cavern of unknown origin, was now a slightly less mysterious cavern of unknown origin. In truth, Rory had yet to explore much of the place, having only made it to the second floor with God knows how many more to go.

    The first floor was more like a welcome mat, with only two rooms on the entire floor. The second floor expanded massively. Deeper in the earth, it sprawled for miles with dozens, if not hundreds, of winding tunnels and caverns. Each cavern was always, at minimum, the size of a football stadium back on Earth. It had made for quite the exploration; it took nearly two years for Rory to have mapped out most of the second floor. While there were a few areas Rory still hadn¡¯t gotten to, they were of lesser importance when one considered that Rory had found, in the very epicenter of the sprawling maze of caves and tunnels, a massive cave -even by the standards of the second floor- three or four times the size of the next largest rooms. It had several entrances, but most importantly, as one neared it, there was an unmistakable aura, a pressure that felt like it forced you to lower your head in submission.

    Inside, Rory was confident, no, certain that the floor boss resided there. He¡¯d only ever peaked inside briefly. The cave was like a strange mix of rust-colored sand and grey ash, leading up to what looked like the Parthenon of Earth. Past that, Rory hadn¡¯t been able to make out much, but he was sure the boss was likely hanging out around there.

    That was all Rory had ever investigated about the boss¡¯s lair.

    Until now.

    ¡°Are you sure you want to do this alone?¡± Apostolos asked for the trillionth time as they rounded the corner of the last tunnel leading to the boss room.

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer not to, but then I¡¯ve got to do this solo,¡± Rory said truthfully. ¡°Plus, if it weren¡¯t for the fact that I have to battle a tier-six, I wouldn¡¯t even be testing my luck against one to begin with.¡±

    ¡°And the second skill selection is worth that much?¡±

    ¡°As I¡¯ve said before,¡± Rory sighed. ¡°It¡¯s likely going to be decades until my next ascension. Ascension skill selections are some of the best ways to get those really special skills.¡±

    ¡°Except for when you make them yourself,¡± Apostolos pointed out.

    ¡°Yeah, and the ability to make a new skill isn¡¯t easy.¡± Rory countered. ¡°Considering it involves coming up with an idea that¡¯s never existed before. Forging, woodwork, and fletching all existed back in our old universe. Runic Inscription and Gem Crafting didn¡¯t, hence how they were possible. Developing more ideas requires thinking far outside the box the more things are settled. No, if I want to position myself as best as possible for the future, I¡¯ve got to do this.¡±

    Apostolos sighed, with nothing left to say. It didn¡¯t help that every step felt as if they were pushing against the wind ever since they¡¯d rounded the last tunnel, now a straight shot to where Rory had mentally mapped the location of the boss room.

    Ignoring the fact that the pressure resisting their every step was also a dead giveaway that they were nearing the floor boss.

    For a moment, Rory felt like he could taste sand and ash on his tongue, his skin dry and prickling even before he entered the boss¡¯s den.

    Yeah, that¡¯s a whole lot of power. Not even the Gator of the Feathered Depths came close.

    The only time he¡¯d ever felt anything like this was the one time he¡¯d seen the Territory Alpha that ruled over the general vicinity of his settlement, a tier-six level sixty-one monster. It had torn apart a tier-five Alpha Variant monster rabbit as easily as Rory would tear apart a low tier-four or even tier-three monster.

    And Rory was about to pick a fight with a monster of similar standing.

    Maybe. The difference between a Territory Alpha, an Alpha Variant, and a regular monster all of the same tier is pretty damn significant.

    It was the only comfort Rory could afford; hopefully, the second-floor boss wasn¡¯t on the level of an Alpha Variant of its level bracket.

    Well, there was one other comfort Rory had. It had nothing to do with the monster he was about to face and everything to do with his preparations. Regarding gear, the stuff Rory had prepared was leagues beyond anything else he¡¯d ever made. Nearly all of them were sub-grade Rare. Items that were quasi-rare grade had similar power or ¡®potential¡¯ to genuine rare grade items, just with specific caveats. For the Ossified Gem Rory had used to save Apostolos, that caveat was it was unstable and only usable for a single person, Apostolos himself. As for the gear Rory was bringing to this fight, they were limited to usage against a single foe and unstable to the point that they would only last for a maximum of one hour once the fighting started.

    Such a tradeoff was the price of power, power that Rory could only hope would be enough to make up the difference between himself and a legitimate tier-six monster.

    On the bright side, this is the best chance I¡¯ve got. Trying to find a random tier-six monster out in the wild would be problematic in that if things went south, running away isn¡¯t much of an option when they can pursue you. I doubt whatever is waiting here will chase after me should I flee.

    The other benefit was that, based on the trends of the rest of the monsters found on the second floor, Rory had doubts that the boss would be anything higher than level sixty. A wild tier-six could just as easily be mid-tier-six, a battle that Rory was sure no amount of preparation would be enough to survive without simply blasting away with a railgun.

    ¡°You ready, master?¡± Rory was suddenly dragged out of his thoughts, standing only a few feet from a conspicuously door-sized entrance into the cave beyond.

    ¡°Hah. Ready as I can be.¡± Rory said, hiding the slight tremble in his hands.

    It¡¯s going to be okay.

    Nodding to Apostolos, the young man opened a pack and retrieved Rory¡¯s helmet. Taking it, Rory took one final deep breath before pulling it down upon his head. The dark-colored glass was almost perfectly see-through from within, akin to wearing a face-sized pair of sunglasses. Opening his interface for a moment, Rory half-smiled as he saw the display appear on the visor like something out of a sci-fi movie.

    I know it¡¯s only appearing that way because subconsciously, I feel like it should appear that way, but damn if that isn¡¯t cool.

    Focusing his ¡®vision¡¯ like he did when inspecting the convergence points on a gem, Rory got a sense of the ¡®aura¡¯ in the air, an instinctual sort of understanding of what he was facing.

    Ash and sand. Well, I could have guessed that easily enough.

    ¡°Pouch,¡± Rory said, sticking an open palm toward Apostolos. Responding, he rummaged through his bag, pulling out a small pouch filled with three reddish marbles. Retrieving the two smaller ones, he placed them in Rory¡¯s hand.

    Check and check.

    Reaching inside his helmet, Rory quickly stuck both marbles into his mouth and swallowed like they were horse pills.

    Euck. Well, it¡¯s not much worse than fish oil supplements.

    Feeling a small stream of warmth radiating from his stomach, the ossified blood gems were being absorbed, and Rory gave Apostolos a nod. Unslinging his bow from his back, Rory had nothing more to do.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Time to get this show on the road.

    Tapping the side of his helmet once, he sealed it shut. Faking a bravado that in no way reflected his true feelings, Rory stepped through the gateway, entering the oversized cave hundreds of meters in either direction. The dark stone began to slant downward, giving way to ash and sand before sloping back upward toward a single dune where the strange temple-like structure stood.

    Here we go.

    Taking his time to half-shamble, half-slide down toward the bottom of the small gulley, Rory began to trudge upward once he made sure nothing had appeared, never looking back at where Apostolos was watching.

    I can¡¯t give him the impression I need help at any point, or he might run in here early and ruin my opportunity.

    It felt unnatural once several minutes had passed and nothing had appeared, much less attacked Rory.

    Don¡¯t overthink it.

    Another few minutes passed in tense silence, the only sound his footsteps crunching on the dune beneath him.

    Reaching the cave¡¯s center, Rory trudged the last few yards between himself and the odd-looking Parthenon-styled temple, pillars of sandstone surrounding the inner chamber. There was nothing inside save for a single fuck-off sized mural. On it, there were three clear depictions. The first was what looked like a giant snake or perhaps a worm. The next was what appeared to be a cocoon or chrysalis. The final of the three murals depicted a creature that looked awfully similar to a butterfly.

    Is this a puzzle, or-

    Right on cue, the entire ground seemed to tremble.

    -Oh, fuck me, how clich¨¦ can we get?

    The boss waiting to appear until after you¡¯d investigate the ancient temple with murals depicting an unknown creature?

    Yeah, that was about as basic of a plotline as you could imagine, something out of a B-grade horror movie.

    If it works, it works, I guess.

    Gripping his bow tightly, Rory pushed a thread of Pneuma through his gear, activating the countdown as he tapped into their energies.

    Not a moment too late either, the wall in front of him exploded as something massive swept through the entire temple, destroying everything like a wrecking ball through a brittle old home. Tapped into the enhanced blood weave armor, Rory tossed himself flat to the ground as whatever was crashing through the temple swept just overhead. Once he was sure it had passed, Rory jumped to his feet, his head rapidly swiveling until he locked onto the cause of the sudden destruction.

    I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised.

    There, dominating the view, was a giant, oversized worm. Based on the portion emerging from the dune, it had to be at least twenty feet in diameter and thirty meters long. Its skin was an ugly mess of flesh, as if it had repeatedly been treated to third-degree burns. Rory got a strange sense from the monster, the same general aura as his surroundings.

    ¡°Ash and sand,¡± He huffed. There was no mistaking it.

    Curious, Rory examined the creature with his interface.

    <u>Adolescent Ashworm</u>

    Level: 60

    A monster spoken of in whispered legends, the Ashworm is a close cousin of a Sandworm. It can live for tens of thousands of years as a simple pupa, hundreds of thousands as an adolescent, and upwards to millions of years beyond. Due to their natural strength, ashworms carry an aura of their natural affinities of ash and sand.

    The good news was the Ashworm wasn¡¯t an Alpha Variant.

    The bad news was that even an adolescent was already at tier six.

    It is a durability-focused monster if the size is anything to go by.

    Having gathered all the information he could, Rory sprung into action, not wanting to allow the Ashworm to strike again without retaliating for the first sweeping attack. Arms and legs pumping and his blood weave metaphorically humming away, Rory sighted the monster for an instant before firing his first return shot. The arrow raced through the air nearly as fast as a max-charged Blood Legacy shot before exploding against the monster.

    Oh yeah, Rory hadn¡¯t even bothered bringing more than a few regular arrows. Something like ninety percent of his arrows were either explosive arrows or some other trick arrow.

    Letting the small cloud of debris part, Rory took stock of the damage done as the Ashworm undulated in irritation.

    On a regular tier-five monster, I¡¯d say that¡¯s a pretty damn good start. On a tier-six monster that big¡­ Lot of work to do.

    The flesh of the Ashworm wasn¡¯t terribly durable, given the extent of the damage. Still, there was just so much to begin with that even a cannonball-sized wound was barely a scratch.

    The Ashworm swung the length of its upper half like an arm sweeping crumbs from a table. Rory was forced to jump up with every ounce of his strength as the giant worm swept through the ash and sand he¡¯d just been standing upon. Mid-air, Rory fired another arrow at the big worm, resulting in another angry writhing but little else.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Rory cursed under his breath as he slammed back onto the dune, rapidly firing several more arrows at the titanic beast. Each arrow crashing against the beast¡¯s flesh was as similar in strength to a Blood Legacy shot charged to around seventy or seventy-five percent. Had the Gator of the Feathered Depths faced such bombardment, even the powerful level fifty-six Alpha Variant would have been torn to shreds.

    And yet the Ashworm merely trembled with annoyance.

    As Rory darted around the dune, ducking, weaving, and leaping to avoid the Ashworm, he couldn¡¯t help but feel something was off. Sure, the monster was ungodly durable due entirely to the beast¡¯s sheer size, but it wasn¡¯t that dangerous otherwise.

    Yeah, something¡¯s wrong.

    Rory wasn¡¯t about to be lulled into a false sense of security. Thus, he was more than ready as the Ashworm suddenly rose high, looking down at Rory from above.

    Here -something- comes!

    If the Ashworm had been giving off a steady but bearable pressure before, the same pressure exploded in intensity as the worm appeared to tremble as if regurgitating something. Rory wasn¡¯t about to let it do whatever it was doing freely, firing repeatedly at its face, shoving its head around, and tearing massive chunks from its body, but the worm remained undeterred. The upward movement of its trembling body soon reached its apex just beneath its head as it opened its giant mouth, revealing an endless vortex, revealing nothing within but an empty gullet.

    Reacting on instinct, his entire body screamed danger, as from that empty vortex within, a blast of ash and sand shot out more like a laser than anything else. There was no time, no way to dodge such a blast traveling so fast; his cognition attribute was further ahead than even his boosted physical attributes, meaning that while he could mentally react, his body was a step behind.

    While it was true he couldn¡¯t physically react in time, his mind was fast enough to activate every single barrier gem he had within any piece of his equipment. Instantly, six layers of hardened Pneuma appeared in front of him, an overlaying shield of magic protection. The beam of ash and sand collided with the air shields, two of the six layers instantly shattering as Rory thrust out his hand, activating the burning gems in tandem with the barrier gems. Drinking deeply from his armor¡¯s essence and Pneuma reserves, the barrier gems reinforced themselves, and the pressure bearing down on Rory felt like he was physically holding back a charging rhino.

    Gritting his teeth, Rory sat on his feet as much as he could within the dune beneath. Now, both arms outstretched, he did his best to hold onto the concentration, keeping the barriers from shattering as he channeled power from his armor.

    One by one, the barriers began to crack and shatter until, with only a single barrier remaining, the beam attack exhausted itself.

    Holy shit.

    Rory panted; the sheer effort of being the intermediary of such forces was almost too much for his tier-five body.

    Looking upward, clearly, he wasn¡¯t the only one who had suffered. The Ashworm looked as if it had been the victim of an oil fire. Its already mangled and burnt flesh was burnt even more raw, and its entire face was cracking and crumbling around itself.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re not immune to your own attack. Good to know.¡± Rory huffed. As exhausting as withstanding the attack had been, the gradual restorative effects of the two ossified blood gems he¡¯d taken proved their worth, quickly gaining a second wind.

    Redoubling the effect of his burning gems slotted into his armor, Rory began to sprint around the worn-down worm, firing arrows off as quickly as he could. Each step he took felt like something was gradually tearing apart in his body; he was operating at a level an entire tier past where he was currently, and his body was paying for it.

    But it doesn¡¯t matter as long as I can win.

    The explosive arrows began to tear massive chunks from the oversized worm, concentrated explicitly around the segment just beneath its head, where it had suffered the most significant amount of backlash from the effect of its beam attack.

    In a way, the worm had been the architect of its own demise. While excessively powerful, its beam was too much even for its own insane durability to take lightly. While it tried to swipe its body at Rory, it had slowed considerably, its damaged body struggling to move.

    I can do this!

    Firing one last arrow from directly behind the giant worm, which had lost track of Rory as he blurred around like he was skating on ice, the mangled neck of the monster gave in as the gigantic head of the beast crashed into the sand below.

    How¡¯s that, you oversized garden worm?

    Dropping on his ass, Rory stared at the headless monster before frowning.

    Why don¡¯t I feel¡­ more?

    Typically, killing a monster would result in energy filling your body, no matter how slight. Felling a tier-six should have been more energy than he¡¯d ever felt before.

    Fuck!

    Rory leaped to his feet, expecting a sudden attack, but none came his way. Feeling increasingly wary, Rory waited several minutes; the only thing of note to happen was the body of the giant worm slowly crumbling and breaking down like a shattered rock.

    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Rory finally muttered after several more minutes of bated breath. Approaching the ¡®corpse¡¯ of the worm, Rory poked at it as an entire sheet of flesh fell away in a shower of dusty corpse-stone.

    Free of the obstruction, Rory sucked in a sharp breath.

    There, inside the worm, was a cocoon.

    Well, shit.

    Things were about to get, unfortunately, more interesting.

 45. Fear the Reaper

    Fearing what he was about to see, Rory examined the Chrysalis as information appeared on the visor of his helmet.

    <u>Ashworm Chrysalis</u>

    Level: ??

    When an Ashworm reaches maturity or is otherwise forced into a premature metamorphosis, it retreats into a chrysalis formed of its Spiritual Body, utilizing the entirety of its remaining vital energy from its Ashworm stage. If an Ashworm is forced to pupate prematurely, the Chrysalis will rapidly accelerate its metamorphosis to ensure long-term survival.

    Rory didn¡¯t need further prodding, instantly firing an explosive arrow into the Chrysalis. As the description implied, the Chrysalis seemed unharmed, but Rory knew better. Thanks to Apostolos, Rory had some understanding of Spiritual Bodies. They weren¡¯t ¡®truly¡¯ invincible; they just appeared that way while the reserve of anima -the conversion of durability and overall vital energy- remained. For a monster with as much durability and overall vital energy as the Ashworm, even with only an eighty percent conversion efficiency to anima, the Chrysalis would be damn near unkillable without extreme attack potency.

    Thankfully, extreme attack potency was exactly what Rory had on his side for the time.

    I¡¯ve got to kill it now before whatever is gestating inside has a chance to emerge! At the very least, I must burn through as much of the anima sustaining the Chrysalis as possible. Chances are whatever emerges will be weakened if I do.

    Another arrow already knocked, something caught Rory¡¯s attention from the corner of his eye, movement in the sand to his left. Glancing over, Rory noticed what appeared to be wind rippling across the dune.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Rory said, skin suddenly crawling. ¡°There¡¯s no wind down here.¡±

    So, of course, that was when, from the sand, hundreds of worms began lurching out at him, ranging from only an inch or two long upwards to two or three feet.

    ¡°Oh, fuck off!¡± Rory yelped. He¡¯d never been a fan of small, wriggly things like worms or maggots, and this was right up that ick valley.

    The arrow he¡¯d intended for the Chrysalis was sent off course as he was forced to change target. Exploding, it instantly evaporated several of the tiny ashworms. In return, Rory was thrown from his feet, the force of the explosion almost directly in his face.

    God damn it!

    Scurrying to his feet, Rory had to temporarily drop his bow as a three-foot-long worm landed squarely on his chest, its head lunging toward his visor and latching on with a sickly-sounding pop.

    Attached to his visor, Rory saw a tongue-like appendage lash out and grab his visor -because, of course, the ashworm had a prehensile tongue- reminding Rory of an alien probe you¡¯d see in a movie.

    Nope, nope, nope. Fuckkkkk that.

    Without even thinking about what he was doing, Rory grabbed the worm and tore it apart as he ripped the creepy creature off himself. Grey ooze sprayed over him, but thankfully, his luck came through for once. The blood was ordinary, with no acidic or otherwise worrying properties.

    Freed of the worm, there were only more worms on their way.

    Alright, new plan.

    Bow and arrow would be too slow to handle all the pests. Needing a moment to breathe, Rory threw his hands out like an umpire declaring a base-stealer safe.

    The plentitude of baby ashworms leaping through the air -how they leaped was a mystery to Rory- suddenly found themselves repelled as a barrier sprung into existence around Rory, like a thin glass ball.

    Think!

    The barrier wouldn¡¯t last long; it wasn¡¯t great against physical attacks, and the worms were, unfortunately, quite physical.

    He hadn¡¯t brought his macahuitl along; Rory hadn¡¯t considered a world where a battle of physical strength was ever in the cards against a tier-six.

    How was I supposed to know a swarm of baby worms would appear!?

    His bow was essentially useless. First, the bow couldn''t keep pace against a swarm of weak monsters like the baby worms. The second issue was that the bow was meant to be used only against a single chosen enemy. Switching targets could potentially unravel the entire thing. Hell, the only reason his armor wasn¡¯t failing was they¡¯d come to attack him as he was battling his chosen target; he couldn¡¯t switch off the armor like you could choose to simply not attack with a bow.

    No bow. No melee weapon¡­ Wait!

    Quickly reaching into his quiver of arrows, what Rory pulled free wasn¡¯t an arrow but a tough-looking chord. It was nothing more than a backup string for his old bow; bowstrings were far less durable than the bow itself, after all. It had always been his policy to have a backup just in case a monster managed to target and wreck the bowstring. The odds were low, but they hadn¡¯t been zero.

    I¡¯m not sure I have any better ideas; the only other thing I can think of is getting stabby with my arrows.

    Pulling the tough chord free, Rory held it between his hands for a moment, closing his eyes and focusing as intensely as possible.

    I¡¯m not great at this stuff, but really, all I¡¯m doing is imagining it as more. I¡¯m not strictly changing it.

    Drawing and manipulating pneuma into the chord, Rory was inspired to utilize Essence Spark in tandem with his raw pneuma manipulation. Channeling, Rory instead focused his newly acquired Lattice affinity on the chord. Within a moment -and a pounding head later- the ordinary-looking chord suddenly glowed a light blue, the surface refracting light as it landed upon it.

    That¡¯ll have to do!

    As far as impromptu weapons went, the hastily fashioned whip would have taken the cake as the most out-there creation. Grabbing one end of the crudely fashioned whip, Rory cracked it once as he tested it. It made an audible crack, performing exactly as he¡¯d hoped.

    It was perfect timing, given that the barrier collapsed not half a second later; the entire ordeal had taken less than ten seconds.

    ¡°Come at me!¡± Rory shouted as the whip slashed through the air, slicing through worms with abandon. The baby ashworms were far from tough monsters; Rory suspected that they ordinarily would never be seen outside the relative safety deep within the dunes in this life cycle stage. Given they were inside a single cave and not some massive desert, the worms didn¡¯t have a choice to do anything but sacrifice themselves to buy time for the Ashworm within the Chrysalis that had likely been their progenitor.

    Rory felt a rush of satisfaction as the whip continued slashing through the horde of oversized but manageable worms. Beginning to feel confident, he even risked a quick cackle.

    So that was when things took a turn for the south.

    Somewhere within their worm brains, they realized they could no longer hurt the man swinging a whip around with reckless abandon, so they changed tactics. They continued to leap toward Rory as they had before. It wasn¡¯t until they reached the range of his whip that they swelled with energy for a split second before exploding in a wave of gore and magic.

    Taken off guard by the first worms exploding, Rory stumbled back a step.

    Which was ultimately a mistake. The single misstep cost Rory another split second, resulting in even more worms sailing through the air and piling upon him.

    Oh no.

    Aware of what was about to happen a split second before it did, Rory activated the burning and barrier gems within every piece of armor containing them as he curled inward as best he could.

    Before he was buried in a massive explosion, it seemed as if every worm opted to explode in a chain reaction of gore and ash-based magic.

    Several seconds of deafening silence passed as the explosion resided. Left in its wake, Rory was within a large crater, worse for wear. It was thankful the baby ashworms couldn¡¯t have been more than tier three amongst the strongest of them; the energy within their body was individually only enough for a distracting explosion, but together, they¡¯d created something far more damaging.

    Standing up from the center of the newly made crater, sand and ash seared together in a molten mass, Rory hurt everywhere. It was thankful he¡¯d been as fast to react as he had. The dual gem activation had massively enhanced his armor¡¯s physical durability, protecting his fleshier body.

    Which was to say, he still looked like he¡¯d been on a beach during a tornado, his entire body sandblasted and burnt.

    But I¡¯m alive.

    Limping his way toward where the Chrysalis stood alone in a field of corpse stone, Rory awkwardly raised his bow. Knocking an arrow, he fired it into the dark Chrysalis. Again, he repeated the process, managing twelve arrows before the Chrysalis quivered.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Either it¡¯s out of anima to sustain the Spiritual Body, or-

    A crack ran down the cocoon as a rush of power poured out.

    -or it¡¯s hatching. Shit.

    The entire cocoon split apart with a final shake as Rory was tossed nearly a dozen feet away. A wave of power pressed down upon him, and instantly, Rory knew things had taken a turn for the terrible.

    Needing to see what he was up against, Rory looked toward the top of the ash dune. There, lazily floating in the air, was a giant moth the size of a man. Compared to the size of the original ashworm, it was beyond diminutive. Still, the raw aura radiating out from it alarmed Rory. Examining the monster, Rory froze.

    <u>Reaping Ash Coscinocera-Famished</u>

    Level: 61

    Born from the Chrysalis of an ashworm, the Reaping Ash Coscinocera is a bringer of smoking erosion and death. Forced to pupate before true maturity and further forced to emerge early from its cocoon, the Famished Reaping Ash Coscinocera is devoid of nearly the entirety of its potential strength.

    ¡°And it¡¯s still level sixty-one even when reduced to the near absolute max,¡± Rory murmured, a sinking feeling in his gut. ¡°God damn,¡±

    The wise choice would be to flee. That much should have been obvious. Glancing at how much time he had left on his unstable gear, Rory was shocked to see he¡¯d burnt through thirty-six minutes worth of his total hour.

    And it¡¯s only been five minutes since I started. Tops.

    He hadn¡¯t fully realized how much energy he¡¯d been forced to burn through to damage the Ashworm enough to pupate and withstand the brunt of its big attack. He had less than half of his remaining time, and the same monster had just finished undergoing a metamorphosis and increasing in level by one.

    The smart choice was to flee.

    ¡°In the words of a once great actor,¡± Rory said, frowning at his own stupidity. ¡°I ain¡¯t hear no fat lady sing.¡±

    Sighting the floating moth, Rory took a deep breath before releasing the bow string.

    The good news was¡­. Well, there was no good news.

    The bad news was that the arrow never even reached the monster. As it reached thirty meters, it flared in a sudden blaze, scattering into ash almost instantly.

    The worse news was Rory had fully lifted all restraint on the output of his unstable gear. Still, the arrow hadn¡¯t been able to pass through the eroding aura generated by the oversized moth.

    And the worst news was the moth finally seemed to notice Rory. Turning to face him, it began to sweep its wings forward, a gust of eroding air blown toward him. If it hadn¡¯t been for his eyes, which had been highly trained due to his work with Gem Crafting, Rory doubted he would have noticed things within the blown breeze.

    Countless flakes, imperceptibly small scales from its wings.

    Good as his eyes were, they weren¡¯t that good that he could make out details of the scale flakes. Making the safe guess that they were extremely dangerous, Rory began to sprint with all his speed out of the way, running a large loop around the ash dune as the Reaping Ash Coscinocera continued to blow its terrifying scales toward him.

    As if to prove a point, when Rory ducked behind some of the temple¡¯s remains that its prior form had smashed apart, the scale flakes that landed upon the stone began to sizzle and carve tiny tracks through the stone.

    ¡°Erosion, and just ordinary sharpness. Wonderful,¡± Rory panted. His body was seriously beginning to hurt. He¡¯d maintained an immensely boosted physical state for longer than he should have.

    At my rate of physical investment, this is what, one and a half, two, maybe even two and a half tiers worth of physical attributes boosting?

    Rory struggled to remember times his entire body ached as much as it currently did. Maybe a few times during his time on Aelia when he¡¯d really overdone it. Aside from that, his only other memory of such aches had been when he¡¯d managed to snap two tendons at once when screwing around in the gym as a high schooler, a lesson for not ego-lifting.

    Focus!

    Rory¡¯s attention snapped back into focus. His mind had wandered due to the sheer exhaustion he was forcing his body to endure. Staying focused and not slipping into a waking daydream was a struggle, well past the limits of his body.

    His little whip gimmick wouldn¡¯t do anything; it had only been useful against the ashworm grubs because of their low tier. It wasn¡¯t just his whip that wouldn¡¯t work; his arrows didn¡¯t have the punching power to pass through its aura without-

    Oh. Right. Barrier gem.

    Truthfully, he¡¯d forgotten about the gems within his bow. Peeking out from his rubble cover, Rory saw the moth freely blowing more of the eroding wind toward the temple¡¯s ruins, the erosion effect of the wind and the sheer sharpness of the scale flakes quickly reducing what remained of the temple to ash and dust.

    ¡°Gotta... keep¡­ moving.¡± Rory forced himself to stand, forced his body to ignore the growing aches as it internally screamed as he ran as fast as he could, the moth turning its continuous wing beats to follow his path. Gaining as much ground as he could, Rory paused momentarily to turn and release another arrow at the moth. Unlike the last arrow, it managed to make it at least halfway through the moth¡¯s aura of erosion, the barrier effect shielding the arrow.

    Almost!

    The issue with ¡®almost¡¯ was it only counted for horseshoes and hand grenades.

    I need to get the arrow through somehow!

    Try as he might, Rory couldn¡¯t think of an answer. So strong was the condensed aura of erosion around the moth that even a full-powered arrow clad in a maxed-out barrier couldn¡¯t punch through before it burnt up. The enhanced blood weave was already pushing its maximum output, burning through what remained of its usable time like water down a drain. He didn¡¯t have any special skills that could assist in his arrow punching through, nor was his skill with pneuma anywhere close to good enough to attempt to counteract the moth¡¯s aura.

    The only thing I can do at this point is to retreat. It is better to live to see another day than die and end it all here.

    Preparing to flee, Rory paused. His brain tickled as if whispering to him, and he knew he should flee.

    But.

    But Rory didn¡¯t want to. It wasn¡¯t some faulty belief in himself, a sudden surge of courage, or dedicating himself to a noble cause.

    He simply didn¡¯t want to.

    I¡¯ve spent something like six or seven damn years to reach A6! And I¡¯m going to back out now? Take my consolation prize of a standard ascension?

    ¡°Nah,¡± Rory shook his head, stubbornness winning out. ¡°Screw that.¡±

    Stupidity, pure and simple. Any other time and Rory knew he would have fled without a problem, he didn¡¯t concern himself much with his pride, but he¡¯d worked way too damn hard to get here.

    Some people have pride, ego, a just cause, or other great motivations.

    Roy had a head as hard as stone and a stubbornness to match.

    ¡°New plan,¡± Rory¡¯s mind began to whizz now that he¡¯d decided he wouldn¡¯t flee. ¡°I need to get an arrow to punch through. The way I see it, that moth is obscenely dangerous, offensively speaking. Still, it can¡¯t have much left in the tank from a vitality standpoint.¡±

    When it had just been an Adolescent Ashworm, the monster had a titanic pool of vitality and durability, its primary defense as it never bothered to dodge. The trade-off of such a defense was that by the time it was forced into its Chrysyalis state, it had already taken immense damage, leaving far less vitality and durability to convert into anima. Forced into chrysalis form, the conversion to anima wasted another twenty percent of its life force.

    Then, while in its chrysalis form, Rory had managed to pound it with more than ten unrestrained arrows.

    Which means?

    If Rory could get some arrows to land, he had no doubts the moth would fall like any other monster.

    So, I need to get the arrows closer.

    It was the same problem as before, yet now Rory had an idea since he¡¯d decided he wasn¡¯t planning to flee. If he couldn¡¯t get the arrows to survive the flight through its aura, why not fire them inside?

    Was it stupid?

    Immensely.

    Effective?

    Yet to be seen.

    Ehhh, good enough for me.

    As much as Rory¡¯s body hurt -it felt as if his body was screaming as it was torn apart like taffy- Rory put it aside. Not because he was that pain tolerant, but he¡¯d come up with the rather clever idea of processing that pain in a secondary train of thought and then put that train of thought to the side. As long as it never switched to his primary focus, he could force himself to continue moving well beyond the physical limits of his pain tolerance.

    ¡°Going to absolutely pay for that later¡­ If there¡¯s a later.¡±

    Rather than sprinting around the moth at an unchanging safe distance like a moon orbiting a planet, Rory began testing his patience as he slowly drew closer like a penny rolling down a funnel. As much as he would have loved to charge the monster directly, he couldn¡¯t afford to take the direct force of its beating wings. If he was going to close in, he had to do so from outside its attack angle.

    Rory neared the Coscinocera closer and closer, like a predator circling its prey, until at last, he felt as if he could stick his hand out and feel the aura directly, the moth struggling to keep up with the sheer speed of his heightened attributes.

    Had Rory been in a sounder state of mind, he would have noticed that the enhanced blood weave cuirass he wore had been forced to adapt, the metal riblike protrusions he¡¯d added to the base blood weave had stabbed into himself like the overgrown tusks on a boar would stab into their own head. Even the metal ridges on his blood weave legs had begun stabbing inward as they sought more and more essence to sustain the expeditious rate he burned through the blood weave.

    Almost there.

    Racing one last loop around the giant moth, Rory dashed behind it before surging forward within thirty meters. For a moment, he was reminded of a scene he¡¯d seen in Lord of the Rings, a favorite of his grandparents. Defending their keep from the forces of evil, a Uruk-Hai had managed to blow up the gates of the valiant defenders by charging down a short gauntlet even while assailed by a rain of arrows.

    Rory didn¡¯t consider himself amongst the forces of evil; he¡¯d made a point of not going down the route of a dark lord after all, but Rory did quite understand the feelings of that Uruk-Hai. Entering the range of the moth¡¯s aura, it was like Rory had exposed himself to enemy fire. It felt as if a sandblaster set to max had been turned on him, his flesh instantly torn and shredded asunder.

    Gritting his teeth, Rory activated the gems of his armor as they flared to life. The searing, eroding aura lessened, but it wasn¡¯t enough.

    More!

    He pushed more essence into and through the gems, his time rapidly depleting. He had less than five minutes, and each second was vanishing fifteen seconds at a time. All it took was basic division to realize he had less than twenty seconds remaining.

    Making it to within ten meters of the monster moth, Rory dropped to one knee as he activated one last key function: his helmet¡¯s gems and their inscriptions. The aura that tore him apart lessened even further as the effect of the helmet activated, a null zone projected outward. Drawing the bowstring back, Rory released an arrow. With only fifteen seconds remaining, the arrow slammed into the back of the moth, skewering the beast before exploding within its body, the monster shuddering and convulsing violently.

    Reacting, it turned to face him as the brunt of its scale flakes and erosion wind bombarded him; even the projected null zone did little under the combined force.

    Even if Rory wanted to flee, he¡¯d passed the event horizon. The only way through was forward.

    Drawing another arrow, Rory no longer felt pain.

    Mainly because he¡¯d been absolutely scoured of his pain receptors.

    Twelve.

    Another arrow flew forward, slamming into the moth from the front, as another explosion happened within its body. Gouts of shiny grey blood sprayed out from its body as the moth paused its wingbeats, unable to continue for a moment.

    Nine.

    Rory was confident he was still firing arrows upon the Coscinocera, but he couldn¡¯t tell for sure. His mind had retreated inward to a dark, isolated place, a barely remaining thread of awareness the only indicator his body was responding to his commands by sheer force of will.

    Seven.

    Arrow.

    Five.

    Explosion.

    Three.

    Arrow.

    One.

    Explosion.

    Rory knew his armor had failed at that point; the countdown had finished. It was only intuitively that he knew as much as there was nothing for Rory to see or feel; he was a dimming light in a dark void. Floating there, even that began to fade as Rory could only hold out hope for one shot.

    I really hope Apostolos gets me that Revival Gem quickly.

 46. Stupid is as Stupid does

    Apostolos was pacing from his viewpoint of the battle, peeking in but avoiding ever setting foot into the boss monster¡¯s domain.

    ¡°Blood weave is absolute bullshit,¡± Apostolos muttered as he watched the battle ensue. At first, nothing had happened. He¡¯d watched his master make the uneventful journey to the cavern¡¯s center before entering a strange building. He¡¯d never seen anything like it before, but then there were many things Apostolos had never seen before.

    Shortly after his master entered the strange building, Apostolos felt a tremor pass through the ground as something massive rose out of the dunes from the ash and dust. It seemed to look at the building before it began to build up a winding swing, using its own head and body like an oversized flail as it demolished the stone structure in a single earth-shattering strike.

    Worried for his master for only a moment, it vanished as his master sprung out, moving faster than he¡¯d ever seen him move before. He was like a living ghost, there one moment, gone the next.

    Blood weave is so unfair.

    The way his master seemed to almost teleport across the sandy battlefield was beyond anything a tier-five focused on crafting should be capable of.

    Of course, that was entirely due to the aforementioned blood weave. Ordinarily, the blood weave made him faster and stronger. The enhanced -albeit unstable- blood weave dialed that up to twelve.

    Even the damage his arrows were inflicting boggled Apostolos¡¯s mind. He¡¯d seen what a maxed-out Blood Legacy arrow could do from his old bow. Now, every arrow was hit with a similar force, perhaps marginally weaker than a truly maxed-out Blood Legacy.

    Yet for all that power displayed by his master and the potent gear he was using, the monster, apparently called an Ashworm, proved precisely why it was a tier-six. Tanking dozens of explosive arrows, the Ashworm continued its struggle until, at last, it seemed to grow tired of his master, or perhaps it was a move born of desperation. It reared up, and his master, not being a total idiot, saw the moment to slam several arrows directly into its face.

    Yet the Ashworm remained undeterred, charging up before releasing a ray of potent magic, an affinity within the pneuma that Apostolos could sense even from as far away as he was. So much raw, condensed pneuma would have vaporized Apostolos if he attempted to block it, leaving nothing behind, not even the hint of a whisper.

    Apostolos could only watch in horror from where he was, everything moving in slow motion. It was simply too fast, fired from too close, and even massively boosted as his master was, there was no chance to dodge.

    Rather than witness the total annihilation of his master, though, what Apostolos instead witnessed was several barriers springing into existence between his master and the giant worm, just in time for the erosion ray to strike it head-on. Only a few seconds passed, yet they felt like they contained hours. The barriers were destroyed one by one until Apostolos thought all hope was lost. That was, until the ashworm ran out of steam, and the magic beam ended.

    Get ¡®em!

    Just as Apostolos realized the opportunity, so too did his master. Arrow after arrow exploded against the monster until, at last, its gigantic head fell free, the arrows striking with enough precision to saw through its thick neck.

    Unable to help, Apostolos jumped excitedly, pumping his fist and cheering.

    ¡°He did it!¡± Apostolos was excited, his blood pumping as if he were the one in the battle. In fairness, it had been the most intense battle Apostolos had ever seen. The Ashworm would have easily squashed the Gator of the Feathered Depths, yet his master had prevailed.

    Some time passed as Apostolos waited for some notification to appear, such as a notice of the clearing of the second floor of the Maw or something.

    When no such thing appeared, Apostolos began to feel nervous.

    This feeling was validated when countless things appeared out of the sand. As far away as he was, Apostolos couldn¡¯t make them out other than there was something.

    For nearly a minute straight, his master fought the mysterious things that had appeared. His master seemed to be whipping something around to defend himself. Just as Apostolos was allowing himself to feel hope once more, one of the things exploded in front of his master, throwing him off balance.

    Then he was buried under a pile of the things, and an instant later, an explosion rocked the area, easily visible from his spot hundreds of meters away.

    Holding his breath, Apostolos once more watched with bated breath as the debris cleared, revealing his master. He wasn¡¯t missing any appendages, so as best as Apostolos could figure, his master had managed to withstand the explosion somehow.

    Probably those gems again.

    As the battle with the unknown assailants raged, Apostolos noticed the carcass of the Ashworm breaking down, revealing what looked like a dark grey egg-like structure within the remains.

    After surviving the explosion, his master approached it, drawing his bow. Again and again, his master fired the mighty arrows within the egg thing. At the same time, Apostolos was sure his eyes weren¡¯t playing tricks on him; the cocoon seemed immune to damage.

    Wait, is that it? Is it formed of a Spiritual Body like I am?

    If that were the case, all his master needed to do was continue the bombardment until it was depleted of anima, at which time-

    Apostolos¡¯s train of thought was halted as the cocoon suddenly ripped apart, and his master was thrown down the ashy sand dune. Floating where the cocoon had been previously, there appeared a man-sized moth. Even from this distance, Apostolos could feel the pressure emanating from the monster.

    Run away, master!

    While Apostolos knew nothing about the mysterious moth, the sheer pressure radiating from the thing told him it was far more dangerous than the Ashworm -a glorified meat tank- had been.

    Apostolos saw his master attempt to fire an arrow at the monster. Yet, it never even got close, burning into cinders once it got within thirty meters.

    Seriously, run away!

    Apostolos was confident that his master was outclassed at this point. Sure, the unstable blood weave had pushed the physical attributes of his master far higher than a tier-five human should be capable of, maybe even more than a tier-six human could manage, but that wasn¡¯t without cost. Each time his master had utilized blood weave for any extended period in the past, he¡¯d complain for days afterward about how it always made him sore and his body ache like hell.

    And that was when he was running around with probably less than half the speed and strength he was currently drawing upon.

    His master continued to zip around the landscape, doing his best to wound the monster, but his arrows couldn¡¯t pierce the divide. The closest any got was reaching roughly fifteen meters of the total thirty before burning away like an ember extinguished by a cold wind.

    At that point, Apostolos was sure his master would abandon ship. He was, for the most part, practical and logical, with a sense of pride that was largely untethered by any sense of machoism and a sense of general humility that sometimes bordered on self-mocking.

    So, why hasn¡¯t he run away yet?

    He¡¯d seen him duck behind a piece of rubble of what remained of the odd building.

    He must be planning to flee now.

    A sinking feeling suddenly set into Apostolo¡¯s gut as he continued to fail to see his master abandon the mission.

    Sure, he wasn¡¯t a prideful man in the arrogant sense, nor was he overly self-indulgent or too sure of himself.

    But if there was one thing his master could be at times, it was stubborn and short-sighted over the stupidest things.

    ¡°Oh, by Eon, he¡¯s planning to stay, isn¡¯t he?¡± Apostolos groaned.

    And sure enough, when he finally saw his master dash out from his hiding spot, it was toward the monster, firing an arrow and racing around the oversized moth. Faster and faster, he circled the creature as it dawned upon Apostolos what he was about to do.

    Palming his face, Apostolos groaned.

    ¡°He wants to shoot the stupid ass arrow from inside its range.¡±

    Apostolos could understand the logic; it was relatively straightforward and, in a sense, made sense.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    That was precisely why Apostolos could only watch in increasing terror, knowing that nothing would save his master from his stupid stubbornness.

    Stupid is as stupid does.

    Taking the plunge, his master entered the area of effect around the moth, and instantly, Apostolos could tell things were worse than he ever could have assumed from where he was. Armor and flesh alike began to be swept away in shimmering heat and eroding wind. Pushing on, he got close to ten meters from the monster before planting himself in place, and it appeared as if the effect of the monster¡¯s aura suddenly lessened, if only marginally. Close enough, his master shot an arrow into the backside of the oversized moth, resulting in a rather painful-looking internal explosion of the monster.

    Surely?

    The monster moth turned on his master, bombarding him with its wingbeats. Again, Apostolos¡¯s terror redoubled as his master was destroyed en masse, scoured out of existence by the monster¡¯s aura and magic.

    Shit, I¡¯ve got to move now!

    There was no more time to delay, no more seeing how things would pan out. His master was going to die, win or lose. Sprinting with all his might, Apostolos watched as his master, now little more than a hunk of meat vaguely resembling a person, managed to fire several more arrows into the moth.

    With one final arrow, the moth finally dropped. The sheer power of each arrow was too much for a monster that had been leached of so much of its raw life force even before it had emerged from its cocoon.

    That wasn¡¯t what Apostolos honestly cared about, in truth. What he was more focused on was his master, still positioned on one knee with an arm pulled back as if he were holding a bow.

    Except the bow and armor were gone; the only thing that had somehow survived was his helmet. His body was horrifying to look at, flayed damn near to the bone, blood, and organs freely sagging out of his desecrated body. Swallowing back a surge of bile at the sheer state of his master, Apostolos was there only seconds later. Without concern for a monster attacking out of nowhere, Apostolos could sprint several hundred meters up and down an ash dune in only a little over fifteen seconds.

    ¡°No, no, no.¡± Apostolos couldn¡¯t help himself, the words spilling free as he observed the state his master was in from up close. It was as if he had been bathed in acid until only an inch or so of meat remained on his bones. Even worse was the putrid smell of burnt flesh.

    There is no way he can come back from this, is there?

    Apostolos shook his head, galvanizing himself. It wasn¡¯t Apostolos¡¯s job to question his master. Forcing the revulsion and horror of the scene to the back of his mind, Apostolos inwardly cringed as he removed the helmet from his master. As the only thing that hadn¡¯t been directly exposed to the effect of the moth, his face was the only portion of his master that looked human.

    ¡°Master!¡± Apostolos shouted, smacking his master across the face. He didn¡¯t want to do so, but if his master was still there, he needed to snap to attention now.

    ¡°Huh?¡± In what should have been impossible feet, his master suddenly stirred, his eyes fluttering.

    ¡°You¡¯re about one bad breeze away from death and-¡±

    ¡°Save it.¡± His master responded with surprising lucidity. ¡°Revival Gem. Now.¡±

    Apostolos scrambled for the gem, ready to hand it to his master.

    ¡°Can¡¯t do it myself,¡± Rory said, eyes swinging side to side since his neck couldn¡¯t support any real movement.

    Understanding what he meant, Apostolos presented the marble-like gem to his master, who opened his mouth. Dropping it into his mouth, Apostolos watched his master attempt to swallow before coughing.

    ¡°Can¡¯t swallow. It¡¯s fine.¡±

    Apostolos was about to ask if there was something he could do before Rory spoke once more.

    ¡°Wish me luck.¡±

    Then, his eyes rolled back as he began to convulse.

    <hr>

    ¡°Wish me luck.¡±

    Without another word, Rory smashed through the wall that separated himself from tier-six. He had known he must have been in terrible shape when he legitimately couldn¡¯t feel anything.

    Also, the fact that it was apparent Apostolos was barely holding himself back from vomiting didn¡¯t tell any prettier of a story.

    Probably good I couldn¡¯t feel anything.

    Given that he must have been in a terrible state, how he was alive was beyond Rory, but that was also some of the literal magic of their universe.

    Revival Gem to the rescue¡­ Maybe.

    He¡¯d tried to swallow the gem, but it had been impossible. Still, just having the gem within himself with the intent to absorb it should have been enough.

    Now then, where- oh, there we go.

    Like a movie scene transition, Rory suddenly found himself in an endless void, with only a table to break up the darkness.

    That and the cosmic being seated at the table.

    ¡°So, I take it the damage was pretty damn bad, based on how Apostolos reacted?¡± Rory said, pulling a chair out and seating himself across from Eon¡¯s Avatar.

    ¡°If not for the effects of your prior two ossified gems, you would have perished in the few seconds it took your apprentice to reach you. As it was, you were only five seconds from death before you broke through your ascension wall.¡±

    ¡°So¡­. I¡¯m not going to die, right?¡±

    ¡°No, unless you, for whatever reason, were to decide not to expunge the excess energy gained from slaying a tier-six monster and use it toward healing and repairing your body.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t have a race change, will I?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Eon said. ¡°As you have already understood, such occurred because the base essence required to bring your apprentice back from the verge was obtained from an external source, even if it had been aspected to match his essence. On the other hand, you utilized a revival gem composed solely of your personal concentrated essence.¡±

    ¡°Figured,¡± Rory said before wincing. ¡°Oh jeez, my physical body must be going through hell if I felt that from in here.¡±

    ¡°Such an assessment would be accurate.¡±

    ¡°Glad I¡¯m not there for it.¡± Rory nodded, folding his arms. ¡°So, why are you here? To check up on your creator?¡±

    Rory could have sworn the cosmic entity rolled its eyes momentarily. It must have been his strained mind playing tricks on him, though, as such a thing was impossible for the unfeeling existence.

    ¡­Wasn¡¯t it?

    ¡°You accomplished your Ascension Challenge, if barely. Thus, you have been rewarded two selections at skill obtainment.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Rory nodded, ¡°So¡­ why do you need to be here for that?¡±

    ¡°Would you prefer the absence of this avatar?¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s fine,¡± Rory said with a shrug. ¡°I¡¯m just curious as to the real reason.¡±

    ¡°Observant,¡± Eon said flatly. ¡°It was deemed potentially necessary to have your mental well-being safeguarded after the near-death experience and mental aggravation you were placed through.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Rory glanced upward as if thinking about it. ¡°Eh, I think I¡¯m okay. It probably helps that I can¡¯t physically feel anything-¡± Rory winced, a sudden spike of pain. ¡°-I almost can¡¯t feel anything.¡±

    Rory tapped his finger on the table, thinking about the situation momentarily before keying in on something Eon had slipped in. ¡°Wait, what do you mean ¡®aggravation¡¯ I was placed through? Why are you phrasing it as two separate incidents? Wouldn¡¯t that be part of the entire ¡®near-death experience¡¯ thing?¡±

    When Eon remained silent, Rory knew he was on to something.

    It¡¯s one of those things that it doesn¡¯t care to explain unless you figure it out yourself.

    Thinking back on the recent events and ongoings, Rory carefully examined his memories for anything that stuck out as odd or out of place until he locked onto one thing in particular.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t I just run away?¡± Rory frowned. Sure, he could get a stubborn streak going at times, but that was such a stupid thing to get stubborn over.

    I wasn¡¯t thinking things through clearly at the time, was I?

    ¡°This is about my decision to continue fighting the Reaping Ash Coscinocera, right?¡±

    Eon continued to say nothing, instead inclining its head to the tiniest degree.

    Bingo.

    Something about that moment was off, more so than any other moment in the past. It wasn¡¯t as if Rory hadn¡¯t been in life-or-death situations before.

    But maybe that¡¯s why it¡¯s odd. I wasn¡¯t technically in a life-or-death situation yet. I could have easily run the hell away.

    What could have pushed Rory to such extremes? Altered his thinking to a small enough degree that it wasn¡¯t noticeable with a casual observation? Nothing had drastically changed in his overall state. The main difference was-

    ¡°The blood weave,¡± Rory said, eyes widening. ¡°Or, rather, the unstable nature of it.¡±

    Eon finally nodded directly now that Rory had figured it out.

    ¡°Why? How? I¡¯ve used blood weave plenty of times, and I¡¯ve never been mind controlled before or whatever.¡±

    ¡°What you experienced was not any mind control effect. In a phrasing you¡¯d understand, it was closer to a berserker effect.¡±

    ¡°That still doesn¡¯t explain it,¡± Rory countered. ¡°Again, not my first time using blood weave. Was it just because of the unstable nature of the enhanced blood weave?¡±

    ¡°Of sorts.¡± Eon half-confirmed. ¡°Your ¡®blood weave¡¯ is made through the utilization of bloodwood trees.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m aware, sort of the person who patented the concept.¡± Rory snorted, imagining some piece of paper declaring no one else could use his bloodwood tree concept. ¡°So, what¡¯s the deal?¡±

    Once more, Eon went silent, indicating to Rory that it was a matter of detective work.

    Right, because screw me.

    Furrowing his brow, Rory mulled the question over for several minutes before tapping a finger on the table, having come to a hypothesis.

    ¡°Bloodwoods are made through tons of monster sacrifices; a lot of essence is squeezed into nourishing those trees. The bloodwood I used to make this set of blood weaves was from an extra-potent harvest. Suppose one categorizes essence as the ¡®energy,¡¯ the fingerprint of concepts given power. In that case, the essence of a monster will have some degree of their personality tied in, right?¡±

    Eon remained silent, prompting Rory to continue with his conjecture.

    ¡°If you take that and consider that pneuma is a sort of ¡®temporary¡¯ energy of creation, then it wouldn¡¯t be a stretch to say by overcharging an already potent set of blood weave with enough pneuma to destabilize the entire thing, there¡¯s probably enough power there to reignite a spark of¡­ sentience? Thought? Maybe it is instinct from within the essence that is contained by the blood weave. Thus, that essence could ¡®sway¡¯ my emotions in a key moment.¡±

    Rory finished, leaning forward and watching Eon to see how it would address his idea.

    ¡°The Architect is not entirely correct, but the answer was close enough to the truth that explanation is allowable. There was no spark of sentience or instinct within the blood weave. Simply put, like calls to like, as essence calls to essence. The core derivative of most monsters is the pursuit of growth, of ascending higher and higher. It is the natural draw of strength. When distilled into pure essence, little of that remains. Except, in a moment of flight-or-fight, when your spirit sang for greater heights-¡±

    ¡°Like called to like.¡± Rory interrupted, connecting the dots. ¡°My essence spoke to the essence of the dead monsters, and it was just enough to sway me.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°And so, you came here to examine me directly for any potential lingering effects?¡±

    ¡°Roughly.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Rory muttered. He wasn¡¯t a fan of being a guinea pig, but he was a fan of being emotionally manipulated even less. ¡°So, your diagnosis, doc?¡±

    Eon tilted its head, apparently confused. ¡°E.O.N, while being knowledge of medical practices and-¡±

    ¡°It was a joke. A bad one, obviously,¡± Rory rumbled.

    Seriously. Even Eon is a critic.

    ¡°Acknowledged. You are free of any potential influencing effects, as the blood weave that affected you has since degraded into the ether.¡±

    ¡°Grand.¡± Rory snorted. ¡°So, a clean bill of health. You take insurance?¡±

    Eon remained silent, not even bothering to humor his relatively poor attempt at cracking a joke.

    Why do I even try?

    ¡°Is there anything else I should be aware of?¡± Rory finally asked after several seconds passed in silence.

    ¡°No.¡±

    And then, just like that, the avatar was gone.

    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Rory muttered from within the endless void.

    So, I was sort of but not really mind-controlled, and then I basically died. It sounds about par for what you¡¯d expect from trying to challenge a tier-six monster as a tier-five with little in the way of actual combat skills.

    Rory wished he could feel more surprised, shocked, or even distressed, but he¡¯d been at it for enough years now that even those feelings were short-lived.

    ¡°Well, no point in moping my near death,¡± Rory finally said as he clapped his hands together.

    ¡°It¡¯s Ascension business time!¡±

 47. Two-for-one Bargain Deal

    The joys of Ascension. For Rory, it was his fifth -sixth in technicality- ascension, and he¡¯d come to value them far more now that they were events that occurred once every few years at the best of times.

    ¡°So where to start?¡± Rory contemplated. ¡°Attributes or skills?¡±

    It was a question he mulled over only briefly. One should permanently save the best for last, after all.

    ¡°Attributes it is.¡±

    Unlike his first few Ascensions, Rory had a strategic approach to his attributes. He made sure to dump just enough in physical attributes to keep himself treading water, and the rest was split between Cognition and Growth. His bell-curve ranking confirmed he was at the forefront of Cognition investment, and the rest of his attributes were maintained at a steady average, thanks to the raw returns on Growth attributes from prior ascensions.

    Done with attributes, Rory frowned.

    ¡°In the past, that was so much more exciting,¡± Rory said, speaking to himself. ¡°Now it''s just a matter of business.¡±

    It was the reality that even the most novel things would grow mundane if you removed the exciting aspects, treating them as business as usual, precisely what attributes had become. They hadn¡¯t become any less important; it was just that Rory had broken them down into something closer to a science or a math formula than some voodoo universe-altering magic.

    Well, I shouldn¡¯t get too sentimental. It was bound to happen eventually.

    Not needing to spend more time on his attributes, Rory quickly got to the good part.

    Skills.

    Ordinarily, this was the point in which he¡¯d spend however long it took to decide on a single skill from three or five listed skills.

    This time was different.

    The first and most apparent was that he had two selections, which was nifty in Rory¡¯s own words.

    The second was that rather than the usual number of skill offerings, the longer list instantly caught Rory¡¯s attention.

    There were nine skills up for grabs.

    ¡°Cripes,¡± Rory muttered. Indecision was already a bitch to deal with, and now he had even more skills to choose from.

    Well, there is no better place to start than at the beginning.

    Starting from the beginning of the list, Rory quickly read off the skill.

    <u>Great Teacher </u>

    The role of the teacher has been admired and respected since time immemorial. A bad teacher can send aspiring pupils to obscurity, never rising to their heights. A good teacher can uplift a student to reach their potential. A great teacher goes even further, helping apprentices and pupils achieve their potential, shatter it, and claw past even their heights, the stars the limit. Grants the ability to inspire skill acquisition more readily among those who learn from you. Furthermore, grants instinctual comprehension of foundational teaching concepts, philosophies, and practices.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s interesting,¡± Rory said, thinking about the skill. It wasn¡¯t an active skill based on the wording, but it was one of those ¡®skills¡¯ that were closer to passive effects, which Rory already had several of. It wasn¡¯t a bad offering, and it didn¡¯t take much introspection to guess why he¡¯d been offered a skill revolving around teaching, but it wasn¡¯t for Rory. He wasn¡¯t against teaching, but there was a reason he¡¯d never actually wanted to be a teacher back on Earth.

    Next.

    Inspecting the next option, Rory felt his eyebrows inching upward. Already, he was offered an interesting choice, and it was only the second listing.

    <u>Mind Palace</u>

    The mind is like a palace of knowledge, memories, and thoughts. For you, that becomes more literal. Through significant investment in Cognition and practice in mental diversification, you gain the ability to form a Mental Space in which time is perceived as slower, and the world around you can be freely adjusted and manipulated. Within your Mental Space, all skills and gear may be freely utilized and modeled against whatever you have perceived in the past. Mental Spaces do not contribute to direct growth. The rate of cognitive stress accrued is tied to Cognition, and the length of time skill activation is maintained.

    Now, that was an interesting skill. If his understanding was correct, it was the ability to construct a ¡®virtual reality¡¯ in which he could interact and model skills, or anything for that matter. The only ¡®real¡¯ ¡®downside,¡¯ for example, was he couldn¡¯t do push-ups in a Mental Space and expect it to translate to actual effects on his body, and much like his Eye skill, it caused mental stress to build the longer it was kept active.

    Rory really wanted to select the skill already; it was perhaps one of the most fascinating skills he¡¯d seen to date. Still, Rory wasn¡¯t entirely without discipline, so he mentally earmarked it before moving further down the list.

    <u>Guide of Society</u>

    Much like it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a society to elevate a person to success. Understanding the importance of a prosperous society, you¡¯ve dedicated yourself to uplifting and serving your society. Serving a greater purpose, you may share the burdens you face so long as it serves the greater whole.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Rory frowned. It was one of those esoteric-ass skills, barely explaining anything. It wasn¡¯t as if he couldn¡¯t understand where the skill came from; he¡¯d spent the last few years working toward the addition of their energy grid into their settlement, which could be viewed as a ¡®dedication to society¡¯ but Rory had done it to pursue what was beyond that hill. Still, Eon seemed to recognize the effort enough to offer the glorified civil servant skill.

    As for what the skill did? Rory had absolutely no idea. ¡®Sharing Burdens¡¯ could mean any number of things. A part of Rory was tempted, but only because he was curious what the hell ¡®sharing burdens¡¯ meant. Once he pushed that curiosity aside, Rory found no real draw toward the skill.

    Moving on.

    <u>Societal Renaissance</u>

    ¡°Another society skill?¡± Rory blurted. It wasn¡¯t often -if ever- that Rory found himself offered more than one skill of the same ¡®family¡¯ within the same ascension.

    <u>Societal Renaissance</u>

    Much like it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a society to elevate a person to success. Understanding that you look to promote your growth through the growth of society around you. Gain an Ascension multiplier effect while actively uplifting a nearby friendly settlement.

    Notice: Ascension Multiplier scales with Settlement Grade.

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s more interesting,¡± Rory said. Rory couldn¡¯t honestly remember if he¡¯d ever been offered a skill that potentially modified his rate of Ascension Energy gain. The closest to that was that he¡¯d been almost entirely prevented from receiving Ascension Energy while using his railguns. The only reason he could receive any energy was that, as long as he was the direct craftsman of the railguns, that effort would at least be ¡®rewarded¡¯ even if it was nothing more than a consolation prize.

    The skill was another passive skill, but at the very least, it was far more interesting than the last Social-Class skill.

    I hope they aren¡¯t all some form of society-type skills, though.

    His fears were only reinforced as he read the next skill name.

    <u>Shining City on a Hill</u>

    ¡°That¡¯s just an America reference,¡± Rory pointed out. He could directly remember hearing that some politician or whatever had referenced America as a ¡°Shining City on a Hill¡± in some history class or another. Waiting a second or two, Rory shrugged as Eon made no effort to defend itself for the blatant plagiarism.

    <u>Shining City on a Hill</u>

    A civilization is only as great as the leader who directs it. With you at the helm, any city can be made into a shining city on a hill. Grants access to the Sovereign System.

    Notice: Due to already leading a high-ranked city, skill offering grants access to a higher-tier Sovereign System baseline.

    ¡°That reminds me,¡± Rory suddenly remembered. ¡°Don¡¯t I have growth pathways or whatever they were called for my settlement? I haven¡¯t thought about that in a few years.¡±

    Unexpectedly, an answer appeared as a notification appeared.

    Notice: Growth Pathways feature has been scrapped and replaced with Sovereign System.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Rory said, wishing Eon were still here. ¡°You made a feature just to remove it?¡±

    Notice: Some features and systems may be altered due to the evolving nature of the growing universe.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Alright, fair enough,¡± Rory muttered.

    My fault. I created Eon with video games in mind, and that¡¯s what I got. It¡¯s in line with a video game developer to remove a feature if they found it didn¡¯t get the player engagement they hoped for.

    Sighing, Rory could only shrug. It''s not like he¡¯d made much use of the Growth Pathways anyway.

    If that''s the case, I¡¯ll eventually have to acquire a skill that grants access to the Sovereign system.

    If today would be that day, Rory wasn¡¯t sure yet. He still had quite a few more skills to review.

    At the very least, it wasn¡¯t actually a Society-class skill.

    Moving further down the list, relief flooded Rory, finally a skill unrelated to city building.

    <u>Core Modifier</u>

    Few can claim skill with manipulating Monster Cores, if only due to their rarity. As one of the leading few, you¡¯ve gained an understanding of the secrets of core modification. Grants the ability to visualize the properties of a Monster core and enables further possibilities with skill advancement.

    ¡°Interesting.¡± Rory drummed his fingers on the table, considering the skill. Monster Cores were the second-rarest thing he¡¯d encountered while on Aelia. The absolute rarest object had been the confounding Den Mother Nuclei, of which he¡¯d only ever obtained one.

    Which, by the way, was still sitting in his hovel and collecting dust.

    Monster Cores were valuable because they were containers and vessels for massive amounts of power, Pneuma, Essence, or even Ascension Energy. At least, that was what Rory had learned up to this point. The reality was they were so damn rare that it was hard to study them and form actual concrete hypotheses. Perhaps they would become more common as monsters became more powerful, but even then, the skill made it a point of stating just how rare they were.

    So, is it wise to acquire a skill like this when it is effectively a dead option for the foreseeable future?

    The answer was obviously no. Thankfully for Rory, he didn¡¯t have to make his choice quite yet.

    Onward and¡­ hot damn, what the hell?

    <u>Forge of the Cosmos- Young Stellar Heart</u>

    The forge of the cosmos is none other than the stars in which nearly all matter is born. Compiling an insight into the very heart of the creation of the universe, alongside an advanced knowledge of forging, gain the ability to give life to a Forge Star.

    Notice: Requires a sufficiently advanced forge to withstand the power of the Forge Star.

    Notice: Forge Stars gradually grow more potent with time as they mature.

    ¡°No way¡­ is there?¡± Rory pondered aloud. If what he was reading was correct, and it wasn¡¯t somehow embellishing itself far more than the truth of the skill¡­

    ¡°Is this suggesting I can make a star inside our forge?¡±

    It seemed too far-fetched to Rory, but at the same time, that was precisely up the alley of Eon.

    I¡¯m assuming the Young Stellar Heart refers to the basic version of the Forge Star, and with time, you can skip straight to making matured Forge Stars.

    That was an exciting thought, but Rory forced his eyes onward before he could get too carried away. There were still two options on the list, after all.

    <u>Stabilized Chaos</u>

    Where you tread, order follows. Your very presence brings stability to chaos without ever losing the inspiration of chaos itself. Gain the ability to lock down instability, scaling based on durability and pneuma.

    ¡°Lock down instability? What does that even mean?¡± Rory found himself staring at the skill in confusion.

    I¡¯m assuming the entire thing about bringing order has to do with, well, making shit. It''s not a combat skill if that¡¯s the case; it''s not like I could be offered one in the first place.

    It was intriguing and definitely in the better half of the skills offered.

    But there is always a but.

    But the issue was that it clearly laid out that the attributes the skill relied upon most were durability and pneuma. His durability wasn¡¯t terrible; it was average, thanks to the extract attribute density Growth afforded him, but his Pneuma attribute was in the dumpster, entirely relegated to oblivion.

    ¡°Going to have to veto this one immediately if that¡¯s the case.¡±

    Which left him with one last skill. Metaphorically holding his breath, given that he couldn¡¯t physically hold his breath in the weird mind space he was in, Rory took the plunge as his eyes trailed down to the final option.

    ¡°Not sure what I was expecting,¡± Rory said after a moment of thought.

    <u>Essence Projection</u>

    Having practiced utilizing your essence with all things mundane and tasting the beginnings of further possibilities, you can now evolve your potential. Gain the ability to project your essence into the world around you and shape reality to your vision.

    Notice: This skill acts as a direct upgrade to (1) of your already acquired skills. Therefore, greater innate knowledge will be gained as compensation if acquired.

    ¡°So, you can be offered direct skill upgrades,¡± Rory muttered. ¡°And I¡¯m assuming the skill in question is Essence Spark.¡±

    If that¡¯s the case, the question remains: what does it mean by ¡®tasting the beginnings¡¯ of further possibilities?

    Rory could only frown as he considered the mystery of where and how he¡¯d done so.

    Well, it probably must be from something recent, given I can¡¯t think of any other time I¡¯d have done or seen something out of the norm¡­ So, what could it be?

    For what felt like hours, Rory sat there, thinking. It was a good thing he was in a mental space-

    ¡°Wait a second, Mental Space?¡± Rory suddenly stood up, his thoughts instantly sidetracked.

    Is that what this entire place is called? A mental space? So, Mind Palace would operate something like this place?

    That was an interesting realization, but not the one Rory had set out to make. Sitting back down, Rory forced his thoughts back to sleuthing out what incident Essence Projection referenced until, finally, a lightbulb lit up.

    ¡°The impromptu whip, maybe? I tried to use my new affinity with it, and it seemed to behave a little differently than normal.¡±

    It was the only thing he could think of, but that shouldn¡¯t have been enough to spark an entire skill offering.

    Unless?

    The Reaping Ash Coscinocera had exuded a powerful field that had felt like sand and ash. Rory had thought it was perhaps some form of magic -and in a fashion, it was- but now, as he considered it more, it was likely that the aura around it was quite literally the projection of its essence. It seemed like semantics, but Rory tapped his fingers on the metal table, shaking his head.

    No, it¡¯s not semantics.

    ¡°If I had to guess, it''s like this,¡± Rory said, responding to his inner monologue. ¡°Normally, to use magic, you utilize pneuma and shape it with intent. That takes a mental effort and a degree of talent with pneuma. With essence projection, couldn¡¯t you shortcut that? Rather than actively shaping your intent, your essence would automatically handle some of that, aligning pneuma to behave based on your essence.¡±

    There was most definitely more to it than that. Yet, Rory felt as if it made sense. Using your essence to shape your magic rather than active mental focus would explain why the aura around the killer moth had been an incredibly uninspired albeit deadly form of magic.

    I won''t lie; it¡¯s rather intriguing. It may even provide a way to grow stronger without actively gaining a combat skill.

    Based on how Rory understood it, it sounded like a combat skill, but he wasn¡¯t about to nitpick with Eon.

    That said¡­

    Rory wasn¡¯t about to automatically pick the final option, as if the list went from least valuable to most valuable. He still wanted to really consider his choices.

    Man, I am glad I at least have two choices.

    A few options were thrown from the list instantly, mostly the society-focused skills and Stabilized Chaos for being damn near unusable to him. After that Core Modifier was tossed; sure, it sounded interesting as hell, but Monster Cores were rare enough that the skill could potentially go years, if not decades, without usage. Shining Hill followed; it was yet another attempt at getting Rory to buy into the Sovereign System. He would get around to that eventually, but running a settlement of two left the option feeling¡­ Excessive for the time.

    With its constant push for the Sovereign System, I can¡¯t tell if Eon is some grand overarching existence or a door-to-door salesman.

    Which left Great Teacher, Mind Palace, Forge of the Cosmos, and Essence Projection.

    Fingers tapping away at the desk, Rory tossed his fifth option, Great Teacher binned.

    It¡¯s interesting, but I¡¯m not a teacher by trade.

    ¡°Mind Palace, Forge of the Cosmos, and Essence Projection,¡± Rory voiced his thoughts out loud, trying to find another point to dial in on.

    Well, how about this? There is one option here that I¡¯m certainly not tossing.

    ¡°Skill Selection One,¡± Rory spoke, knowing fully that Eon would have responded to his thoughts just as easily as his actual verbal selection. ¡°Forge of the Cosmos.¡±

    I mean, how can I not select the option that¡¯s all about making a goddamn star? Even if it did nothing but look cool, that¡¯s still an auto-take.

    With the easy option handled, Rory was left with his final two.

    Mind Palace or Essence Projection?

    They both had their pros. Mind Palace, assuming it worked at all like the space he was currently in, would be exceptionally useful for planning things out if he could summon things into existence and time was dilated.

    Essence Projection, meanwhile, was a direct promise of power. It wasn¡¯t technically a combat skill, but it definitely skirted the line. Assuming it could be used to the same effect as the Reaping Ash Coscinocera, he¡¯d instantly level up his capabilities. And if he could use it for crafting as well?

    Even better.

    Mulling the two competing camps one against the other once more for what felt like hours, Rory finally decided.

    Mind Palace it is.

    The decision ultimately came down to two factors. First, Essence Projection was the direct upgrade over Essence Spark, implying that he could get the upgrade himself with ordinary practice.

    The second factor was the time Rory spent mulling over his choices. He felt like he¡¯d spent hours thinking when the reality was probably closer to minutes in the real world.

    Could he do that whenever he chose and not just upon ascension?

    That question alone made the choice obvious.

    Before he could even announce his decision, Rory suddenly found himself lying in the sand, naked, save for a pair of shorts he¡¯d worn beneath his blood-weaved legs.

    ¡°Wow, that took you a while.¡± A voice spoke up, grabbing his attention. Turning his head awkwardly --his entire body felt sore and stiff- Rory saw Apostolos seated with his butt on the ground, juggling debris from the destroyed temple.

    ¡°How long was I out?¡±

    ¡°Half an hour, give or take,¡± Apostolos said with a shrug, dropping the stones. ¡°Beat my record for the longest ascension,¡±

    ¡°Must have been a hell of a lot of repairs needed for my body,¡± Rory said thoughtfully.

    ¡°You remember a few years back when you accidentally degloved your thumb while showing me some forging techniques?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Rory said with a wince. It hadn¡¯t been a pleasant memory after all.

    ¡°Imagine that, but your whole body, repeated three times, and then you were tossed out to fester in the heat for good measure.¡±

    ¡°Ahh, so not much of a pleasant sight,¡± Rory said nonchalantly as if he were talking about the weather or how the Cubs had lost yet another game, not how he¡¯d nearly died a terrible and gruesome death.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t¡­ a little more phased?¡± Apostolos asked. ¡°After I found out I almost died, it was like-¡±

    ¡°You know me,¡± Rory interrupted. ¡°Worry about what¡¯s worth worrying about. If I died and I couldn¡¯t have stopped it? Why worry? And if I survive just barely? Still, why worry? No point fretting what is out of your control, and it''s already settled, so again, why worry?¡±

    ¡°But it was in your control,¡± Apostolos countered.

    ¡°Au contraire,¡± Rory said with a pinched voice, doing his best to imitate a French accent, well aware that Apostolos wouldn¡¯t get the reference anyway. ¡°My preparations were within my control, and I already did my fretting over that. I even fretted as I fought. But once I¡¯d decided to toss caution to the wind and go for it? From that point on, there was no point fretting. The dice had been rolled whether I knew what the dice rolls were or not.¡±

    Rory made it a point of not mentioning how his mind had been very minutely altered at a critical junction; he didn¡¯t want to make the kid freak out should Rory don blood weave again in the future.

    Which I probably will.

    ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯m just glad you survived,¡± Apostolos said with a sigh of relief. ¡°That battle was insane to watch. Now that you¡¯re tier-six, could you move like that naturally?¡±

    ¡°Not even fucking close,¡± Rory laughed, clenching his hand as he got a sense of his strength. While he hadn¡¯t invested any major attributes toward strength, durability, or anything aside from the bare minimum, a level of baseline physical growth came with ascension. As Rory understood it, based on what Eon had said once, one¡¯s race steadily crept toward perfection with each ascension. Be it the perfect human -proto-human in Rory¡¯s case- perfect Anzu, perfect Osferian, it didn¡¯t matter; each race slowly crept toward their own ¡®perfection.¡¯

    That said, even between the natural improvement of his race rank and the attribute investment, Rory was beyond certain that the attribute level he¡¯d shown during the battle against the Ashworm was something that would probably only be possible around A7.

    Hmmm. That makes me wonder. Will blood weave start to lose its overall effectiveness soon?

    Rory didn¡¯t have enough data to make any claims with certainty, but that didn¡¯t mean he didn¡¯t have an educated guess.

    If one thought of how much ¡®power¡¯ each tier had, one could think of it in terms of magnitudes, ten, one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand, etc. Blood weave didn¡¯t boost attributes by boosting by an entire ¡®magnitude¡¯; it simply increased them by flat value. A ¡®one thousand¡¯ boost could be compared to an entire tier increase in the low levels.

    But as he moved up the food chain, an increase of one thousand would mean far less if your baseline was already sitting at one hundred thousand, a million, a billion, or whatever arbitrary value.

    Unless a more mature bloodwood can retain a larger essence reserve from stronger monsters. Then, it might be possible to see continued usage.

    As interesting a potential conundrum as it was, it was neither here nor there for the time being.

    ¡°So, you won¡¯t be moving like that all the time. Good to know.¡± Apostolos said, taking in the information with a hint of relief in his voice.

    ¡°What, were you jealous?¡± Rory teased his young apprentice.

    ¡°What? No.¡± Apostolos said as Rory saw straight through the young man¡¯s attempt at hiding it. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ll catch up sooner or later. You¡¯re still mostly focused on crafting, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m focusing on being an Architect,¡± Rory said, waving his hands mysteriously.

    ¡°Sure, whatever you say, boss man,¡±

    ¡°You were such a cute kid once upon a time,¡± Rory responded, wiping a mock tear from his eye. ¡°Whatever happened to that nice, polite child?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a master who does stuff like this, is what happened,¡± Apostolos sighed before shaking his head. ¡°Soo¡­. The Maw?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Rory perked up, understanding what Apostolos was getting at. Pulling up his interface, there was a blinking notification ready to be clicked upon.

    Time for floor completion goodies.

 48. Nice List for the Nearly Dead

    Unlike Ascensions, rewards for clearing things such as the floors within the Maw, were still novel for Rory. Part of that was due to this vocation, oddly enough. Given a big part of what he did for a living was making stuff, Eon had seemingly gone out of its way not to give objects or items as rewards, preferring to opt for simple Ascension energy or raw resources.

    It did seem a tad unfair to Rory; the others on the planet likely were given items as rewards, whereas he had to make everything. Still, the plus side was that unless Eon was being unfair about it, Rory had a strong suspicion that the things he could make would generally be better than whatever Eon would give out.

    Yet even with his general complaints, when Rory opened the reward interface, he felt an internal giddiness that reminded him of waking up on Christmas morning, praying he was on Santa¡¯s nice list.

    Well, Santa, I think I deserve the nice list after nearly dying.

    Opening the interface, Rory paused for a moment.

    ¡°Huh.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Apostolos asked, concerned. ¡°Something go wrong?¡±

    ¡°No, not quite. The opposite. It¡¯s better than I expected.¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡±

    Flicking the interface over to Apostolos, Rory re-read the textbox.

    <u>Challenge Area cleared</u>: The Maw-Level Two

    <u>Loot Table(s) earned</u>

    Boss Slain (X)

    Boss Slain+ 20% Floor clearance (X)

    Boss Slain+ 40% Floor clearance (X)

    Boss Slain+ 60% Floor clearance (X)

    Boss Slain+ 80% Floor clearance (X)

    Boss Slain+ 100% Floor clearance (-)

    Open rewards: Y/N?

    ¡°Does this mean we get...¡± Apostolos paused for a moment, counting the rewards. ¡°We get five separate rewards?¡±

    ¡°Looks that way,¡± Rory confirmed. ¡°Also, I know what you¡¯ll be doing for a while.¡±

    ¡°Full clearing the floor?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°Bingo. You¡¯re a tier-five now, and you¡¯ve got those Radiance Embers, so I¡¯m officially clearing you for engaging with tier-five monsters without having me around as supervision.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sweet!¡± Apostolos cheered before coughing into his fist, trying to look less excited. ¡°I mean, uhh, thanks.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, rewards time,¡± Rory said as he finally clicked the yes option.

    Loot Table reward obtained: Raw crafting material.

    The sand suddenly vibrated all around them as something slowly emerged from the depths. It was¡­

    ¡°What is that?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°Good question,¡± Rory answered. ¡°I¡¯ve no idea.¡±

    It looked like a weirdly bulbous pineapple, roughly the size of his torso, with honeycomb-like holes covering it. Curious, Rory examined the object.

    <u>???</u>

    <u>Quality:</u> Uncommon

    The former nest of an Ash Mite colony that has since been abandoned as the mites reached their larvae stage. Devoid of life, the nest is composed of a surprisingly durable organic mineral highly resistant to erosion.

    ¡°Oh, ick, but also interesting,¡± Rory said as he took in the former monster colony. ¡°Says here it used to be the nest of the swarmlings that attacked.¡±

    ¡°Swarmlings?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you probably couldn¡¯t see them from the entrance. Yeah, a bunch of tiny worms, anywhere from the size of my thumb to a few feet long. Nasty little buggers. They could even explode, which was less than stellar.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Apostolos took a moment to examine the nest before frowning. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the use, and why does it not have a name?¡±

    ¡°The material itself is unnamed, even if the colony was not,¡± Rory said. ¡°That aside, who knows? I¡¯ll have to think about potential uses.¡±

    ¡°I guess that makes sense¡­ Hey, could I name it?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because you suck with names.¡±

    Rory said nothing in response, simply glaring at his apprentice.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the lack of rebuttal as permission,¡± Apostolos answered smugly. A moment later, the interface and description of the nest were updated.

    <u>Hiveinite </u>

    <u>Quality:</u> Uncommon

    The former nest of an Ash Mite colony that has since been abandoned as the mites reached their larvae stage. Devoid of life, the nest is composed of a surprisingly durable organic mineral highly resistant to erosion.

    ¡°Really? Hiveinite? I thought you said I had bad naming conventions. That¡¯s no better.¡± Rory said, irritated at how, after getting on his case, Apostolos had done no better than he would have.

    ¡°Oh, come on, you would have named it something like ¡®Ash Worm-ite¡± or something just as bad.

    ¡°Well, we will never know now, will we?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Rory did not admit that if he had named it, he would have called it exactly that: ashwormite.

    ¡°What¡¯s next?¡± Apostolos asked, changing the subject.

    Moving on to the next reward, Rory let his interface do its thing.

    I wish there was a little graphic or animated scene, like those old bowling alleys.

    Perhaps Eon had a sense of humor after his earlier attempts at jokes during his ascension, as out of nowhere, his interface suddenly changed, a wheel spinning before vanishing as the familiar text appeared.

    Loot Table reward obtained: Fast Travel Shortcut unlocked.

    Before Rory could voice his confusion, the nearby ruins, or what remained, suddenly began to rumble as the stone stitched itself together. Rather than forming back into the temple structure from before, it now appeared as a pavilion-style platform with four pillars in each corner.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Apostolos asked, always the one to ask the first thing that came to mind.

    ¡°Reward said a fast travel shortcut, so¡­ maybe an easy exit out of the Maw? Don¡¯t have to trek through the second and first floor to leave.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°No idea, that¡¯s just my guess,¡± Rory said with a shrug.

    And if that¡¯s my guess, I¡¯d put money that Eon had a similar thought process.

    How it worked, well, they¡¯d find out soon enough once they left the Maw behind.

    ¡°Reward number three,¡± Rory announced as the slots wheel appeared momentarily before the standard message.

    Loot Table reward obtained: Area Map.

    Rather than question what an area map was, Rory opened his interface, mentally ¡®opening¡¯ the map. Instantly, a map of both the first floor, which had only two rooms and one long tunnel between them, and the second floor appeared. A few areas remained unexplored, appearing as off-shooting passages marked by question marks.

    ¡°Looks like your job got easier,¡± Rory said to Apostolos.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Third reward was a map.¡±

    ¡°A map?¡± Apostolos scrunched his nose up for a moment before frowning. ¡°What¡¯s a map?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Rory said before pinching the bridge of his nose. Because of cognition¡¯s benefits, it was far easier to remember directions and retrace steps. It had never been an issue that Rory needed Apostolos to have a map of anything.

    Thus, he¡¯d never actually taught Apostolos what a map was.

    ¡°Here, just¡­ look. You¡¯ll understand.¡±

    Mentally confirming the process, Rory permitted Apostolos to access the map. A moment later, Rory saw Apostolos receive a notification, and his eyes widened.

    ¡°Wow, this is so cool. It¡¯s an overlay of the area!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, a map,¡± Rory said. ¡°That¡¯s what a map is.¡±

    ¡°What¡­ what¡¯s the point, though?¡± Apostolos said, his amazement fading. ¡°I can retain this much information easily enough, even if I don¡¯t plan on investing in cognition as heavily going forward.¡±

    ¡°Think for a moment. The first floor of the Maw had two rooms. The second floor is somewhere in the ballpark of one hundred and twelve. Extrapolate what the third floor might look like.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ Oh wow.¡± Apostolos answered.

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Rory snapped his fingers as Apostolos got the bigger picture. ¡°That¡¯s a lot to remember and have laid out, even with cognition. Once you¡¯re A6 or with me, you¡¯ll also head down to the third floor.¡±

    Apostolos perked up at that, always happy to be included.

    Right, next reward.

    After handling three of the five rewards, Rory began wondering if anything would be more substantial. The map and the fast travel platform were nice, but they wouldn¡¯t directly help them.

    All right, let¡¯s get something good now.

    One spinning wheel later, Rory was presented with the standard text.

    Loot Table reward obtained: Spiritual Source.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ novel?¡± Rory glanced around, waiting until a moment later, he felt his eye twitching until it was nearly spazzing out of his head.

    ¡°You okay, master?¡±

    ¡°Something¡­ really valuable,¡± Rory muttered, closing his eyes. He¡¯d never felt such a strong reaction from the potential vision of any version of his eye skill. Looking for the source, Rory saw none other than the corpse of the Ash Reaper Coscinocera vibrating. Within moments, the entire thing began to split, as from the center of the dead monster, a dark, grey-colored pill-like orb remained.

    Upon noticing the strange pill-like item, his eye nearly popped out of his head. Reacting, Rory quickly examined it.

    Anima Seed of Reaping Sands

    Quality: Common.

    The anima center of a monster that has evolved and obtained a Spiritual Body. Without the necessary anima to fully sustain such a spiritual body, what anima remained was instead consolidated into a seed-like organ, ready to flourish should the degree of anima required ever be regained. It has uses for crafting and alchemy and significant benefits for nurturing an underdeveloped Spiritual Body.

    On the one hand, it seemed strange that such an extraordinary object would be graded as a common quality; on the other hand, Rory had to judge it against the source and long-term view of what such an object meant. In other words, a skilled baseball player might seem impressive until judged against a professional athlete. In the same sense, the Anima Seed he was currently examining, while far more ¡®eye-popping¡¯ than nearly anything else he¡¯d discovered, was barely of note if compared against other Anima Seeds, if any other Anima Seeds had even been found.

    But.

    But that was the long-term understanding of its overall worth. In the short term, it was apparent that such a reward was insanely valuable.

    But to whom was the real question? Sure, Rory could probably use it for some project in the future when inspiration struck him. Until he had such inspiration, though, it would likely collect dust in his hovel, much like his Den Mother¡¯s Nuclei.

    So, if he wasn¡¯t going to use it¡­

    Hobbling over to the corpse -his body was still somewhat sore- Rory snatched the weird pit-like object and tossed it to Apostolos.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± The young man questioned.

    ¡°Take a look for yourself.¡±

    Watching Apostolos do precisely as he instructed, Rory saw several emotions flicker across his face before settling on disbelief.

    ¡°You¡¯re just going to give this to me? Don¡¯t you think you could do something crazy with this?¡±

    ¡°Sure, maybe. Or it may sit there, unused for years. You¡¯re the one with a Spiritual Body and looking to take a more active combat focus. If we can give you a bit of a jump start, may as well take it.¡±

    ¡°T-thanks,¡± Apostolos murmured, staring at the Anima Seed. ¡°So, do I like¡­?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s for you to figure out,¡± Rory said. ¡°I¡¯ve got one more reward to look over, after all.¡±

    Ignoring Apostolos, Rory rubbed his hands together.

    All right, Apostolos got some super fancy reward. Surely, I¡¯m bound to get something just as good in return?

    Opening the final reward¡ªfive of six in total¡ªthough the sixth hadn¡¯t been unlocked yet, Rory saw the wheel spin.

    Loot Table reward obtained: Third Floor unlocked.

    Before Rory could chirp his complaints that access to the third floor of the Maw was now locked behind a reward table, the dunes began to shift.

    ¡°There!¡± Rory pointed toward the fast travel platform, the only thing remaining stable. Scrambling, the two of them quickly ran to stable ground. From the stable pavilion they now stood upon, they watched as great chains suddenly lashed out, tethering the platform to the several entrances to the boss room with chains large enough to walk across.

    As for the dunes? They began to fall away like sand dropping through an hourglass until, within a few minutes, every trace of sand was gone. The fast travel platform was suspended above a gaping hole, hundreds of meters large, tethered through massive chains connecting it to the faraway walls of the cavern and the exits from which they entered the cave.

    ¡°So¡­ Is this a good or bad thing?¡± Apostolos questioned, not privy to the information displayed across his reward interface.

    ¡°Good thing¡­ Sort of. The final reward was access to the third floor. Kind of bull shit that it¡¯s listed as a ¡®reward,¡¯ but whatever, I¡¯m not annoyed.¡± Rory said, very much annoyed.

    ¡°And that entrance is by jumping down a bottomless pit?¡±

    ¡°Seems that way,¡± Rory confirmed.

    ¡°So, are we¡­?¡±

    ¡°Hell no,¡± Rory said, shaking his head. ¡°All my gear is gone, and you¡¯re only A5. If the third floor works like the second floor, there will be monsters ranging from A5 to A6 just freely wandering about. We are not in the state to tackle that. No, we¡¯re going to leave.¡±

    ¡°Oh, okay¡­ Wait, what about the hiveinite? Did it fall?¡±

    Rory¡¯s eyes widened, realizing he hadn¡¯t been paying attention as the sand fell away. A moment from groaning in annoyance over the lost reward, Rory relaxed as he saw the oversized hive near the platform¡¯s edge. He was reasonably sure it hadn¡¯t been there before. Still, it would have been cheap to reward them with the resource only for it to be instantly lost due to the dune falling away under their very feet, something they hadn¡¯t been prepared for.

    ¡°Guess we¡¯re all good,¡± Rory said with a deep exhale. ¡°Not bad for a day¡¯s work, eh?¡±

    ¡°You almost died.¡±

    ¡°Your point?¡± Rory questioned, giving his apprentice a look as if almost dying was no more special than missing a bargain deal on ramen.

    Scratch that, in college, missing a bargain deal for ramen would have been worse than almost dying; lord knows I would have been shit out of luck with as broke as I was.

    ¡°Fine, never mind.¡± Apostolos gave up arguing; his master was far more lackadaisical about the topic than he was. ¡°Can we just go home then? I could go a month or two without all this high-octane energy.¡±

    ¡°Sure, if you-¡± Mid-sentence, as if sensing their intent, the pillars at each corner of the platform suddenly lit up with a purple flame hovering above each of them. Before Rory could question it or even finish his sentence, they found themselves gone from the boss room, appearing outside the entrance to the Maw.

    ¡°-want.¡± Rory finished his sentence.

    ¡°Did we just teleport?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°Seems that way,¡±

    Apostolos was silent. For several moments, the young man seemed content to look around and observe their surroundings before his shoulders slumped, what remained of his fortitude draining away after the events of the day.

    ¡°Yeah, I just want to go home.¡±

 49. The power of the Sun, in the palm of my hand

    ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Rory called out as a head poked into the forge.

    ¡°You okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Why do you ask?¡± Rory said, frowning.

    ¡°Because you¡¯ve been sitting there, staring at the forge, for three days.¡±

    ¡°Not true,¡± Rory countered. ¡°I went home to sleep.¡±

    ¡°For four hours. Total.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see your point,¡± Rory said, crossing his arms and frowning.

    ¡°I¡¯m just curious what you¡¯re up to. Normally you tell me at least something about your plans. Instead, the day after we returned from the Maw, you just plunked yourself there where you¡¯ve been ever since.¡±

    Rory frowned, tapping his chin as he thought. Apostolos was correct; Rory had done precisely that, sitting in front of their forge, cross-legged and deep in thought.

    But he¡¯d surely told Apostolos why.

    Hadn¡¯t he?

    ¡°You sure I never mentioned it?¡± Rory questioned. His memory was damn close to perfect in the short term. Yet, Rory felt a nagging sense that he¡¯d forgotten to inform Apostolos.

    ¡°Nope, nothing.¡± We got back, you went to sleep, and prestos¡ªfast-forward three days, and here we are.¡±

    ¡°Did¡­ Did I not even mention my skill selection from A6?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± Apostolos said.

    ¡°Huh.¡± Rory reconsidered his memories, confirming that he¡¯d never said anything about what had transpired. ¡°Guess I got distracted.¡±

    ¡°Missing the trees in the forest,¡± Apostolos said sagely.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Rory grumbled; the young man just loved to tease his master about how he¡¯d lose track of the small things. ¡°Here, just take a look,¡± Rory said, not feeling like explaining as he flicked over a display with his two newest skills.

    Apostolos silently read the skills, his eyebrows creeping up before he exhaled heavily.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Wow.¡±

    ¡°You said it.¡± Rory agreed. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to make sense of the best way to utilize Forge of the Cosmos. Just one small problem.¡±

    ¡°That being?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°This,¡± Rory gestured toward their forge. ¡°It¡¯s not tough enough. Between the innate understanding of Forge of the Cosmos and everything I¡¯ve put together using the near-full release of my Eye skill, our current forge won¡¯t cut it. All that would happen is I¡¯d plant a baby star inside the forge, and boom, it would explode. Connected to our energy grid, the cascading effect might also cause our entire camp to boom.¡±

    ¡°But I live here.¡± Apostolos protested.

    ¡°Exactly my point.¡± Rory nodded in agreement. ¡°Oh, there is another point I¡¯ve been considering.¡±

    ¡°Being?¡±

    ¡°After I took my well-deserved rest, I realized there was a notification I¡¯d been missing. Notice the grade of Forge of the Cosmos?¡±

    ¡°Extreme,¡± Apostolos said, clearly impressed. ¡°That makes two, right?¡±

    ¡°Bingo, which was a Testament unlock, it turns out. Two or more extreme rank skills or higher. I¡¯ve been considering the best skill to slot within my newly earned Testament. Obvious logic dictates your highest-rank skills are the best to ¡®improve,¡¯ but given you need some practice with a skill to make the official jump to their upgraded version, a high-rank skill would be unlikely to see any change for a long time.¡±

    ¡°So, what have you been thinking of slotting instead?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°Either my Eye skill or Mind Palace.¡±

    ¡°Your Eye skill would probably evolve instantly if it¡¯s about practice,¡± Apostolos pointed out.

    ¡°Exactly, but I¡¯m not certain what ¡®upgrade¡¯ it could gain from aligning more with the concept of my vocation. Essence Spark gained a secondary passive affinity when it became Foundational Essence Spark. Aside from that, it didn¡¯t really change. So, I¡¯m uncertain how it might affect my other skills.¡±

    ¡°Are you afraid it might somehow break your Eye skill?¡±

    ¡°A little, but also not really.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, why don¡¯t you change your perspective? You¡¯ve only just gotten Mind Palace, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°So, you don¡¯t have any attachment to how it works. Can¡¯t break something that you¡¯ve never put together.¡±

    Rory was silent, considering the thought.

    I mean¡­ He¡¯s not wrong.

    Rory had considered this frame of mind, but hearing Apostolos repeat it solidified the thought in his mind.

    Yeah, I guess he¡¯s right.

    With a shrug, Rory did exactly what Apostolos recommended, slotting the skill. Only a moment later, the skill changed.

    <u>Mind Palace</u>

    <u>Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    The mind is like a palace of knowledge, memories, and thoughts. For you, that becomes more literal. Through significant investment in Cognition and practice in mental diversification, you gain the ability to form a Mental Space in which time is perceived as slower, and the world around you can be freely adjusted and manipulated. Within your Mental Space, all skills and gear may be freely utilized and modeled against whatever you have perceived in the past. Mental Spaces do not contribute to direct growth. The rate of skill stress accrued is tied to Cognition and the length of time skill activation is maintained.

    -->

    <u>Architect¡¯s Reality</u>

    <u>Rarity: Rare. Skill Level: Low.</u>

    The mind is like a palace of knowledge, memories, and thoughts. For an Architect, that becomes literal. Through significant investment in Cognition and practice in mental diversification, you gain the ability to form a Mental Space in which time is perceived as slower, and the world around you can be freely adjusted and manipulated. Within your Mental Space, all skills and gear may be freely utilized and modeled against whatever you have perceived in the past. Mental Spaces do not contribute to direct growth. The rate of skill stress accrued is tied to Cognition and the length of time skill activation is maintained. You may project a mental space into reality that is interactable and viewable only to yourself.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°That expression,¡± Apostolos said, instantly noticing something was up. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you got the skill to evolve instantly? I thought you needed practice?¡±

    ¡°What do you think I¡¯ve been doing the last few days,¡± Rory sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve been in and out of a Mental Space and actual reality nearly constantly trying to figure this out. Guess that was enough for the skill to instantly evolve after being enshrined within one of my testaments.¡±

    ¡°Well, is the upgrade good?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, seems that way,¡± Rory said. ¡°The skill itself hasn¡¯t changed much; I can just model my mental space in actual reality, so I don¡¯t have to swap between them.¡±

    ¡°Will that help?¡±

    ¡°Maybe?¡± Rory said, uncertain. ¡°Depends on how it interacts with my Eye skill. While I can model reality in a mental space, my skills don¡¯t interact the same as if they were actually there.¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡±

    ¡°Imagine you have a stick. When using my eye skills in the real world, I can see many ways I can use that stick for different projects or whatnot. Even if I conjure the same stick in my mental space, it will remain purely as a stick.¡±

    ¡°So basically, they¡¯re one or the other.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Rory confirmed. ¡°But now¡­¡±

    Using the skill, Rory felt as if thoughts were being yanked from his head before forcibly painting over the cavass of reality. Several ideas and thoughts began to overlay the forge, green colored like the 3D images you¡¯d see in old sci-fi movies. Not finished, Rory activated Eyes of the Dokkalfar-kin, cranking the skill up to its second release as his cognition attribute was enhanced and his sight became clouded with phantasmal specters of potential.

    ¡°Ow,¡± Rory held his head, the sudden pounding ringing like a gong. It felt like two pieces of giant machinery were slowly scrapped one against the other, his brain right in the middle.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Lot of stress,¡± Rory said, gritting his teeth. ¡°Using my Eye skill and projecting a Mind Palace together is a lot to process.¡±

    Doing his best to ignore his slowly liquefying brain, Rory dutifully examined everything within his sight, trying to formulate a plan of action. The main issue he¡¯d encountered was that a star was a lot to contain, even when shrunk to the size of a basketball. Renovations to their current forge wouldn¡¯t be enough, and none of his current materials were even up to the task. Even if Crimson steel were strong enough, the base aspect of blood essence would slowly corrode and eat away at the containment magic that partially maintained the stability of the skill.

    How did he know that exactly? Innate knowledge that the skill itself granted. It wasn¡¯t just understanding how to make a star but also how to contain it, which could only be achieved magically. Materials that were made utilizing essences that didn¡¯t harmonize with the general ¡®accepted¡¯ concepts would, over time, lose their strength or eat away at the strength of the magic containing the star.

    Thus, his problems. Both magical and material.

    ¡°The good news is this,¡± Rory said after contemplating. ¡°Because the energy grid was integrated into our settlement and the forge itself was retrofitted to be wired in beforehand, I can utilize a deconstruct function. This enables the forge to collapse into a construct seed, in this case, a forge seed. All the associated material and essence that the forge accumulated will be ¡®saved¡¯ and, when fed into a new forge, can fast-track its Ascension while maintaining a significant degree of Ascension energy and physical matter.¡±

    ¡°And you know this how?¡±

    ¡°Magic,¡± Rory waved about vaguely. Much like Aelia knew things because she was a World Spirit, Rory had learned certain things he could do with the settlement simply by being its ¡®leader.¡¯

    ¡°And the bad news?¡± Apostolos followed up.

    ¡°The same problems as before. I must figure out a new forge design and materials capable of withstanding a baby star¡¯s force. Realistically, most of our things have utilized either Bloodwood or Crimson Steel. Both of which are heavily tied to blood essence. While extremely useful and powerful, blood essence is inherently an affecting essence; it corrupts by its sheer nature. What we need is stability, a non-reactive material.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve got that new Lattice affinity. Why don¡¯t you whip up a new type of tree for the material?¡±

    ¡°Two issues. One, the concept of wood being used to contain a star is completely diametrical; that alone would probably cause the entire thing to fail. Second, I can¡¯t poof a new tree into existence; the method I used before was very specifically possible due to my blood affinity. A big thing about blood essence is, as I mentioned prior, how it affects other things. Corruption and change. Using it to force a change in a living thing like a tree wasn¡¯t much of a stretch. Lattice is stability; you won¡¯t make a living thing embody that concept and change; again, it¡¯s two diametrically opposed points.¡±

    ¡°I still think your Lattice affinity could help,¡± Apostolos said dejectedly.

    ¡°Oh, I completely agree,¡± Rory said quickly. ¡°But just because something, in theory, feels like it should work doesn¡¯t mean that the execution will be made anymore obvious.¡±

    Silence held as Rory continued examining the forge, utilizing his projected Mental Space and Eye skill to parse through different ideas and realities and model the best potential route forward. His head continued to pound and hurt, but Rory persevered; rest would be his reward once he¡¯d had some inkling of an idea.

    Maybe I¡¯m thinking of this all wrong.

    He so badly wanted something to work for this entire skill selection to be a success that he¡¯d only viewed it through the lens of making the star work within the forge.

    What if the answer was to make a forge that worked around the star?

    In which case, why have I been so beholden to the regular designs of normal forges?

    As if freeing himself from the shackles of restrictive thinking, Rory felt an entire selection of new ideas become available.

    Think. How were stars contained in the past?

    While technically not the past -Earth existed in a now-extinct universe- that didn¡¯t change the fact that humanity had finally achieved successful fusion reactors toward the end of history. They weren¡¯t widespread, but they were fully effective.

    So, take that concept as your base and ditch the regular forge idea.

    The projected green image overlaying the forge suddenly flickered. Changing in shape completely, it now looked more akin to a Dyson swarm with orbital rings surrounding a glowing ball of plasma, all contained within magnetic fields.

    Yes! Rory mentally cheered as something about the projected image seemed to click.

    Finally, having a physical base to build from, Rory retracted some of the active skills, no longer needing to work within real space. Retreating to his mind palace, Rory was floating in a dark void with the same stellar forge in front of him.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a template; now it¡¯s time to hash out the specifics of everything else.¡±

    Rory wasn¡¯t a physicist by any means¡ªin fact, he¡¯d nearly failed a college physics class he took for fun¡ªbut he at least understood the basic fundamentals of how stars and fusion energy worked. A containing magnetic field kept a ball of superheated plasma locked in place.

    Oversimplified? Probably, but that wasn¡¯t important at the time.

    ¡°So,¡± Rory floated around the stellar forge. ¡°How do I go about making a containing field?¡±

    The easiest solution would be to extensively use Inscriptions to direct and guide pneuma and enable a strong magnetic field to contain the Forge Star. The issue was, as Rory had learned after years of utilizing inscriptions, that inscription wasn¡¯t inherently very efficient.

    Instead, the efficiency of an inscription was contingent upon your personal knowledge of whatever it was that was being accomplished. Whether you used one or one hundred runes to summon a flame, you¡¯d get a flame either way. The difference was that using a single rune to encompass a large and vague intent was highly inefficient, whereas using a hundred runes could accomplish detailed work, cutting out waste and excess.

    An easy way to think of it was like trying to get a boulder up a hill. The ¡®simplest¡¯ way to do that would be to toss the entire thing straight to the top, but that was far from the ¡®best¡¯ solution. That¡¯s what a one-rune solution was like. Loading that same boulder onto a sled and dragging it up the hill would be like a one-hundred-rune solution, far more efficient and doable with far less energy.

    All of that came back to the fact that while Rory knew the basics of magnetism and fusion, he didn¡¯t know the details. The nitty-gritty science, the fine details, would enable him to fashion a runic base of perfect efficiency.

    As if to prove the point, Rory spent hours in his mind palace formulating different inscription bases to uncover a method to project a magnetic field capable of withstanding and containing the power of even a tiny star. While he ¡®succeeded,¡¯ the sheer degree of pneuma they required would burn through their months of stockpiled pneuma in less than a week at best.

    Rory wanted to continue drafting ideas, but as he began to work on his next idea, he was suddenly back in real space, lying on the ground next to their forge.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Rory mumbled.

    Then the pain hit, crashing into him like a tidal wave.

    Fuck me!

    Curling into a tight ball, Rory held his head between his hands as it felt like a band of pissed-off gangsters were kicking the ever-living shit out of him.

    ¡°Master?¡± Rory vaguely heard a sound, seconds passing before it registered into understandable language. ¡°Master, are you okay?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Rory croaked. ¡°Pushed¡­ pushed my mental skills¡­ too hard¡­ strain backlash.¡±

    Given that Apostolos also had access to skills that would place a ¡®strain¡¯ on the user, he instantly understood. Tossed over Apostolos¡¯s shoulder, Rory couldn¡¯t even complain as the young man hurried him to his home and tossed him onto his bed. A minute later, a small marble-like object was stuck into his mouth.

    ¡°Blood gem,¡± Apostolos informed Rory.

    Rory couldn¡¯t even nod his head in understanding, the pain only getting worse. Swallowing the marble, Rory felt a tiny energy trickle permeating his body.

    Losing himself to the pain, Rory could do nothing as he blacked out.

 50. Abyssal Headache

    Rory floated in darkness; a dull thud was heard far away in the background.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Rory mumbled. Pinching himself, Rory nodded once. ¡°Not awake.¡±

    ¡°Still, it¡¯s a bit odd. I think I¡¯m asleep. Sort of? But it¡¯s not like anything I¡¯ve experienced before.¡±

    Rory continued to float, confused as to what was happening. There was no Eon, Ascension table, nada, just a dark void.

    ¡°I wonder. I was knocked out of my Mind Palace from overuse, but I never actually ended the skill. If I¡¯m currently unconscious, could it be that the skill is still active? Does that mean I can use it while asleep?¡±

    ¡°Well, lesson learned,¡± Rory mumbled, waving his arms like he was making a snow angel as he floated in darkness. ¡°I now know what happens when you accumulate too much cognitive strain from overuse of mental skills. A headache like the devil itself decided to beat my skull in with a brick.¡±

    It was something Rory could say he¡¯d never bothered to test before. After all, who would purposely test such a thing? Hell, even if he wanted to, he hadn¡¯t skills advanced enough to accumulate that much stress that quickly.

    Between Architect¡¯s Reality and his Eye skill, he could cause it now; that much was certain.

    ¡°Going to have to be more considerate of that in the future,¡± Rory mumbled.

    Still floating, Rory began to feel bored. He attempted to deactivate the skill, yet nothing happened. He couldn¡¯t deactivate it while unconscious, or he was already too ¡®deep¡¯ that turning the skill off did nothing. Unable to escape the clutches of the skill, Rory floated in endless boredom. Hours passed until those hours turned into days. Even the days began to fade as Rory fidgeted in the dark.

    ¡°All right, the lesson is learned.¡±

    Had it not been for the changes to both his mind and body derived from each Ascension, the days, turning into weeks, of floating in the dark would have gradually bled him of his sanity. His sanity protected, Rory instead floated in boredom, toying with different ideas.

    ¡°It sucks that I can¡¯t use any skills right now,¡± Rory said after his second week of floating. ¡°This would have been perfect for coming up with ideas.¡±

    Not that he couldn¡¯t think, plan, and formulate ideas. It just so happened that when he could utilize other skills in conjunction with regular, old-fashioned thinking, things were far more straightforward. Still, Rory wasn¡¯t planning to use it as an excuse to waste perfectly good planning time in the endless darkness. Thinking about his most recent problem, that of his Stellar Forge, Rory pondered his best solution.

    ¡°Inscription won¡¯t be enough; that much is obvious. I could probably try to beat my head against a wall for as long as I want to find the perfect base, but I¡¯m missing too much critical knowledge. I don¡¯t know how much old universe physics applies to my current understanding of general fusion. Not that I knew that much about fusion in the first place. Plus, matter in this universe isn¡¯t the same as in the old universe; you can¡¯t smash two hydrogen atoms together if hydrogen itself no longer exists.¡±

    With nothing else to do but float in the darkness, Rory spent three days thinking about it before an answer clicked.

    ¡°Oh. Duh. I¡¯ve only considered using them in armor and weapons, but nothing says I can¡¯t extrapolate them to other things. Why don¡¯t I add Gem Crafting into the mix?¡±

    One of the core points of the gems made through Gem Crafting was that they could massively amplify the power of a specific ¡®effect¡¯ or magic. He¡¯d managed to withstand the concentrated blast from a tier-six monster with the barrier effect of several gems working in tandem. Even if he had used all the energy in his armor together, if he had tried to erect a barrier directly, it wouldn¡¯t have even slowed the attack.

    ¡°Also,¡± Rory said, lecturing to an imagined classroom filled with copies of himself. ¡°My most practiced gem is a barrier gem. How difficult would it be to adapt that concept to work in tandem with an inscription base meant to create a containing magnetic field?¡±

    Without being awake, he had no way of knowing if the idea had merit, something he could usually determine through how much his eye twitched in response to whatever he¡¯d come up with.

    Still, it seemed like a strong start.

    ¡°Man, if only I were-¡±

    <hr>

    ¡°-awake.¡± Rory suddenly said, his eyes snapping open.

    ¡°Huh.¡± Rory slowly sat upright. The duo-suns shone brightly overhead, and a bird chirped in the distance.

    How long was I out?

    Yawning and stretching his arms overhead, Rory was surprised at how good he felt.

    You know, I¡¯ve been pushing myself hard for the last¡­ while. I¡¯m always building, planning, or fighting something.

    Clambering out of his freakishly soft moss bed, Rory meandered the camp. Apostolos was out, with Rory no wiser about where the young man had gone. Still, he was now a tier-five and could take care of himself, especially since he had all the benefits of Phoenix Rebirth.

    While part of Rory wished to leap straight back into the fray of planning and thinking, he sat next to their now eternally blazing campfire instead. It had been wired into their energy grid shortly before integrating with the rest of the settlement.

    Thankfully, a small campfire barely takes any energy to maintain.

    Taking time to do nothing but lounge and relax, Rory enjoyed the relative peace and quietness of the moment. If you ignored the duo-suns or the trees that looked like the Amazon rainforest had taken an obscenely liking to the color orange, you could almost think of yourself in the middle of an Earth Forest, out for a camping trip rather than building the foundations of a future world.

    ¡°God, what I would do for a cup of coffee about now,¡± Rory sighed. ¡°Or a good cup of tea.¡±

    Hmm. I wonder. I¡¯ve managed to create an entirely new type of tree. What¡¯s to say I couldn¡¯t whip up some coco trees or tea plants? Are tea plants a thing? Wait, no; mint is its own type of plant¡­ Considerations for later.

    Letting his mind wander to useless ideas, Rory enjoyed the unurgency of such thoughts, little more than hobby crafts or creations.

    But, like all good things, they eventually had to pass. Ten minutes later, his peace ended when Rory heard Apostolos pushing open the front gate and entering a moment later.

    Five... Four¡­ Three¡­ Two¡­ One.

    Right on cue, Apostolos appeared in front of him.

    ¡°Master, you¡¯re awake!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, obviously.¡±

    ¡°I was beginning to worry.¡±

    ¡°Only just beginning to? Ouch.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, master.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, I understand. Alright, give it to me straight. How long was I out?¡±

    ¡°Five days.¡±

    Letting out a slow whistle, Rory half frowned. ¡°Guess the skill wasn¡¯t lying about the perception of time being different within a mind palace.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Apostolos questioned, eyebrows creasing.

    ¡°Oh, I was floating around in a dark void, not unlike the ascension space, for weeks. No skills usable, nada.¡±

    ¡°How is that possible?¡± Apostolos questioned, an urgency in his voice that Rory did not share.

    ¡°Probably because I went unconscious while being dragged out of the skill, so I never actually turned the skill off. Asleep, I recovered my mental stress faster than it could accumulate, but it still dragged out the recovery. Otherwise, I probably would have been fine in a day or two.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± That was all Apostolos had to say.

    ¡°Yeah, it was quite the experience. A bit novel, but not one I¡¯m a major fan of. On the plus side, I had lots of time to think.¡±

    ¡°About?¡±

    ¡°My next project, of course,¡± Rory said. ¡°I know how to get the Stellar Forge working.¡±

    ¡°Stellar Forge? Is that what you¡¯re calling it now?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, I am. Do not criticize my naming scheme; I had weeks to consider it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s passable, I guess,¡± Apostolos said with a shrug.

    ¡°Good. Now, what have you been up to?¡±

    ¡°Not much. I was trying to stay nearby because of the uncertainty of what happened to you. Went and collected some materials, but that¡¯s about it.¡±

    ¡°By materials, you mean-¡±

    ¡°Yeah, another bushel of tier-two monsters has been fed to the growth ritual.¡±

    ¡°Always appreciate a blood sacrifice in the morning,¡± Rory mumbled jokingly. ¡°Alright. Well, you¡¯re free from your caretaker duties.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­. So, what do you want me to do instead?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Rory said, frowning.

    ¡°Like¡­ plans. What do you want me to prepare?¡±

    ¡°Uh, nothing? Do what you want to do.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Apostolos seemed shocked. ¡°No errands, no lessons, nothing?¡±

    ¡°Apostolos, you¡¯re officially tier-five, the same tier I was when you first appeared. You¡¯re following your own path as well. From now on, consider this the end of your formal apprenticeship under me. You¡¯re an adult now, kid. Okay, maybe not an adult-adult, but you can fend for yourself and have a good head on your shoulders. There will still be times when I need your help, of course, but it¡¯s time I let you off the leash. Go wild.¡±

    ¡°For real?¡±

    ¡°For real,¡± Rory said, crossing his arms. ¡°Though, basic chores will still hold. If you use something-¡±

    ¡°Replace it, start the replacement process, or otherwise let you know.¡± Apostolos said with a sigh, familiar with the spiel.¡±

    ¡°Good. So, now that you¡¯re free, what are you thinking of doing?¡±

    ¡°Honestly?¡± Apostolos said, looking upward at the sky with a frown. ¡°I need to develop some form of combat skill. Being a free-form mage battlemage isn¡¯t as easy as I thought it might be.¡±

    ¡°Oh, were you testing yourself out against some monsters?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and even against low-tier monsters, trying to fight purely with magic when you¡¯ve got no specific combat skills is slow. I need to spend seconds per attack shaping my intent.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, do you now?¡± Rory took the complaint and safely placed it in his back pocket, something to hold onto for the future. ¡°Well, you have fun with that.¡±

    ¡°What about you, master?¡±

    ¡°As I said, I¡¯ve got work to do on the Stellar Forge. I think I¡¯ve handled the heaviest lifting of mental stressing skills, so I doubt I¡¯ll have an episode like the last one, so you don¡¯t have to worry about me.¡±

    What Rory was really getting at was that he felt no desire to utilize his Eye skill in tandem with an outward projection of Architect¡¯s Reality, which was how the bulk of the cognitive stress had accumulated last time. A few minutes of maintaining both simultaneously equaled hours, if not days, of either skill being used individually.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Alright, if you say so,¡± Apostolos said, giving Rory an uncertain look.

    ¡°Look at you, reaching tier-five, and suddenly, you¡¯re acting like I¡¯m an old man with one foot in the grave. I may not have any blood weave on me anymore, but I¡¯m still tier-six; I could give you a hell of a thrashing.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Apostolos said smugly, flexing his arms. ¡°Says the old man with half his attributes focused on brain power.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I think the one getting the big head on their shoulders is you, Mr.¡¯  I¡¯ve been combat-focused for exactly one tier now.¡¯¡±

    Rory chuckled, enjoying the casual banter. He had tried to raise Apostolos so the young man could feel safe joking around Rory. While working as a trainer at a nearby high school, Rory had met several kids who¡¯d grown up in rough homes, and the last thing Rory wanted was to give that same experience back to Apostolos. While he wasn¡¯t his father or brother, Rory still felt his responsibility was to look out for the young man as his quasi-guardian figure.

    ¡°Right¡­ Well, I¡¯m going to go now,¡± Apostolos said, jerking his thumb toward the gate. ¡°The best way to learn is through practical effort, after all.¡±

    ¡°Now, who taught you that?¡± Rory said smugly before nodding. ¡°Go, do what you need to. Just try to report back every two or three days at the latest. Also, do not enter the third level of the Maw. If you must, I¡¯d appreciate it if you went and worked on fully clearing the second level, but again, do not enter the third level.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t have to tell me that twice,¡± Apostolos said with his hands raised. ¡°Even with my Radiant Ember, I don¡¯t want to push my luck that far.¡±

    Satisfied, Rory gave him one last nod before smiling like a proud parent. ¡°Go on then, you¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    Without another word, Rory watched Apostolos turn around, heading out the gate. Within, Rory felt a deep ache.

    Ugh. Why does that feel like a sucker punch? It¡¯s not like he¡¯s moving from the camp. But still¡­ Damn, is this what my parents felt like when I went to college?

    Between reaching tier-five and eighteen years of age, Rory had meant what he had said about believing in Apostolos: to begin to forge his path without always walking in Rory¡¯s shadow. In Rory¡¯s eyes, perhaps the most significant reason for letting Apostolos¡¯ off the leash¡¯ was the young man¡¯s Radiant Ember; knowing Apostolos had what was effectively a ¡®get-out-of-jail-free¡¯ card was quite the stress reliever.

    Thus, the next generation takes flight. Rory thought introspectively, letting the moment drag on for a few extra minutes before shaking himself out of the reverie.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s enough of that. No rest for the wicked.¡±

    <hr>

    Days began to pass in a blur as Rory saw little of Apostolos afterward. The young man would show up and wave, which had been the extent of their interaction.

    Which was okay with Rory. He was deep in thought and focus as he slowly began to execute his most recent project. Whenever he wasn¡¯t physically in the real world constructing a mock version of the Stellar Forge to model it within his mind palace more accurately, he was otherwise in said mind palace, conceptualizing and ¡®testing¡¯ inscription bases, now utilizing differing gems in his models.

    It was surprisingly complex and simple at the same time. The simple part was the star itself. With the innate understanding granted via the Forge of the Cosmos skill, he soon had a working idea of how exactly to form a newborn star.

    First, his most vital ingredient was the feathers he¡¯d plucked from the body of the Gator of the Feathered Depths. Solar energy made manifest; they were perfect to act as the ¡®catalyst¡¯ of the star. Without it, the entire project would take magnitudes longer to enact, as that much concentrated solar affinity would take months -if not years- to gather otherwise.

    Moving past the feathers was the ¡®pit¡¯ of the star. It would be a finely crafted gem of his highest caliber; if his mental calculations were correct, it would need to be a gem with at least five hundred convergence points, nearly twice as many as his next most complex gem.

    As for what the gem would be ¡®magnifying,¡¯ it would be a gem Rory had already made, a much lesser version that he hadn¡¯t expected to be perfect for birthing a star.

    That gem? None other than his ¡®room¡¯ gem. At first glance, they seemed entirely unrelated, but the core basis of the ¡®room¡¯ gem had nothing to do with actual physical rooms such as a bedroom, but in controlling a ¡®space¡¯ and making it yours, your ¡®room¡¯ if you would.

    Magnifying that concept far beyond any other gem he¡¯d ever made would allow for the lockdown of space, enabling the solar energy of the feathers to ¡®claim¡¯ said space and freely propagate.

    Still, it wouldn¡¯t be that easy. Even beginning the self-propagation of solar energy would require feeding in a large amount of almost entirely neutral Pneuma of a significantly high density. While the refined Pneuma contained within their energy grid was a good start, as it was, it was still too ¡®dilute to fuel the birth of a star.

    Thus, he¡¯d need to construct even more advanced versions of the pneuma crushers specifically for the Stellar Forge, taking already refined Pneuma and advancing it further. At that point, so much refined and dense Pneuma would likely begin taking physical form, like a gas cooled to freezing temperatures.

    Such gaseous Pneuma was perfect, as a natural star was made of cosmic dust and gas. Having gaseous, high-grade Pneuma contained and fed into the Stellar Forge would make the entire process more efficient, as it ¡®mimicked¡¯ the natural process of creating a star.

    Which finally left the final piece of the star itself, its ¡®bones¡¯ if you would. Taking Pneuma Iron, Rory would slowly enrich it with a large amount of a neutral catalyst, all while blasting it with his lattice affinity. He hoped to make a form of metal with a high degree of integrity and shape it into a matrix in the shape of a geodesic polyhedron.

    How did he know what a geodesic polyhedron was? Pure skill bullshit.

    Eat your heart out, Mr. Renolds. I told you a C- in Geometry didn¡¯t matter. Now I¡¯ve got the universe itself beaming that shit into my brain.

    A rather complex design, the ¡®matrix¡¯ would house both the feathers and the actual room gem and would be where the gaseous Pneuma would be pumped into.

    And that was all the simple parts of his Stellar Forge planning.

    The complicated part was still a matter of magical math and material science. Containing the star and the pre-star ingredients would need to be a magnetic field, but maintaining such a field was rather tricky and very costly. Using just inscriptions, it would have been damn near impossible with what they had on hand; Rory simply lacked too much direct knowledge of the actual math behind stellar fusion and stars, meaning the inscription bases would never be detailed enough to operate efficiently.

    Thus, he¡¯d add in several barrier gems. In tandem with a relatively precise inscription base -subjectively speaking- Rory hoped the ¡®math¡¯ would work out, and they wouldn¡¯t burn through their settlement¡¯s stockpiled energy in only a few days.

    With that said, he still hadn¡¯t developed a proper inscription order or base that would perform to the desired level. Sure, it would use less energy, but that meant the forge could be sustained for weeks instead of days until it ran out, which was still a failure in the long run.

    Rory wanted it to be power neutral at worst, the settlement generating as much energy as the Stellar Forge needed.

    Hence, Rory needed to physically construct mock Stellar Forges, which allowed him to properly gauge what sort of space he was working with, how large or small he needed to go on specific parts, and other general benefits that could only be gleaned through physical observation.

    It also meant he didn¡¯t have to rely on the outward projection of his mind palace with Architect¡¯s Reality nearly as much.

    That was the ¡®math¡¯ part of his issue. The material science problem was that Rory didn¡¯t know what to make the orbital rings of the Stellar Forge of. Anything utilizing affecting affinities would cause the entire thing to eventually fail as they screwed with the rest of the forge, even if only to the tiniest of degrees.

    Which meant Crimson Steel and any other derivative were out.

    Leaving Rory with¡­. Nothing. He¡¯d never made any alloys utilizing means that weren¡¯t blood-essence related.

    Unlike the matrix at the heart of the forge, the orbital rings were expected to last long term, whereas the matrix was only temporary, a structure from which the star was born but not contained.

    Meaning that whatever the actual orbital rings were made of would have to be obscenely resilient.

    Blasting something with his affinity wasn¡¯t enough to make a material strong. Sure, it had benefits, but it wasn¡¯t some direct ¡®upgrade.¡¯ With Crimson Steel and Bloodwood, utilizing his Blood Essence affinity through Essence Spark helped to ¡®conceptualize¡¯ an underlying aspect, or so he believed. It was a lot like adding carbon to iron. Sure, that would make robust steel, but that didn¡¯t mean you could add carbon to anything and expect it to improve whatever you worked on.

    So, Rory was left to consider how to get his hands on a material strong enough to withstand the force of a Stellar Heart, which also didn¡¯t involve any interfering essences.

    Now, how do I do that?

    Part of the issue was that Rory had few other metallurgic materials available. His only ¡®neutral¡¯ material was Pneuma Iron. Bloodwood was the primary catalyst for making Crimson Steel, which caused its own issues. When turned into a coal-like material, the uncommon-grade catalyst improved the common-grade metal to an equal level, but it also happened to ¡®taint¡¯ the metal with blood essence.

    And Rory didn¡¯t have any other form of ¡®catalyst¡¯ that he could use to improve Pneuma Iron.

    ¡°Sol¡¯s Glory aren¡¯t a bad idea in themselves,¡± Rory mumbled. ¡°The issue is, they¡¯re mundane grades; while it might change the Pneuma Iron, it won¡¯t necessarily improve it, or at least not by the significant degree I require.¡±

    While the name implied a Solar affinity within the trees, a positive affinity for the Stellar Forge, they had a neutral base. The only reason they¡¯d been called Sol¡¯s Glory was that Rory had named them, their orange coloration making him think of the sun on Earth.

    So, back to the drawing board Rory went, tinkering with different ideas or approaches, but none of them seemed right. His best idea had been to overcharge the Pneuma Iron beforehand. Still, the entire point of his final product was it needed to be highly durable and stable, and that much Pneuma infusion would only cause the Pneuma Iron, or whatever the resulting material was, to be unstable, entirely at odds with its intended purpose.

    It took several days of muttering to himself, pacing, building, and tearing down mock Stellar Forges before Rory retreated to his mind palace as he began to workshop another new idea.

    Rory returned to pacing inside his mind palace, and green formations appeared as he mentally shaped the world inside it.

    ¡°My main problem,¡± Rory said as he paced, a green version of the Stellar Forge appearing. ¡°Is not an issue of material strength. No, with some tinkering and tampering, I could probably come up with some derivative of Crimson Steel that would be tough enough for the task. No, the issue is, really, the issue of affinity. It would be one thing if I could ¡®make¡¯ a catalyst with either a neutral or synergistic affinity for forging and alloying a strong enough material. The issue is I need a catalyst of an appropriate grade. Bloodwood works in making Crimson Steel because it¡¯s an uncommon grade tree, but its blood affinity screws with things. The only reason I have bloodwood is the ability to manipulate and corrupt trees because blood affinity is a corruptive affinity.¡±

    These were all things he¡¯d discussed with Apostolos before, but Rory felt it was essential to retread his thoughts as he continued.

    ¡°Lattice affinity is, I¡¯m assuming, a stable affinity. Trying to recreate the method for making bloodwood trees with lattice affinity instead would likely result in nothing happening, the growing nature of a tree at odds with the stable nature of lattice affinity.¡±

    Rory stopped as a chalkboard appeared behind him, Rory snatching a piece of chalk and scribbling his thoughts away.

    ¡°But! I was thinking about this wrong. I was trying to figure out a way to create a new catalyst for improving Pneuma Iron when I should be using Pneuma Iron itself as the catalyst.¡±

    Scribbling upon the chalkboard, Rory soon had a half-decent sketch of a hive-like formation circled.

    ¡°Hiveinite,¡± Rory announced as if lecturing a class. ¡°An organic material that is resistant to erosion. At first, I didn¡¯t even consider the material as it was aspected with ash and sand affinity. That was until I remembered that I¡¯d modified the affinity of things before. Outright replacing an affinity may not be possible, but adjusting an affinity to something similar should work, as occurred with Apostolos and his affinity.¡±

    Rory went back to sketching on the chalkboard in his mind until he had drawn a new diagram of a bounded circle with a chain of runes surrounding it.

    ¡°Pneuma is the temporary energy of change, growth, and evolution and can be used to fuel many things. While not as potent as Ascension energy, the ¡®older cousin¡¯ of the two, it doesn¡¯t change that Pneuma still is an aspect of change. Using a bound circle accompanied by a detailed inscription base, I can devise a system for slowly tweaking the base nature of the Hiveinite. While ash and sand aren¡¯t compatible with my goals, the fact that it¡¯s specifically resistant to erosion means I may be capable of bleeding off the base affinities and isolating that anti-erosion nature, magnifying from nothing more than a particular trait of the material to the primary aspect.¡±

    Drawing an arrow away from the Hiveinite diagram, Rory encircled a question mark that the arrow pointed toward.

    ¡°The question becomes, while the spoken theory is there, will it bring the result I¡¯m looking for? The purpose isn¡¯t to charge the material with Pneuma but to utilize Pneuma to modify the affinity, a precision scalpel rather than a blunt hammer. To that end, I need to be very accurate with my estimates. I don¡¯t have enough Hiveinite to experiment endlessly,¡±

    Nodding to himself, Rory suddenly held two green shapes in his hands, a chunk of modified Hiveinite in one hand and a chunk of Pneuma Iron in the other.

    ¡°By itself, that might be what I¡¯m looking for, but I need something beyond the required ¡®base¡¯ as a measure of caution and redundancy.¡±

    The green chunk of Hiveinite crumbled before reforming into a three-dimensional lattice structure, scaffolding to build the orbital rings over.

    ¡°First, break down the Hiveinite before reshaping it into the foundational supports or bones of the orbital rings I need for the Stellar Forge. Then-¡±

    Within his other hand, the Pneuma-Iron suddenly dissolved into a liquid mass, rushing over to coat the thin lattice structure formed by the deconstructed hiveinite.

    ¡°-utilizing molten Pneuma Iron that has been continuously melted down and removed of impurities, all while being bathed with equal measures of Foundational and Lattice affinity, will be used to infuse the hiveinite bones of the orbital rings.¡±

    The now metallic hiveinite reformed into the supports of what would be an orbital ring, just miniaturized and floating above his hand.

    ¡°Trying to craft the orbital rings of a single solid mass wouldn¡¯t work, which is the same reason why houses and any architecture have built-in supports throughout. They¡¯ll be exposed to extreme stress due to the proximity to the Stellar Heart.¡±

    The bones of the orbital ring were soon covered thoroughly, and it was now a solid ring rotating around a miniature star that had popped into existence.

    ¡°Finally, I¡¯ll continuously add more and more layering of a secondary metal, each layer inscribed with runes and even some gems. As long as the structural support of the orbital rings remains strong, I can likely inscribe the following layers with reinforcement runes to gradually galvanize it over time. I¡¯ll still need to develop a rather robust secondary material, but it will be far less demanding than the actual ring innards of the rings themselves.¡±

    Rory already had a blend of materials in mind to enhance Pneuma Iron, and while on its own, he didn¡¯t believe it would hold up long term, the modified hiveinite within would provide the support it needed until the galvanizing runes had done their job.

    Looking between the model ring floating above his hand and his chalkboard filled with scribbled thoughts and notes, Rory felt a surge of confidence.

    It feels right.

    To double-check, he would transcribe the notes in the real world and then look them over with a second-stage release of his eye skill, boosting his cognition and enabling the original Eye for Potential effect. As long as nothing jumped out at him as being out of place, it would be his plan of attack for constructing the Stellar Forge.

    It wasn¡¯t the only thing he still needed to plan out. Still, between figuring out the material problem of what to make the Stellar Forge of and the ¡®math¡¯ problem of his inscription base, they were the two problems that separated the Stellar Forge from a theory or a concept to an actual, executable creation. Everything else was something he knew he could do or how to do.

    Exiting his mind palace, Rory folded his arms, letting the building ache in his head fade.

    ¡°Planning complete. Now, to move on to the construction.¡±

 51. Forges and Banes

    As much as Rory had been ready to move onto construction of the Stellar Forge, that hadn¡¯t meant there still wasn¡¯t some testing required. Most of it was reasonably straightforward. First was a new material he¡¯d come up with as the secondary material of the Orbital Rings of the Stellar Forge. Taking crushed obsidian and the ash of smoked Sol¡¯s Glory, Rory reconstituted it into a solid mass as he pressed it together like a diamond under pressure through the liberal application of a modified runic array, all while exposing it to a liberal application of his newest affinity using Essence Spark. After that, it had been fired inside their forge before finally being retrieved. The resulting material looked like an odd chunk of strangely porous grey coal.

    <u>Stable Coke</u>

    <u>Quality</u>: Common.

    A common-but-potent grade coke devised to marginally increase the stability, durability, and strength of the materials with which it¡¯s alloyed. Depending on the composition of the base material, Stable Coke¡¯s quality may be further enhanced.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± Rory muttered upon collecting the first batch of his newest catalyst coke. Bloodwood Coke, while superior, was tainted by blood essence. Any materials made with it would be unusable for the Stellar Forge.

    After making a relatively large amount of Stable Coke, Rory began to alloy it with their Pneuma Iron reserves, removing all the impurities through continuous forging, pouring, and remelting, frowning as he did.

    I¡¯m going to need more Pneuma Iron soon¡­ Probably¡­ Eh, eventually.

    Ignoring the dwindling supply of Pneuma Iron, Rory continued. Rather than attempting some overly abstract and magical form of metallurgy, Rory copied the Earth¡¯s method of making steel just with magical materials. Before long, Rory soon had his newest material.

    Stabilized Steel

    <u>Quality</u>: Common.

    Forged and alloyed with Stable Coke and high-quality Pneuma-Enriched Iron, it has improved nearly every base property of Pneuma Iron while adding stability.

    Testing it against Crimson Steel, Rory confirmed that while stronger than Pneuma Iron, Stabilized Steel was still less durable than Crimson Steel, explaining why it was still tagged as a common quality material. That much was acceptable, as it was simply the ¡®bulk¡¯ material that only needed to be strong enough in conjunction with the bones of the orbital ring to last until the galvanizing runes did their job.

    Satisfied, Rory had then switched focus, testing his theory of modifying the affinity of the hiveinite. Breaking off a chunk the size of his thumb first, Rory had placed it within their bound circle before adjusting the outer ring of runes so that the entire thing would tweak the overall affinity of the material. It was a process that took quite a few days of slow exposure. It was only possible now that the bounded ring drew its Pneuma from their energy grid rather than requiring Rory to channel it into the ring manually.

    <u>Hiveinite</u>

    <u>Quality:</u> Uncommon

    <u>Isotope Variant</u>: Stable Affinity

    The former nest of an Ash Mite colony that has since been abandoned as the mites reached their larvae stage. Devoid of life, the nest is composed of a surprisingly durable organic mineral highly resistant to erosion. Additionally, due to manipulation of its base affinity, it has since been changed to reflect a stable affinity.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Rory had noted as he examined the test specimen. He had been half expecting the hiveinite to become an entirely different material, but apparently, what he¡¯d done to it only constituted an ¡®isotope¡¯ variance and not an outright material evolution or change.

    Once Rory had confirmed the affinity manipulation process would work, he plunked the entire abandoned hive within the bound ring.

    Based on how long even a small chunk took, I¡¯d guess the entire source may take a few weeks to convert.

    Knowing that, Rory began working on other parts of the grander project. First, he slowly dug up the area around their forge. With the ground torn up, Rory replaced it with a material akin to ceramic or cement. It was a slightly modified version of what he¡¯d used in his early years on Aelia, a rigid material that sadly wasn¡¯t great at flexing or absorbing strikes, only useful as a building material for things like flooring or walls.

    That alone took two weeks. Once the ground had been torn out and replaced with the new ¡®floor,¡¯ Rory began establishing the inscription base¡¯s first parts. Meant to interface as one single, larger mechanism, Rory inscribed eight rings of concentric runes several feet around their current forge. They were inert and useless on their own, only coming to life once he¡¯d built the rest of the Stellar Forge and the accompanying inscriptions. Thankfully, the runic rings only took two days to etch into the flooring.

    Once that was done, Rory checked on the hiveinite; finding it still incomplete, he set on preparing even more Stable Steel. Originally, Rory intended to utilize Pneuma Iron for the matrix of the Stellar Heart. Still, after discovering Stable Steel was just better at seemingly everything, Rory altered his mental blueprint to utilize Stable Steel instead. Once he had even more Stable Steel -ten days of forging- enough for the matrix and the rest of the metal components of the Stellar Forge, Rory began to fashion the matrix that would house the ingredients needed to ignite the star.

    And that took some time. It was extreme precision work, an endless loop of the same few runes on each matrix piece. Even physically constructing the matrix took several weeks of hammering, sanding, etching, and spot-welding.

    Seven weeks later, Rory finally had the completed Stellar Heart matrix made, something he promptly stored for safekeeping. Thankfully, the hiveinite had been fully converted to its isotope variant and thus was also stored alongside the matrix.

    During that time, Rory only saw Apostolos a handful of times. The young man had informed him that he was doing his best to clear what remained of the second floor of the Maw, but almost every room that remained had at least one tier-five monster lurking within. Apostolos had been ¡®slain¡¯ on more than one occasion -given he could not utilize blood weave or remain behind the safety of their settlement walls- resulting in his resurrection back in their settlement and the necessity of remaking a Radiant Ember. Rory felt for the young man, but it was a learning experience for him. As long as he had a Radiant Ember, he could bash his head against the tier-five wall that was the more powerful monsters on the second floor, slowly learning until he could slay them with more than a thirty percent success rate.

    But he wasn¡¯t there yet, so Rory let him continue as is.

    With both of their plates full of daunting tasks, Rory focused on himself, confident that Apostolos would eventually succeed with flying colors.

    Instead of bothering himself with assisting Apostolos, Rory continued his work on the Stellar Forge. Thanks to his mind palace, he knew exactly how to build the physical structure of the orbital rings, allowing him to model it without wasting resources. However, Rory was soon confronted with what was likely to be the most protracted process of making the forge.

    That was taking the hiveinite isotope variant¡ªnow ground into fine dust¡ªand painstakingly assembling it into the structural scaffolding of the Orbital Rings proper. Because the hiveinite wasn¡¯t a metal that he could melt and shape, he needed first to reduce it into something malleable if he wanted to use it.

    And given it wasn¡¯t malleable at all, the only way to make it malleable was to reduce it to dust first.

    In a way, the entire process reminded him of building a sandcastle. Except in this case, you needed to grind stones into the sand first, and rather than a typical castle, you were building a fusion reactor. Oh, and rather than using water to bond the sand together, you were using molten metal. Molten metal, which seemed to have a proclivity for splashing onto his arms.

    So, really, what¡¯s the difference?

    All in all, building out the scaffolding for the entire Stellar Forge took the better part of a year. Once that was done, he stepped back, examining his work. Unfinished, Rory could not examine the Stellar Forge with his interface. Still, a quick once-over with his eye skill told him everything was ready for the next step.

    Glorified painting.

    Piece by piece, component by component, Rory painted over the structural scaffolds with Stable Steel, channeling Essence Spark as he did. With each layer painted, Rory let the entire thing cool and harden before inscribing countless runes on the layer. Once that was done, Rory would slather on another thin layer, let it solidify, inscribe some runes, and repeat. While faster than the actual construction of the scaffold, it still took another four months to finalize. The once frighteningly fragile-looking scaffolds were now proper metal struts, orbital rings, and the like. All that remained was assembly, installation of his prototype pneuma crushers that would further refine the Pneuma needed to ignite the Stellar Heart, inserting the matrix with the room gem and the solar feathers he¡¯d obtained nearly two years back, and finally turning the entire thing on and praying it wouldn¡¯t explode in a miniature supernova.

    Fun.

    As much as Rory knew it was a possibility, closing in on the end goal, he couldn¡¯t help but feel nervous excitement rush through him.

    One, maybe two months to go?

    Most of that time would be spent making a room gem with the necessary convergence points to satisfy the requirements of the Stellar Heart matrix, as well as building his new prototype pneuma crushers. They differed slightly from the old pneuma crushers they¡¯d installed around their camp years back; now, using gem crafting, Rory believed he could utilize room gems to force already refined Pneuma to grind and crush against itself. With the prior version of pneuma crushers, the Pneuma had become so refined that they could no longer be adequately forced to crush inward. Room gems would circumvent that, and the captured space would not allow the Pneuma to escape, thus causing the Pneuma to enrich further.

    Eventually, Rory intended to modify their original pneuma crushers to utilize the same principle. Still, it wouldn¡¯t be until after the Stellar Forge was completed.

    Spending a month and a half -faster than Rory had initially anticipated- Rory worked on making the required gems. Thankfully, with the advantage of an entire extra tier under his belt, creating gems with the necessary convergence points wasn¡¯t the hell Rory had expected it to be. It was still rough, and he had more than enough gem shards embedded in his face to attest to that, but it was doable.

    A month and a half later, Rory had not just finalized one room gem of five hundred convergence points; he had five gems of six hundred convergence points. Plunking four of the five gems into the in-built pneuma crushers components of the Stellar Forge, all that remained was retrieving the matrix he¡¯d some time back, inserting the room gem and solar feathers, and then assembling the entire thing, like one oversized Lego-fied fusion reactor.

    Thankfully, the remaining steps only took a little over a week.

    Nearly two years since he¡¯d begun working on the entire project, Rory finally stood before the dormant Stellar Forge. The Stellar Heart matrix floated within the mass of orbiting rings and the claw-like cage of bent metal appendages surrounding even those.

    ¡°Is it done?¡± A voice spoke out as Rory turned to find Apostolos entering the camp, dusting himself off.

    ¡°How was the Maw?¡±

    ¡°Almost cleared.¡± Apostolos grinned.

    ¡°Glad to hear.¡± Rory nodded. The young man had been working hard; his success rate had risen from thirty percent when battling tier-fives to eighty-five. While he hadn¡¯t developed any combat skills, he¡¯d evolved his Essence Spark and became the proud owner of Essence Projection. It was made possible when Rory explained the theory behind the skill, but Rory himself hadn¡¯t gotten the chance to try to push the bounds of Essence Spark. It made Apostolos far more capable at battling what remained of the monsters within the second floor of the Maw, many as strong as level fifty-seven or fifty-eight. He¡¯d even encountered a level fifty-nine, but every attempt at slaying the Spider Patriarch resulted so far in Apostolos respawning within their camp with an exasperated huff.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got three rooms left based on what the map says,¡± Apostolos said as if reading his mind. ¡°My friend, the Spider Patriarch, a room of Haut Rats, and then a Stone Roc.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like we¡¯ll get that full clear reward for the second floor soon.¡±

    ¡°I hope to clear the last three rooms in a month or so,¡± Apostolos confirmed before changing the subject. ¡°So, the Stellar Forge? It¡¯s almost done?¡±

    ¡°It is done,¡± Rory said, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯ve just got to pull the lever, and it will begin drawing energy from our settlement reserve; that Pneuma will be captured and further enriched by the pneuma crushers mark two, and then it will be pumped inward. The runic arrays will then draw it into the Stellar Heart matrix, which will then begin to use all that gaseous Pneuma to propagate solar affinity energy, which will react with the room gem. Lastly, the solar feathers will cause the entire thing to undergo a chain reaction as the energy fully manifests into physical space and hopefully ignites the Stellar Heart.¡±

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°Then the forge is finally operational,¡± Rory sighed. ¡°Two years of effort. It¡¯s a good thing tier-six takes several decades to cross. Otherwise, two years working on this could have put me severely behind.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t you get Ascension Energy for all of this?¡± Apostolos questioned as he waved at the dormant Stellar Forge.

    ¡°Hopefully, but you can¡¯t ever say for certain until after the fact,¡± Rory said.

    ¡°Got it.¡± Apostolos acknowledged. ¡°So, uhm¡­ What are you waiting for?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, really,¡± Rory said with a shrug. ¡°Want to pull the lever?¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Apostolos seemed surprised at the offer.

    ¡°Sure, I mean, it¡¯s just a lever,¡± Rory said nonchalantly before pointing at a lever attached to the outer cage surrounding the Stellar Forge. ¡°Go for it.¡±

    Approaching the Stellar Forge, which now dominated where their old forge had been, Apostolos hesitated as if uncertain of himself.

    ¡°Oh c¡¯mon, it¡¯s not that big of a deal.¡± Rory chided, amusedThe story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°What if it explodes?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°Good question,¡± Rory frowned for a moment, glancing upward. ¡°Well, you¡¯ll be fine with that Radiant Ember unless it destroys your Ember in the explosion¡­ Hmm, I guess in hindsight, if it explodes, we both die.¡±

    ¡°Cheery,¡± Apostolos muttered, ¡°Leave it to my master to shrug that off like nothing more than a minor inconvenience.¡±

    ¡°Come again?¡± Rory asked, pretending as if he hadn¡¯t heard the young man.

    ¡°Nothing. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± Apostolos answered, mustering his courage before yanking the lever downward and quickly retreating to stand beside Rory. At first, nothing happened until several of the rings began to spin faster, and the matrix within the dormant forge began to whirl opposite the spinning rings.

    Faster and faster, they spun until suddenly, what looked like gas slowly shimmered within the forge before the matrix then sucked it up.

    ¡°This is all supposed to happen, right?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± Rory said with a nod.

    ¡°You think so?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never tested it.¡±

    Apostolos grumbled something, but Rory ignored it, transfixed by the Stellar Forge as it came to life. Eventually, the gas within the matrix seemed to ignite as a tremendous light erupted outward, nearly blinding them. Shining brighter and brighter, the matrix collapsed inward, condensing into a single ball of plasma several inches in diameter.

    ¡°D-did it work?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°Seems like it,¡± Rory said, a smile widening. The orbital rings began to slow down until they lazily orbited the baby star. Pulling up his interface, Rory tapped several times as the Stellar Forge shimmered briefly, the few rough edges seemingly smoothing out.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°I redistributed the essence and matter of our old forge and transferred it toward the Stellar Forge. Not a hundred percent efficient, but it¡¯s better than nothing.¡±

    ¡°But it barely did anything?¡±

    ¡°A Stellar Forge is a bit more demanding than a regular old forge.¡±

    Apostolos merely grunted in concert as they both stared at the Stellar Forge. It was strange. It looked like a device plucked straight out of a sci-fi novel or from an alien world, entirely at odds with how bare bones the rest of the world appeared. In a way, it was like building a rocket ship in a world that hadn¡¯t yet even made a basic cart.

    ¡°It¡¯s kind of beautiful, honestly.¡± Apostolos sighed. ¡°Feels like I¡¯m drawn toward it,¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s called gravity, but it should be contained if you don¡¯t try to cross the magnetic field.¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not what I mean,¡± Apostolos scratched his nose, clearly perplexed. ¡°It feels¡­ familiar? It was as if I wanted a hamburger, but I got a hot dog. Not the same thing, but still pretty good.¡±

    Why is it that the main thing he can remember from our old universe is food?

    Ignoring Apostolos¡¯s oddly selective memories, Rory took a moment to consider what the young man said before nodding as if he¡¯d figured something out.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing your Solar Affinity is resonating.¡±

    ¡°That can happen?¡±

    ¡°How would I know?¡± Rory said with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s just the only guess I¡¯ve got.¡±

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s fair,¡± Apostolos sighed before glancing at his master. ¡°So... what does it do?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°What does it actually do?¡± Apostolos repeated the question.

    ¡°It, uhhh¡­ uhhh. Stellar forges things¡­?¡± Rory stumbled over his words; he hadn¡¯t been prepared for the line of questioning.

    ¡°You mean to tell me,¡± Apostolos grumbled, clearly annoyed, ¡°You spent two years on a project without actually knowing what it does?¡±

    ¡°It makes a star!¡± Rory all but shouted, waving his arms. ¡°How could I not?¡±

    ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Trees and forests.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, shut it,¡± Rory muttered. With a sigh, he activated his eye skill, cognition boosted, and potential vision activated. Inspecting the contained star, it took several seconds to turn over random ideas in his mind before he felt his eye twitch, resonating with the thought.

    ¡°Here, wait for a moment,¡± Rory said as he jogged to their storage shed. Moments later, he dragged several hundreds of pounds worth of Stable Steel toward the Stellar Forge as if it only weighed a few pounds.

    ¡°What are you going to do with all th- woah!¡± Apostolos¡¯s eyes bulged as Rory began tossing the bars of Stable Steel at the contained star. Crossing the containment threshold, the bars were sucked into the tiny star, vanishing as the Stellar Heart consumed the material like a small snack.

    Countless hours of forging, not to mention the collection time required to obtain the raw materials needed to make so much Stable Steel, vanished in only a few minutes. Once he¡¯d tossed all the metal he could into the star, Rory took a deep breath and imagined himself pulling at the star. Responding to his will, the star almost seemed to burst as the universe¡¯s tiniest coronal mass ejection occurred, a tiny plasma geyser projected toward the containment field. Still pulling, the plasma was yanked through the field, solidifying moments before a small bar-like deposit of material Rory had never seen before landed gently on his hand.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Apostolos asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

    ¡°That,¡± Rory said with a smile, ¡°Is what two years of effort gets us.¡±

    Stellar Matter

    <u>Quality</u>: Common (.1% Purity)

    One of the fundamental building blocks of creation, Stellar Matter may be used to create other forms of matter or as a catalyst for refining more fantastical materials. Quality is directly tied to the purity of the Stellar Matter, which requires exponentially greater matter, energy, or magical fuel to achieve.

    ¡°Hot damn,¡± Rory whistled. While it was only graded as a ¡®common¡¯ quality, Rory had no illusions of its value, his spasming eye confirming the fact.

    Still, hundreds of pounds of metal only get me less than a pound of Stellar Matter.

    It was a bit disappointing in that regard, he¡¯d need to shovel in a metric shit ton of raw resources to obtain any amount of usable Stellar Matter, but Rory instinctively knew it would be worth it. He¡¯d have to do some tests with the stuff, but he was more than confident it would prove its worth a hundred times over.

    Feeling immensely proud, Rory put his hands on his hips, basking in the glow of success before suddenly doubling over.

    ¡°Master!?¡± Apostolos suddenly was in his face, checking on him. ¡°What happened!? Are you okay!?¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Rory muttered, the sudden weight that had slammed down on his beginning to fade. ¡°Just¡­ God damn. That was a lot of Ascension Energy.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you just got it now?¡± Apostolos relaxed as Rory slowly stood up.

    ¡°Yeah, and boy, was that a doozy. If I had to say¡­. Ten, maybe fifteen times as much as when we integrated the energy grid, probably more.¡±

    Apostolos said nothing, his only response a drawn-out whistle of amazement.

    ¡°Between the degree of precision needed, the raw resources, and the rarity of the skills I needed to even make this thing¡­ Yeah, no wonder it gave so much Ascension Energy for completion.¡±

    Given Rory had been out of commission when he¡¯d received the energy for killing a tier-six monster, he couldn¡¯t truly compare. Still, Rory felt confident in saying the sudden influx was the most extraordinary windfall of Ascension Energy he¡¯d ever received.

    Curious, Rory opened his interface, checking his progress to A7. Seeing the bar, Rory snorted, shaking his head.

    More than a 10x magnitude in Ascension energy gained compared to his next most considerable windfall ¡­. It accounted for around seven percent of the bar.

    Not seventy.

    Seven.

    ¡°Damn,¡± Rory laughed. ¡°Logically knew it would be a few decades, but just¡­Damn, the confirmation couldn¡¯t be clearer.¡±

    Amused, Rory was ready to call it for the day when something suddenly changed. It was as if the entire world froze for a split second before restarting, the only giveaway being the utter silence.

    ¡°Master?¡± Apostolos seemed worried, having noticed it as well.

    A cold chill crept down his spine, and Rory knew something terrible was about to happen.

    ¡°Get our weapons and armor, quick.¡±

    It was good thinking by Rory, but it was too little, too late. A dark blur of color came crashing down from above, directly in front of Apostolos. It was so fast that Rory could barely follow its movements, even with all his cognition investment.

    Which meant Apostolos never had a shot. A claw -or maybe a tail- swept out, and Apostolos vanished in a shower of golden motes of light.

    Oh fuck.

    Whatever the creature was, it had just one-shot Apostolos, with an almost lazy degree of ease.

    Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

    Straightening out, the monster stood up as Rory got his first good look at the thing. As if matching the sci-fi theme of the day, the beast looked like it could have come from a Ridley Scott movie. Its face was like an amalgamation of a bat and a hyena with an insectoid sort of shape language thrown in for fun. It had a rather intense underbite, revealing rows of oddly blocky teeth ending in serrations rather than sharp points, as if made to grind and saw through material rather than shred flesh. Lanky and covered in black chitinous material like a cousin to a Xenomorph, it had ugly orange pox-like protrusions somewhere between cysts and spurs covering its body. Furthermore, the monster had a pair of scythe-like arms hanging at its sides with another pair of shorter, more recognizable claw-covered arms tucked in toward its chest.

    Chest or thorax? Wait, now¡¯s not the time.

    It stood upon a pair of legs with backward-facing joints, ending in hooves with retractable talons shirking out from the hooves a moment later. Lastly, swinging behind it was a long-segmented tail ending in a cudgel-like mass that would occasionally twitch open, revealing more pockets of the waxy-orange stuff.

    Rory wasn¡¯t sure if he would call it the worst thing he¡¯d ever seen, but it undeniably sent a trilling warning signal blaring through his nerves.

    Which was when the monster turned to face him directly.

    Shit.

    Rory didn¡¯t even have time to breathe as the monster lunged toward him, its giant scythe-like arms sweeping toward his neck. Barely capable of reacting in time, thanks to his high degree of cognition improving his processing speed, Rory was forced purely onto the defense.

    Not good.

    He could try to hold out until Apostolos respawned, but he¡¯d be out of Radiant Embers. Another strike from the monster would kill him for good.

    The issue was he had no weapons or armor whatsoever on him.

    Ducking, weaving, and frantically dodging, Rory avoided the strikes from the monstrosity.

    No doubt about it, it¡¯s tier-six.

    How and why a tier-six had suddenly attacked their camp was beyond Rory. In their years on Aelia, he¡¯d rarely dealt with monsters assaulting their settlement unless it was summoned by a wave or lured in through other means. His claimed territory¡¯s natural ¡®barrier¡¯ seemed to drive monsters away.

    What are my options?

    Thinking frantically, Rory rolled under a sudden sweeping strike from the cudgel-like tail of the monster. As it swept overhead, the cudgel opened as pockets of orange wax exploded, the orange goo splattering his walls, which instantly began to dissolve wherever the stuff landed.

    Wonderful.

    He had a few bows in his hovel that had been collecting dust, little more than trophies of prior experimentations with his ability to craft a mighty bow. The issue was that he doubted the monster would give him a chance to grab one, nor did he believe that would help much. The beast was much too fast for him to land a shot cleanly.

    Backpedaling out of the way of another attack, Rory saw as the monster suddenly crouched low, its scythe-like arms flared out to its sides, almost like-

    Like the wings of a jet.

    Rocketing forward precisely like a jet slicing through the air, Rory just managed to roll to the side in time, recognizing what was about to happen with barely enough time to react.

    The good news was Rory wasn¡¯t bisected by the unknown monster.

    The bad news was it shot through the air so fast that it crashed through the opposing wall. His walls, which had so proudly withstood many powerful monsters, even holding up against monsters such as the Gator of the Feathered Depths, were destroyed in a single attack that hadn¡¯t even been specifically meant for them.

    Yeah, that¡¯s tier-six, no doubt about it.

    Taking advantage of the split-second reprieve, Rory sprinted to his hovel, ducking inside and snatching his macahuitl from where he always left it. Armed, Rory dashed back out just in time to see the monster reenter their camp.

    ¡°Right, come at me, you piece of shit!¡± Rory shouted, trying his best to draw its attention.

    Need to kill it before Apostolos respawns.

    Rory didn¡¯t even consider whether he could kill the monster; all that mattered was that he had to. It had assaulted their home directly, already taken one of Apostolos¡¯s lives, and who knew what else if it was allowed to rampage.

    No, I know exactly what happens. We die.

    Gritting his teeth, Rory took a turn to charge the monster. He was by no means good at fighting, and without blood weave, he didn¡¯t have the overwhelming attribute advantage that allowed him to handle many tier-five monsters far more easily than someone like him should have been capable of.

    But this was his home, and for as many things as he was nonchalant or unbothered by, he couldn¡¯t let the monster destroy everything he¡¯d built up. He¡¯d only accept that when no strength was left in his body.

    Having been on the defensive the entire time, the monster seemed surprised to see Rory take the offensive initiative. Perhaps because its mouth was filled with teeth closer to molars than fangs, it almost seemed to grin at his attempt. Swinging his macahuitl, Rory slammed the weapon against the monster, only for it to rebound harmlessly.

    Fuck.

    Having let Rory take a free shot, the monster snapped its jaws forward, crushing his weapon between its teeth, which seemed tailor-made for destroying items rather than tearing flesh.

    With his trusty old weapon instantly destroyed, Rory was forced on the defensive, doing his absolute best to simply evade. Rory fought for his life for what felt like hours -but couldn¡¯t have been longer than half a minute- until he frowned as the monster stopped, revealing its monstrous faux smile.

    Realization dawning upon him, Rory tentatively reached behind him, his hand grazing his walls. Once his greatest shield, now his encroaching kennel.

    More than the creature¡¯s speed, strength, or acid-like boils, what alarmed Rory the most was the revelation he underwent as his hand pulled away from the wall.

    It¡¯s intelligent.

    It wasn¡¯t a mindless beast rampaging. It had cornered him, biding its time before he had nowhere to retreat or evade.

    It had matched him in the one place he¡¯d always felt strongest, his ability to plan.

    God damn it.

    Checkmate. There was no escape.

    Well¡­ If that¡¯s the case. May as well go for it.

    Closing his eyes as if he were accepting his fate, Rory saw his interface flicker open in the dark instead.

    Warning: Energy override enabled. Proceed?

    Y/N?

    His intent was simple. The camp was his, meaning by rights, anything within he could use.

    Including the rather massive stockpile of enriched Pneuma, more than two years¡¯ worth.

    Going to borrow a page from your book Apostolos.

    Opening his eyes, Rory saw the monster leisurely approaching, having all the time in the world as Rory had apparently surrendered. Seeing Rory suddenly perk up, the strangely intelligent eyes seemed to glimmer with a flicker of surprise and wariness.

    Too late fucker!

    Raising his hand, Rory¡¯s body screamed as what felt like a hundred thunderbolts slammed through him, the conduit for the massive well of Pneuma to be shaped through. The monster was halted as massive crystal chains wrapped around its appendages, the size you¡¯d see on tanker ships.

    The chains weren¡¯t what he was borrowing from Apostolos; Rory just needed to lock down its movements momentarily.

    What was taken from Apostolos was when Rory mimed raising a bow. As he did, the tiny shard of Stellar Matter he¡¯d retrieved earlier floated upward, suspended where an arrow would be if he held a bow.

    Now for the tricky part.

    Rory was far from skilled with Pneuma manipulation, meaning there was no way he could maintain the crystal chains binding the monster and attack at the same time. Therefore, he¡¯d need to drop the chains the moment he switched to release the power within the freeform magic he was preparing.

    As much as Rory wanted to drop a witty one-liner, he wasn¡¯t the humorously clever type. Instead, he simply scowled at the monster, pissed off.

    ¡°Fuck you.¡±

    Two things happened at once. First, the chains dematerialized instantly, and second, the world went white as Rory released his intent-shaped magic, an arrow of pure concentrated Pneuma tipped with the recently acquired Stellar Matter.

    For once, Rory didn¡¯t black out. Instead, he was slammed through his wall, unable to feel so much as a fingertip so strained was his body by the massive backlash of channeling so much high-energy Pneuma.

    Seconds passed as the avalanche of light faded from his eyes. Blinking his eyes, Rory found himself lying flat on his ass outside his camp, shrapnel and debris everywhere. Trying to pull himself up, Rory could only frown.

    My nervous system was cooked from using too much Pneuma at once.

    He had blissfully skirted a case of Pneuma-wracked, having held a clear image of what he was doing and only held onto the intent and magic for a second or two at the max. Still enough to fry his body but not enough to fry his brain.

    ¡°At least it worked,¡± Rory groaned. His jaw hurt even muttering a few words; the delightful pain burnout had already faded.

    Happy to have survived, Rory began pondering what the monster was before his mind halted.

    Wait. I didn¡¯t feel any energy from that kill.

    Realizing what that meant, Rory barely managed to pick his head up enough to look through the hole his body had torn through his walls.

    And what he saw sealed his fate.

    Standing up was the monster, now one scythe arm down. It was spewing black ichor but otherwise seemed to have survived.

    It must have barely managed to avoid the worst of the attack when the chains dropped.

    Watching it, there was nothing left Rory could do as the monster began to rumble toward him, its tail swishing in agitation.

    Nothing. I¡¯ve got nothing left.

    Had he had time, he would have retrieved his railgun to deal with the monster, but even then, he wasn¡¯t confident it would have been enough. The damn thing was equal parts fast and tough, and even improved railguns could fire only so fast. The last attack he¡¯d thrown out had been considerably more potent than even a shot from his railgun, and it had survived with only a missing arm.

    The fact was, he¡¯d been defeated. Utterly. Only with unstable blood weave would he have maybe had a shot, but there was also a strong possibility it could have outlasted the timer on any unstable items.

    Well¡­ Guess this is how it ends.

    Laying his head back on the ground, Rory could only stare up into the sky as his last precious few seconds ticked away, the sound of the monster approaching growing louder and louder.

    It was a good run, I guess.

    Like a conquering demon, the sun was blotted out as a dark figure appeared above him. Rather than end him quickly, the monster placed a hoof on his chest, its talons springing out as it drew several painful lines down his chest.

    ¡°Fucker,¡± Rory growled. ¡°Enjoying this, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    The monster responded with its ugly, snarl-like smile. Then, it began to lower its remaining scythe arm toward his face; a single orange drop pooled at the tip of the scythe.

    If I have one regret¡­ Well, I don¡¯t think I have any. Maybe asked Susan out in eighth grade?

    His motto had always been to only fret about what was worth fretting. He¡¯d done his best and fought his heart out, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Nothing he could have done would have been enough.

    Rory chose to watch death approach with his eyes wide open.

    The scythe descended slowly toward his face, angling right above his eyebrow. With a wince, Rory felt it slice a line as the orange acid entered the wound, etching it permanently into his flesh, ignoring the fact that ¡®permanently¡¯ was likely to only be a few more seconds of life.

    Bracing for whatever was next, Rory prepared himself, only for his eyes to widen in surprise.

    The monster, seemingly content with the single acid-etched mark above his eyebrow, removed its hoof from his chest before vanishing into the tree line.

    Laying there, dumbfounded, Rory finally let out a painful breath, his chest hurting like hell.

    ¡°The hell?¡± Rory sighed after several moments of catching his breath.

    He had lived.

    Somehow.

    But that raised a question.

    What the fuck was that all about?

 52. The First Event

    Laying on the ground for several minutes, Rory replayed the encounter in his mind, trying to understand what happened. With every iteration and thought, he found himself facing only abject failure. He¡¯d failed and failed miserably, at that.

    Only when a familiar face appeared above him did his mind find something else to focus on.

    ¡°So¡­. What happened?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°I lost.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re not dead.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Rory agreed.

    ¡°And I¡¯m not dead.¡±

    ¡°Ehh, I mean, you sort of died.¡± Rory retorted.

    ¡°Tier six?¡±

    ¡°Not a chance in hell it was tier five, at least.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ it just left?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    The two were silent momentarily before Rory felt Apostolos grab his hand and yank him to his feet.

    ¡°Master?¡± Apostolos said as he shouldered Rory¡¯s limp body, ¡®helping¡¯ him into camp, though it was basically Apostolos putting in most of the effort.

    ¡°Yes?¡± Rory said, everything aching as Apostolos gently dropped him to sit by their fire.

    ¡°I think you should check for a notification.¡±

    ¡°Huh, good idea,¡± Rory responded. He was still shell-shocked, his brain sluggishly trying to catch up after everything that had happened. Seeing what Apostolos was referring to, Rory opened the red pinging dot in the corner of his vision as his interface opened.

    Planetary Event: Bane¡¯s Birth

    Requirements: All Founders A6+

    Having crystallized and solidified their foundations, the time has come for the spark of chaos to be added to the dry kindle of potential once more.

    Event Details: For the next three tiers (6,7,8), each founder will be confronted with their Chosen Bane three times per tier. Defeating a Chosen Bane at least two out of three times will be counted as a tier victory. Final rewards will be scaled based on tier victories. A Chosen Bane will not attempt to kill a Founder directly until tier eight confrontations. Successfully wounding a Chosen Bane to a pre-determined degree will award minor rewards per fight, regardless of victory or defeat. Should a Chosen Bane be completely killed, a new Chosen Bane will be spawned. Tiering up before battling a Chosen Bane three times in a tier will automatically count the entire tier as a loss.

    Chosen Bane of the Architect

    Tier Six Status: 0-1

    Tier Seven Status: N/A

    Tier Eight Status: N/A

    Current Level: 60

    Adaptations:

    -None

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ whatever the opposite of nifty is,¡± Rory said, taking in the details. ¡°You got this info too?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but it notes me as part of the Architect¡¯s faction and that I¡¯ll gain rewards based on your success.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, expected,¡± Rory said. ¡°Did it mention anything about not killing you?¡±

    ¡°No?¡± Apostolos frowned as he spoke. ¡°What, does it say that for you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it says the ¡®Chosen Bane¡¯ won¡¯t seriously attempt to kill me until tier eight.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good, I guess,¡± Apostolos muttered. ¡°Would have liked to have been afforded that protection as well, but whatever...¡±

    Ignoring the not-quite-so-young man¡¯s complaining, Rory sat silently for several seconds, puzzling his thoughts together.

    I¡¯m down a loss already.

    That stung. Rory wasn¡¯t used to outright losses.

    Handed my ass to me.

    If Rory were anyone else, such a loss would have lit a fire underneath him, pushing him to realize the error of his ways and grow his personal strength.

    Rory simply frowned.

    I don''t think any of my current gear would have done much.

    Rather than take the loss as a call to improve his martial skills, Rory began to think of the situation as a math problem to solve.

    I wasn¡¯t ready, nor was my camp.

    He could bemoan how unfair it was to have gotten jumped like little more than a street mugging, yet Rory wouldn¡¯t pretend it didn¡¯t make sense.

    Chosen Bane. Bane, Anathema, Nemesis. The point was, assuming he wasn¡¯t reading into the terminology too much, each Bane was likely a counterpart to a founder, and as the Architect, Rory¡¯s entire thing was preparation and planning. What better way to counter him than to get the drop on him?

    It was the smart thing to do, and if there was one thing Rory had recognized in the monster, it was intelligence.

    It got the jump on him, instantly eliminated Apostolos, and then casually dealt with Rory like a petulant child. It was only because of re-routing some of the power within their settlement -something he¡¯d only thought to attempt at the moment- that he managed to wound the monster.

    Things needed to change. Perhaps it was too much comfort, but in the last nine or so years-

    Nine years? Huh, it¡¯s hard to believe it''s been nine years since I first reached A5.

    -he had only been pushed truly near death once, and that was only recently in the last two years when he¡¯d faced down an A6 monster as A5.

    His main prerogative had been showing Apostolos the ropes and raising him while also working to prepare the fundamental core of his settlement, the energy network.

    In truth, he¡¯d hardly done anything ¡®dangerous¡¯ in that time; Blood Weave had carried him hard.

    Now, he was A6, with little to show for it. His settlement had barely changed, except it now had a miniature star.

    All right, I guess that¡¯s pretty significant, but otherwise, I¡¯ve not done that much.

    It was a wake-up call. If not to train himself into some martial god¡ªwhich was never going to happen¡ªthen at least to begin changing his focus to safeguard against such threats. It was a reminder that while Aelia felt safe, it wasn¡¯t.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Master?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Rory snapped back into the moment, not realizing Apostolos had been talking for some time.

    ¡°I was asking what we should do. If that thing comes back, we¡¯re a bit screwed, aren¡¯t we? Maybe with Big Bertha and some blood weave on you at all times-¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Rory cut him off, shaking his head. ¡°I doubt it¡¯s going to double back around so soon. It said three times per tier, right? So, if I were a betting man, it would be near each tier''s beginning, middle, and final portion that a run-in risk is possible.¡±

    It seemed logical to Rory; thus, he was confident that Eon felt similarly.

    The joys of having the cosmic overseer, or whatever you¡¯d call it, born from your own mind is the overlap in thinking.

    It was a reprieve, however small it may be.

    ¡°So, if we¡¯re not going with Big Bertha, what then?¡±

    Rory frowned, thinking for a moment. Curious, he stood up, his entire body wobbling, and began searching the camp, looking for one thing in particular. Activating his Eye skill, Rory quickly found it, having been flung far away in the explosive force of his omega-arrow attack.

    A scythe-like appendage that had landed behind his hovel of all places.

    ¡°Master?¡±

    Eye twitching and spasming like mad, Rory examined the dismembered body part.

    Appendage of the Architect¡¯s Bane

    <u>Quality</u>: Unique

    The scythe-like arm of the Chosen Bane of the Architect of the Precursor. Composed of an impossible material that should not exist. Allows for near-perfect essence and pneuma adaptation. Only usable as a crafting ingredient by the Architect of the Precursors.

    ¡°Damn, if this is a reward just for wounding the damn thing in just the tier-six level, I wonder what future rewards could look like.¡±

    Apostolos took a moment to examine the item, opening his mouth to say something until a notification appeared.

    Minor Law establishment earned:

    First to gain a victory over a Chosen Bane. Minor Law established: Addition of the ¡®Accolade¡¯ system.

    ¡°You¡¯re shitting me,¡± Rory muttered. ¡°Someone managed a win against their Bane.

    It took a moment for Rory to grapple with the revelation, yet after thinking about it briefly, he shrugged.

    It¡¯s not that impossible. If you weren¡¯t caught flat-footed like I was and are combat-focused, I can see a world where you¡¯d managed to beat a low-tier-six Bane, if not without struggling like mad.

    Curious about the ¡®accolade¡¯ system, Rory brought it up, willing it forward.

    When the interface opened, Rory was presented with two lists.

    <u>Major Accolades: 0</u>

    -N/A

    <u>Minor Accolades: 2</u>

    -Tier 3 Ascension

    -Tier 6 Ascension

    The two lists provided nothing to work with; thus, Rory willed the information forward as a textbox appeared.

    Accolades: Accolades may be earned and redeemed for rewards such as Skills, Skill Modifiers, Skill Creation, and tier reset. Skill Creation and Tier Reset are redeemable only with Major Accolades. Accolade acquisition is non-retroactive, with ascension rank-up exempted.

    ¡°Nifty,¡± Rory mused. As far as Law Usage, it was an interesting addition.

    Far better than whoever had wasted a law on simply renaming Eon to Eon.

    I¡¯ll look into it more later; with only two accolades under my belt, there is probably not much to use them for at the moment.

    ¡°How many accolades do you have?¡± Apostolos asked, having checked the Accolade system as well.

    ¡°Two.¡±

    ¡°From what?¡±

    ¡°A3 and A6 ascensions.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve only got A3. Which probably means every three tiers?¡±

    ¡°Sounds about right,¡± Rory said with a shrug. ¡°But, not too important for now. No, I think we¡¯ve got bigger fish to fry.¡±

    ¡°We do?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± Rory waved his arms around their camp. ¡°It¡¯s time to shift gears, and I¡¯ve got a three-step plan to prevent today from happening again.¡±

    Grabbing the scythe arm of the Chosen Bane, Rory dragged it back to their campfire, dropping it nearby before waving to one of the concentric ring seats surrounding the fire.

    ¡°Take a seat,¡± Rory announced as Apostolos did precisely that. They¡¯d had this routine for years when Rory would give the young man¡ªthen young boy¡ªlessons on anything and everything he could remember about important and relevant school topics such as math.

    Mostly math. History no longer existed; every day was a gym class, and the subject of science was touch and go at best in a world of magic.

    ¡°Today,¡± Rory began pacing, forcing Apostolos to follow him with his eyes. ¡°Was a failure. Plain and simple. You would have died had you not had your Radiant Ember. I would have died had this event not specifically been centered on us Founders. Our walls were ignored or ineffectual, which caught us unaware.¡±

    Apostolos nodded, not bothering to refute anything being said.

    ¡°Rather than pout, this is a time for reflection and betterment. As I was laid out after getting my ass handed to me, it occurred to me that things need to change. From those thoughts, I¡¯ve now devised a route forward, a three-step road. Go ahead, ask me what those steps are.¡±

    Rory paused, giving Apostolos time to sigh and roll his eyes.

    ¡°What are the steps?¡± Apostolos murmured as if Rory was forcing him to ask.

    ¡°Excellent question,¡± Rory had to catch himself, nearly stumbling as his still hurting body reminded him that it was still hurting. ¡°The basics are Offense, Industry, and Defense. Sep One, Offense. Otherwise known as you.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Apostolos seemed taken aback.

    ¡°Well, mostly. Right now, it¡¯s only me at A6. If a tier-six monster attacks, you''re only useful for as long as they''re unable to get past our walls, once past, you''ll get one shot like what happened today."

    Apostolos frowned but never denied what was said.

    ¡°So, the plan for step one is simple. You¡¯re going to push to A6, and in the process, you¡¯re going to A. Clear the remainder of the second floor of the Maw so we can get that final reward, and then B. You will explore the areas beyond the bounds of our settlement we haven¡¯t explored.¡±

    ¡°It may still take me a bit to clear the second floor,¡± Apostolos frowned. ¡°That spider monster is¡­ rough to say the least.¡±

    ¡°Hence, where I come into the picture,¡± Rory said, puffing his chest up. ¡°It¡¯s time to get you a real weapon.¡±

    ¡°For real?¡±

    ¡°Real,¡± Rory said with a nod. ¡°I¡¯m going to get you the best damn weapon on this planet, and I know just where to start.¡±

    Winking at Apostolos, Rory gently nudged the scythe arm of the Chosen Bane on the ground. ¡°Also, by having you explore further areas, hopefully, we can find more resources to work with. We aren¡¯t resource short as far as our raw quantity goes, not with our stockpile of bloodwood and thus Crimson Steel. As I¡¯ve learned from working on the Stellar Forge, the issue is that we need more than just a singular type of resource to capitalize upon.¡±

    What Rory didn¡¯t mention was his hesitation to continue relying on bloodwood-related materials after he¡¯d been subtly affected by it during his battle against the Reaping Ash Coscinocera two years back.

    ¡°So, if that¡¯s the offense step of your three-step roadmap, what¡¯s the ¡®industry¡¯ step?¡±

    ¡°Glad you asked,¡± Rory said, taking a seat, unable to stand and pace for so long after his thrashing at the hands -scythes- of the Architect¡¯s Bane. ¡°Industry is a matter of taking what we¡¯ve spent years working toward, our energy grid and now the Stellar Forge, and using them. That itself comes into three phases. The first phase is upgrading our energy capacity, which should be easy enough now that I¡¯ve got experience with the Stellar Forge and the pneuma involved. I¡¯m looking to upgrade the Pneuma Crushers to incorporate my latest designs and utilize room gems to refine further the pneuma we¡¯ve access to.¡±

    ¡°Is that necessary?¡±

    ¡°Yes and no,¡± Rory said with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of future-proofing. We don¡¯t have anything that burns through that much pneuma now, but in the future, we may, not to mention the Stellar Forge does eat up quite a bit. Right now, what we¡¯ve got access to is level one pneuma,¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°A term I made up right now,¡± Rory said with a smirk. ¡°Level zero pneuma is what is naturally abundant. Level one is what you get when you enrich and refine it through spellcasting or pneuma crushers. The issue with level one pneuma is that it''s hard to refine further with our old pneuma crushers, like the difference between clumping wet sand together and trying to clump wet gravel together. With the aid of the room gems and my new iterations, we can overcome that.¡±

    Apostolos nodded along, following what Rory was saying.

    ¡°The plan is, now, capitalizing on level two pneuma; we¡¯ve got the means to power our industry. From there, it''s all about automation. Without needing to supply pneuma manually, we can rely on magi-tech instead.¡±

    ¡°Magi-tech?¡±

    ¡°Fusion of magic and technology,¡± Rory jerked a thumb toward where the Stellar Forge was gently humming away. ¡°Just like that. For example, I¡¯ll set up automated refineries for raw resources, such as crushers for ores, minerals, and stones.¡±

    ¡°So, industry, that means we don¡¯t have to handle things ourselves, which helps how?¡± Apostolos seemed perplexed. ¡°With only two of us, there isn¡¯t that much we need,¡±

    ¡°For now, sure. It will also make our lives far easier in the future, leading to the third and final step of my three-step roadmap: defense. We saw our walls struggling even against mid-tier-five monsters. Sure, they were Alpha Variants, but a high-tier-five monster would likely have just as much ease at tearing through our walls. Furthermore, our walls were completely bypassed by the Chosen Bane, and when it did happen to come into contact with them, they were little more than cardboard.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s cardboard?¡±

    ¡°Not important,¡± Rory waved the question off. ¡°The point is that improving our camp into a proper settlement will require resources and the likes that would take us ages to work on without industry behind us. And it¡¯s not just simply improving the camp; it''s also about making sure that if something were to attempt to attack us within our very own seat of power, they¡¯d be in for a rough time.¡±

    Rory was proud of the plan, mind conjuring images of turrets constantly on the swiveling, protecting their camp, before it came to a halt as Apostolos asked a question.

    ¡°What about you?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®what about you¡¯?¡± Rory questioned, confused.

    ¡°Exactly what I said. I get the plan, yet surely you aren¡¯t forgetting about yourself there. The Chosen Bane is after you, so don¡¯t you need to improve yourself too?¡±

    Rory scowled, only to sigh a moment later. ¡°Yeah, fair. I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll come up with something.¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡±

    ¡°Meaning it¡¯s a future addendum to the three-step roadmap,¡± Rory said, scowling again. ¡°Just, for now, there is enough on the plate to handle. I¡¯ll plan it out more when I¡¯m working, okay?¡±

    ¡°Alright, as long as you don¡¯t forget about yourself,¡± Apostolos said with a smirk. ¡°Otherwise, I really will pull ahead of you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, cheeky brat.¡± Rory snorted.

    ¡°Oh, I do have one more question?¡± Apostolos asked.

    ¡°And that is?¡± Rory said, eyebrows raised.

    ¡°When do we start?¡±

 53. A Question of Design

    Rory sat in his favorite spot, thinking directly before their forge. Since he¡¯d outright replaced their old forge with the Stellar Forge, the rhythmic pulse, thrum, and hum of the construct had eased his mind, helping him think.

    His thoughts revolved around one thing in particular: the weapon he intended to make for Apostolos.

    He¡¯s wasted as an archer, I¡¯m sure of that.

    Rory hadn¡¯t intended Apostolos¡¯s new weapon to be a bow, but considering all the options was worth considering.

    He¡¯s not bad with a spear. Still, I feel like giving him a spear when someone else is running around with the moniker ¡®Spear¡¯ is asking for trouble.

    In fact, Apostolos had been working on his skills as a mage over the last few years.

    A wand? No, wands are stupid. A staff, then?

    That¡­ That wasn¡¯t a bad idea.

    But.

    But it would be a waste of the unique trophy he¡¯d claimed from the Architect Bane.

    So, not a spear. Not a staff¡­ Hmm. A halberd?

    It felt closer like he was warming up to the correct answer. That said, the shape language wasn¡¯t quite there.

    A scythe? I mean, its arm already looks like a scythe.

    He¡¯d have to modify and shorten the appendage; it would be too large and unyielding if he just tried to stick it on the end of a stick.

    Of his ideas, it was the one that felt the most¡­ right. A scythe could be used similarly to a spear, and with only a bit of planning he could probably figure out a way to also use it as a staff.

    Now, if he could even make a magical staff, it was a question Rory hadn¡¯t yet explored, an answer that would come with trial and error.

    ¡°A scythe it is,¡± Rory said, nodding to himself. Instantly, a green projection appeared, a three-dimensional model of what he would make.

    ¡°No, too long,¡± Rory mentally flicked away the current image. Apostolos was tall, but he wasn¡¯t that tall that he could use such an oversized version. Another version appeared, yet after only several moments of thought, Rory flicked it away.

    Rory scanned through the different models and ideas for two hours, briefly turning them over before dismissing them.

    With the suns setting, Rory sat still for several moments, simply admiring them. Spending several seconds entranced, it was as if a spark of inspiration struck him. Instantly, the most current green model in front of him distorted, changing to be precisely what he wanted. Staring at it, Rory felt the rightness settle into place.

    There. That¡¯s the one.

    The current appendage of the Chosen Bane was nearly seven feet long, and Rory would need to shorten that. The shaft of the weapon he¡¯d initially meant to be made of bloodwood, now Rory had switched ideas, a starry-steel haft replacing the bloody wood. Opposite the scythe head was a stouter blade, somewhere between an axe head and the head of a halberd. Unlike the scythe head, which would be made from the remains of the Chosen Bane¡¯s arm, the halberd head was the same material as the weapon¡¯s haft, albeit with a crimson-colored trim at the edge of the blade. Lastly, opposite the primary heads of the weapon was a dark-colored gem inlaid within the butt of the weapon.

    It was perfect, taking Rory¡¯s breath away.

    Now I need to make it.

    Easier said than done.

    First off, the actual scythe head. Given that it would be made from the Architect Bane¡¯s leftover arm, he wouldn¡¯t have to do any special alloying or whatnot; in fact, Rory doubted he could. The real issue would be cutting, carving, and shaping the oversized appendage into something usable.

    The material that comprised the weapon¡¯s haft and opposing halberd head followed. It would be an alloy between Stabilized steel and Stellar Matter. The issue was -two actually- was that first, Stellar Matter required a lot of raw resources to be dumped into the Stellar Forge. The second issue was the issue of the final alloy. Stellar Matter and Stabilized Steel would undoubtedly be part of it. Yet, Rory could feel it wouldn¡¯t be what he was looking for, missing some third vital component, a catalyst.

    How did he know? With around a decade of crafting, shaping, forging, inscribing, and now gem crafting, Rory had begun to get a better sense of things, a sixth sense of sorts.

    That sixth sense told him he needed more if he wanted the alloy to match the rest of the weapon.

    Finally, there was the gem at the butt of the staff. It would be through it that Apostolos would channel Pneuma to cast magic through the weapon. Rory¡¯s initial thought was for it to be a focus, a way to speed up Apostolos¡¯s magic.

    How would he do that? Rory had no idea; it was something he¡¯d have to test a new gem design to get working. What was certain is that Rory wanted the gem to be made of something higher quality than their current run-of-the-mill gems, which were recycled waste from their bloodwood tree farms.

    Sighing, Rory banished the green projection, locking it within his mind palace so he wouldn¡¯t lose it.

    ¡°Well, best not to get ahead of myself.¡±

    The ¡®easiest¡¯ piece of the scythe would be the actual head of the scythe. Standing up, Rory jogged over to his hovel, snatching his trusty knife, before seating himself next to their campfire. Picking up the arm of the Chosen Bane, Rory pushed his knife forward as he went to cut off the excess material.

    Cartilage? Bone? No idea. It has absolutely zero in common with anything I¡¯ve seen before.

    Pushing aside wandering thoughts, Rory focused on his project, already thinking of his next steps when, of all things he didn¡¯t expect to happen, his knife failed to cut into the material.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Rory said, shocked. Ever since the improvements he¡¯d made to the knife many years ago, it had been capable of easily cutting through even some of the hardest materials he¡¯d had access to; the knife was solely for crafting, after all.

    And yet, for the first time, it had met its match.

    Dumbstruck, Rory could only stare for several seconds.

    You¡¯re kidding me.

    Shaking himself free of the stupor, an exhausted sigh escaped from Rory.

    ¡°Alright, step zero. Upgrade my knife.¡±

    Placing the keratin-like appendage back down, Rory instead examined his knife.

    Thankfully, unlike many of his other projects, Rory found the thought of upgrading the knife far more manageable. The last time it had been improved, it had used ordinary enriched iron. He could use Stabilized Steel at this point, yet Rory figured he could do even better.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    In fact, it gives me a chance to explore ideas for the new alloy.

    ¡°What I¡¯m missing is that little extra kick. That oomph factor.¡± Rory mused, thinking. The easiest way to give something more oomph had been to over-saturate it with Pneuma, as he had done with his unstable blood weave.

    It couldn¡¯t be that easy¡­ could it?

    Retreating into his mind palace, Rory attempted to model it. In only a few minutes, Rory found himself grinning.

    It¡¯s that easy.

    Sure, straight Pneuma wouldn¡¯t work in the alloying process, yet if he could concentrate it into a physical form and then add that into the mix, that would work.

    He already had an idea to do just that. The first was through Aisormba. When distilled and concentrated, it would leave behind tiny crystals of pure concentrated Pneuma. That alone wouldn¡¯t be enough, but it would be a good start.

    I think that used to be called fractionation. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure.

    Once the aisormba had been fractionated, resulting in tiny little pneuma crystals, Rory would add onto them. Using a room gem in conjunction with placing the tiny pneuma crystals within their bound circle, Rory hoped to concentrate and expand upon the little crystals, growing them into larger crystals of pure Pneuma.

    Which is probably going to burn through a damn lot of Pneuma.

    Only once he had those larger crystals would he reduce them to a powder, then add that powder pneuma to the alloy of stabilized steel and stellar matter.

    Would it work? Only time would tell.

    <hr>

    ¡°Oh, Apostolos, perfect timing, come here quick.¡±

    Rory waved to Apostolos, who¡¯d just returned from¡­ somewhere, probably the Maw.

    ¡°Something the matter?¡± Apostolos questioned, looking beaten and battered but otherwise alive.

    Yeah, definitely the Maw.

    ¡°I take it the Maw wasn¡¯t treating you well?¡±

    ¡°That damn spider monster stabbed me through the gut, tossed me through a wall, and then ¡®bit¡¯ off my leg. At that point, it was obvious I wasn¡¯t winning, so I just ran, I didn¡¯t feel like wasting time making a new Radiant Ember,¡±

    ¡°Smart thinking,¡± Rory acknowledged before changing the subject, ¡°Alright, well, do me a favor. Hold these and channel Essence Spark through ¡®em.¡±

    Handing several nearly transparent crystals to Apostolos, Apostolos stared down at the clear crystals.

    ¡°Are these what you¡¯ve been up to the last three weeks?¡±

    ¡°Damn straight.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re not going to tell me what they¡¯re for?¡±

    ¡°Damn straight,¡± Rory repeated with a smirk.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Apostolos sighed. He returned the crystals in only half a second, dusting himself off from his non-existent effort.

    ¡°That was quick,¡± Rory said.

    ¡°At this point, channeling a bit of my affinity takes a heartbeat when it¡¯s something as small as those.¡±

    ¡°Well, I appreciate it,¡± Rory said, staring at Apostolos expectantly.

    ¡°What?¡± Apostolos questioned.

    ¡°You can skedaddle now.¡±

    ¡°Are you chasing me off?¡±

    ¡°Damn straight,¡± Rory repeated for the third time, winking at Apostolos with an evil glean in his eyes.

    ¡°Bleh. You¡¯re a boring old man anyway.¡± Apostolos snorted as he stomped off, playing along.

    Snorting, Rory watched him leave before glancing down at the tiny crystals he now held, a slight golden light flickering within.

    ¡°And that¡¯s everything,¡± Rory whispered, quiet enough that Apostolos wouldn¡¯t hear. During the growing process of the pneuma crystals, Rory had the clever idea to split them into two. The first half would be aspectless, unaffected by any non-neutral aligned affinities. The other half would be aspected with solar affinity, coming from Apostolos himself. It was those few solar affinity pneuma crystals that Rory planned to use to alloy the metal that was specifically meant for Apostolos¡¯s weapon.

    Heading to the Stellar Forge, Rory snatched a pestle and mortar from a toolbox near the forge. Dumping the affinity-neutral crystals within, he ground them until they were reduced to a fine powder. Pleased with his work, Rory walked closer to the forge, inspecting it.

    Hmmm. I think there is enough, at least for the knife.

    There wasn¡¯t any interface telling him as much; it was just a pure gut instinct gained from the skill the forge had been derived from.

    ¡°Good enough for me,¡± Rory said with a shrug. Grabbing a pair of extra long tongs and a larger chunk of stabilized steel, Rory pushed the metal toward the Forge Heart, the small glowing star contained with the futuristic-looking magi-tech. Resisting the gravity of the small star, Rory watched as the metal began to heat to a cherry-red glow and then let it get even hotter. Waiting until it was glowing with an angry white sheen, Rory dragged the metal away. Resting it on an anvil nearby, Rory mentally pulled on the star as a wisp of coronal mass was drawn free. Pulling harder, Rory retrieved roughly a large phone-sized blob of stellar mass.

    Bingo.

    With the mass hovering over his hand, Rory directed it to lay flat on top of the still white-hot bar of stabilized steel.

    ¡°And now for the elbow grease,¡±

    Putting aside the tongs, grabbing a hammer, and tossing on a forge apron, Rory began the laborious work of slowly pounding and folding the two masses together. Fold after fold, Rory pounded the mass together until it started to cool, in which case Rory would stick it close to the star once again.

    After an hour, Rory wiped at his brow, feeling that the two materials had been integrated.

    It¡¯s ready.

    Reheating it one last time to a white-hot glow, when Rory retrieved it, rather than instantly set to folding in again and again, Rory snatched the mortar of crushed pneuma crystal and began sprinkling the dust on top of the bar. Reacting, the bar momentarily blazed with a solar flare of light before settling down.

    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s not a sign that I¡¯m on the right track, I don¡¯t know what is,¡± Rory grunted.

    Taking his time, Rory slowly worked the dust into the bar, reheating, folding, dusting, and repeating until, at last, Rory knew it was done.

    Grabbing the tongs one last time, Rory thrust the white-hot bar into a nearby basin of coolant, letting it rest even as the coolant remained inert. Unlike earth water, the stuff he used to quench his materials didn¡¯t seem to bubble or boil, no matter how hot it got.

    Counting down from sixty, Rory finally retreated the metal bar from the cooling basin. Examining it, Rory was pleased to see the visible change. It was somewhere between white and grey in color, dotted with spots that seemed to twinkle like distant stars in the night sky.

    And now for the fun part.

    Name already in mind for the metal, Rory examined the bar.

    <u>Stellarite</u>

    <u>Quality</u>: Uncommon (+)

    Forged of a highly stable base metal, the mass of creation, and a spark of evolution. While forged from a dilute concentration of Stellar Matter, the resulting material is still potent. Said to be the metal of the stars themselves, Stellarite has extreme heat resistance and pneuma conductivity properties.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about,¡± Rory grinned. It was always nice to see something work without excessive testing required. Non-issue of testing aside, the metal was extraordinary; it had officially taken the highest-grade material rank of any metal he¡¯d forged to date, even passing out Crimson Steel, if only with the barest of nudge with its plus notation.

    This means that, in theory, it has what it takes to be a rare-grade material. It was probably held back by something like the quality of materials involved. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say it was perhaps the stellar matter; the description specifically states that it was a rather unconcentrated sample.

    Trying to obtain a higher concentration of stellar mass would be a project for the future; even the diluted form was a massive resource sink with how much material it could guzzle up just to spit out a small lump of stellar mass.

    Satisfied with what he had for the time, Rory grabbed his knife, looking between the newly made Stellarite and it. Unable to think of any special runes or last-minute tweaks, Rory shrugged and brought them to their bound circle. Having already inscribed the runes he needed onto the crafting knife, Rory placed the two within the circle, the knife directly atop the stellarite. Now that the energy grid existed, Rory didn¡¯t have to bother drawing the Pneuma forth like he had the first time he¡¯d upgraded his knife.

    Oh memories.

    Think fondly of what was now something like a decade ago. Rory activated the circle as Pneuma rushed inside like an unsealed faucet. At the same time, the knife began to absorb the bar of metal just beneath it, shaking and glowing for several seconds until, rather anticlimactic, the rest of the bar was simply sucked up, leaving the same knife, now just a slightly off-white grey.

    Bloodbound Crafter¡¯s Knife

    Grade: Common

    The tool of choice for nearly any profession, the knife is considered invaluable. The first knife of a fledgling craftsman. This particular knife has been directly bound to the blood essence of its crafter and has withstood its first advancement. How many more it will see has yet to be determined.

    -->

    Bloodbound Crafter¡¯s Knife

    Grade: Uncommon (+)

    The tool of choice for nearly any profession, the knife is considered invaluable. The first knife of a seasoned craftsman. This knife has been directly bound to the blood essence of its crafter and has withstood its second advancement. Growing in strength, it can now cut through even the hardest of rare-grade materials and the like.

    ¡°Perfect,¡± Rory said gleefully. The description changes were surprisingly flattering, now referring to him as a ¡®seasoned¡¯ craftsman rather than a fledgling craftsman. That aside, it explicitly referenced how it was now suitable for up to rare graded materials. While the leftover appendage from the Architect Bane had been listed as ¡®unique,¡¯ a rather¡­ unique grade, Rory felt confident the knife would work. Even the utility of the upgrade aside, it just felt good to upgrade it after so long. Of anything he owned, the knife was perhaps the possession he¡¯d had the longest since his arrival on Aelia; lord knew the old clothes he¡¯d worn had long since worn down to ratty dishrags.

    Man, am I thankful for the knitting, sewing, and quilting skills. Alongside superhuman capabilities, it takes less than half an hour to whip up a new pair of pants or shirts.

    Still smiling, Rory glanced to where he had left the arm of the Chosen Bane.

    It¡¯s finally time to handle that.