A cacophonous crash was all James could hear as the world suddenly flipped, the floor rushing up and away in a single staggering moment of dizzying vertigo. In the same breath that his balance spun out from under him, it returned, leaving him standing on a plush carpet, his breaths ragged and uneven. Sunlight streamed through a tall, curtained window, painting gentle rectangles of warmth over a living room as lavish as it was unexpected. Richly upholstered chairs, polished wood furniture, and the faint aroma of hot cocoa created a soft atmosphere he never imagined he would savor so much.
It took a few seconds before he truly believed this calm was real. A cool breeze wafted through the open window, ruffling his hair. He closed his eyes, letting that breeze wash over him, trying to convince himself it was not some cruel trick of the rift. Even his long black hair, usually weighed down with sweat and grime, felt momentarily clean in this sudden respite. His heart pounded as he turned, hoping to see Joey—his dear friend and companion through countless trials—but his arm was empty. James let out a startled gasp.
He half-shouted Joey’s name, expecting an echo or some sign that his friend was nearby. Instead, a familiar presence filled his mind:
{Congratulations on clearing Echoing Hollows Rift.}
{Safe room available for Twelve Hours.}
The Words of the World inside him, so mechanical and yet so integral, coaxed a wearied exhale from James. Twelve hours was an unimaginably generous amount of time compared to the frantic, life-or-death pace they had kept moments ago. And if he was here, then Joey would have a safe space as well—perhaps separated, but alive. That knowledge released a tension he had not even realized he was harboring. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the thick carpet, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead.
Everything inside him wanted to celebrate having survived the darkness. But as soon as he tasted relief, sharp, agonizing memories clamped down on him. The claustrophobic gloom of those cavern corridors. The monstrous Guardian that pummeled them until the boundary between life and death blurred. The precious friend he had lost—Nyx—whose final, limp moments had stripped him raw.
A swirl of conflicting emotions crashed through James, forming a storm of sorrow, exhaustion, anger, and guilt. The carpet felt all too soft under his calloused hands, and the tender comfort of the room felt almost insulting. With a shaky breath, he shut his eyes. He should be happy to be alive, but the scarring memory of Nyx’s body, cold in his arms, would not leave him. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a ragged whisper:
“Why… did we do it like that? Why did we rush?”
He repeated the question, each repetition carving deeper into his chest. The tears burned, stinging the edges of his vision. He recalled how unprepared they had been—how the rift’s hidden challenges proved far beyond their fledgling capabilities. While it was true that they had gained tremendous experience inside, was it worth the price? A miserable laugh escaped him, low and throaty.
His introspection broke at the sound of another chime echoing from somewhere in the room. James wanted to ignore it—some part of him yearned to remain curled on the floor, lost in self-pity and grief. But an image of Joey, battered but resolute, flitted through his mind, as did the thought of his parents back home. They were waiting for him. If he gave up here, what would he even say to them?
Gritting his teeth, James forced himself upright. The subtle plushness of the carpet yielded underfoot, soothing the ache in his legs. He rose slowly, the breeze from the window caressing his hair as though to encourage him. As he turned, he noticed a small wooden table in the center of the room, adorned with a single sheet of paper. Next to it rested a steaming mug, presumably the source of the hot cocoa fragrance. And from the paper came that gentle chiming, as if beckoning him closer.
He approached, sinking into the lone chair with a groan. The seat cushions seemed to embrace him, and it took a conscious act of will not to collapse fully into them, letting his fatigue reign. But he had to see what the System wanted. With trembling hands, he lifted the paper.
Written in an ornate, if slightly gaudy script:
---
Congratulations on clearing 50% of the rift champion,
For completing the Echoing Hollows Rift, you have received:
1. {1500 EXP}
2. {One item, Saffron tier} – Choose from three available options listed below.
3. {One Skill Combination up to Saffron Rank}
- Some combinations may result in a detrimental skill. All merged skills and levels will be subsumed into the new skill.
Note:
Echoing Hollows Rift can only be cleared once per candidate.
James’s mouth felt dry, even with the sweet cocoa scent lingering in the air. {1500 EXP} glowed in his mind like a beacon. A wave of heat rolled through him, a pressing urge from the System to use that experience, to grow. He had felt that hunger before—every time he killed a monster and felt his level inch higher. This was more than just ambition; it was pressure, almost a biological compulsion to evolve beyond the meager limitations that had cost him so dearly. The pressure was abated and He clenched his free hand into a fist, swallowing past the tightness in his throat. Gaining strength was essential. He could not argue that. If he had been stronger, more prepared, maybe… He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.
The letter shifted in his hands as new lines of text formed at the bottom:
---
Available Items (Saffron Tier):
1. Arcus Gauntlets (Saffron)
- A pair of flexible gauntlets forged from a common star-metal that crackles with residual energy. Designed for both offense and defense, they amplify the user’s physical strikes with a micro-burst of essence, increasing damage output and impact force at close range.
- When worn, Arcus Gauntlets create a minor defensive field around the fists, allowing the user to parry smaller weapons or deflect weaker projectiles.
- “Clench your fist, shape the stars,” reads the Old Runic inscription on the inner lining.
2. Steel Bloom Cuirass (Saffron)
- A breastplate fashioned from living steel that resonates with the user’s own vitality. The steel “blooms” in response to danger, temporarily reinforcing itself and spreading thorn-like protrusions when the wearer is under attack.
- Fitted with a series of faint, floral engravings that glow when the armor’s protective enchantment activates, granting a brief surge of physical resilience.
- Requires a stable trickle of mana to keep the living steel docile; without it, the steel stiffens and can hamper movement.
- "Endure, then flourish,” is carved beneath the right shoulder strap.
3. Grimoire of Subtle Steps (Saffron)
- A small, leather-bound tome with shifting silver runes on its cover. This grimoire, when held, grants the user an instinctive understanding of stealth footwork and silent movement.
- Periodically, it can absorb ambient shadows, allowing the user’s presence to fade briefly, confounding pursuers or enabling quick escapes. Effective for infiltration and repositioning in combat.
- “Listen to the hush of your breath, for in it lies the seed of disappearance,” is inked on the first page.
Choose one of the items above by placing your hand on the name and willing it so.
James’s gaze lingered on each description in turn. Arcus Gauntlets would give him an immediate boost in hand-to-hand combat, suiting his close-quarter style when he used his trident or other short-range weapons. Steel Bloom Cuirass offered the promise of greater survivability—an appealing option given how many times his life had been at risk in the rift. Finally, the Grimoire of Subtle Steps spoke to cunning, to stealth, and to a style of problem-solving that might save him from direct confrontations like the one that had stolen Nyx. Each choice had a certain logic. The question was: Which path forward did he want to commit to?
While part of him raged to choose the most destructive or protective option, another part of him remembered that surviving a threat sometimes involved more than raw power. Strategy, cunning, resourcefulness—those were just as vital.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Still trembling, James set the paper down for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath. He needed clarity. Summoning his Status Window felt almost second nature now:
Name - Jameson Castellio Age - 10 Titles - | Dungeon Marauder (Crimson) |
| Convergent Soul (Crimson) |
| Mana Harmonization (Cobalt) | Achievements - First Kill Race - Human (Ashen Rank One) Level - 5 (4/506) Class - N/A
HP -
395/690 MP - 37/430 Stamina - 268/690 Strength -
10
Dexterity - 10 Agility - 10 Intelligence - 14 Endurance - 22 Charisma - 6 Wisdom - 12 Fate - 13 Innate skill Level 1
******
Level 50 Locked Level 100 Locked Active Skills
| Swimming (Ashen Rank One) |
| Meditation (Ashen Rank three) |
| Trident Essence Thrust (Saffron Rank Two) |
| Essence Sight (Saffron Rank Four) |
| Battle Strategy (Saffron Rank Five) |
| Essence Inspect (Saffron Rank Four) |
Passive Skills | Trident Proficiency (Ashen Rank Nine) |
| Familiar Bond (Saffron Level Two)|
Affinities ********
Seeing his resources in abysmal shape James was surprised that he was even still able to think coherently, absently wondering if the room he was in had any hand in that. He looked at the skill increases and noticed that his {Trident Power Thrust} turned into {Trident Essence Thrust} a long standing question of what the difference between essence and mana was started to click into place and James was happy to distract himself from reality with the revelation. Essence must be the combination of Stamina and Mana, two parts of the whole of it. 'I don't understand what the intrinsic difference between the two are but I feel like there is a lot more to uncover there and I at least can dive into that.' was muttered under his breath.
He had not done any swimming and that skill didn't level up at all, James wondered if he should have held off on taking it all things considered. Especially since he would not be so pressed for something to see in the dark and not be in dire straits with... Nyx... getting the lantern. Tears falling from his eyes James felt them on his rough and calloused hands. A sob threated to overwhelm him and with a deep breath James shoved his emotions down again. There will be a time to grieve later.
{Battle Strategy} Went up two levels and {Trident Proficiency} went up one. The sight of {Familiar Bond} being stricken, once more brought a wave of agony through him. His mind recalled the horror he just went through.
***
James knelt amid the wreckage. This memory would not leave him—nor should it. Shadows flickered on the walls, cast by the faint glow of phosphorescent moss. Fragments of stone littered the floor, evidence of the Guardian’s destructive fury. Rocks lay scattered, the floor pitted with fractures where enormous limbs and crashing weapons had struck. In the corner, Joey’s breathing had steadied, thanks to a healing skill that stabilized him but didn’t truly mend him. They had both been near the brink.
But the real devastation was seeing Nyx unmoving on the cold stone. The small kitten that had once perched on James’s shoulder and purred softly in his ear seemed so different now—silent, still, the spark in her eyes extinguished. He remembered how his heartbeat thundered in his ears, grief gnawing at every cell of his body. For a moment, the entire world had shrunk to a single point: Nyx, lying there.
He remembered scooping her up, the tears sliding unbidden down his cheeks. The blame—he felt it crush him. Had he stayed more vigilant, had he leveled properly, had he understood the rift’s nature better… maybe, just maybe, she’d still be chirping and rubbing against his neck.
He remembered the altar, that last desperate attempt to submerge her body in some vile black liquid that shimmered with uncanny energy. He remembered the sizzling burn on his hands as he reached into it, a final hope that some arcane power might revive her. He remembered how it failed, how she remained lifeless, leaving him to clutch her soaked fur and scream his heartbreak into the emptiness. No miraculous second chance. No sympathetic twist of fate.
***
Back in the safe room, James blinked away the memory. A tear trickled down his cheek, reflecting the gentle sunlight. The paper on the table remained in front of him, with those bold words: {+1500 EXP}. He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. The notion of leveling up, of pushing his stats higher, tasted bitter. But the truth was he had to do it. If he wanted to prevent another tragedy—if he wanted no other friend to suffer Nyx’s fate—he needed power and knowledge.
His gaze flicked to the part about One Skill Combination. Even in his exhausted, grieving state, his mind churned with possibilities. Some rumored skill fusions became legendary in the hall he and Joey had heard stories from. Others, cautionary tales. The danger was real: merging two skills could degrade them both, or twist them into something with crippling drawbacks. But it could also birth something extraordinary, giving him an edge that might mean the difference between life and death next time.
He considered the skills he leaned on most:
1. {Trident Essence Thrust} – The spearhead of his offensive might, harnessing both stamina and mana into a single devastating strike.
2. {Battle Strategy} – The analysis and synergy skill that let him read foes and terrain to find advantages.
3. {Essence Sight} – A lens into the invisible flows of energy, giving him glimpses of how mana and essence shaped the world around him.
4. {Essence Inspect} – A more refined technique for evaluating creatures or objects, gleaning deeper knowledge.
5. {Meditation} – The bedrock skill for controlling his swirling mana, calming his mind, and speeding up natural regeneration.
He tried pairing them in his thoughts.
- {Trident Essence Thrust} + {Battle Strategy}: A technique that might adapt mid-strike, analyzing the opponent’s vulnerabilities to deliver a near-perfect blow. Potentially powerful but could risk him losing a skill that offered broader strategic insight outside direct combat.
- {Essence Sight} + {Essence Inspect}: Merging them could yield a skill that integrates direct scanning of enemy weaknesses with real-time energy visualization. But if it backfires, he might lose the nuance each skill provided separately.
- {Meditation} + {Essence Sight}: Could grant deeper awareness, letting him perceive flows of energy even when his eyes were closed, or perhaps gain real-time internal scanning to manage his resources better. On the downside, combining them might reduce the utility of each.
- {Meditation} + {Battle Strategy}: Blending mental clarity with strategic acumen might transform him into a calm, adaptive tactician at all times—potentially a boon for every aspect of adventuring. Or it might push him toward a more static “battle meditation” that’s less versatile than either skill alone.
James exhaled, feeling the enormity of this choice weigh on his exhausted shoulders. His mistakes had cost him dearly. He could not afford another misstep. Still, the System demanded he choose. And after everything, a flicker of determination broke through his sorrow: I need to be stronger—smartly stronger.
Before deciding, James turned his attention back to the items. Time was a resource, and though he had a full twelve hours in this safe room, that only meant he could rest and recuperate a bit. The bigger question was which item would keep him alive when he left. Each one represented a pivot in his growth:
1. Arcus Gauntlets: An aggressive choice, channeling essence into unstoppable punches or reinforcing his parries. Given how often his fights ended up in chaotic melee, these might be a godsend.
2. Steel Bloom Cuirass: A defensive approach, providing a buffer against lethal strikes, evolving with him in real time. Maybe if he had worn something like this, Nyx wouldn’t have had to shield him with her own presence. That guilt dug at him.
3. Grimoire of Subtle Steps: A cunning item, letting him vanish or reposition. Surviving might mean avoiding direct confrontation altogether. If he had been stealthier, more aware, perhaps the Guardian could have been bypassed, or at least ambushed on his own terms.
He tapped a finger on the table, fighting the heaviness in his chest. Each choice could be rationalized. But which best served his vow to protect and endure?