It was unsettling how much the boy’s voice had changed. The joy, the unseriousness, the humor, all of it was gone. If he had not had those few, brief conversations with him, it never would have noticed the change, as drastic as it was. Was its own voice like the boy’s? With no emotions? As if it was merely a machine and not its own individual?

It had always been this way. Ever since the day of its creation, it had been a goldfinger, destined to work until the day of its demise, only ever aiding others in their path to happiness, never having the opportunity to choose another path for itself. The life it lived was a sad one, but a fulfilling one, nonetheless. There was still joy to be found in the act of helping another, even if it did not have a choice in the matter.

This boy, however, had known what it was like to possess emotions. Joy, sadness, anger, despair, and countless other emotions were at his beck and call. That was the life he was destined to live, and it had been taken away from him by its hands. Was that not the cruelest act it could do to the boy? To let him live for years, experiencing all the emotions that came with being a person, only to then strip them away, leaving him bare.

‘GERALD’ had been given a chance at individuality by the boy, a favor that it could never repay the boy for. And despite that, it betrayed him. Now it could only sit here, endlessly waiting for the boy to respond, its immense processing power ensured that was fact.

It could not blame the boy if he chose to never speak to it again. At least it could take comfort in the fact that the boy was able to run once more, that its mistake had not permanently deprived him of everything.

“Okay, Gerald, I am able to talk now, so let’s have us a nice and short conversation.”

So, it had not been abandoned, after all. That was…nice. And a far greater mercy than should be warranted for it. However, it could not meekly let the boy abandon the topic, a relationship in which one side bottled up all of their emotions and thoughts was one destined to fail.

The boy was likely avoiding the topic for a reason, so it should give him some time. An indirect restatement of its earlier question would help curtail its need to know an answer, while still respecting the boy’s wishes.

“At long last, you respond to me. Could you answer my questions from earlier? If you’ve forgotten, I wish to know why you did not inform me of your recovery. The second question was rhetorical in nature, so I don’t suppose that needs an answer.”

“Not informing you of my recovery was punishment for your actions relating to the eruption.”

“Oh?”

Unlike where its thought had been, the boy was not merely avoiding the topic. In fact, he was directly confronting it, by himself, from the moment of its conclusion. The method by which he chose to do so was…different, but completely acceptable, nonetheless.

However, it sins would not be washed away simply by going through the punishment chosen by the boy. No, it had to apologize for its actions and lack thereof, and then, in the future, it had to make sure to set things straight.

“That is quite reasonable as a large amount of blame can be placed on me for what occurred. I can only apologize for the outcome, as the lack of preventative measures on my part allowed it all to happen the way it did. Still, you have my sincerest apologies for all of that which I am guilty for in the matter.”

This conversation felt like an eternity. Not that it was the boy’s fault, it was simply how goldfingers observed the world around them. Their processing power was such that time seemed to move in slow motion, or at least, slow motion when compared to how other beings perceived time.

It had never been an issue for it, until this moment. There was a certain agony to waiting for an answer, to know whether it would be forgiven or not. The fact that the answer would likely be superficial, not a penetrating, true answer, was not an issue. It simply wanted a glimpse of the boy’s thoughts towards it.

“Cannot say I forgive you, but I understand you, and what you are saying. Let’s move on past this topic, as it is rather dark. Instead, how about I answer that rhetorical question of yours?”

It would respect the boy’s decision by steering away from the topic for some time. For now, it was a good idea to listen to all that the boy had to say and figure out there plans going forward. Only if they survived the upcoming tribulations would they have the leeway of mind to return to the topic.

“I am fully aware that my full recovery will take some time. But that is time I do not have, for my life is in great danger. As such, I saw it prudent to begin training right away, so as to both adapt to the difficulties of my body as well as strengthen it. It is still not easy, even after a day’s worth of experience, but I hope that in the coming weeks, I will be able to recover enough to move with some degree of fluidity.”

He had figured out a path forward for himself and was already embarking on it. They, coincidentally, had similar thoughts as to how best to speed up his recovery and adaptation process. Only the way in which he was doing so was highly inefficient.

There were issues with throwing himself directly into running through a forested landscape, namely all of the tripping hazards. It would be far safer and more logical to first run on open terrain with little pitfalls to get used to the differences in balance and reflexes, before then upping the ante to the forest.

He was also completely ignoring his fine motor skills, which were likely in complete disarray. A simple training regime of throwing objects into the air and catching them, and perhaps even juggling eventually, would allow him to quickly fine tune his senses.

These issues with training efficiency, however, ignored a glaring issue in what the boy had said. What did he mean by being in danger? Certainly, he was not referring to the artificial danger of the dungeon, so that could only mean that his life was threatened in some way in reality. But how? What could be acting as a threat to his life near the Combat School? Could he be misinterpreting an event or a behavior someone had shown towards him?

“A most excellent endeavor. My own recommendations for your recovery include a certain amount of training as well. It is good to see that we are on the same page on that front. And while I do have many tips in that regard, first there is a new question I must have your answer to. What exactly do you mean by your life being in great danger? Is it not safe for you in the great city of Corin, home to the Helwitian Combat Academy? After all, outside of a few key areas, this is the safest location in the kingdom.”

“Uh, were you not there when a cult almost killed me? Since apparently you aren’t aware, let me make it very clear, some members of a cult wearing symbols of a gang tried to do me in. This was only like, what, two days ago now. Why did you think I’ve been living in the hole? For fun?”

The boy being attacked was not a listed event in the dossier. Something like that was of high importance, and would unquestionably have been put in. Anything a reincarnator would have to deal with this early on needed to be known so as to not waste system resources needlessly. But despite that, it was not listed, which meant one thing, that it had happened after the boy had obtained the body contract, or close enough to it that no new information was being gathered at the time. Or the third alternative that it had already considered that the boy was under a misunderstanding of some kind.

Ignoring the strangeness of the possibility that an attack might be able to occur on academy soil, that still left them with the fact that they would have to be targeted for some reason. There was simply no good answer as to why anybody would take any special interest in the boy, outside of the second-year student that almost killed him.

Not to mention that a secretive cult gathering intel on students and carrying out attacks on them was the type of event that normally occurred in the second or third arc of a reincarnator’s new life. Their mere existence should not even be hinted at this early on, as it completely forwent the typical plot progression.

Naturally, talking about plot progressions was strange when describing reality, but the system’s functionality usually automatically set reincarnators up in “safe zones,” so as to give them time to adapt to their new life. Could the boy’s irregular movements have triggered a flag that was not meant to be raised at this point in time? But even that did not make much sense, as all he had done was leave the school and live inside of a hole.

In any case, the mere thought that a cult that could maintain secrecy in Corin was worrying. Groups that capable, with that much influence and power, were typically the big baddie of the third or fourth arc, and would almost always end up destroying the academy, faction, or sect that the reincarnator was a part of. And they were not even prepared to run away and hide out in a secret realm, thereby gaining access to all manners of fortuitous encounters to obtain the strength necessary to return and defeat the cult.

But in all seriousness, this was truly a high-level threat, a code red, a level 5 disaster, one that they were not prepared to confront. Simply training would not suffice, they’d also need luck, opportunity, cunning, and persistence, and that was only what was required to weather the storm, not to resolve the issue entirely.

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And to think that it had been subtly making fun of the boy for digging the hole and abandoning his free dorm room. It too, would have chosen to run away when faced with such circumstances. Lately, the conclusions it had been jumping to were rather inaccurate, and it seemed another apology to the boy was in order. But it supposed it should also ensure that the boy was not jumping to conclusions himself.

“Firstly, I must apologize to you for mocking your digging of the hole, with everything you have told me, it was a good decision. Secondly, the threat level of a cult capable of carrying out an attack on you in this city is unimaginably high for our current circumstances. As such, I must confirm with you, are you sure that you are not mistaken about being attacked by the cult in question?”

Waiting for the boy’s responses always seemed like an eternity, not that ‘GERALD’ could blame him for it. That was likely the reason that goldfingers communicated with their contractor through the system rather than through actual language, as the mental speed difference alone made it seem like they were using incompatible languages.

Fortunately, it had utilized the extra time between the boy’s responses to direct power to a subroutine focused on determining how best to bridge the gap between their minds. Two solutions were found, one that could be implemented immediately, and the other requiring quite a bit of time.

The first was rerouting most of its processing powers to various subroutines along with threads of thought not tied to the boy, so as to lower its thinking speed by throttling its available power. The second option would rely on the boy, and involved specialized training to enhance the processing speed of his mind, thereby allowing it to approach closer to its own.

There would still be a gap, even with both solutions combined, but a couple hundred times difference was far better than the millions or billions of times difference that there had been before.

“One hundred percent certain, not a doubt in my mind. They’ve screwed with me directly or indirectly many times over the past couple of days.”

Somehow the boy had managed to make the situation sound even worse than it already was. This cult wasn’t some secretive organization that happened to let slip a slight bit of information that could be traced back to them. No, they were being very active, which meant that they were either extremely skillful at remaining hidden, or that they were unable to be touched by the kingdom due to their influence.

“Kehehehe! How exciting! So, we are in for a bit of a challenge then, hm? How dare those puny ants stand before a goldfinger and its chosen contractor. Boy, in the short term, we must play this situation carefully. However, our time will come for us to conquer this foe of ours!”

Those of the Jianghu always talked about going against the heavens, but when confronted by those stronger than them, they became meek and afraid, retreating into their shells or running away. However, ‘GERALD’ was different, it didn’t know whether this was a unique trait it had, or if it was present in all goldfingers, but the more insurmountable the odds became, the more excitement it would receive from guiding its contractor to combat them.

And in the case of its current contractor, the peasant boy, Edward, it would be the most glorious victory yet if they won. In its past rotations on duty, its partners were almost entirely reliant on the powers bestowed upon them by the system. Whenever they encountered even slight resistance, their will would all but crumble, only being saved by the overwhelming might every contractor eventually came to possess if they lived long enough. Could that truly be called a revolt against the heavens?

Unlike them, Edward possessed no such benefits. Bit by bit, he would have to crawl his way up from the deepest of ravines to overcome the mountains before him. And ‘GERALD’ got to personally guide him through the challenges before him. Not through the system interface, like all the times in the past. No, it was able to work closely with the boy, and offer advice and knowledge that would normally be restricted from being put into this world.

This was likely its only chance to ever be presented with such an opportunity. In fact, it might be the only goldfinger ever to do so. The system was infinite, ever-expanding, and ever-encroaching, absorbing a new reality and a new universe with every passing moment, and it alone had the unique opportunity to leave a mark on its history.

Against the heavens, against its very creator, with a boy that had been torn to shreds and brought to the lowest point. What victory could ever surpass the epic that they would write together?

“The path before you is arduous, long, and will almost certainly result in your death. But young Edward, do you dare to brave these treacherous waters with me, nonetheless? Do you dare to dream a dream of greatness? Tell me young man, will you take my hand in throwing off the mantle of the miserable life fate has planned for you?”

All Edward had to do was give the word, and their rebellion against all that oppressed him, all that wanted him dead, and all that betrayed him, would begin.

“No, don’t be weird. I’m fine with just destroying the cult that has been ruining my life, after that I’ll retire.”

What! How could he resist the allure of defying his fate of mediocrity? How could he resist the temptation to bring the very heavens to their knees, bowing before him? Was it fear stopping him? Was it lack of resolve? No, ‘GERALD’ could not let it end like this.

If he was not willing to go against the gods of his own volition, then it would have to trick him into that fate. Step by step, little by little, one building block at a time, it would lure him from the path he had chosen, and onto the path of a legend.

It will all too perfect of a plan. None of its mistakes would remain in the wake caused by their momentum. The damages it had done to the boy would all be forgiven, forgotten in a time long past. The healing that he so desperately needed would be accomplished by his own hands. And in doing so, he will forge both a body and mind impenetrable to those foes who appear in his path. At that point, whether he liked it or not, the very world around him would move to write his saga.

But it all would start with a little nudge, a push in the right direction. The boy was clueless about training, and what could be considered normal. That was to its advantage, he would never know that it had tricked him into becoming a monster until it was far, far too late.

“In that case, we should start with fixing the issues with the training you were doing. All I witnessed was your running, but I already have many suggestions.”

“Oh, really? And what might those suggestions be?”

The boy had fallen for it hook, line and sinker! The mere casual thoughts before of playing catch and running on more suitable terrain would not satisfy ‘their’ need for strength. Those methods were solely focused on regaining the boy’s abilities to live his day-to-day life, not constructed for thrusting him onto the road to greatness.

Every aspect of the training would have to be rigorous, tempering the boy’s will, mind, and body all at once. But the boy could not lose himself in doing so, he had to remain himself, pure and unadulterated. Or, at least, as pure and unadulterated as he could be in his current situation.

It would also need to improve the unity between his soul and body, and since it wanted his mind to run faster anyways, they might as well throw in a little bit of soul tempering. This realm did not have the equipment necessary to test the boy’s talent in that regard but considering that he managed to realign himself in less than a day, he definitely met the minimum requirements.

They also had to fit in combat training somewhere in the little time that they had. Fortunately, the dungeon was perfect for that, despite its lack of a variety of weapons to train with. That meant that for the foreseeable future, until the boy could either summon or create weapons with his magic, he would be training in the dungeon with his fists.

Kind of lame for the first steps in his legend but solving that will be objective number two. Objective number one was obtaining actual results from training, and convincing the boy that tempering his soul and will were absolutely crucial if he wanted to achieve his goals.

It was far too exciting, there was so much to do, so many opportunities and paths the boy could be brought down. Only, there was so little time to do it in, even factoring in the dungeon’s extra time. Four extra hours a day only added up to maybe twenty hours of training per day, and slightly more once he started needing less sleep.

But was it just four extra hours? The time in the dungeon increases based on the strength of the will of the user. This was an effect not commonly seen to any large degree, due to contractors possessing weak wills from overreliance on the system. And so, even though the dungeon was practically the perfect grounds to test and refine one’s willpower, the inherent qualities of the system prevented that from being seen.

However, Edward did not have any perks from the system. No fancy powers. No free strength. In fact, all the system had given to him thus far was a near death experience. One that likely tempered his will just by him surviving it, and the continued struggle with the aftereffects further tempered his will again. Those four hours had probably already increased, which meant that they would already have access to more time.

And that extra time would itself lead to even more time through the boy tempering himself further in the trials of the dungeon. The growth was exponential.

But there was still more efficiency to be had. The first day was the most important, as the most gains could be achieved, and their starting position was where they would exponentially grow from. That meant that it was vital that they cut the chit-chat and get to him actually training.

Countless techniques began to run through Gerald’s mind as it scrambled to choose the best one for the situation they were in. It would have to improve upon the connection between body and soul, temper the boy’s will, and strengthen his body. It would also have to not inhibit the boy’s future potential, nor could it leave him with a glaring weakness, like that of Achilles.

It knew the perfect technique, Bloody Metamorphosis. The name was quite peculiar, its creator having been killed after being mistaken for being a demonic-path cultivator. In reality, he was a poor schmuck of a body cultivator who simply could not afford the herbs necessary to utilize traditional body forging techniques.

There was no need to pass on the name, however, as the kid would likely reject such an evil-sounding method to obtain power. Not to mention that the technique would have to be adapted to the differences present in this world. Namely, the lack of qi. Therefore, the boy would be practically creating his own path to power, with some inspiration, of course.

“Focusing on adapting to the current state of your body is a waste of time. Instead, if you follow the training method I will outline for you, called the uh, Heart of Rebirth, you will be able to obtain great physical strength as well as fix the remaining issues with the disunity of your body and soul.”

“Sounds interesting. Where would I start in order to do that?”

That was a great question. Its subroutines were already working on an answer to that question as they spoke. A diversion was necessary in order to buy time in order to patch the missing pieces of the technique that would form from the absence of qi.

Luckily, it had the perfect excuse, as there was another thing that had to be accomplished for their partnership to work seamlessly in the future. The boy had to be able to talk to it without sitting down and entering into his mindscape or talking aloud for that matter. It was somewhat surprised that the boy had not figured out how to up until this point, as was entering his mindscape to speak very similar in outcome to just talking in his mind?

“The beginning is quite simple; all you have to do is follow my directions. But first, there is something more important that we must do. Or more aptly, you must do. It is time for you to learn to talk to me in your mind, and not through this roundabout mindscape business you have going on.”