It was still dark outside, the faint glow of a streetlight sneaking through the blinds barely illuminating my bedroom. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling.

My hands flew to my body, patting myself frantically. No bruises, no cuts—nothing. There was a faint itch on my shoulder, but no pain. Nothing to suggest I’d just fought for my life against an alien monstrosity.

Was it a dream? It couldn’t be, right? I’d had vivid dreams before, sure, but this was… different.

My gaze flicked to my hand. No ring.

My imagination was good—great, even—but not that good. There was no way I could’ve dreamed up something like the Nyctalopod. Hell, I wouldn’t have even come up with the name. It felt too real, too visceral.

I needed to check. The answer terrified me, but not knowing was worse. I steeled myself, opened my status, and saw:

Name: Alex

Titles: Ascendant (???)

Level: 24 (3105 / 3250)

Attributes:

Astral Body: 25

Astral Mind: 43 (+4)

Astral Spirit: 28

YES!

A heady mix of relief and disbelief hit me like a truck. It was real. All of it.

And yet, self-doubt crept in, as always.

What if I was losing my mind? My family had no history of mental illness as far as I knew, and I didn’t have any of the signs myself. Sure, I had baseline anxiety—who doesn’t these days?—but a full-blown hallucination? Fighting monsters in my head? That felt like a big leap.

My spiraling thoughts were cut off by my six a.m. alarm. The blaring sound yanked me back to reality—whatever that meant now.

“Ugh.” I groaned.

Okay. It was real. Probably. Even if it wasn’t, running around shouting about monsters would definitely get me locked in a psych ward. No thanks. For now, I had to deal with this like a rational adult—or at least fake it.

First things first: I needed to test my abilities.

I figured Inspection was a safe start, but that skill only worked on living things or system-tagged items. I’d already tried it on random stuff before. No luck. That left Levitation. Worst-case scenario, I’d look stupid jumping around my room.

I wasn’t about to test Astral Sight on my actual eyes—messing with my vision sounded like a one-way ticket to a migraine at best . And Manifestation? Yeah, turning my real hand into an astral construct didn’t exactly sound painless.

So, levitation it was.

I climbed out of bed, still in my wrinkled pajamas and yesterday’s socks.

I’m not the kind of person who sleeps with socks on—I’m not a psycho. I just wasn’t planning on sleeping last night.

Standing in the middle of my room, I bent my knees slightly and focused. Energy swirled through my body, pooling in my legs. I jumped, willing the skill to activate.

Nothing.

Gravity won.

“Come on,” I muttered, trying again. The energy was there—I could feel it—but nothing happened.

I tried again. And again. And again. Same result.

Okay, fine. Skills didn’t work here. That made sense, I guess. But my enhanced strength? That was sticking around.

I flexed my arms in the mirror. They were leaner, slightly more defined. Not bad. Even my bod has shrunk slightly. My six-pack dream might actually be achievable now. Small victories, right?

Feeling bold, I decided to test Manifestation. The energy shifted under my skin, moving toward my hand. I braced myself for… something. But again, nothing happened.

“Figures,” I muttered, letting my arm drop.

Disappointing, sure, but not unexpected. I hadn’t been planning to go full superhero on Earth or anything. Still, the option would’ve been nice.

Okay, who was I kidding? I totally wanted to play at being a superhero.

Okay, time to get started. First, a shower. None of the astral nastiness seemed to have traveled back with me, thank goodness, but I swear I could still smell it clinging to me. I stripped off my pajamas and stepped into the steaming water, scrubbing myself vigorously as though the rotwolves stench had seeped into my skin. Letting the hot water cascade down my face, I tried to organize my thoughts.

After drying off and brushing my teeth, I threw on a fresh tracksuit and headed to the kitchen.

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Normally, my breakfast consisted of instant coffee and nothing else, but today I was starving. Was it my body trying to replenish energy after last night’s ordeal, or was I just compensating for the mental toll of it all? Either way, I wasn’t settling for a meager cup of caffeine. I cracked a few eggs into a pan, threw together some toast, and even reheated a leftover steak from my fridge. To top it off, I squeezed myself a fresh glass of orange juice.

When I was done, I felt... normal. Grounded. Refreshed.

With my stomach full and the caffeine kicking in, I finally sat down to think about what came next. Work was the last thing on my mind, so I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick email to my manager.

Dear Mr. Baker,

something’s come up. I’ll need to take a personal day. Sorry for the short notice. Thanks for understanding.

I knew I’d get an earful about it later, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I took my coffee out to the balcony. It was already 8 a.m., and the world below me was awake and bustling. Cars honked, people hurried along the streets, their breaths visible in the crisp early winter air. I took a long sip, savoring the stillness of the moment. Winter was my favorite time of year—it always made me feel sharp and focused.

But I couldn’t linger. There were too many questions swirling in my head, and I needed answers.

Back inside, I fired up my laptop. I’d already skimmed plenty of articles and Reddit threads over the years about astral beings, but now it felt... personal. I focused on firsthand experiences, reading accounts of encounters with shadowy figures, glowing entities, and otherworldly beings. Most stories were vague or leaned on feelings of love and warmth—things I could relate to, especially when I met Velarion.

Then there were the more bizarre claims. One guy swore he’d had an orgy with astral fairies. Cool story, bro, that sounds more like a wet dream I thought, rolling my eyes. Definitely not the nightmare fuel I’d encountered.

What caught my attention were the stories about shadow people. Some claimed they fed on negative emotions or were lost souls, wandering in search of something they’d never find. That hit uncomfortably close to home. I jotted down a mental note to ask Velarion about them next time.

Despite hours of reading, I didn’t find much else of substance.

The rest was just recycled folklore and vague theories.

Frustrated but not defeated, I decided to take a more practical approach. If I was going to keep encountering monsters, I needed to be ready. Fighting those things with my bare hands wasn’t going to cut it.

Martial arts seemed like a logical step, but I needed something specific. Kickboxing or Brazilian jiu-jitsu were great for bar fights, but I doubted they’d help against a tentacled horror from beyond.

I needed something with weapons—something that could teach me how to handle a sword, spear, or anything sharp and deadly.

My mind drifted back to childhood. My dad and I used to watch old kung fu movies together, the kind where a single fighter could take down a dozen enemies with nothing but a stick and some killer moves. The memory was bittersweet, threatening to resurface emotions I’d buried a long time ago. I shoved it back down and refocused.

The problem with eastern martial arts was that they took years—sometimes decades—to master. I didn’t have that kind of time. That’s when I remembered HEMA—Historical European Martial Arts. I’d stumbled across a few YouTube videos a while back and had even entertained the idea of joining a class, but life always got in the way.

I did a quick search and found a school nearby. Unfortunately, the next beginner’s course didn’t start for two weeks. Damn it. Still, I signed up anyway.

For now, I’d have to rely on good old-fashioned self-teaching. I pulled up a few instructional videos, grabbed a broom handle from the closet, and started practicing. The first lesson was all about stance and balance—how to plant your feet and use your entire body in a thrust, not just your arms. I practiced keeping my distance, varying my strikes, and staying fluid in my movements.

An hour later, I started to get the hang of it

I expected a new skill notification to pop up but nothing happened .

My form probably looked like crap, but at least I was doing something.

The shrill ring of my phone interrupted my makeshift training session. I groaned when I saw the caller ID.

“Good morning, Mr. Baker,” I answered, my voice flat.

“Alex.” His voice was raspy and stern. “You know how I feel about skipping work without notice. We’re under a lot of pressure right now, and the team can’t just pick up your slack.”

His words ignited a flicker of anger in me. I’m usually the one picking up everyone else’s slack, I thought, but I kept my tone calm.

“I had an emergency, Mr. Baker. I’ll be taking a few days off.”

“What kind of emergency?” he pressed. “This isn’t like you, Alex.”

I ignored the question. “I’m sorry, Mr. Baker. I’m in the middle of something right now. I’ll be back next week.”

Before he could respond, I hung up.

The rush of defiance was cathartic, leaving me with a small, satisfied smile.

On to the next thing, I thought, gripping the broom handle tighter.

Riding on the high of standing up to myself for the first time , I started researching spears online. Different designs, their historical purposes, and practical applications—it was fascinating. A long spear was excellent for keeping enemies at bay, but I doubted it suited me. For one, I wasn’t that tall, and anything beyond five feet felt unwieldy for the type of combat I’d experienced. Sure, I could adjust the length mid-fight with Manifestation, but that added another layer of complexity. Losing focus during a fight didn’t seem like a winning strategy.

After some consideration, I decided on a five-foot spear with a crossbar. It was practical, balanced, and less likely to skewer me by accident. I found a blunt training spear that fit the description for a reasonable price and ordered it.

By the time I finished, it was already the afternoon. With hours to kill, I decided to test my new body. Apart from the odd push-up or stretch, I hadn’t worked out in ages. A jog seemed like a good way to gauge my endurance.

I left my apartment and took the stairs down. On the way, I passed an elderly couple checking their mailbox. I’d seen them around but had never interacted with them beyond a polite “hello.”

The woman, wrapped in a heavy coat and leaning on her husband, looked up at me

with a warm smile.

“Hello, dear. No work today?”

I did a double take.

“Uh, hello, ma’am. No, I took the day off.”

Her husband chimed in.

“And going for a jog on your day off? I miss being young.” He chuckled at his own joke, and the woman patted his arm affectionately.

“I’m Bob,” he said, extending a hand. “You can call me Uncle Bob.”

I shook it. “I’m Alex. Good to meet you.”

“And this is my wife, Sophia, of fifty years,” he added proudly.

Sophia smiled and took my hand briefly. We made small talk—something I wasn’t used to. It felt odd, almost surreal.

“So, Alex, you should join us for dinner sometime. We miss having company, and Sophia’s cooking is wasted on me alone,” Bob said.

Sophia nodded in agreement.

What was going on? Small talk was one thing, but dinner? Was this some sort of weird invitation? No, they were just being friendly. Still, I kept my response vague.

“I’m sure we can figure something out. Thank you for the invite.”

We said our goodbyes, and I headed to the park.

I started jogging, fully expecting to feel winded after a mile. Instead, I kept a steady pace and felt fine—better than fine, even—half an hour later. This was amazing. It felt like cheating, but I wasn’t complaining.

Then something odd happened. People in the park kept nodding and smiling at me. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but it was too consistent to ignore. Velarion had mentioned that Astral Spirit improved charisma, but I hadn’t expected it to be this tangible, let alone so soon.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It bordered on compulsion, and I needed to be careful. Power like this could be dangerous if abused.

After an hour of running, I finally felt a bit of exertion and headed to a nearby playground. It didn’t have workout equipment, but the monkey bars and ramps would do.

I started with pull-ups. Before, I’d struggle to do even two, but now I knocked out ten with ease—and I could’ve kept going. Push-ups, crunches, sit-ups—the story was the same. It felt incredible.

What was stranger, though, was the lingering attention I received from some of the women around. I wasn’t used to that. I’m average-looking at best: short black hair, about 5'7", and a little chubby. So the experience was... new.

Part of me wanted to strike up a conversation, but I pushed the thought away. It was a slippery slope, and I needed to set hard boundaries for myself.

I decided to walk home, stopping by a coffee shop on the way. The barista behind the counter greeted me with a bored look that quickly turned into a smile.

“What can I get you?”

“One espresso and a turkey sandwich, if it’s fresh, please.”

He handed me the sandwich and started making the coffee.

“Did you have a nice workout?” he asked.

“Uh... yeah. Just a quick jog. It’s nice out.”

“Man, I should get back to running. I just work out at the gym nowadays. Which gym do you go to?”

“Oh, I don’t really go to the gym.”

He gave me a once-over.

“Really? There’s a fitness club a few blocks away. You should check it out—the staff’s friendly, and the equipment’s brand new.”

“Thanks. I might look into it.”

I paid for my order and sat at an empty table, quickly finishing my meal.

By the time I got home, it was dark. Preparing for tonight’s journey, I swapped into sturdy clothes: a heavy leather jacket ,the closest thing I had to armor, jeans, and snow boots. Walking barefoot yesterday hadn’t bothered me, but this felt safer.

Then came the weapons. I secured a kitchen knife to a broom handle using wire and duct tape. If my clothes could travel with me, maybe this would too. I also strapped a knife to my belt for good measure.

Lying on my bed, I closed my eyes and thought of Velarion.

Not a second passed before I found myself standing next to my body in the blurry, astral version of my bedroom