“He’s an odd one, isn’t he?” Ta’ir asked, as the pages of the book he was reading turned by themselves. He raised a ceramic looking cup to his mouth and drank from it. Beside him was an open black vial on its side, seemingly devoid of contents.
“You’re telling me,” Ondal agreed, also drinking from a cup, a metallic one. “Why did you send him to cultivate anyway?” he asked, curiosity overtaking his relaxed expression. “With his broken core and lack of cultivation sense, he’ll be lucky to even feel the energy inside him.”
Ta’ir lifted a brow. “I don’t know,” he said cryptically. “He’s a Breaker, so that means he already has a sense of what to do. He might surprise us.”
“But his core is cracked,” Ondal insisted. “That’s not something that you just ignore. You would need a great level of mana manipulation in order to even move the energy.” He took a sip from his cup. “How is even supposed to manipulate the energy in his core?”
“I think he’s special,” Ta’ir began. “Why else would those gods send him here, instead of just killing him?”
“Because they’re benevolent gods. Why else?” Ondal replied, as if the answer was obvious. “They just removed him from wherever he was. Killing isn’t what they do.”
Finishing his drink, Ta’ir set his cup down on a holster and put the book he was holding face down. “But the question remains, why?” he said, looking Ondal in the eyes. The molten gold of his eyes was rampaging, seeming to break from his iris and drip into his sclera.
“Why was one human so important that an entire coalition of gods gathered the most important materials from their own domains and even commissioned Draven?” Ta’ir stood from his seat, excitement beginning to overcome him. “I can understand the first one. They wanted to make sure that whatever they did had the best materials, but the second...” He waved his finger from side to side, giving a knowing glance.
“Draven isn’t someone you commission to make a simple seal, tool or weapon. He’s who you go to when you want to make something that defies common sense.” Ta’ir added, ramping up even further. “He’s the one who sealed a concept. The old monsters respect him and his creations so much that they consider him one of them.” Suddenly, all the excitement left his eyes as he fixed his gaze on Ondal. “So, tell me, do you really think he’s an ordinary human?”
Ondal was used to this outburst of excitement. Ta’ir would do this whenever he found something interesting. He smirked, wondering how hard it must’ve been for Ta’ir to act indifferently when Eric confirmed that he was a Breaker, especially when it was combined with his other condition.
Letting go of his wandering thoughts, Ondal got back on topic. “Well, we’ll see soon. Won’t we?” he asked. “The tower is almost open, and he’s already been in there for two weeks. If he finishes soon enough, he might even get to witness those prodigal children.”
Ta’ir lifted an eyebrow. “Is that lucky or unlucky?”
“Depends on him,” Ondal replied simply.
“Aagh,” Ta’ir groaned in frustration. “Stupid rules. I have so many things I want him to test,” he said, padding a stack of books forcefully.
Ondal’s eyes widened, not having realized how tall the stack had gotten. His eyes suddenly narrowed on a particular book, “Unnatural existences.”
“Caught your eye, huh?” Ta’ir said with a grin.
“Is that because of his lack of connection?” Ondal asked, already knowing the answer.
Ta’ir only smiled, his answer being clearly conveyed.
----------
Eric slowly came to, and as he tried to adjust his position, he found that his entire body felt stiff. It was plain and simple stiffness from having slept in a bad position. The hard wooden floor did him no favors when it came to ergonomics.
It wasn’t the first time he slept on hard and uncomfortable flooring, but when it was combined with a bad sleeping position, experience didn’t matter, the back pain was the same. And that wasn’t all, the small space also kept him from moving as he pleased during his sleep.
Adjusting himself, he rested his back against the small room’s wall. Then brought up his status window.
Eric Aguilar
Class: Warrior
Mana 120/120
Rank F
Level 11
Experience 0/10800
Stats
Vitality 29
Endurance 66
Strength 60
Dexterity 25
Constitution 57
Agility 26
Perception 27
Charisma 17
Intelligence 22
Wisdom 22
Stat Points 2
Skill points 1
Skills +
Concepts –
Titles +
Magic –
Credits 65481
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Finally, the next—wait.” As Eric examined his status screen, he realized that something wasn’t right. Not in a bad way, but it still wasn’t right. He had more stat points than he should have. Narrowing his eye, he began to ponder on the oddity.
“The extra stat points don’t matter. I probably lost the missing one while I slept. Which reminds me…”
Not wanting to risk losing them, he allocated both free stat points immediately. One into intelligence and the other into wisdom. Leaving them both at 23. Taking a moment, he observed his stat distribution. Considering that he was only level 11, he still had time, but he was feeling the fast approach of a crossroads, where he would need to decide his path.
Getting back to his original thought, he counted the total stat bump he had received from the level up.
“Five more stat points than usual,” Eric said in a low voice.
He reached for the cultivation manual, opening it on the part he had skimmed through previously—the beginning. This time, however, he actually began to carefully read through it all, not wanting to miss anything.
The manual wasn’t particularly long. Which is why, even though it expanded on some things, it didn’t on others. As if the author had to be selective about what he could and couldn’t add to it.
After about what felt like an hour—Eric couldn’t be sure, as time had begun to feel off ever since he entered the cultivation room—he reached the part that he needed.
“Many people come to ask themselves one simple question: Why cultivate? It’s a perfectly valid question, especially in a multiverse where the System exists. And the answer is just as simple as the question is valid: Strength.”
As Eric continued reading, the writing evolved from basic sentences to complicated imagery, diagrams, what appeared to be health charts and lastly, a list of numbers. The pages were crammed full of information, once again strengthening Eric’s belief that the author was constrained somehow. “Maybe page count?” Eric muttered.
“The System does not follow the most optimal route for each individual; it does so by species. That is where the flaw lies. At times, it increases the potential of the individual, and at times, it hinders it.”
Visual models of various humans evolved in differing environments appeared on the next page—some under intense gravity, others in oxygen-starved atmospheres. Each had wildly different physiologies, adapting to survive and thrive under different conditions.
"Even within the same species, individuals vary greatly. Each level up slowly adapts your body, bringing everyone to a similar level and primming it for the next evolution. Through a path that you decide, and the System’s assistance depends on you.”
Eric could tell that he was reaching the part that had the information he wanted to know.
“So why cultivate? Simple. Cultivation allows you to break free from the System. It bypasses the System’s default parameters, enabling you to gain stats beyond what it would dictate. For instance, this particular manual has been tested and proven to increase stat gains by up to 3 points beyond what the System alone would allow."
And there it was, the answer to his question. The reason he had gotten 5 extra—"Huh?!” Eric exclaimed in confusion. “It’s supposed to be 3 extra stat points, not 5. Where did the other 2 come from?” he asked the empty room.
Determined to understand, Eric proceeded to read through the entire manual, over and over again. Even using Mental Focus as an aid, so that it would help him notice things that he missed or maybe misinterpreted. And while he did encounter a considerable number of such cases—small nuances in the cultivation method that had escaped him the first time—none were about what he wanted.
After not having found an answer to his question, he finally stopped and stared at the door for a while, noticing that nobody was coming to tell him his time was up.
"Fine," Eric muttered to himself, shaking off his doubt.
He once more got ready to cultivate. This time, he would use his skill to further enhance his understanding of the method he was using. Maybe, through practice, he would even uncover the truth behind the extra stat points.
He closed his eyes and began.
As he began, he noticed that he was doing it far more efficiently. His skills hadn’t leveled up, it was purely based on practiced motion. Excitement began to build within him as he considered how far he would go once he incorporated the new information into the mix.
Even now, during the initial stages of the cultivation method, it had already helped him correct some of the errors he had made. Most were small, but some were glaring. One was a mistake he had made due to not understanding something fully, another for having skimmed through some of the manual.
Little by little, the mistakes were fixed. It was a slow process, but when he finished, he would be all the better for it.
If I got 2 more skill points with errors, how many would I get without them? he thought, only to immediately put an end to it. Focus, don’t get distracted, focus on the here and now.
----------
The Frontier of galaxy N24-895 quietly roamed near the center of the newly integrated galaxy when, without warning, space began to distort and ripple. If the emptiness of space had been illuminated enough, the ripples through space itself could be observed, but it wasn’t, the darkness was too much, so the ripples went unnoticed. Then, at the very center of each of the ripples, a doorway that tore through space itself, opened.
Ships of all shapes and sizes began to exit each of the ripples in space. Some were so massive that the Frontier looked small in comparison. Others were the size of airplanes, some cruise ships, cars, etc.
Among the new arrivals, there were ships that seemed engineered for war: high-tech marvels of metal, sleek and imposing, built to intimidate and dominate. Their armored hulls and angular constructions seemed to broadcast a clear message: they were meant for battle. In contrast, some vessels were simple, clearly commercial transports bringing with them passengers and cargo.
And then there were the truly unique ones, defying both conventional aesthetics and logic.
One colossal vessel looked like an ancient pirate galleon, complete with towering masts and tattered sails. On its sail was the image of a skull with a serpent moving through its eye sockets and exiting out of its mouth. Strangely, nothing protected those on deck from the dangers of space, and they seemed completely unaffected.
Another of the massive ships looked brand new, but all who recognized it knew that wasn’t the case. It was The Torch, one of the three assault ships belonging to the Flambearers. Despite its polished appearance, veterans of the multiverse knew it was a battle-worn relic. Its sharp, gleaming edges cut through the void, and the instant it emerged, the surrounding darkness was illuminated, briefly exposing the ripples still echoing through space.
As the larger vessels settled into orbit, smaller ships detached from their flanks—small shuttles and transport crafts, heading directly toward the Frontier.
Rumors had reached far and wide about the interest that this galaxy was getting. The best place to grab a foothold was here, on the Frontier. Normally, people would have ignored this newly built one and gone for a more established one, one that already had a name and not just the default, “Frontier.”
There they would get stronger, richer and establish their own tale. But here, in this still unnamed one, things were unique. And while most wouldn’t be able to participate in whatever was bubbling beneath the surface, they would still benefit. While the great powers fought for whatever it was that they were after—maybe something within the galaxy, maybe the impending collision with the approaching one—it didn’t matter. Even the scraps from such formidable forces were like treasures to the common folk.
These ships carried such people. A fresh wave of travelers, adventurers, and exiles—those seeking fortune, redemption, or simply a new start. Alongside them came the prodigal heirs, each of them belonging to powerful families scattered across the stars.
In the arrival area of the Frontier, people exited their vessels. Some moved in crowds, hurrying to their destination, while others took their time, eyes wide open as they absorbed the scenery. It had been eons since such a Frontier was created, and they wanted to catch everything. Be a part of history. From the most expensive looking crafts, exited young looking people. Some were accompanied by those who made a show of their strength and others walked alone. Both were making a statement.
But despite the spectacle of the newcomers and the ships in orbit, the Frontier itself remained indifferent. Many of the people already here had arrived from some of those very ships weeks ago.
----------
“Hmm,” an older man, his hair completely white, murmured as he peered far beyond, lost in thought. He slowly lifted a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth, savoring the flavor as it melted on his tongue. “Maybe I should give them a ticket,” he said, removing the now empty spoon from his mouth.
Returning his sight back to his normal field of vision, he turned and spoke to the air. “System, I want to propose an event,” he began. His voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable power. Every word a command. “A tournament,” he added, his lips turning into a playful smile as he leisurely walked through the empty halls of his fortress, attendants following closely behind.