The alien sun, a cold, blue-white blaze, clawed its way over the jagged horizon of scrap. Blake Connover squatted on a rusted hull plate, his boots scraping faintly against the corroded metal as he surveyed the chaos below. Rax's compound—or what was left of it—sprawled in a twisted heap, a monument to shattered dreams and scorched pride. It looked like a child's broken plaything discarded in the dirt. Fitting, Blake thought grimly. One man's ruin, another man's stepping stone.
"Alright, Kitt," he muttered, his voice barely rising above the eerie whistle of the wind threading through the metal graveyard. "Hit me with it."
His vision lit up with a torrent of system notifications. Gnosis accrued, mastery levels climbing, quests ticked off one by one. The spoils of his infiltration unfolded in neat, glowing lines—a ledger of triumph carved from the wreckage.
Blake allowed the numerous "Experience Gained" notifications pass him by, focusing instead on his more concrete gains.
> [Mastery Increased: Kinetic Detonation | Amateur → Novice]
>
> [Mastery Increased: Phantom Edge | Amateur → Novice]
>
> [Mastery Increased: Unfettered Stride | Adept → Journeyman]
>
> [Mastery Increased: Battlewright | Adept → Expert]
>
> [Mastery Increased: Force Manipulation | Novice → Apprentice]
>
> [Mastery Increased: Spatial Manipulation | Novice → Apprentice]
>
> [Mastery Increased: Mana Reinforcement | Novice → Apprentice]
>
> [Mastery Increased: Improvisation | Adept → Expert]
>
> [Mastery Increased: Stealth | Apprentice → Adept]
"Quite the upgrade package," Kitt said, her avatar materializing beside Blake. "Unfettered Stride hitting Journeyman means you can pull off those wall runs without burning through your mana reserves."
"Yeah," Blake said as he rolled his shoulders. "Not bad for a day's work. The Battlewright boost is nice to see. I did feel like I was getting the hang of incorporating more of my skills and abilities into the flow of the fighting."
"Speaking of skills," Kitt's avatar crossed her arms. "Your Improvisation mastery jumped straight to Expert. Which means you must have walked in there with exactly zero plan beyond 'get to Rax.'"
"I had a plan."
"Really? Do tell."
"Get in. Get you into security. Then find Rax and deal with him."
"That's not a plan. That's a wish list."
"Nah, getting you to take over their security systems was critical to winning the day," Blake said, smiling. "It was a great plan."
"No," Kitt said flatly. "I'm not buying it."
"Bah, it doesn't matter. Plans never survive contact with the enemy anyway." Blake replied. "Better to stay flexible, adapt to what's in front of you."
"We could have died."
"But we didn't." Blake tapped his temple.
Kitt's avatar flickered with what might have been frustration, but she said nothing. Instead, she brought up a new notification.
> [Mastery Increased: Roadwarden | Apprentice → Adept]
>
> [New Roadwarden Passive: Aura of Detection
>
> Aura of Detection (Passive): grants the Roadwarden a nascent domain which scales with their mastery of this class. The effects of Perception, Alertness, and Resonance are increased when applied to anything within the aura, and the Roadwarden's spiritual senses gains a tactile component when interacting with anything within the aura.
>
> Current Range and Bonus: 5m, 10% ]
Blake eased back on his heels, a flicker of something unfamiliar rippling through him. The shift wasn’t external—no, it was deeper, more intrinsic, like the world had clicked into sharper focus. The air around him seemed to hum, not with sound but with a kind of unspoken clarity, an awareness that settled over him like a second skin. It was as if he’d walked into a room and instinctively understood every detail without needing to look.
"You feel that?" he asked, his voice carrying a quiet edge of wonder as he shot a glance at Kitt’s glimmering avatar.
"Oh, I feel it," she said, her tone edging on sarcastic. "Congratulations, you’ve officially entered the overachiever’s club. Aura’s up and running."
"It’s like..." he began, only to falter. Words weren’t enough. He extended his awareness toward a nearby shard of hull plating, not with his hand but with something… instinctive. The metal’s cold texture, the tension in its structure—it all etched itself into his mind as if he’d touched it directly.
"It’s like you finally tuned in to a station that’s been broadcasting this whole time," Kitt said, her arms folding as she watched him. There was something almost smug in her expression, but her eyes tracked him with interest as he tested the edges of his newfound clarity.
"Yeah." Blake rolled his shoulders, letting the feeling settle in further. "Why do you seem so laid back about this?" He crouched and ran his fingers lightly along the edge of the hull piece, testing whether the tactile matched what he already knew about it through this new sense. It did.
"I mean, that's your Aura of Detection at work," Kitt said brightly. "Perception gets cranked up inside your little bubble here. Resonance too—you’re syncing with everything around you on a deeper level." Her tone turned teasing. "It's literally what it says on the tin, Blake."
Blake snorted and straightened up, brushing dirt off his palms. "Alright, well I thought it was something novel."
Kitt’s glow shifted slightly as her avatar shrugged. "You're experiencing perception in a similar way to how I do. I just find it hard to be impressed."
Blake turned in place slowly, taking in every detail—the patterns on overlapping debris piles, stress fractures spidering through twisted girders that told stories of past impacts, even faint impressions left in disturbed dust where someone—or something—had passed recently.
"It’s..." He trailed off again, not out of lack for words this time but because he wanted to take another moment to feel it. Then: "It’s going to be useful."
"That’s an understatement." Kitt replied. But that's only the start. This next one is interesting.
> [Ability Evolution: Warden's Insight → Warden's Chimeric Insight]
>
> Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
"Chimeric Insight?" Blake asked aloud, narrowing his gaze as the name settled into place.
"Surprised?" Kitt leaned languidly "against" a stack of warped plating, paws crossed. "Guess who made that happen?"
Blake tilted his head, waiting for her to elaborate. Kitt obliged with an exaggerated sigh, her tone both amused and smug.
"The system codified my input," she explained, waving a hand as if to dismiss the technicalities. "You know, when I patched in my vision? Apparently, it decided we were doing something useful and folded it right into the skill."
Blake frowned slightly. "Folded how?"
"It’s not just yours anymore—it’s ours," Kitt said simply. "Chimeric Insight now includes my visual modes by default. Thermal overlays, energy detection... even a few things you haven’t seen yet." Her grin widened as she added, "Basically? We’re making a killer team."
He felt the faintest pull at the edges of his awareness, almost like he could reach out and feel those new layers she described—senses that weren’t his but were now somehow available through their bond. It was dizzying but intriguing.
Before he could test it further, Kitt held up a hand to stop him. "Wait before you start tinkering," she warned. "That skill was on the verge of ranking up in mastery—about to hit Journeyman—but I stopped it."
Blake blinked at her. "You can do that?"
"Of course I can," she replied with mock indignation. "But I did it for a reason." She leaned closer, her tone shifting into something more deliberate. "Blake, it’s time for you to form your Cultivator’s Mind."
His frown deepened. "Cultivator’s Mind?"
Kitt nodded firmly. "You’ve been pushing forward without one because circumstances forced you to keep adapting on the fly—and don’t get me wrong, you’ve done well." Her expression softened slightly, though her voice stayed matter-of-fact. "But now? You’ve got Gnosis from Rax’s downfall burning a hole in your metaphorical pocket and a skill primed for evolution. That makes this the perfect time."
Blake straightened slightly, processing her words while keeping an eye on their surroundings through his Aura of Detection. He wasn’t sure what forming a Cultivator’s Mind entailed exactly—but judging by Kitt’s tone, it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. He pulled up his status window, and after some toggling of fields that Kitt had hidden due to their being unused, found what he was looking for:
> CULTIVATION
>
> Body - None
>
> Mind - None
>
> Spirit - None
It was as he remembered. This had to be what she was talking about. Actual cultivation.
"So... You think Warden’s Insight is the foundation for this... whatever it is?" he asked carefully.
"I know it is," Kitt shot back without hesitation. She pointed at him as if driving the point home. "But you can talk to Eland about it to be sure. I can hold onto the energy of this ability ranking for a few days still."
"Alright, I guess we'll do that ASAP then," he responded.
Almost like an afterthought, especially after already having been discussed, his quest notifications appeared.
> [Quest Complete: The Raven's Tidings. Reward: Refined Gnosis (Observe, Orient, Decide, Act)]
>
> [Quest Failed: Scorched Earth]
>
> [Quest Complete: The Culling of the Herd. Reward: Access to Hunter's Guild]
>
> [Quest Complete: A New Dawn. Reward: Refined Gnosis (Virtue Ethics)]
>
> [New Quest:
>
> Title: The Fragile Dawn
>
> Faction: Valentis the Arbiter
>
> Description: Protect the fledgling peace of Nehren as it establishes a just new governing structure. Grow the local coalition of clans into a Regional power within the Bannerlords scenario.
>
> Reward: Based on performance.]
Blake rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the quest log floating in his vision. “Failed Scorched Earth, huh? Guess we didn’t torch enough to impress Kali’s Maw.”
“Shocking,” Kitt drawled, her avatar perched on a twisted piece of scrap like a disinterested cat. “Maybe next time we should blow up half the planet. That’d really get their attention.”
Blake snorted. “Not my style.”
“No kidding.” She gestured lazily toward the glowing entry for Valentis’ new quest. “So, peacekeeping now? Gonna add ‘mediator’ to your resume?”
Blake shrugged, brushing a hand against his thigh holster as he thought it over. “I don’t see why not. If keeping things calm in Nehren keeps Mara happy and her people helping Eland, it’s worth it.” His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was weighing ammo inventory rather than people's lives. “Feels like a freebie.”
“Sure,” Kitt replied, her tone skeptical. “Until you realize you’re working under Valentis’ rules, which are probably as clear as mud. What does ‘Regional power’ even mean in this scenario? Territory? Population? A nice flag?”
Blake exhaled through his nose, leaning back against a rusted beam. “Fair point. If Valentis expects us to turn Mara into some kind of warlord-lite, that’s not happening.”
“Exactly,” Kitt said. “We need clarity before we start making promises—or enemies.”
He nodded once, decisive. “Alright. We’ll get the details first.” He closed the quest log with a flick of his wrist and straightened up, brushing dust from his jacket.
"Wait," Kitt said, suddenly serious. "There's one last thing."
> [Title Unlocked: Gravedigger]
The title burned bright across his vision: Gravedigger. Before Blake could process its weight, the world shifted.
He stood in the suffocating humidity of the Chocó–Darién jungle, boots sinking into wet earth. The smell hit him first—a mixture of damp rot, blood, and churned-up soil. His chest felt heavy, each breath labored against the oppressive air. A crude wooden cross jutted from the mound before him, leaning slightly to one side. The grave was fresh—too fresh.
Reyes.
Blake stared at the name etched hastily into the crossbeam with his knife. The edges of the letters were rough, uneven, as though his hand had refused to steady itself for even this simple act. He’d been a good man—sharp, loyal to a fault—and far too young to die like this. Blake’s grip tightened on the hilt of the knife still in his hand. His knuckles whitened under the strain.
The memory pulled him deeper.
There were four graves in total, arranged in a loose row under the tangled canopy. Each marked with whatever scrap of wood or stone Blake could find amidst the carnage. He knew their names without needing to look: Reyes, Mendez, Alvarez, Collins. The team he’d led into hell and dragged back out—or at least what was left of it.
His throat felt raw as he swallowed hard. "I told you we’d make it out," he murmured to the mound before him. The words tasted bitter on his tongue—lies offered up in moments when they still had hope to cling to.
Blake didn’t know how long he stood there, staring down at Reyes’ grave as though it might shift and reveal some deeper truth if he just kept looking. Mud clung to his boots and uniform, caked on like a second skin. His hands trembled faintly despite himself.
A breeze rustled through the foliage above, bringing no relief from the stifling heat but stirring loose droplets that pattered against his shoulders like rain. Blake let his head tilt back for just a moment, eyes closing against the weight of it all. When he opened them again, they fell back on that crude cross—and something in him snapped into focus.
"You deserved better," he said softly. His voice was hoarse, rough around the edges from too many shouted orders and too few answers for why things had gone so wrong.
The scene blurred suddenly as though someone had grabbed hold of it and yanked hard at its edges.
Then Blake was back—kneeling in twisted metal under an alien sun with no trace of jungle heat or Reyes’ grave beyond what lingered in his chest.
He blinked hard against disorientation, pushing himself upright as Kitt’s voice cut through like a lifeline: "Shit, Blake, you alright? It looks like that one hit you hard."
Blake didn’t answer immediately; instead, he exhaled slowly through his nose and let his gaze fall to where his hands rested on his knees—still steady now despite what he’d seen. "Gravedigger," he muttered under his breath like it was an accusation aimed squarely at himself.
"That’s... a hell of a title," Kitt offered cautiously after a beat. Her avatar flickered into view beside him—a small cat-like form perched on twisted scrap metal—but her tone carried none of its usual flippancy.
Blake nodded once but stayed silent otherwise. He just read and re-read the description of the title.
> As a Gravedigger, you carry the weight of those lost in your presence. When significant individuals die nearby, they may leave behind a Gravestone—an imprint of their Gnosis—a part of their Path. You can choose to integrate this Gnosis into your own Path, preserving a part of their spirit, or reject it entirely.
>
> Incorporating these Gravestones into your Path has the potential to grant you insight and power from the fallen, but might just as easily warp your path in ways that cannot be predicted.
>
> Choose carefully, Gravedigger.