The room allocated to Argo was relatively small, if only a little bit larger then the room he had at the inn. It fit a bed with a mattress this time, and a small wooden desk accompanied by a chair and oil lamp. It was hanging from a rod allowing it to diffuse light evenly without being affected by the movement of the ocean.

"We'll reach Blackrock Island in a couple days time, make yourself at home. We'll call you for mealtimes," Jackson reported, adopting a stoic tone. He didn't seem to like the presence of the two youths.

Jackson left as fast as he came, seemingly annoyed with the whims of his captain. In which Argo couldn't blame him, Captain Reid seemed like a very interesting figure. Nonetheless he was grateful for his hospitality. Having his own room aboard a ship beat being thrown out into the dark waters.

Argo shuddered, thinking about what abominations lurked beneath the waves.

The lady from before never introduced herself, and swiftly entered the room opposite of his without saying a word. Argo wondered what family or clan she hailed from, he had no knowledge about such things so he could only imagine at the moment. He hoped he would meet someone who could brief him on the stuff he missed in the outside world. But with how people were constrained to the trial, he wasn't sure how accurate their information would be.

As he sat on the bed, he tried accessing the Records. He had been anxious the moment he had ensured he was safe, excited to view what sort of Inherent or Traits he had.

The first thing individuals are taught when they aspire to climb the tower is the existence of the Records. It serves as an intermediary between the Divine, Tower, and mortals. It allows humans to view their Inherent, Traits, Skills, and abilities.

Accessing the Records felt like second nature, such as moving his fingers or blinking. Immediately a holographic interface appeared before him, adjusting its language accordingly.

Quest: Free the Sun from it's eternal bindings.

Name: Argo

Epithet(s): Last Hero

Rank: 0

Inherent: [The Miracle]

Traits: [Dichotomy], [The Hero of Finality]

Skills:

Stats: [Strength: G-], [Endurance: G-], [Dexterity: G-], [Agility: G-], [Mana: G-]

Equipment: [Iron Sword]

Argo gazed at the screen before him with an empty expression, any words dying before leaving his throat. Contained within just nine lines of text was a vast abyss that threatened to swallow him whole. He didn't even know where to start: already possessing an epithet, an ambiguously named Inherent, a trait described as a word he didn't even know, and his status as a hero.

It took him several minutes to regulate his breathing, attempting to calm himself down. With a weak expression, he recollected his scattered thoughts. He was probably overthinking, jumping to exaggerated conclusions.

He consolidated all of the information available to him, before diving into the descriptions provided by the Records. The village was lackluster in their education regarding Halcyon, and the path to becoming an 'Exalted'; individuals who endeavored into the divine tower to clear its trials. Adventurers were the more commonly-used term, as only those who cleared the First Floor could be deemed as the former.

On the other hand, the abominable monsters that ran rampant inside and outside Halcyon were deemed 'Abhorrents.' They varied greatly in physical characteristics and strength, but they were all grouped under that one term.

An Inherent was a unique skill an individual possessed, an idiosyncratic manifestation of their self. While most skills or even some traits could be shared amongst individuals, an Inherent solely belonged to the user. As a projection of their soul, it laid the foundations for an Exalted's specialties and profession. There were no such thing as a bad Inherent, simply bad users. Evidenced by the Record's lack of clarifying different grades of an Inherent, as opposed to a skill.

'If I examine the description maybe it will give me some new insights.'

Argo hoped the information provided by the Records would remedy his confusion. He first decided to inspect his Inherent, arguably the most important thing at the moment. It's effectiveness would dictate his path to strength, and future to a large extent.

[The Miracle]:

The description of his Inherent left Argo more confused then before. It was like the more times he read the same two sentences, only more questions would arise. While he admittedly was lacking in education, he was still literate enough to read and write. What confused him wasn't the word's definitions, but rather when they were put together. It was like putting together an elaborate puzzle, but he wasn't given the right pieces and they all depicted different images. Forming an incohesive picture.

'Harness a concept intertwined with the divine?' Argo echoed, a frown creasing his face. The only other idea he could relate to this was the idea of fate. Previously mentioned by part-time fate-teller Mirin, fate was something widely regarded as a deity's realm of power. Did that mean he possessed a power on a similar level to fate?

He moved on the latter half of the description, albeit still a little perplexed. While he thought [The Miracle] stood on the same level as an abstract concept like fate, the Records described it as above it. Not necessarily better then it, but like it was capable of shaping it. The Records describes this miraculous power as capable of overcoming a concept synonymous with being irreversible, and creating a 'new path.'

His Inherent sounded very abstract, but entailed hidden meanings toward a divine power. It didn't feel right for someone like him to possess a power worthy of a deity. He quickly moved on to the description of the first ability of his Inherent. Following an individual's ascension to another rank, their Inherent would be strengthened, and gain another related ability.

[Enhancement]: Grants the user the ability to perform a continuous charge, channeling divine energy into an active action. The power released is multiplied proportionally to the amount of charge time.

Argo was left somewhat disappointed reading over [Enhancement]. In stark contrast to the abstract phrases describing [The Miracle], its ability was relatively straightforward. He could only hope that the enhancement it provided was worthy of being a skill on the level of fate.

With a reluctant expression, he decided to move on to his traits. Traits were manifestations of an individual's experiences, or an inherent part of their self. Argo wasn't too familiar with many traits, but they were far more elusive then obtaining a skill. The former required very specific conditions, or intervention from a higher entity. The latter only called upon a user's dedication, effort and time.

[Dichotomy]: Your very existence is an amalgamation of contradictions, a battle of opposing forces. Giving rise to a sense of balance, where neither can overrun the other.

Dichotomy, a word Argo didn't know. From what he could tell, he could attribute it to the relationship shared with fire and water. Opposing forces, contradicting each other? He unconsciously clicked his tongue, finding the ambiguous wording of the Records frustrating.

The origins of this particular trait eluded him. From what he could tell he didn't possess any traits or things that could create such a potent contradiction. He admitted maybe his mental state wasn't the greatest, but that shouldn't have been enough to warrant such a trait.

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He decided to push it to the side, focusing on his second and last trait. Argo had very mixed feelings about this particular one, as it entailed both good and bad things.

[Hero of Finality]: You serve as the last of a very long line of heroes. You are cherished by mana, and blessed with unparalleled growth. But your existence is bound to the whims of fate, in which you are followed by calamity to protect others.

Heroes. The universal term only applicable to truly unrivalled Exhalted. Honored for their valiant exploits, and unparalleled power. Each serves as a bastion of humanity, a beacon of light in the sea of Abhorrents swallowing the world. There were slight differences between heroes, lying in their origins and fundamental strength.

There were three distinct types of heroes.

The first were "Tower-Blessed," individuals who received their strength from the Tower itself. The conditions for gaining the interest of the Tower were unknown, and widely speculated. Individuals who received the Tower's honor were extremely rare, only numbering in the double-digits in all of humankind. They were characterized by a specific trait, attraction to calamity, and cherished by mana.

The second were "Deity-Favored," individuals gaining their strength from the backing of a divine figure. Those that inherited the divine blood of such immortal figures were usually the reciprocates, but it wasn't entirely impossible for a mundane person to become a Favored. Wielding an authority with the favor of a God, these Heroes were in no way inferior to those blessed by Halcyon.

The third, and final lacked a name. They were simply outliers of the two previous terms, becoming heroes through their own exploits and strength. It was significantly harder for those without the favor of a deity, or blessings of the Tower to become a hero. Only through individual strength, and meritorious deeds could one's status rise to such a status.

Argo pulled his thoughts back, finding his final trait a bitter pill to swallow. It was what he had always wanted; a clear cut power that would assist him in his goal for vengeance. He found it slightly contradictory that the Records regarded [The Miracle] as capable of shaping fate, but he was still bound to it in the [Hero of Finality].

He had no notions of hoping he would gain the favor of a deity or the Tower, but wished for strength no matter the cost. His desires lay within slaying an Outer Deity, becoming a hero would greatly help expedite his growth.

But now he was burdened with the fate of becoming a Tower-Blessed, a bona fide hero. And even more dreadfully, he was seemingly the last hero. He wasn't sure if it meant he would be the last ever to be blessed by Halcyon, or simply the last person to rise to a hero. Whichever one it is, it held dangerous implications for the rest of humanity.

Most Exhalted would kill to be in his position; and he was in no way ungrateful or disappointed with this development. He was ecstatic actually, but it left him with a deep feeling of dread. With the boon of becoming a hero was the blessings of mana, and rapid growth.

But also calamity, and a future full of hardship.

He remembered Helkon's common words regarding such courageous figures.

"Heroes always suffer a tragedy, one way or the other."

Before he could delve further into his speculations, a noise jarred him out of his thoughts.

Knock knock

"We're eating lunch in the mess hall in ten."

Jackson's brief announcement floated in through the door, before he quickly left. It would seem he would have to figure out how to get to the mess hall in this labyrinth of a ship. Maybe eating would help him organize all of his thoughts.

***

After navigating through a maze of corridors, hallways, and bumping into other pirates did Argo finally make it to the mess hall- if it could still be even called one. It was more of a large room with tables, chairs, barrels, and couches scattered about. If anything, it wouldn't be inaccurate to call it a furniture store with the mish-mash of different furnishings strewn about, in which sailors wolfed down their food.

"It took you thirty minutes to find this place?" Captain Reid hollered upon noticing Argo. He almost wanted to retort loudly, complaining about how Jackson had neglected to give him proper directions.

The captain's eyes were hazy, his cheeks glistened a cherry red. In one hand was a mug filled with frothing bear, and another a turkey leg the size of Argo's arm. With spittle flying from his mouth, his voice echoed with exaggerated tales of the sea.

Argo stopped by the kitchen, grabbing whatever was still warm. His plate was filled with steamed corn, grilled fish, and roast beef drenched in barbeque sauce. He was only familiar with a couple of farm crops, and occasional meats such as beef. His village lacked variety with food, and Argo was curious to try out what the ship had in store.

'For being on a pirate ship their food is really diverse and plentiful.'

As Argo navigated his way through the maze of furniture, he noticed the girl from before, watching the sea through a porthole with a half-eaten plate next to her. He failed to truly get a good look at her earlier; but she wore a black cloak over a similarly-colored coat, and pantaloons.

Mustering up his courage, he made his way over to her trying to dodge the pirates swaying and jockeying about. While he tended to avoid social interactions in favor of solitude, he felt gathering information was vital to his survival. Thus he decided to approach the girl hidden in shadows.

"What do you want?" Her voice contained unveiled annoyance. He couldn't tell her expression from under her long bangs, but they were probably contorted in irritation. Last time he checked, Argo didn't do anything worthy of offending the arrogant lady.

'What a personality,' he commented inwardly. He had his own share of dealing with arrogant people back home. But they all lacked the cold-heartedness emanating from the girl across from him.

"You're the only one I somewhat know here," Argo replied shamelessly. It wasn't a very good excuse, but he didn't really have the time to spin a good one.

He took a vacant chair across from her. He felt if he didn't take the seat automatically, he would be rejected and forced to interact with the rambunctious crew of this pirate ship. And judging by their colorful personalities and distinct odors, he wished to interact with the former.

But she didn't reject him, continuing to stare into the dark waters of the sea.

"Know is a strong word."

Even with a moon rising high in the backdrop of the night sky, the deep waters seemed to absorb any essence of moonlight. Argo shuddered to think what would happen if he was dumped into the sea. Would the Tower truly be that evil?

While he didn't notice it at first, Argo suddenly frowned, his mind buzzing. He was previously too focused on examining his newfound power to truly take in his surroundings. He decided to voice his concerns to the girl, hoping she had the knowledge to support her arrogance.

"We're eating lunch aren't we?" Argo questioned, scrutinizing the dark waves.

The girl's eyes narrowed at him, before nodding. He could feel her writing him off as an idiot with just a simple gesture.

"Then why is it still night time?"

Ever since he came here, it had always been night time. While usually the time between the Tower and the outside didn't line up, he found it weird that when Jackson declared it was lunchtime the sun was nowhere in sight.

'Did pirates eat whenever they wanted? Declaring mealtimes on the whims of their stomach?'

"Ah, you don't know yet."

With a cold voice she elaborated.

"If I tell you will you leave me alone?"

Argo hesitantly nodded, gaining information about the First Floor would be essential.

"The First Floor we're on is called the Isles of Endless Night."

She glanced at him to gauge a reaction, in which Argo could only ignorantly stare back.

'What's an isle?'

"From what I've heard, the Isles of Endless Night are a chain of islands surrounded by a devastating storm in a perfect dome. The moment you enter the boundaries designated by the storm you will be destroyed. The sun also doesn't exist, putting the entire isle into perpetual nighttime."

She turned to him, scowling.

"Now leave me alone."

***

Sitting in his room, Argo attempted to experiment with his Inherent. Like a child given a new toy, he anxiously wanted to experiment with his newfound power. Activating an Inherent was easy, an intrinsic skill gifted to humans by the Tower allowed them to be seamlessly be used like an organ.

He felt the need to focus on a specific part of his body, and channeled [The Miracle]. Within seconds, white particles started to gather and swirl around his index finger. The white light contained a myriad of colors like a prism, constantly reflecting a rainbow.

Argo's brows knit in confusion, feeling more and more particles surround his finger.

'What's happening? Do I stop it? How do I stop it?'

Panic quickly set in his mind, as he couldn't seem to stop the build-up of power and light accumulating in his index finger. His instincts told him he could either disrupt the power or unleash it.

Filled with curiosity, Argo tapped the top of his desk with his index finger which was swallowed in a halo of prismatic light.

What followed was a small shockwave, as the energy agglomerated at the tip of his finger pulverized the desk. A white light blinded his vision for a split second, before clearing away. A circular indentation the size of a dinner plate sunk into the desk, displacing dust onto the floor. The curtains ruffled, and the lantern swayed chaotically.

Dread creeped into his heart, looking at the indentation on the desk.

'Surely I won't be punished for this?'

For a skill synonymous with creating miracles the energy released from his index finger was nothing noteworthy. He felt that he could charge it for longer and the released energy would be stronger, but it lacked flexibility.

Argo felt that if he was disrupted or injured while maintaining the power it would backlash or dissipate. His heart also started pumping, excitement creeping in about the potential power he could unleash with [The Miracle]. What if he obtained magic spells or offensive skills and charged them with this miraculous power? The results would be devastating! If the skill served to multiply power then it could help him bridge the gaps between grades or even ranks!

Argo suddenly felt a touch of weariness set into him, as he took a seat to further examine the damage done to the desk. He surmised using the skill used a lot of mental energy, and he wasn't even sure about how much mana it used.

Twisting the knob on the lamp to put out the fire, he attempted to take a quick nap to replenish his energy.