Elmore woke up the next day, still bandaged but feeling a significant improvement from the previous night. His body ached, but the pain wasn’t as unbearable as before. Groggy, he called out, "Ash?"

Moments later, Ash entered the room, carrying little Edward. The sight of them brought a warmth to Elmore’s heart. Edward immediately reached out for his father, and despite the lingering soreness, Elmore couldn’t resist. He gently lifted his son onto the bed, tickling his belly, eliciting those sweet baby giggles that made all the pain disappear for a moment.

Ash smiled, watching them bond. Edward, in his playful energy, managed to press down on one of Elmore’s sore spots a couple of times, causing him to wince but laugh through it.

“Alright, alright, you little monster,” Elmore grinned, his heart full despite the physical strain.

Ash, sensing Elmore’s need for rest, eventually corralled Edward away. “Come on, let’s give Daddy some time to heal up,” she said softly, carrying their son out of the room. Edward waved his little hands at Elmore as they left saying “bye bye”.

With the room now quiet, Elmore leaned back into the bed, closing his eyes for a brief moment of peace. But when he opened them again, something odd caught his attention. In the corner of his vision, no matter where he looked, there was a strange, glitching exclamation point floating there.

It didn’t move or disappear. No matter how much he blinked or shifted his gaze, the symbol stayed just on the edge of his sight.

Elmore’s eyes locked onto the glitching exclamation point, his instincts telling him it was Nexus-related. He focused harder, trying to mentally grab hold of it. After a moment, the point ruptured, not chaotically but with deliberate structure. Like threads of lightning interwoven with an almost geometric precision, it spread through his vision, forming webs that stretched in all directions. The webs twisted and expanded until they coalesced into what looked like a notification screen made of glowing strands, knitted together right before his eyes.

The intricacy of the display was bewildering, like something born out of both natural and artificial design. Along the edges, more of these webs filled his peripheral vision, adding structure and depth. In the center, bold text appeared, clear and concise:

**"You are the first to defeat a boss. You will be rewarded."**

Elmore blinked, absorbing the gravity of what he was reading. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as his mind raced to comprehend it. A boss? Was that what the SwineLord was? But before he could dive too deeply into that thought, another line of text formed beneath the first:

**"The SwineLord skeleton will be offered as a one-time unique reward to Elmore."**

The sheer magnitude of what that could mean floored him. A "unique reward"—this wasn’t just some random drop from a hunt. The system was giving him something personal, something specific, tied to his victory over the colossal creature. But what truly unsettled him was what came next.

Below the skeleton reward, a list began to materialize, but it wasn’t like any list Elmore had ever seen. The words were swirling clouds of shifting, amorphous text, as if the system couldn’t quite lock onto a solid form. They pulsed and glowed with the same ethereal webbing as the rest of the interface, but every time Elmore tried to focus on one of the lines, it changed, morphing into something unintelligible before he could make sense of it.

Furrowing his brow, Elmore asked aloud, "Could it be... a weapon?"

As if in direct response, one of the swirling, intangible lines snapped into clarity. The word **"Weapon"** solidified, stark and bold, with a small, empty check box beside it. Elmore’s confusion deepened as he stared at the now-frozen word. It had responded to him. This wasn’t just a static system—it was interactive, responsive. But why was it so glitchy? Why did it feel... unfinished?

He rubbed his forehead, feeling the fatigue of the fight and the mental strain of unraveling this mystery weighing heavily on him. His eyes darted around the room, landing on his old computer in the corner. And suddenly, it hit him—a theory, a possibility.

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"This is magic," he muttered to himself, "or something like it. But it’s not done. It’s... incomplete." The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. The Aither, the strange energy field he was only just beginning to understand, was the key.

Elmore leaned back against his pillow, his mind turning over this revelation. "Maybe the system—this Nexus—is evolving as the Aither itself grows. It’s still... developing." He ran his fingers over the blankets, his body still aching from the battle but his mind sharper now, more focused. "And if the Aither is getting denser, then that means everything connected to it—us, our abilities, this whole damn world—is going to keep changing, keep growing."

He paused, the weight of the realization sinking in. "The denser the Aither gets, the crazier things are going to become." His voice was quiet but resolute. "And the more power we’ll have."

Elmore’s attention returned to the list in front of him. The word "Weapon" still stood there, clear and solid, but the rest of the lines remained clouded and unreadable. What else was hidden in this system? How far could it evolve? And what would it turn him—and everyone else—into?

Seat of power.

Shifting focus back to his screen "What could I use it for?" he wondered aloud, musing over the possibilities. “Armor, obviously.” As he spoke, the word "Armor" appeared, crystal clear, with a checkmark box next to it.

Elmore tilted his head, intrigued. "Or maybe... it could be used to upgrade the truck?" The word "Component" materialized next, just as solid as the first.

He smirked slightly, feeling a strange connection to this unseen system. It seemed to read his thoughts, responding to even the most outlandish ideas. “We could boil down the bones, eat the marrow,” he joked darkly.

A new word knitted into the screen: "Augment."

This system was wild, offering possibilities Elmore hadn't even considered. But as more options appeared, his mind wandered toward something more symbolic, something grander. “Maybe... a throne. It would look cool.”

The words "Seat of Power" instantly solidified in the space before him. The phrase hit him hard. It wasn’t just about the aesthetics—a throne meant something. It symbolized dominance, a claim to authority, and a recognition of his victory. It was more than armor or a weapon; it was power.

Elmore paused, feeling the weight of that choice settle on his shoulders. **"Seat of Power"** seemed to resonate deep within him. It was the obvious pick. As his thoughts lingered on the word, another option, **"Decoration,"** appeared briefly, as if to offer him more mundane possibilities. But he already knew his decision.

“It can read my mind…” Elmore muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as he processed what this system was doing. The words weren’t random. This was Aither itself, listening to his thoughts, shaping his reality in ways beyond what he could yet comprehend.

With a decisive breath, Elmore mentally selected **"Seat of Power."** As soon as he did, the screen began to unravel, its intricate webs collapsing back into clouds. But before it disappeared, a final message knitted itself together, still glitchy and faint, but readable:

**"Build your throne on your land to claim it."**

The words were followed by swirling webs of clouded symbols, too faint to make out, but their meaning was clear. He had to build the throne—his "Seat of Power"—on his land to claim whatever prize this system was offering.

Then, the screen vanished completely.

Elmore exhaled, leaning back as the implications hit him. He wasn’t just surviving in this world anymore; he was making his mark. His mind shifted away from the immediate pain and toward what lay ahead. He would need to rest, heal, and regain his strength before tackling this new challenge. But he now knew his next step: build his throne, claim his land.

After rest.

After days of rest, Elmore finally began to feel strong enough to move again. His body was still stiff and bandaged in places, but his bones had set, and his energy had returned enough for him to tackle the task that had been lingering in his mind since that day—the throne. He stood up slowly, groaning as he stretched his limbs, then made his way outside.

The skeleton of the SwineLord lay in the back of his truck, its hulking form reduced to bone, but it still held a weight that both impressed and intimidated him. With a grunt, Elmore began the slow and tedious process of dragging the massive skeleton out of the truck and into the yard, heading toward the small orchard of fruit trees that he had planted in the back yard.

Before anything else, he needed space. Grabbing his machete, Elmore methodically trimmed the fruit trees, creating a wide clearing around the old bonfire . The scent of freshly cut wood filled the air as branches fell away, revealing a spot large enough to house the SwineLord's remains.

The next step was the base. Elmore walked to the mountainside nearby, where he and Brett had previously collected stones for repairs around the property. He pried loose large stone blocks and carried them, one by one, back to the clearing, slowly building a solid foundation. He arranged the blocks in a circular pattern, creating a raised platform that stood just over waist-high.

Once the base was done, he turned his attention to the SwineLord's bones. Elmore laid the body’s massive ribcage atop the stone foundation, using the enormous, curved bones to create a crude staircase that led up to the top of the structure. He positioned the ribs carefully, making sure they were sturdy enough to hold his weight and anyone else who might ascend the steps in the future.

At the summit, Elmore placed the SwineLord's enormous skull. It loomed above the rest of the structure, its tusks jutting out like ancient spears, the hollow eyes gazing into the distance. Between the tusks, Elmore envisioned where the throne would go. He took the SwineLord's hooves, carving and shaping them into a seat that would be both comfortable and commanding. He spent hours ensuring the seat fit him perfectly, chiseling the bone with painstaking care until the throne was formed.

Finally, he took his carving knife and approached the left tusk of the SwineLord. With deliberate strokes, Elmore carved his name into the base of the tusk, marking the throne as his own. The rough letters etched into the bone gleamed in the fading sunlight, a permanent testament to his victory and the seat of power he now claimed.

As Elmore stepped back to admire his work, he noticed something strange. The entire structure—the bones, the stone, the throne—began to glow, a bright, searing light that illuminated the clearing for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the light vanished, leaving the throne standing in silence once again. But something had changed. He felt it deep in his bones.

A notification blinked into his vision, glitching briefly before stabilizing. A new tab had appeared on his character sheet. It showed him something new --"Throne Claimed." He had done it. The seat of power was his.

And another detail caught his eye—he had leveled up. But that was a problem for later.