Zaria let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and dry in the still air. She pressed her fingers to her temples, her mind spinning. “Right. So I’m supposed to be a leader for a team I haven’t even met, in a game I don’t understand, and now I’m a…technomancer? No big deal. Sure. Totally fine.”

Xyros stood motionless, radiating an aura of serene patience. His glowing circuitry pulsed faintly in the dim light, a visual reminder of his otherworldly presence. “No pressure at all, Zaria,” he replied, his voice calm, deliberate. “Only fact. I am here to guide you, to help you grasp the game, your role, and your abilities. But first…” He gestured toward the table laden with food, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Eat. Your body needs nourishment, and your mind needs clarity. I will answer your questions while you eat.”

Her eyebrows shot up, her irritation bubbling to the surface. “Really? That’s your advice? Eat? Like I’m supposed to just sit here and snack while the universe falls apart around me?”

Xyros remained unflinching, his gaze steady. “Eat,” he repeated, his tone firmer. He crossed his arms, glancing deliberately at the plate of food and then back at her. His posture spoke volumes: this was not a debate.

Zaria sighed, feeling like a child being scolded. “Fine,” she muttered, plucking a plump strawberry from the plate. She bit into it reluctantly, the burst of sweetness surprising her. She hated to admit it, but the taste was a welcome reprieve from the metallic tang of anxiety that had settled in her mouth.

Satisfied, Xyros nodded, his tone softening again. “The point of this game is survival, Zaria. But beyond that, it is about growth. Understanding who you are and the power you hold. Of all the TechNavs from your ship, you alone have the potential to master technomancy and navigate the Trials.”

As he spoke, he raised a hand, and a shimmering holographic display materialized in the air between them. Rows of numbers, glowing graphs, and strange symbols flickered before her eyes, shifting and rearranging themselves into an indecipherable web of data.

“These,” Xyros said, gesturing to the display, “are your initial stats. They reflect your current strengths and weaknesses. As you progress through the Trials, they will evolve, shaped by your actions and choices.”

Zaria leaned closer, squinting at the screen. The numbers blurred and refocused as she tried to make sense of them. “Wait—what’s this?” Her finger hovered near a line that read:

Problem Solving: +1

Luck: +1

“That,” Xyros explained, a flicker of amusement in his tone, “is the result of your encounter with the Scrappings. Your quick thinking earned you points in Problem Solving, and your survival—somewhat miraculously—boosted your Luck.”

She stared at the stats, a strange mix of pride and disbelief swelling within her. “You’re telling me I leveled up… in life?”

“In a sense,” Xyros said, his tone measured. “Everything here is a test of skill, intellect, and adaptability. The Trials are not just a challenge—they are a reflection of your potential. Your choices, even the smallest ones, will shape your path forward.”

Zaria popped another strawberry into her mouth, chewing slowly as she digested his words. Her gaze flicked back to the stats, her mind racing with possibilities. If this was a game, then maybe—just maybe—she could figure out how to play it.

Strength: 4

Agility: 5

Intelligence: 9

Endurance: 5

Charisma: 3

Problem Solving: 10

Technomantic Potential: 20

Luck: 7

Zaria leaned in, her eyes scanning the holographic display. Rows of stats glimmered in faint blue light: Strength, Agility, Intelligence—all standard fare. But one stood out like a neon sign: Technomantic Potential: 20. A flicker of curiosity stirred in her chest, pushing past the lingering exhaustion.

“Technomantic Potential?” she murmured, the question rolling off her tongue almost involuntarily. “What does that mean?”

Xyros’s lips curled into a faint smile, the glow of his technomantic patterns shifting subtly, pulsing in sync with the energy that thrummed in the air around them. His gaze rested on Zaria, sharp and assessing, as if he were seeing something others could not.

“Ah, Zaria,” he murmured, his voice carrying a note of quiet amusement. “That is what makes you exceptional.”

As he spoke, a thin wisp of energy curled from his fingertips, a soft luminescent strand that coiled in the air before dissipating. The very space around him seemed to hum in response, as though acknowledging his presence.

“Technomantic Potential is not simply the ability to manipulate energy. It is the rare gift of attuning oneself to the very essence of existence—the invisible threads that weave magic and technology into a single tapestry. Most beings can only sense these forces, crude and disconnected, but you…” His eyes flickered with something unreadable, his voice dropping into something almost reverent. “You are capable of merging them, bending the unseen will of the universe to your command.”

Zaria swallowed, the weight of his words pressing into her like an unseen force.

Xyros turned slightly, his gaze distant, as if peering into something beyond the limits of the physical. “The Ancients understood this balance, but it was the Va’Skari who named it: Va’ruun Essence—the fundamental resonance that determines one’s affinity for technomancy. It is not something learned or acquired. It is something embedded in the very core of your being.”

A faint shimmer pulsed through the room, the forge’s energy flickering in resonance with his words.

“Va’ruun Essence is more than potential—it is destiny,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. “It dictates not just if one can wield technomantic power, but how it manifests. Some command it instinctively, weaving power as naturally as breathing. Others must struggle, shaping it with discipline and force of will. And then there are those whose essence burns brighter than the stars, capable of unlocking abilities others could never hope to touch.”

His gaze bore into her, unreadable yet knowing.

“You are one of them, Zaria.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

Xyros extended a hand, palm up, and from the center of his palm, a tiny arc of energy sparked into existence—small, controlled, but unmistakably powerful. “With training, this will become your greatest strength. You will learn to wield the forces that shape reality itself.” He clenched his fingers, and the energy dissipated in an instant. “Or… you will be consumed by them.”

The words hung in the air, resonating with something deep inside her. Her gaze flicked to Xyros’s stats, her eyes catching on his Technomantic Potential: Unlimited. The simple word loomed large in her mind, almost incomprehensible against her meager 20. A thrill shot through her—a tantalizing mix of ambition and wonder. How far could she go? What could she achieve if she mastered this?

Her fingers hovered over the faint glow of the now-dimming display as if she could somehow draw the knowledge into herself. Memories of the cavern wall, its cryptic hieroglyphics about technomancy, swirled in her thoughts. The synthesis of advanced technology and energy-based mysticism. It had sounded abstract then, but now it felt… attainable. Real.

Xyros’s head tilted slightly, his glowing eyes watching her with quiet amusement. “Good. Curiosity suits you, Zaria. But remember, what you see here is merely the surface. There is more to this world—more to you—than numbers and potential.”

Her pulse quickened as his words settled in. She wasn’t just surviving anymore; she was beginning to see a path forward. A purpose. A goal. The fear and confusion that had clung to her since waking in the Trials began to loosen its grip. In its place, a quiet determination sparked to life.

Xyros’s voice softened, as if recognizing the shift in her. “Now, we begin your training.”

Zaria nodded, her gaze lifting to meet his. Her exhaustion and anger hadn’t disappeared, but a new resolve was taking root. “Then start by telling me this,” she said, her voice steady. “What exactly are the Nexus Trials?”