Cassian slumped to his knees, his breath ragged as his body worked to repair itself. The aftermath of the battle was a strange experience—something between exhaustion and exhilaration. Blood pooled at his feet, his wounds deep and jagged, but already he could feel the familiar tingle of healing as his flesh knit itself back together. His bones, broken during the fight, creaked as they re-aligned and fused. Each crack and snap was like a symphony, reminding him of the raw power coursing through him.
Every breath felt like dragging a knife through his ribs. His muscles trembled as though they’d been wrung out, and his blood-stained clothes clung to his skin, crusted and stiff. But beneath the pain was a quiet satisfaction—he’d survived. Not just survived, but grown stronger. And wasn’t that the point?
He stared at the ground, his mind adrift as his body did what it needed to. The pain had been intense—savage, even—but it didn’t bother him. If anything, it grounded him, reminded him of the progress he’d made since his integration with the Higher Being. He wasn’t just surviving anymore; he was evolving with every brutal encounter, every drop of blood spilled. His body had been torn apart, but the repairs were faster now. More efficient. Each fight made him stronger, more capable of enduring the next.
Cassian’s thoughts drifted to the battle itself. The monsters had been relentless, grotesque creatures with no sense of mercy. They had clawed and slashed at him, their strength far beyond what he had faced before. But that’s what made it perfect. He’d felt his limits pushed, his reflexes sharpened, his instincts refined. The monsters weren’t just enemies; they were challenges—stepping stones in his path to greater power.
And with each hit, with every blow he took, he could feel his mind adjusting to the rhythm of battle, his body responding faster, smarter. The wounds didn’t frighten him; they were proof that he was learning, growing. Pain wasn’t a burden—it was a marker of progress, of strength being forged in the heat of combat.
As his flesh healed, Cassian felt his energy begin to return. He flexed his fingers, watching the last of the cuts on his arm seal themselves shut, the faint scars a testament to the trial he had endured. He could still feel the dull ache of his body rebuilding itself, a constant reminder of how far he had come—and how much further he had to go.
The quiet moments after the battle were when the real work happened. The adrenaline would fade, the noise would die down, and his mind would begin to process everything. His body had been designed to withstand the damage, but it was his mind that had to make sense of it all. The integration hadn’t just changed him physically—it had sharpened his perception, honed his ability to focus. In these quiet moments, as his body healed, his mind absorbed the lessons learned from each foe.
He stood up slowly, testing his strength, rolling his shoulders to feel how fully the healing process had taken hold. The once-fresh wounds were now nothing more than memories, scars fading as quickly as they had come. Cassian nodded, knowing he had pushed his limits yet again. His body was adapting. Each battle was a lesson, a refinement of his abilities. The more he fought, the more he endured, the more the integration worked with him, shaping him into something more.
And then, as if in answer to his thoughts, a subtle but familiar presence stirred in the back of his mind—the Higher Being. It wasn’t forceful, not like before when it had first fused with him. It was more like a nudge, a wordless suggestion, guiding him without taking control. The presence wasn’t intrusive, but it was persistent, like a compass subtly turning him toward safety.
The messages kept flashing, a gentle but persistent reminder that his potential was growing with each fight. He could feel the Higher Being’s influence woven through the system itself, pushing him not to just accept the updates, but to learn from them.
"Alright, alright," he muttered to himself, feeling the pressure build in his chest. He had been running on adrenaline, on the thrill of combat, but now even he could see the need for clarity. His body was healing, but his mind was cluttered with too many unanswered questions, too many possibilities he hadn’t yet explored.
Plus he still needed breakfast.
As he walked, Cassian scanned the streets, looking for a place to take cover. The city was mostly empty, but there were still too many unknowns lurking in the shadows for him to sit down and lose himself in the flood of information. His gaze landed on a boarded-up store a few buildings away. The door was chained shut, but the board over the window had been pulled away, revealing access to the dusty interior.
The store reeked of mildew and rust, the faint tang of oil still lingering in the air. Dust-coated shelves stood like empty sentinels, their surfaces etched with the fingerprints of previous wanderers. Cassian glanced around, his gaze landing on a shattered mirror in the corner. For a moment, his reflection stared back at him—bloodied, bruised, but alive. A stark contrast to the hollow shell he’d been before.
The Higher Being pulsed with a faint sense of approval as he leaned against the old counter. The store had been an auto parts shop once, judging by the faded advertisements for tyres and motor oil plastered on the walls. Not that it mattered anymore. He hadn’t seen evidence of any cars all day.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"Alright, show me what you’ve got," he whispered, focusing on the main set of notifications.
System Message:
Integration successful. Processing host...
The words appeared before his eyes, not as sound but as glowing lines of text, hovering in the air like a private revelation. Cassian blinked, momentarily disoriented. He instinctively reached out, and as if sensing his intent, the System responded, unfurling more information in crisp, digital precision.
Status:
Health: 62%
Stamina: 47%
Cassian frowned, shifting his weight to test the limits of his battered body. "So... this is the System, huh?" he muttered, his voice echoing faintly in the empty store. With a hesitant thought, he swiped at the messages hovering in front of him. To his surprise, they shifted, reorganising themselves like a well-behaved spreadsheet.
"This is like a really intense spreadsheet... who knew pain came with such a detailed user manual?" he quipped, his lips curling into a smirk.
He poked around, experimenting. Each time he focused on a new section of the interface, it seemed to expand, revealing further layers of data. It felt as though he were peeling back the layers of his own reality, uncovering truths that had always been there, hidden just beneath the surface. The System wasn’t intrusive—it simply existed now, as much a part of him as the Higher Being that had fused with his very soul.
More notifications flickered into view, the text glowing faintly in the dim light.
Attributes:
Strength: 14/25
Agility: 12/25
Endurance: 18/25
Intelligence: 11/25
Combat Skills:
Pain Tolerance: 100/100 (Max Ascendant level)
Unarmed combat 7/25
Cassian leaned back against the counter, his eyes scanning the glowing text that floated before him. The System had laid it all out, a neat little ledger of his strengths and shortcomings. His gaze landed on the skills section, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.
"Well, that tracks," he muttered, his smirk widening.
Pain Tolerance: 100/100
The number stood out like a beacon, impossibly high compared to the others. It wasn’t just impressive—it was absurd. None of the other values even came close. He frowned, tapping the air as though it might explain itself, but no additional details appeared.
"Why the hell is that so high?" he murmured, his brow furrowing. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it—pain was his bread and butter, after all—but this was something else entirely. Something about it felt... unnatural.
Cassian leaned his head back, staring at the cracked ceiling as he thought it through. The only explanation that came to mind was his history with Congenital Insensitivity to Pain. He’d spent his entire life numb to the sensations that most people dreaded, his body taking damage without the feedback loop that told him when to stop. Maybe the integration had latched onto that, using his unique condition as a foundation to build this absurdly high tolerance.
Still, it raised more questions than it answered. If his Pain Tolerance could reach 100, did that mean other attributes had the potential to go beyond their apparent limits too? The thought sent a ripple of excitement through him, tempered by a flicker of frustration. The System wasn’t offering him any answers, just hints at possibilities he didn’t yet understand.
Unarmed Combat: 7/25
His eyes drifted to the next skill, and he let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, that checks out."
Cassian had always been more of a brute than a fighter. Most of his life, combat had been about absorbing hits rather than throwing them. He’d picked up a few tricks here and there—basic punches, the occasional knee to the gut—but technique had never been his strong suit. Why bother learning to fight properly when he could just take the punishment and keep going?
But now, looking at the number, he felt a pang of something close to regret. Seven out of twenty-five. It was pitiful, a glaring weakness in an otherwise promising list of abilities.
"Guess I’ve got some catching up to do," he muttered, flexing his fingers as he imagined the feel of his knuckles slamming into flesh. The thought of improving wasn’t daunting—it was exhilarating. With his body’s ability to heal, he could afford to make mistakes, to learn through trial and error. Every punch, every block, every misstep would carve new knowledge into his bones.
As he stared at the two numbers, Cassian felt a strange sense of clarity. The skills weren’t just stats—they were a reflection of who he was and what he’d been through. Pain Tolerance was maxed out because pain had always been his constant companion, the only thing he truly understood. Unarmed Combat, on the other hand, was low because he’d relied too heavily on that same Pain Tolerance to carry him through.
If he wanted to move forward, to truly embrace the Path of the Wounded Ascendant, he couldn’t just tank hits and hope for the best. He needed to be smarter, faster, more precise. Pain would always be his strength, but it couldn’t be his only strength.
But the messages didn’t stop.
System Paths:
* Path of the Wounded Ascendant: Growth through suffering, power through pain. A path uniquely suited for those with extraordinary pain tolerance. Significant increases in strength, endurance, and resilience, but at the cost of enduring extreme physical and mental trials.
A shiver ran down his spine as he reread the description. The System hadn’t just recognised his pain tolerance—it had built a path around it, one that no ordinary person could endure. The cost was high, unimaginable for anyone else, but for Cassian, it felt... right.
Pain had always been his anchor, his connection to the world, to himself. Now, it was his path to greatness. A path of agony, but also one of ascension. He didn’t flinch at the price—it was a cost he’d already been paying his entire life.
Cassian leaned back against the counter, the faint ache in his body pulling at the edges of his awareness. The System had given him tools, a way forward, but the journey ahead would be brutal. He needed rest. His mind felt heavy with questions, but his body was demanding reprieve.
Pulling his knees to his chest his head dropped against them. His breath slowed, his muscles surrendering to the exhaustion that had been clawing at him since the fight. The faint hum of the System lingered at the edge of his consciousness, a quiet reminder of its presence.
As sleep began to take hold, the pain in his muscles dulled to a distant throb, like a familiar lullaby. His mind drifted, half-focused on the flickering text that still hovered faintly in the darkness.
For now, he would rest. But tomorrow, the path would call him again, and he would answer.