Cassian’s status screen was a grim reminder of his current state. The gruelling battle against the Zone Controller had left him battered, and his need for sustenance and rest had never been more apparent. He glanced at the status updates:

Status:

- Health: 30% (Out of combat recovery in progress)

- Stamina: 10% (Out of combat recovery in progress)

- Hunger: 15% (Depleting; replenish before incurring attribute penalty)

- Thirst: 15% (Depleting; replenish before incurring attribute penalty)

Attributes:

- Strength: 25/25 (Improved from combat; increased physical power) Upgrade Pending

- Agility: 25/25 (Enhanced through evasion and reflexes) Upgrade Pending

- Endurance: 25/25 (Boosted by continuous pain and recovery) Upgrade Pending

- Intelligence: 25/25 (Growing with understanding of combat and system) Upgrade Pending

General Skills:

Inspect: 25/25 (Increased proficiency; reveals more detailed information) Upgrade Pending

Meditation: 25/25 (Improved depth of system interaction and focus) Upgrade Pending

Pain Tolerance: 100/100 (Complete immunity to discomfort from pain) Max Ascendant level

Combat Skills:

Unarmed Combat: 25/25 (Adjusted by recent combat; better hand-to-hand effectiveness) Upgrade Pending

Glaive Mastery: 25/25 (Common; foundational understanding of glaive techniques) Upgrade Pending

Swords Mastery: 1/25 (common; foundational understanding of sword techniques)

Dual wielding Mastery: 1/25 (Uncommon; foundational understand of using 2 weapons simultaneously)

Path of the Wounded Ascendant:

- Ascendant Void Control: 1/25

Cassian had spent hours exploring his new skill set and the system’s capabilities, and his increased familiarity with the system was beginning to pay off. His Inspect and Meditation skills had improved, allowing him to understand and utilize his abilities more effectively.

“Upgrade Pending” was new. As Cassian started to focus his attention on the new status, a faint sound interrupted his thoughts—a voice, clear but distant. “Hello! Is anyone there?”

Cassian’s head snapped up, eyes scanning the dimly lit alley. Through the haze of exhaustion and pain, he saw a figure emerging from the shadows. The stranger was wrapped in a dirty blanket, but Cassian could make out the worn-out clothing and a wary expression.

The stranger’s eyes widened as he took in Cassian’s condition. “What happened to you? You look like you’ve been through hell.”

Cassian, covered in grime and blood, could only manage a weak nod. “You could say that.”

The stranger cautiously approached, holding out a bag of food and a couple of water bottles. “I’ve got some supplies. You look like you could use them.”

Cassian’s stomach growled in response, betraying his dire need for food and water. He accepted the offering with a nod of gratitude. The stranger introduced himself as Peter, and they set up a makeshift camp in the alley. The fire crackled softly as they shared the meagre rations.

As Cassian finished his meal, his gaze drifted back to his status screen. The words Upgrade Pending glared at him from almost every line. He frowned, tilting his head as if the subtle change might reveal its secrets if viewed from the right angle.

“What the hell does this mean?” he muttered, brushing a hand through his matted hair. He tapped the floating text with a mental nudge, willing the system to elaborate, but no further information appeared. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and focused on the faint hum of the system embedded within him, diving deeper into the intricacies of his own being.

The system’s energy was always present, a silent current running beneath his thoughts. It had been with him since his integration, subtly guiding his growth, but now it felt... hesitant. Like a door left slightly ajar, inviting him to peer through but not yet step inside.

Inspect. He activated the skill, turning it inward toward himself.

System Feedback: "Upgrade Pending" indicates that the user has reached the threshold for the next evolution of attributes or skills. Triggering the evolution requires conditions that have not yet been met. Seek alignment with Path objectives to proceed.

Cassian furrowed his brow. Alignment with Path objectives? He let out a short laugh, equal parts amusement and frustration. “Great, more cryptic riddles. Why can’t you just tell me what to do? Is it too much to ask for an upgrade button?”

But beneath the sarcasm, he could feel it—a faint, almost imperceptible sensation. His body, his mind, even the system itself seemed to be teetering on the edge of something greater. It wasn’t a physical block but an intuitive one, as if a part of him knew he wasn’t quite ready yet. The word threshold lingered in his thoughts, its implications pressing down on him like the weight of an unseen hand.

He thought back to the battle with the Zone Controller. Every strike, every wound, every surge of pain had felt like more than just combat—it had felt transformative. The sensation had been fleeting, but in those moments, he had been closer to something vast, something limitless.

“What am I missing?” he whispered, his voice low and contemplative. He flexed his hands, feeling the strength in his fingers, the resilience in his bones. His attributes and skills were maxed out for now, but they didn’t feel finite. Instead, they felt like doors waiting to be unlocked, pathways to potential he couldn’t yet reach.

A memory surfaced—his Path. The Wounded Ascendant. It had always been about embracing pain and overcoming limits, about growth forged through suffering. The system had chosen him for this Path for a reason. Maybe the trigger wasn’t something external but something internal, something he needed to understand about himself.

Peter’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You look like you’re in a trance. What’s going on?”

Cassian blinked, the status screen vanishing as he focused on Peter. “These upgrades,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward his chest, “they’re just sitting there, waiting for something. I’m not sure what. Feels like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, but the ground’s too far to jump.”

Peter nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re overthinking it. Sometimes, things like this need to happen naturally. You can’t force it.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Cassian smirked. “I’m not exactly the ‘let things happen’ type, but thanks for the sage advice, Sensei.”

Peter chuckled. “All I’m saying is, maybe the answer isn’t about figuring it out. Maybe it’s about doing what you’re already doing—pushing forward, taking the next fight, and letting the rest fall into place.”

Cassian leaned back, considering Peter’s words. The upgrades weren’t a destination—they were a process, a culmination of everything he’d been through and everything he was still chasing. He wasn’t just on the cusp of understanding. He was on the cusp of becoming.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

With a sharp exhale, Cassian dismissed his doubts, the thought of evolution lingering at the edges of his mind. He didn’t have the answers yet, but he would fight, bleed, and endure until he earned them. The Wounded Ascendant didn’t wait for understanding—it carved its path in pain and progress.

Sitting on the deserted city street the silence stretched awkwardly between them, Peter glanced at Cassian, his gaze thoughtful yet cautious. “You’ve been through a lot,” he said, breaking the silence. “And from the looks of it, you’re not exactly the type to ask for help.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the crumbling alley wall. “What gave it away? The blood, the bruises, or the fact that I’m still standing?”

Peter smiled faintly but didn’t laugh. “Look, I know you’re capable. Hell, you’ve probably done things I can’t even imagine. But surviving out here—it’s not just about brute strength. Sometimes, it’s about not going it alone.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes. “Is this the part where you pitch some inspirational nonsense about teamwork making the dream work?”

Peter shook his head, his tone earnest. “No speeches. Just common sense. You’re strong, sure, but even the strongest can’t see everything. Watch your own back long enough, and eventually, something’s going to slip through.”

The system chimed softly in Cassian’s vision, a notification appearing:

System Notification:

Peter has invited you to a party.

Cassian stared at the text, his expression unreadable. “A party, huh? What’s in it for you?”

Peter shrugged, spreading his hands. “Safer to travel together, for one. And honestly? I don’t like the idea of either of us getting picked off alone out here. Plus...” He hesitated, then added, “You’re the first person I’ve come across in days who doesn’t look ready to stab me on sight. That’s worth something.”

Cassian let out a dry chuckle. “I’m not exactly the friendliest guy you’ll meet. You sure about this?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got my Path, and you’ve got yours. They’re different, sure, but that’s not a bad thing. If anything, it means we can cover for each other’s blind spots.”

Cassian tilted his head, considering the offer. The idea of teaming up wasn’t appealing—he’d always worked better alone, and trusting someone else wasn’t in his nature. But Peter’s logic wasn’t wrong. He was exhausted, hungry, and battered, and the thought of facing another ambush alone wasn’t exactly thrilling.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice tinged with reluctant acceptance. “Let’s see how this party thing works.”

The system pinged again, confirming the party formation. In the corner of Cassian’s vision, Peter’s basic status appeared, overlaying the edge of his interface:

Path Title: Survivor

“My Path isn’t flashy,” Peter said, leaning back. “But it’s practical. I can sense the safest routes, sniff out supplies others miss, and adapt to whatever this messed-up world throws at me. It’s about staying one step ahead and keeping others alive long enough to learn how to do the same.”

Peter leaned forward, curiosity lighting up his expression as he caught sight of Cassian’s Path. “Path of the Wounded Ascendant? That sounds... intense.”

Cassian smirked, his tone wry. “You have no idea.”

Peter raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Fair enough. You’ll tell me if it becomes relevant, right?”

Cassian’s grin widened, dark and teasing. “Sure. Just as soon as I figure it out myself.”

Peter shook his head, a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Well, whatever it is, I’m glad you’re on my side. Let’s see what we can manage together.”

Cassian pushed himself to his feet, testing his aching limbs. He looked over at Peter, his expression laced with mock seriousness. “If you try hug me now, I’ll punch you. Just a heads-up.”

Peter laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the alley. “Noted. No hugs.”

Cassian let out a low grunt as he pushed himself to his feet, his muscles protesting every movement. The lingering aches from the battle were sharp reminders of his recent victory, and he revelled in them with a faint smirk. Pain was no stranger—it was a companion, a teacher.

"Ah, there it is," he muttered, twisting his torso to feel the sharp twinge in his ribs. "Wouldn’t feel alive without it."

Peter stood as well, brushing dirt from his blanket. “You sound like you enjoy that a little too much,” he said, eyeing Cassian with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Enjoy? No,” Cassian replied, wincing as he straightened his back. “Appreciate? Absolutely. Every ache, every bruise—it’s progress. Means I’m still here. Still standing.” He glanced down at his tattered shirt, now more dirt and blood than fabric. Instinctively, he went to dust off the grime clinging to his pants, only to pause halfway through.

A dry laugh escaped him. “What’s the point? These clothes are beyond saving.” He tugged at the torn edge of his sleeve, which frayed further under the pressure. “Guess it’s time to start a new post-apocalypse fashion trend. Bloodstains and battle scars. Think it’ll catch on?”

Peter chuckled, pulling his pack over his shoulder. “Only if you make it look good. Although, I’d argue the ‘dirt chic’ vibe might be pushing it.”

Cassian gave him a mock glare, but the hint of a grin betrayed his amusement. “Careful, Survivor. You’re already on thin ice.”

Peter shook his head, the hint of camaraderie easing some of the tension between them. “Come on,” he said, motioning to the quiet streets ahead. “We’ll get you cleaned up—and maybe find something that’s not held together by sheer willpower.”

Cassian stretched his arms overhead, savouring the soreness in his shoulders. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, you’re picking the next fight. My wardrobe deserves a proper send-off.”

Cassian shifted his glaive to rest against his shoulder as the two trudged through the unnervingly quiet streets. The glass facades of once-bustling buildings reflected the dim orange glow of sunset, casting long shadows across the empty sidewalks. Streetlights flickered intermittently; a reminder of a world that had been left behind in a hurry.

Peter walked slightly ahead, his steps measured as his eyes scanned the surroundings. Occasionally, he paused, tilting his head as though picking up on something Cassian couldn’t hear. Cassian raised an eyebrow. “You always this jumpy, or is this your Survivor skill showing off?”

Peter glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Jumpy? No. Prepared? Absolutely. My Path isn’t just about staying alive—it’s about finding the best options. Like a secure spot to crash that won’t have us waking up to a knife in our ribs.”

Cassian smirked, rolling his shoulders to ease the lingering ache from the day’s battles. “You sound confident. Let’s hope you’re better at scouting than small talk.”

Ignoring the jab, Peter’s gaze landed on a small office building tucked between two larger complexes. Its lights were off, and the reflective glass windows gave no hint of activity inside. He raised a hand, motioning for Cassian to stop. “There. That one.”

Cassian frowned, studying the building. It looked pristine, untouched by the chaos that had unfolded across the city. “Looks fine, but why there?”

“It’s intact but unassuming. Lights out, front entrance closed. No obvious signs of scavengers or anyone passing through recently,” Peter explained, his tone practical. “Most people would pick a place with lights or an open door—somewhere that looks safe. But those places? Easy targets. This? Quiet, secure, easy to defend.”

“Alright, Sensei,” Cassian muttered, falling into step behind him.

Peter led the way up the short stairs to the building’s glass doors. He tested the handle, and it gave way with a faint creak. Inside, the air was stale but breathable, carrying faint traces of coffee and dust. The reception desk was immaculate, as though the staff had simply stepped out for lunch and never returned.

“This feels... weird,” Cassian said, gripping his glaive a little tighter.

Peter nodded, his gaze sweeping across the lobby. “Yeah, but weird isn’t dangerous. Follow me.”

He moved methodically, checking hallways and doorways with the practiced precision of someone who had learned the hard way to leave nothing to chance. Cassian followed, keeping an eye on the reflective surfaces around them for any movement.

Finally, Peter stopped in front of a conference room on the second floor. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, revealing a spacious room lined with plush chairs and a large wooden table. The windows overlooked the quiet street below, and thick blinds could be drawn for added cover.

“This will do,” Peter said, stepping inside and tossing his pack onto the table. “We can lock the door from the inside, and the windows are intact. One entry point, easy to defend. Plus, no obvious signs of recent activity. We’ll be fine here for the night.”

Cassian leaned against the doorframe, eyeing Peter with a smirk. “Gotta say, Survivor, you’re thorough. Almost makes me think this partnership might not be a total disaster.”

Peter chuckled, setting his belongings down and pulling out a small stash of supplies. “Thorough keeps you alive. And you’re welcome, by the way.”

Cassian shrugged but allowed a faint grin to tug at his lips. He slid his glaive against the wall and sat down on one of the chairs, testing its weight. “Not bad. But if something crawls through the vents and eats us in our sleep, I’m blaming you.”

Peter shook his head with a laugh. “Deal. Now, let’s rest up. Tomorrow’s going to come fast, and something tells me it’s not going to be any easier.”

Cassian closed his eyes for a moment, the exhaustion catching up with him. The faint hum of the city’s dormant systems buzzed in the background, a strange comfort in the otherwise silent night.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax. But not too much.