The basement felt colder than usual, the silence thicker, punctuated by the rhythmic dripping of water, a steady beat that mirrored the tension thrumming in Kael's chest. He sat cross-legged on the dirt floor, his back against the rough stone wall, his gaze fixed on the glowing blue rectangle that hovered before him. Yareeth sat beside him, her scaled form a strange silhouette in the dim light filtering through the basement window.
Their conversation lingered in the air, a web of unspoken fears and the slow, painful process of understanding. He watched her as she shifted, her scales a muted green in the dim light, the vibrant emerald of her realm a fading memory. The Void Shard's realization and System's awakening had left its mark on her.
He had to make this right. He had to find a way to navigate this chaos, this mess he'd created.
Kael felt the aches and pains in his body as a constant, unwelcome reminder of the trials he’d faced. The memory of the Blightmaw’s poison, the agony that had ripped through him, sent a shiver down his spine. He’d come close to dying, closer than he’d ever been before. And the lizardfolk village…
He shoved the thoughts aside, forcing himself to focus on the present, on the girl who sat across from him, her scales dulled, her tail twitching nervously. Yareeth’s presence, a constant reminder of the cost of his recklessness, a weight on his conscience. He could still hear her words, sharp and accusatory, echoing in the silence of the basement. “My family is dead. My home is gone. Because of you. Because of this… this power you wield."
He’d tried to explain, had stumbled over the words, had offered apologies that felt hollow even to his own ears. She hadn’t wanted to hear them, her pain too raw, the anger too fresh. But there had been a shift, he thought. Maybe.
“This time… It’ll be different." It was a promise, a vow spoken more to himself than to the girl who now sat beside him, her scales a muted echo of the vibrant greens and golds he’d glimpsed in the realm that was no more.
“It’s time to get to work.” Yareeth’s voice was firm, but there was a tremor beneath it, a reflection of the unease that settled on Kael like a shroud. He'd always hated this feeling—this weight of responsibility—that gnawing in his gut, and the realization that he’d brought her into this mess sat heavy on his soul, a burden more oppressive than any armor he'd ever worn.
“We're going to focus on gathering resources, right?” Her words, hesitant at first, grew stronger as she spoke. “We need to understand this place. The Market. And we need to be… prepared.” The shift in her tone surprised him. She'd become more assertive. Her time spent navigating the Market, haggling with vendors, honing the skills the System had revealed to her. He’d witnessed her strength in those exchanges, in the way she had faced down the merchants with a cool confidence, a clarity he'd never possessed in this chaotic world.
“Yeah.” Kael sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face, and dismissed his System screen. “Resources. Leveling up.” He listed the objectives like they were items on a shopping list— familiar, manageable, a way to focus his energy. The events of the past few days—the betrayals, the battles, the loss—were a storm swirling in his mind. "It's the only way forward, right?" He hoped the words carried a confidence he didn't feel. He wanted to reassure her, but he was starting to realize that reassurance, in this broken world, was a flimsy, fleeting thing.
Yareeth nodded, her scales gleaming faintly in the basement's dim light. Her tail twitched nervously, the movement a counterpoint to the quiet strength in her voice. The realms, his world—they were a brutal, unforgiving reality. But she had already adapted so quickly. A strength he hadn’t seen in anyone, not even Taris. She wasn’t just surviving. She was... learning, evolving.
“The herbs we sold. The merchant seemed interested. Maybe there’s more out there. Something valuable.” He wasn’t sure if he believed it. But he wanted to, needed to offer her something beyond the barren wasteland of his guilt.
He looked at his hands, the scarred, rough skin a reminder of Mudtown’s unforgiving embrace, of the battles he’d fought, both in the realms and the streets. This new life, with its promises of power and its relentless demands for violence, felt like a trap he'd stumbled into blindly. But he was adapting, slowly, painfully.
His words felt hollow, even to him. How could he possibly be her guide in this world, a world that he barely understood himself? He’d stumbled through the realms, driven by a desperation that had blinded him. Hadn’t planned. Hadn’t even realized what she'd lost.
The silence stretched, punctuated only by the drip of water somewhere deep within the house above.
Yareeth’s gaze lingered on the loot they had acquired at the Market— the flint and steel, the cooking pot, the sturdy rope, each item carefully laid out. She ran her scaled fingers across their surface, her eyes narrowed in thought.
“This place is strange,” she whispered. "So much waste, so many things that could be reused, repurposed.”
The words echoed his own, unspoken.
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"That’s Mudtown," he said, a wry smile touching his lips, "It’s all about surviving. Taking whatever you can get, whenever you can get it.” He hadn’t thought much about it. It had been a way of life since he’d been a small child, scrounging through the city's refuse, learning to recognize a glimmer of worth where others saw only trash. But now he saw it differently - the wastefulness, the greed that drove this city’s engine, as if survival were a game to be played, rather than a necessity shared by all. Her people hadn’t been like that. She understood. It made him feel foolish, a child playing with matches.
The girl nodded. She understood too, he thought, a thread of kinship weaving between them. Her realm, the swamp, a world he had never truly grasped, a tapestry of intricate balances, woven into her very essence. This was different. They were both orphans, in a way.
He watched her run her clawed fingers over the hides they’d acquired - the rough texture of the coarse ones, the silky smoothness of the fur. Her eyes seemed brighter now, the sadness momentarily receding. "Those creatures… their skins, their bones. We could trade them, too, perhaps?" She lifted her gaze. He could hear a note of hope in her voice, a tentative exploration of her abilities. "They are valuable, those hides.”
He grinned, the warmth unexpected, a wave of relief washing over him. “They are," he agreed. They had a chance then, maybe, at survival, a chance for something more than just a moment of warmth before the next realm called, the next test demanded, the system's grinding mechanisms seeking more fuel, more sacrifice.
“They are… and we will get more. But first.” Kael gestured toward the System screen he’d pulled up. "There’s one more thing.”
The room felt a little colder, a little dimmer, the dim light struggling to pierce the fog that was forming at the edges of his vision. He rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the shadows that seemed to flicker in his peripheral.
He saw her puzzlement, the way her brow furrowed, her tail flicking. He could understand this, her confusion. He’d been there. Thrown into the deep end without a chance to think, to adapt. “I need… I still need to allocate points. To improve my… well…” he gestured to his own body, feeling a wave of self-consciousness. “Everything, really.”
The admission felt… liberating. It wasn’t weakness anymore, not exactly, just a simple acknowledgment of his own limitations, his own humanity. "It's stupid," he admitted. "I could have been stronger. My Reasoning is too low, I'll forget something obvious again.”
He couldn’t even handle the basics, couldn't even remember to allocate his points, let alone master the more nuanced intricacies of the realms, of the Void Shard’s power. He’d told her it was a blueprint. But it felt more like a cage—a structure that both confined him and offered the illusion of control.
“You… forgot?” She tilted her head. There was a spark of humor in her voice.
He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks, humiliation mixing with the usual fatigue. He hadn’t done this deliberately. It was just that after the Blightmaw’s attack, after the chaos of the escape and the desperation of procuring the antidote, his mind had… blanked.
“Yeah. But maybe your Reasoning will remind me,” he said, a lightness he hadn’t felt since… before it all started, since the crew’s betrayal, before the realm had taken them. “Here, help me figure this out. Where should I allocate these stats, these… points, whatever they are?” He’d been alone for so long. He’d forgotten that this, asking for help, sharing the weight, the choices… It was a way to survive. Not just in the realms, not just against the city’s shadows.
A glimmer of amusement, the first genuine flicker of a smile he’d seen from her, played on her lips, a hint of warmth. “You are truly a strange creature, Kael. So focused on this system, yet so careless with its gifts." It wasn't a judgment, not anymore, but a gentle teasing.
"What does that mean, 'allocate'? Is this like… a ritual?" Yareeth asked, tilting her head. Her gaze was sharp, observing him. She wasn’t just asking. She was learning. He could feel it - the curiosity, the hunger for knowledge, mirroring his own.
It was as if a wave of calm had settled over him as he spoke, a sense of purpose washing away some of the frustration. This world was strange to her. And yet… he realized now, the System, the Shard, these realms— they were strange to him as well. He was just… further down the path, caught in a current that he hadn’t chosen, a game whose rules he was still struggling to understand.
“In a way.” He watched her, a warmth settling in his chest that had nothing to do with the Void Shard's energy. “It… It’s how the System works. Every time you gain a level, it gives you points. They’re… a way to get stronger, tougher, to survive better. And you choose where to apply those points."
Her face was alight with a fierce intelligence as he clicked through the menus. Her gaze flitted between the screen and the scars that marked his hands, a silent question hanging between them. The question was innocent enough, a curiosity she couldn’t mask. It made him realize how much he had taken for granted.
“Ah.” She let out a breath, the sound like the rustling of dry leaves, the warmth of her presence. This was familiar to her. This sharing of knowledge.
"These are good, yes? The higher the number, the better?” She pointed at her Intelligence section. She understood, it seemed, her sharp mind already grasping the fundamental principles. It made him nervous.
“Right. And they’re split into… like… smaller parts." He took a breath, summoning the words, remembering his own frustrations with these seemingly random assignments. "You allocate your points to different categories and… improve your abilities. Makes you stronger, faster, tougher.” It sounded simple when spoken aloud, yet he’d already made countless mistakes.
“These systems. The numbers. The way it measures you. How did you learn to read them, understand what it meant?” He could see the apprehension in her eyes, the fear.
He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He didn’t want to admit it. Not even to himself. “I… learned the hard way. Made a lot of mistakes." The truth, bitter but necessary. “I didn’t… plan. I just reacted. Charged into things. Used my points where I thought I needed them most. It wasn’t… smart. It works, though, it all makes you better. But better for what?”
He couldn't shake the memory of the ruined village, the creature’s roar, his own failure to protect her world.
The system's pronouncements felt meaningless now. Hollow victories. Empty promises. He’d been so eager to level up, to gain strength. Now all he wanted was to find a way to fix what he'd broken, to somehow shield her from the harshness he’d dragged her into.