“General Information,” Kael murmured, reading the words aloud, his voice rough but steady, each syllable a reassurance in the face of their shared uncertainty. “Name: Yareeth. Species: Lizardfolk. Age: 16. Level: 1.” He glanced up at her, “It’s… it’s like a blueprint, a guide. It tells you… well, everything about you, in a way.” It felt strange trying to explain, knowing how insufficient those words were. How little they conveyed of the true complexity, the vast, terrifying potential, of this force that had invaded their lives.
Yareeth’s tail twitched, the movement a nervous counterpoint to the System’s sterile pronouncements. “What does it mean?” she asked, her voice soft, laced with a confusion that mirrored his own. “I’ve seen these numbers, these words… but they make no sense. It’s… not like the spirits of the Marsh. It’s like… whispers. Echoes of something I don’t understand.”
How did he explain it to her? To someone who had grown up surrounded by the natural rhythms of a world untainted by the System's cold logic, whose understanding of power was rooted in the strength of her tribe, in the balance of her ecosystem, in the whispers of spirits and the ancestral knowledge passed down through generations?
He forced himself to meet her gaze, to see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. It mirrored the way he had felt, that first night, huddled in the darkness. But there was something else there too, something he hadn't seen before.
A flicker of defiance. A spark of curiosity. It was a glimmer in the ashes, a beacon in the darkness.
He could help her. He had to.
“It doesn’t make sense at first. None of it does." He knew what it felt like to be lost, to be overwhelmed by a system that seemed to quantify everything, to reduce his very existence to a series of numbers and labels. "But you learn. It starts to make… some sense." He cleared his throat. "This part, General Information, tells you about… well, you. Your name, your age. Your species.”
He pointed to the Level. “One. You’re just starting out. It’ll change quickly, after you… well, it changes.” It felt strange to think back to that first night, his own fear and bewilderment. He was starting to see the System as something more than just a guide, more than just a tool. He was beginning to grasp the scope of it, the vastness of its influence.
Kael’s gaze lingered on her screen for a moment longer, the information swirling before him. He knew that look, the way her brow furrowed, the subtle tilt of her head, her tail lashing with a controlled, rhythmic motion.
He’d seen it in the marketplace. She was… processing, analyzing, calculating. Taking in the data and finding a way to make sense of it. It was a strength he'd underestimated, blinded as he had been by his own limited perception. It was as if a fog had lifted. She had potential, a capacity for learning, for growth, that far exceeded his own. It felt strange to admit it. He’d grown accustomed to being the one in control. Or at least, that was the lie he’d been clinging to.
"Show me the other… menus." She was impatient, eager. Hungry for knowledge the way he craved a warm bowl of soup. He clicked through the screens. Stats, Equipment, Skills. The interface felt familiar now. A reflection, a warped and distorted echo, of the mundane world he’d known in Mudtown - a ledger, a contract. This one was forged not in words, not in coin, but in a language he was only starting to comprehend.
He pressed on, “Keep going, let's see… Ah.” Kael moved to the Skills menu, a spark of interest igniting within him, driving back the wave of despair that always lurked at the edges of his mind.
Skills Combat Skills:
Defensive Tactics (Novice, Level 2): Enhanced ability to anticipate and avoid attacks.
Miscellaneous Skills:
Merchant (Novice, Level 7): Experience in managing trade and transactions, influencing buying decisions.
Negotiation (Novice, Level 11): Skilled in bargaining, securing favorable terms in deals.
Bartering (Novice, Level 8): Adept at trading goods and services with minimal use of currency.
Herbal Identification (Novice, Level 6): Able to recognize and differentiate between useful and harmful plants.
Survival Instincts (Novice, Level 5): Has an intuitive sense for danger and can react quickly to escape or hide.
Resource Management (Novice, Level 4): Efficient use of available resources to sustain and benefit the group.
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He leaned closer, his brow furrowing, as he read the descriptions, the words a lexicon of potential, a language of possibility.
“Defensive Tactics, Level 2. Merchant… Level 7.” He read the words aloud, a faint whistle escaping his lips as he scanned the list again. “Negotiation, Level 11. Bartering, Level 8. Herbal Identification, Level 6. Survival Instincts, Level 5. Resource Management, Level 4?” He glanced up at her in wonder. "This is.. a lot more than I had at Level 1."
She shifted uncomfortably, her tail twitching nervously as her gaze darted between him and the screen. “That’s… from working at the stall, with my father. And learning about mushroom and herb tending from my mother. I thought it was just… normal things." She sounded surprised, confused, as if the system itself had betrayed her by quantifying these skills, had stripped them of their meaning by reducing them to numbers.
The realization hit him then. This wasn't a curse, a burden, this alien system that had invaded their lives. It was a way for her to make sense of this world. Her world now. “It’s how it works,” he said. “It takes what you… do, who you are… And translates it. Gives it… worth.” Her strengths, the things she'd always taken for granted, now quantified, validated, given a power she hadn’t even known she possessed.
The air felt thick and heavy with the weight of their conversation. The damp scent of the basement stones seemed to close in on him. His gut churned with the uncertainty of it all.
“You’re good at those things, Yareeth," He could see her disbelief. He pressed on, knowing this truth would need to be repeated, an encouragement, an awakening, a path he himself had just begun to consider.
Her gaze lingered on the Status screen, on the numbers that represented her physical attributes, her mental abilities. “Coordination, agility…” she muttered, her voice sharp as she scanned the numbers. "Reflexes. Intelligence. What are those things?” She looked at him, expecting him to explain. Her expectations, a familiar echo of his own.
Status Strength: 2
Muscle Power: 2
Grip Strength: 1
Force Efficiency: 2
Explosive Power: 1
Dexterity: 4
Agility: 5
Precision: 2
Reflexes: 3
Coordination: 4
Intelligence: 5
Memory: 8
Reasoning: 8
Creativity: 3
Focus: 4
Wisdom: 6
Perception: 7
Insight: 7
Judgment: 6
Willpower: 5
Constitution: 3
Vitality: 2
Toughness: 3
Metabolism: 3
Endurance: 2
Charisma: 5
Persuasion: 6
Leadership: 4
Empathy: 6
Presence: 5
He took a deep breath. How to explain the concept of strength, of dexterity, of vitality, to a creature who lived by a different set of rules, whose world measured those qualities in instinct, in the ability to hunt, to survive, to navigate the tangled rhythms of a realm far different from the one they were now trapped in?
“They show… how strong you are. How fast. How tough.” Kael gestured vaguely, realizing the futility of it, the way his words felt inadequate, like trying to capture the essence of the realms themselves in a child's drawing. "They increase as you gain experience," he offered, hoping she'd understand.
"Look, memory, reasoning, persuasion, perception, insight, judgement — and agility. You’re smarter than me, at least. We can use that.” It wasn’t just a compliment, not just an attempt to offer reassurance. It was the truth, and a burden.
Yareeth frowned, her gaze shifting to her own hands, her fingers flexing, the sharp points of her claws catching the candlelight. "But… I'm not strong. Not like the warriors of my tribe. Not like…” Her voice trailed off, and he knew what she was thinking. Not like the creature. The Blightmaw. Not like him, even.
Yareeth’s shoulders slumped, her gaze dropping to the worn wooden floorboards, her tail ceasing its restless movements, as if the weight of the System’s pronouncements were pressing down on her. Her voice, barely a whisper. “I can’t fight. I’ve only ever fought the mud-crawlers, to protect the eggs. I don’t even… I don’t even know how to survive here, in this place.” She looked at him, fear and despair darkening her features, but no tears.
"But you don’t have to." He could feel the Void Shard’s pulse beneath his skin, its power a reminder of his own strengths, the battles he’d endured. "You have the skills, the cunning to… to navigate the city. You already proved it. You got us food, equipment. Those weren’t fights.”
He watched as the words settled upon her, a shift in her demeanor. The tension in her shoulders eased, and for the first time since he’d brought her to his world, he saw a glimmer of something like... hope in her eyes. It was a small flicker, easily extinguished.
"Maybe you're right.” The words, softly spoken, offered a fragile bridge. He’d wanted to show her power, to offer the kind of raw force he was acquiring. This… her intelligence, her cunning— it was power, too.
He recognized that feeling— the hollow ache of inadequacy, the sense of being adrift, lost, a single misstep away from falling into the abyss. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” The promise emerged, a new weight on his soul, on his heart. "We both have things that the System.. considers strengths, and weaknesses, we have skills the other doesn’t. Maybe.. maybe we can cover what the other lacks".
“Together,” she echoed, her voice soft, a question, a challenge, and a promise, the air around them seemed to shift as a spark of understanding ignited, a tiny ember against the darkness, against the chaos. But as she spoke, Kael could sense her determination hardening, a steely resolve in her gaze. A spark of hope. It felt like a pact— a bargain made not with coins or blood, but with the shared awareness of a fate they hadn't chosen but would face. They would survive. Not as victims, not as pawns.
They would become…
Together, maybe, they would become…
“A team?” she asked, testing the word on her tongue. He smiled.
A team. Yes.
Maybe they could.
He closed his eyes, the Shard’s energy, a steady pulse within him, mirroring the newfound rhythm in his heart. The girl’s presence was no longer just a weight on his conscience, no longer a victim of his choices, but a companion, an ally. They were in this together now, bound by a destiny he hadn’t sought, a power that would force them both to face the world, not as Mudtown rats, not as creatures from a shattered realm. But as something more, something yet to be defined.
But first…
“Let’s see that Inventory,” she murmured, a hint of excitement in her voice, a shadow of a smile that made his own lips twitch.
The future stretched before them, a path paved with uncertainty, but as he laughed, a sound that surprised him with its lightness, he knew he didn't want to walk it alone.