Silas settled into a careful, calculated routine over the next few days, continuing his work as a runner for The Cogwheel Gazette. Outwardly, nothing seemed to change—he delivered messages, gathered news, and scurried through the mist-choked streets of Evergarde like any other overworked errand boy. But beneath the surface, every step, every word, every seemingly mundane task served a greater purpose.
The limp remained. His boss, Oswald Grint, still barked orders and hurled insults whenever Silas walked into the office late or returned with a report that wasn’t dripping in blood and tragedy. But Silas knew better than to give Grint the satisfaction of honest effort.
Play the role. Stay invisible.
He moved through the Gazette's ink-stained halls with the demeanor of a wide-eyed teenager overwhelmed by his surroundings. He feigned confusion when Grint yelled about missed deadlines. He nodded along dumbly when reporters scoffed about the “stupid kid who survived the Sable Court incident.” And when he handed in his reports—thin sheets filled with regurgitated gossip, half-truths picked up from tavern conversations—he made sure to deliver them with an awkward smile and a self-effacing shrug.
Grint bought it every time. The old miser never bothered checking facts unless the Nightwatch came knocking. And Silas knew his own value: reliable, disposable labor with just enough cunning to sniff out a story but not enough spine to ask for better wages. Or so they believed.
He won’t fire me. I’m too useful and too easy to exploit.
Grint had tried replacing Silas once, months ago, with a factory worker’s kid who claimed to know the streets. The boy lasted three days. The Gazette needed someone who could weave gossip into sensational headlines while navigating Evergarde's labyrinthine alleys without stumbling into trouble. Silas, with his seemingly harmless demeanor and a head full of fabricated tales, fit the role perfectly.
He was fine with that. For now.
His real focus lay elsewhere. Each errand, each conversation, each casual observation helped him gather more Phenomenal Points. The system thrived on interactions—small ripples of cause and effect that accumulated with every piece of information exchanged. The more he talked, listened, and blended into the city's rhythm, the more points he gained.
The process was subtle. The system never attracted attention, never left behind traces like the overt rituals performed by cultists or rogue Wielders. It harvested silently, sifting through the ambient currents of reality like a spider tugging on the threads of its web.
Low presence, high gain. It was the perfect method for someone in his position.
But staying unnoticed required caution. The Nightwatch was ever-present in the Outer City, patrolling streets and shadowing individuals who exhibited unusual behavior. Silas had seen them more often lately—grim-faced officers with Chronical-linked abilities scanning crowds beneath the flickering glow of gas lamps.
He made sure to avoid places where the risk of anomaly detection was higher: no more spontaneous investigations of gruesome murders, no lingering near strange rituals or known cult sites. Instead, he focused on harmless interactions—vendors arguing about prices, factory workers grumbling about broken machinery, street children telling tales of shadowy figures in the mist. Mundane gossip kept Grint satisfied and the system fed.
The points trickled in steadily.
[Phenomenal Points: 2,512 p]
The numbers grew with each passing day. The simplicity of it both thrilled and unnerved him. Talking to a baker about flour shortages shouldn’t grant me insight into the Astral World… but it does. The system harvested connections invisible to the human eye—patterns of cause and effect that wove through the city's collective awareness.
As he walked the streets, Silas began to see the patterns more clearly. The fog wasn’t just fog—it moved in subtle currents, thickening around certain alleyways or clinging to old stone walls etched with forgotten symbols. Conversations at market stalls often spiraled into the same rumors about the growing frequency of Nightwatch patrols near the western gate. And every time he passed the Explorer's Union, the tension in the air thickened like a coiled spring awaiting release.
I need connections.
He couldn't walk this path alone forever. Wielders operated in shadows or behind high walls; the ones who survived longest were either protected by noble houses or bolstered by strong alliances. If he wanted to ascend beyond the First Order safely, he'd need allies—people with knowledge of the Astral World's intricacies.
The Explorer's Union was an obvious starting point. They were pragmatic, driven by survival rather than ideology. Their Wielders understood the realities of sublimation and the dangers of resonance firsthand. The Nightwatch, on the other hand, viewed independent Wielders as potential anomalies. Trusting them was out of the question.
First, I need to become a proper Wielder. Then I'll find others like me.
He set the goal in his mind like a stone laid into place.
Step one: Gather enough points for Chronicle creation.
Step two: Select a Chronicle that maximized his advantages.
Step three: Forge connections, not alliances. Allies could become liabilities. He needed individuals with overlapping interests, not shared trust.
The days blended together in a blur of minor assignments and fabricated news stories. Grint, predictably, remained oblivious.
"You're getting the knack of it, Crowell," Grint said one afternoon, tossing Silas a tarnished coin for his "hard work." "People love the bit about the sewer fog beast. Keep up the crap, and maybe I'll give you two coins next time."
Silas caught the coin and forced a grin. "Thanks, Mr. Grint. I'll find more… sewer monsters to write about."
The man laughed, belly jiggling beneath his strained waistcoat. "Good lad. And remember—people don't want the truth. They want the story."
That’s what I’m counting on.
Silas pocketed the coin and limped toward the door. The system hummed faintly, a comforting, invisible presence at the edge of his thoughts. His future stretched before him like the mist-veiled streets of Evergarde: unpredictable, treacherous, and filled with secrets waiting to be unraveled.
Silas returned home as dusk settled over Evergarde, the mist thickening into swirling tendrils that wrapped around the dim glow of the street lamps. The cold air clung to his clothes as he unlocked the door and stepped into the familiar confines of his modest home. The door creaked shut behind him with a dull thud, sealing him away from the city's restless hum.
He moved through the house with mechanical precision, completing his evening chores without thought. The floorboards groaned beneath his steps as he swept away the thin layer of soot carried in by the ever-present fog. He scrubbed the kitchen counter clean, stacked the remaining bread and cheese neatly on the shelf, and checked the locks on the windows twice.
Finally, with everything in place, Silas lit the lantern on his desk and sat down. His heart quickened. The moment he'd been preparing for had arrived.
Chronicle creation.
The parchment from the cult’s ritual lay folded in his satchel, a grim reminder of the price the original Silas had paid for his curiosity. But this time, Silas wasn't working from fragmented knowledge or guesswork. He had the system. He had Phenomenal Points. And he had a plan.
Still, the enormity of what he was about to do pressed down on him.
Once I create a Chronicle, there’s no going back.
He exhaled slowly and leaned back in the chair, eyes unfocused. Over the past few days, he'd used the system to explore the nuances of Chronicle acquisition. What he’d discovered had left him both intrigued and cautious.
"System, summarize the rules for possessing multiple Chronicles."
The response materialized with its usual crisp clarity:
[Multiple Chronicle Possession: Feasible. However, compatibility between oaths is critical. Oaths that conflict in nature or purpose create dissonance, which can destabilize sublimation and risk mental fragmentation.]
Silas tapped his fingers against the desk. The logic made sense. Each Chronicle was more than just a skillset; it was an identity—a blueprint of intent imprinted into the Wielder's being. If two oaths pulled the mind in opposite directions, the resulting internal tug-of-war would fracture it.
So, theoretically, I could collect more than one Chronicle... as long as their core principles align.
That knowledge opened possibilities. If he selected Chronicles that complemented one another, he could build a versatile, adaptable foundation. But the system had also warned of the weight of oaths.
"System, clarify the relationship between oath adherence and advancement."
The answer came after a brief pause:
[The oath functions as both a guide and a stabilizing anchor during sublimation. Full adherence is mandatory until the abilities granted by the Chronicle have fully manifested and stabilized. Once the oath has been consistently upheld for a sufficient period, the Wielder will experience a gradual loosening of its influence—a phenomenon signaling the Chronicle's maturation. This loosening indicates readiness for advancement to the next Order.]
Silas’s eyes narrowed. The oath wasn’t permanent. It was a temporary tether, necessary to channel the Astral resonance during a Chronicle’s formative stages.
So the oath is like training wheels, he mused. Once the system's abilities are fully integrated, the mind can hold them without constant reinforcement.
But there was a catch: the timeline for this loosening depended on strict adherence. The system hadn’t specified how long it would take.
No shortcuts. Break the oath early, and everything might unravel.
The thought of unraveling brought back the image of the mutated creature from Sable Court—limbs bent unnaturally, eyes empty, mind consumed by the failed Chronicle.
Silas rubbed his palms together, grounding himself. The stakes were high, but the potential rewards were unparalleled. He now understood why Wielders who valued their survival either hid their abilities or sought positions of influence as nobles. The oath demanded more than words—it required alignment with its principles in thought and action.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The path ahead was dangerous, but clarity came with the risk.
I need to choose my Chronicle wisely.
The lamp's flame flickered, shadows dancing across the damp walls. Outside, the fog whispered against the windowpanes like an audience awaiting his decision.
Silas sat motionless at his desk, the lantern’s flame casting elongated shadows across the walls. His mind raced through the threads of his plan, weaving them into something more solid, more deliberate. The goal was clear: create a Chronicle that synergized with the system’s information module—one centered on learning, understanding, and eventually wielding the knowledge of mystical forces.
Power through understanding, he thought. I don’t need brute strength or combat abilities right now. I need a Chronicle that will help me uncover secrets, piece by piece, until I know enough to stand against whatever this world throws at me.
He inhaled deeply, steadying his resolve.
"System, generate new Chronicle options optimized for knowledge acquisition, analysis, and imitation of mystical powers."
Silas hadn’t chosen the criteria for his Chronicle on a whim. The decision had been methodical, rooted in both his past life's understanding of strategic growth and his newfound grasp of Evergarde’s mystical landscape. From the moment he realized the system’s potential to analyze and decode phenomena, he knew he needed more than a straightforward power set. He wanted flexibility—something that would evolve alongside his knowledge, not stagnate after a few sublimations.
Why settle for predefined skills when the world is filled with mysteries to uncover?
In his previous life, the most versatile characters in games and stories had always intrigued him—mages, wizards, and researchers who gained strength not through brute force but through the mastery of knowledge. They studied patterns, unlocked secrets, and wielded power through understanding rather than instinct. That was the foundation of his vision: not simply to become a Wielder, but to become one capable of adapting to any situation by studying and replicating the abilities of others.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Chronicle abilities are finite, Silas reasoned. Each Chronicle offered only a handful of sublimations, all tied to the nature of its core oath. Wielders were, in essence, bound to the path dictated by their Chronicle's identity. A Stalker might master stealth and ambush tactics, but never wield elemental forces. A Pathfinder could map terrain effortlessly but would struggle in a direct confrontation. That rigidity left Wielders predictable, vulnerable to anyone who understood their Chronicle's limitations.
Silas didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be boxed in by a single framework. He sought the ability to adapt, to evolve beyond the constraints of his Chronicle’s core sublimations.
Mimicry.
That was the key. If his system’s information module could analyze mystical phenomena and extract patterns from objects and environments, perhaps it could do the same for abilities wielded by others. With the right Chronicle—a knowledge-centric one designed to study and replicate foreign abilities—he could learn from others, dissect the mechanics of their power, and imitate their techniques.
But there was more to his decision than curiosity or tactical flexibility. In a world where the Nightwatch hunted independent Wielders and the nobles hoarded their secret rituals and oaths, knowledge was power in its purest form. By understanding how different Chronicles operated, Silas could better avoid detection, predict enemy behavior, and eventually carve out his own space of influence.
Analysis Initiated – Cost: 350 p. Proceed?
Silas’s jaw tightened. Another deduction. The points were vanishing faster than he liked, but this was an investment.
"Proceed."
The familiar chill swept through his mind. Images and impressions coalesced—old tomes, ink-stained diagrams, and shadowy figures whispering incantations into the mist. After several seconds, the results appeared.
[Possible Chronicles for Knowledge Acquisition]
1. Seeker (Existing Chronicle)
* Focus: Uncovering hidden truths, deciphering ancient languages, and identifying cryptic symbols.
* Oath Requirements: A relentless pursuit of obscure knowledge, with mandatory exposure to forgotten texts and historical artifacts.
* Limitations: Prioritizes revelation of secrets over practical application; no direct interaction with mystical forces.
2. Archivist (Existing Chronicle)
* Focus: Systematic recording and categorization of mystical information.
* Oath Requirements: Dedication to preserving knowledge with near-perfect memory recall for phenomena-related data.
* Limitations: Sublimations enhance analytical capabilities but lack the ability to directly replicate or utilize discovered powers.
3. Thaumaturge (Existing Chronicle)
* Focus: Detection and interaction with latent mystical phenomena, particularly in environments touched by Astral resonance.
* Oath Requirements: Frequent immersion in mystically active areas and participation in rituals to heighten sensory acuity.
* Limitations: Proficiency limited to detection and minor interaction; no capacity for long-term ability acquisition or imitation.
4. Occultist (New Chronicle – Potential Creation)
* Focus: The study of mysteries, esoteric principles, and the imitation of mystical abilities through systematic research and observation.
* Oath Requirements: Sustained learning of obscure powers, phenomena patterns, and the principles behind them. The oath mandates intellectual curiosity and continuous expansion of mystical knowledge.
* Limitations: Progress is slow, with sublimations requiring extensive study and analysis before being able to imitate or replicate the abilities.
5. Mirrormage (New Chronicle – Potential Creation)
* Focus: Studying, understanding, and eventually imitating mystical abilities after prolonged observation and knowledge accumulation.
* Oath Requirements: A commitment to unraveling the principles behind mystical phenomena, requiring patient study and methodical analysis. The oath demands intellectual discipline, with consistent documentation and application of learned concepts.
* Limitations: Extremely slow progress; requires long-term study and deep knowledge acquisition before power manifests.
Silas's eyes locked on the entries. Occultist and Mirrormage. The words resonated within him. The description aligned perfectly with his vision: a Chronicle designed to uncover secrets, study patterns, and eventually replicate the phenomena it observed.
It’s slow to sublimate, he noted, brow furrowing. But slow doesn't mean weak. If the system can help accelerate knowledge acquisition, the Chronicle's imitation abilities could be invaluable.
After careful consideration, Silas made his decision: the Occultist Chronicle.
While the Mirrormage offered the alluring ability to mimic powers, it was a path of specialization—focused, narrow, and inherently limiting. It locked him into the pursuit of imitation, making his growth dependent on observing others' abilities. Occultist, on the other hand, provided a broader foundation. Its core was the study of mysteries, the decoding of esoteric principles, and the understanding of phenomena at their roots.
Knowledge first. Power second.
The Occultist Chronicle promised versatility. Mystical knowledge spanned countless disciplines—rituals, artifacts, curses, and astral patterns. With a solid grasp of these underlying truths, Silas could eventually branch out into more specialized areas, possibly even crafting his own unique paths of power. The Mirrormage was a finished puzzle; the Occultist was the toolkit to build new ones.
"The more I know, the more paths open up."
He straightened in his chair, inhaling deeply. The fog beyond the window thickened as if responding to his resolve.
He rubbed his palms together, nervous energy crackling through him.
"System, display oath requirements for the Chronicle: Occultist."
The system's presence deepened, and lines of text unfurled in his mind:
[Chronicle: Occultist – Oath Requirements]
"In mystery, I seek; in knowledge, I endure.
The veiled shall be unveiled; the unknown shall be understood.
To witness, to comprehend, to adapt—I walk the path of the unseen scholar."
Core Principles:
* Relentless pursuit of unexplained phenomena.
* Study and documentation of mystical forces.
* Mimicry of abilities only after thorough analysis.
Sublimation Potential:
1. Insight Tap (1st Sublimation) – Temporarily enhance the analysis range and depth, allowing detection of mystical patterns otherwise hidden.
2. Mimicry Echo (2nd Sublimation) – After prolonged observation, replicate a target's minor mystical ability for a limited duration.
Projected Sublimation Timeframe: Extended. Requires continuous intellectual engagement with new phenomena to prevent stagnation.
Silas read the oath twice, letting the words imprint themselves in his memory. The Chronicle wasn't flashy or straightforward. It demanded patience, curiosity, and discipline. But the potential…
Mimicry of mystical abilities.
His pulse quickened. If he played his cards right, he wouldn't need brute force to defend himself. He could study the abilities of other Wielders—from the Nightwatch to rogue cultists—and replicate their techniques when necessary. Knowledge would become his weapon.
He ran his fingers along the desk’s rough surface, mind racing. The Chronicle was slow to mature, but its long-term potential was staggering. With the system’s information module accelerating his learning, he might bypass years of traditional study.
Most Wielders rely on trial and error. I have a system that can decode mysteries in seconds.
Silas sat motionless at his desk, the faint glow of the lantern casting elongated shadows across the room. His decision was final: he would walk the path of the Occultist. The Chronicle’s core promise resonated with him deeply—not just power, but understanding. The mysteries of the Astral World were vast, and he intended to uncover their secrets piece by piece.
Power fades without knowledge. But with knowledge… He smirked. Power can be rebuilt, reshaped, and refined.
The system stirred in response to his intent, its presence growing sharper, more defined.
[Chronicle Creation: Occultist Initiated.]
The familiar chill returned, creeping through his veins like frost-laced ink spreading beneath his skin. The lantern's flame flickered violently, casting shadows that twisted into unfamiliar shapes.
[Ritual Requirements Detected.]
The system presented the instructions in his mind like a page unfolding within his thoughts:
Ritual for Chronicle: Occultist
1. Circle of Insight: Draw a ritual circle composed of ash and iron shavings, forming interconnected runes that symbolize perception and comprehension.
2. Offerings of Memory: Place three tokens of intellectual effort within the circle—parchments of recorded knowledge, symbols of discovery.
3. Catalyst of Awareness: Burn incense mixed with powdered nocturn grass, known for its resonance with higher-dimensional perception.
4. Oath Recitation: Speak the oath aloud while focusing on the intent to unravel mysteries and walk the path of knowledge.
Failure to adhere to the ritual sequence may result in Astral rejection.
Silas's pulse quickened as he absorbed the instructions. The ritual sounded intricate but manageable—until the last line. Astral rejection. The consequences were already seared into his memory: the mutilated remains of the original Silas, a grim reminder of what happened when one tampered with cosmic forces unprepared.
He stood and paced the room, his mind calculating the risks. Finding nocturn grass would be difficult. Drawing the circle would take time and place. And with the Nightwatch’s recent increase in patrols, burning incense with mystical properties might draw unwanted attention.
The system detected his hesitation and responded with a new prompt:
[Alternative Method Available: Phenomenal Point Consumption.]
He stopped mid-step. An alternative?
[By spending 1,500 Phenomenal Points, the system can bypass the traditional ritual. Direct Astral resonance can be achieved through controlled cause-and-effect manipulation, ensuring safe Chronicle integration without external materials or exposure.]
Silas inhaled sharply. Direct manipulation of the First layer of Astral World. The cost was steep—more than half of his accumulated points—but the benefits were undeniable. No physical ritual, no risky materials, and no chance of the Nightwatch sniffing around his basement.
"System, are there any additional risks?"
[Minor cognitive strain expected. No risk of rejection under controlled system conditions.]
The decision was easy.
"Proceed with Chronicle integration via Phenomenal Points."
The room darkened as though the lantern's flame had been swallowed by the shadows. The temperature plummeted. Silas sat down, gripping the arms of his chair as the pressure mounted. The fog beyond the window thickened until it obscured the glass entirely, swirling like smoke trapped in a bottle.
The system's voice resonated through the silence, deeper and more resonant than before:
[Prepare to recite the oath. Chronicle integration will commence upon completion.]
Silas licked his dry lips and straightened his back. The oppressive stillness pressed against his chest, each breath sharp and cold. His pulse roared in his ears.
The words came to him in with unshakable clarity :
"In mystery, I seek; in knowledge, I endure.
The veiled shall be unveiled; the unknown shall be understood.
To witness, to comprehend, to adapt—I walk the path of the unseen scholar."
The moment the last syllable left his lips, the room convulsed.
The lantern shattered with a sharp crack. The wooden floor groaned as though under immense weight. Invisible forces coiled around Silas’s body like serpents tightening their grip. His mind expanded outward, drawn into a vast, cold void where stars pulsed like distant heartbeats.
The Astral World opened before him—a realm of endless layers, each vibrating with patterns of energy and threads of cause and effect. He saw streams of knowledge etched into the cosmic fabric: forgotten equations, half-formed rituals, and shadowy figures inscribing symbols in blood and ash.
The system guided the process, tethering him to the fragment of the Astral World of 1st Layer, aligned with the Occultist Chronicle. He felt the oath take root within his mind, not as a rigid command but as a guiding principle. His thoughts rearranged themselves to accommodate its presence, like gears aligning within a finely tuned mechanism.
The sensation lasted an eternity—or a heartbeat. Then, with a final surge of cold energy, the connection solidified.
The oppressive force vanished. The air warmed. The fog outside the window dissipated into thin wisps.
Silas collapsed forward, gasping for breath. His vision blurred, his head pounding from the mental strain. But beneath the exhaustion lay something new—an unfamiliar hum resonating within his consciousness. A presence distinct from the system itself.
The Chronicle.
The system’s voice returned, softer now, almost satisfied:
[Chronicle Integration Complete.]
[New Chronicle Acquired: Occultist (First Order)]
Core Oath Principles:
* Relentless pursuit of unexplained phenomena.
* Study and documentation of mystical forces.
* Imitation of abilities only after thorough analysis.
Silas sagged against the desk, skin clammy and breath uneven. His body ached as though he'd run for miles without rest. But beneath the exhaustion, a thrill stirred. He closed his eyes and focused inward.
The system remained unchanged in its precision, but now it shared space with something more abstract. A quiet undercurrent of awareness—the Chronicle's essence. He could feel the subtle shift in perception, like stepping into a dark room and suddenly realizing the walls were covered in faint, glowing patterns.
He rubbed his temples and sat up, the weight of the oath settling over him. Mysteries, knowledge, adaptation. These weren't abstract concepts anymore; they were the foundation of his new path.
The veiled shall be unveiled…
He smiled faintly. Evergarde was a city of secrets. And now, with the Occultist Chronicle, he had the key to unlock them.