It was sometime late in the evening when the howl of the wind eroded the sand engulfing Sorrinn’s greater consciousness and unshackled him from the darkness. He’d grown bigger again, he could sense—a feeling radiating from his soul like a shoe that was tighter on his heels than he remembered. His body was sound asleep, but his mind had abruptly awoken. It was as if he was peering down upon himself from the ceiling, limbs unable to shift, eyes unable to open, lungs unable to respire. It was a metaphoric eternity before his eyes shot open and he took in a sharp gasp of air, orbs of ghost blue radiating within the moonlight streaking through his window, painting his face.
His rising and falling chest soon settled. An apt use of [Equanimity] dyed his mind a vivid color of calm.
It was only sleep paralysis—nothing to get frantic over.
He leaned upright in his bed while his pale eyes scanned the dark of his bedroom.
A well-crafted stuffed toy of a mandilleer was cradled in his arms. When had they given him that? It was cute. He loved it.
Nothing in his bedroom was afoot—it was just dark and there were shadows. [Equanimity] was quite the convenient tool. Even in his past life, the dark always managed to disquiet him.
Sorrinn exhaled a long breath, falling back over onto his pillow. He figured he’d return to sleep since he was still groggy—a normal groggy rather than a fall-back-into-the-abyss kind of groggy. He’d become skilled at discerning the difference between the two. He had at least a few months before the reaper came knocking for its dues, if patterns meant anything.
That was when something… strange emerged before his vision—a screen; a text box, like something out of a video game. The text box read one thing: [Prerequisites have been met. Congratulations, Sorrinn Songscribe, one has been authorized to Ascend.]
His features scrunched to the whim of his rousing bemusement.
Authorized to ascend? What the heck did that mean, and why did it sound so ominous in his head?
He reached his hand and it phased through the screen. But when he tapped the [Okay] at the bottom, it’d become a solid object he could feel the mass of as if by magic.
A new prompt rose in the former’s stead: [I offer one all of The System’s boons to aid in one’s climb to reach the pinnacle of your aspiration. Will one vow oneself to the Path of the Ascent and accept My offerings?]
Donning an intrigued smirk, color him interested. It almost sounded like a game. He tapped [Accept] without a moment’s delay.
That screen vanished, another manifesting in its stead. However, that one was different from the others. It wasn’t a text box but a whole simplistic RPG menu hub with various tabs and integrated functions lined across the top-left of the menu. It was a game. There was an Inventory tab represented by a satchel icon, an Attributes tab represented by a humanoid silhouette icon, a Skills tab represented by an icon of crossing swords, a Map tab represented by an unfurling scroll icon, a Log tab represented by a book icon, and even an Events tab represented by an icon of a crown.
The rest were self-explanatory to anyone who’d played a video game before, easily translatable into real world application, but what sort of events was the Events tab for? Was there some cosmic entity out there in the unfathomability of space hosting parties for the people who imbibed upon its power and embodied its authority?
His mind flashed back to the light-bringing, seed-bearing hand which sought him in the darkness. He wondered if that so-called prerequisite had anything to do with the gift it’d offered and he’d accepted. It’d always been there since he was positive those Jedi-like abilities he wielded to combat against the entity were bestowments from The System to him. He vaguely recollected sensing something about prerequisites in the back of his mind back then.
If not for his absorption of the seed and the abilities, the entities inhabiting the darkness would’ve devoured every dreg of his soul until nothing was left—until he was cast into finality’s clutch. That ushered him to a new conclusion he was sure of: His reincarnation was a feat orchestrated by The System itself. Something out there was observing him, and he’d apparently piqued Its interest enough to be worth hoisting from the void into the clutches of a second life. That was, so long as he became a candidate to participate in Its game. Perhaps It was intrigued by him because It knew he would participate in Its game.
But that in turn led him to a set of other questions: Why him? What had he done to deserve the powers and potential he held then? Why of the countless who perished on Earth every day was he the one deserving a second chance in the omniscient eyes of The System? Surely there were millions who dreamt of what he experienced then every day. Questions he doubted he’d ever receive answers to, unfortunately.
Curious, he pressed the first of the icons in the row:
The Inventory was a classic-style grid that bore a seventy-six pound weight limit. Considering he was still a thirty-five pound toddler, what metric was defining its load-bearing threshold? He couldn’t lift seventy-six pounds personally, and seventy-six was such an odd number, at that.
Pressing the second icon, the Attributes tab was where, well, all of his attributes were housed. A list of information and numbers descended before his eyes in a neat row:
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{General}
(Name: Sorrinn Songscribe)
(Race: Half-elf) - (Bloodline: Asuurii)
(Age: 4 Years)
(Class: None)
(Professions: None)
(Level: 1)
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{Attributes}
[Available Essence of Ascension: 0]
(Body)
—Vitality: 75 / [75] / (0)
(!) [Vitality: A measure of the Ascender’s capacity to recover from injury, as well as general bodily healthiness and longevity.]
—Strength: 6 / [38] / (0)
(!) [Strength: A measure of the Ascender’s capacity to exert force onto external objects.]
—Constitution: 8 / [39] / (0)
(!) [Constitution: A measure of the Ascender’s capacity to endure external forces before suffering harm.]
—Stamina: 10 / [41] / (0)
(!) [Stamina: A measure of the Ascender’s pulmonary and cardiovascular endurance before suffering fatigue.]
—Dexterity: 16 / [44] / (0)
(!) [Dexterity: A measure of the Ascender’s adroitness and finesse with their hands.]
—Agility: 28 / [56] / (0)
(!) [Agility: A measure of the Ascender’s capacity to manipulate their body, balance, and the speed at which they move.]
(Sense)
—Precision: 16 / [53] / (0)
(!) [Precision: A measure of the Ascender’s hand-eye coordination and spatial exactness.]
—Perception: 54 / [54] / (0)
(!) [Perception: A measure of the Ascender’s sensory sharpness and sensitivity to unseen stimuli.]
(Mind)
—Intelligence: 55 / [71] / (0)
(!) [Intelligence: A measure of the Ascender’s cognitive prowess, intellectual flexibility, and memory fluency.]
—Wisdom: 39 / [90] / (0)
(!) [Wisdom: A measure of the Ascender’s worldly insight and awareness, and their capacity to utilize it practically.]
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
(Force)
—Charisma: 51 / [51] / (0)
(!) [Charisma: A measure of the Ascender’s aura of likeability and force of character.]
—Arcana: 26 / [83] / (0)
(!) [Arcana: A measure of the Ascender’s mystic wealth density and their fluency in manipulating it.]
—Spirit: 41 / [77] / (0)
(!) [Spirit: A measure of the Ascender’s spiritual prowess and resistance against ethereal influences.]
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That was a lot to parse. He nibbled on it piece by piece. It was imperative to his maturation he comprehended and metabolized what all of it meant, so he didn’t rush perusing it.
The way he swallowed it was: The first value of an attribute represented the present value, while the second value represented the maximum potential of the value. His Vitality’s current value was seventy-five and its potential value capped at seventy-five. It wasn’t as if he was born sickly—the dead for fifteen minutes part aside; more a hiccup than anything—so how healthy, regenerative, and longevous he was then was how robust a condition he would always exist in until it declined with age or illness.
Perhaps a virulent enough sickness would even permanently reduce the potential value. And who knew how aging operated for Elves and Half-elves. Orrillimmirr still boasted the youthful visage and glow of a late-aged teenager despite being old enough to court his mother, father offspring, know the maturity to raise them, and be remarkably erudite in regard to a broad range of mystic phenomena—almost as if he’d traveled the world for a long while before settling where he had. Thus the CV and PV were unanimous.
If it was on a one-to-a-hundred scale how he assumed, he sheltered a vastly superior force of life than the average life form of that world. The question then was: was the scale relative to his race—Half-elven—or was it encapsulating all life as a whole? Was it stating his Vitality was above-average for a Half-elf, or was it stating, of all existences bearing life-stoked torches in their vessels, his flame was ardent beyond the average measure? So something like a butterfly which lived for a week before death would host a low Vitality value. Meanwhile, something immemorial and long-lived like an ancient dragon would boast a higher Vitality than himself, even, reaching, if not piercing, the value ceiling—assuming one-hundred was the threshold.
That conclusion was supported by his Strength attribute. Six CV against a thirty-eight PV. Meaning: he was a toddler whose body was still developing and, while he had the genetics to become somewhat able-bodied, he’d never be able to train hard enough to square-off against, say, a gorilla, who would have a superior Str CV/PV ratio by a mile. His physical potential was lacking, if anything, compared to his Mind and Force qualities. He wouldn’t have any future in bodybuilding unless there was some means of boosting the PV to extend his physical potential beyond what was provided by his—lacking—muscular genetics.
All of that was presuming the CV/PV values would eventually fall into unanimity by default. The truth was, there was probably a threshold more or less three-fourths between the CV and PV where the attributes which developed with age would innately settle with the host’s maturity into adulthood. The final stretch of an attribute’s value would have to be unlocked through targeted training, he suspected.
He was happy to see his Intelligence, Wisdom, Arcana, and Spirit PVs were all high. Intelligence. Wisdom, and Spirit because of his reincarnated nature, likely. Arcana because of his Elven bloodline—obviously. It looked like Arcana was one of the ones he’d have to actively work hard at, though, since he reincarnated from a world without magic.
On the other hand, he’d lugged all of his fortitude and knowledge with him from his days as Caleb. Perhaps that transferred-over wisdom had altered his brain structure somehow, resulting in those freakishly tall Intelligence and Wisdom PVs exceeding even what he harbored as Caleb. Naturally, his Wisdom CV was lower than taller since his knowledge of that world and its laws were near non-existent despite his knowledge of Earth. The System didn’t govern over Earth, so it likely didn’t quantify his knowledge of it highly. Then he had some innate mystical ability, but his potential with it dwarfed what he could manifest in the present.
All that was left to question were the third values, which were all zero. He’d find out eventually, he supposed.
That said, he tapped the next icon over.
The Skills tab was where he could explore the details of whatever System-gained skills he acquired. At present, he only held four:
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{Skills}
[Available Essence of Cultivation: 0]
(Active)
[Ethereal Surge Lvl 1] - (Spirit) - (Active): Amplify and suffuse the energies of your soul into your body and fortify it with the vigor of your will. While active, Vit, Str, Con, Dex, Agi, Per, Int, Cha, and Arc are each increased by up to 10% of your Spirit attribute depending on your strength of will while channeling. Additionally, all attacks are infused with minor spiritual damage.
[Rebellion Lvl 1] - (Spirit) - (Active): Permeate the energies of your soul through your spiritual pathways, identifying any negative status ailments inflicting you at the moment. Ailments of a spiritual nature may be placed into contest and possibly dispelled depending on your strength of will while channeling.
[Equanimity Lvl 1] - (Spirit) - (Active): Concentrate the energies of your soul into your mind, inducing an immediate state of calmness. The potency of the effect is determined by your strength of will while channeling.
[Tangible Will Lvl 1] - (Spirit) - (Active): Rouse your spirit and conjure your will beyond the confines of yourself as a physical force. The potency of the conjured force is dependent on your Spirit attribute and strength of will.
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The skills he’d acquired from his scuffle against the soul-devourer were actually quite strong. They were all worth leveling up in the present. Envisioning their future value retention relative to the effort it’d demand raising the skills was easy. All he hoped was that the means of developing Spirit didn’t stand in opposition with the method of developing Arcana. Being both a wizard and a Jedi? Now that was something to get excited about. If he could, that was the path he was going to pursue.
The issues arose when he wondered how to go about unlocking more Spirit skills. What even were the prerequisites he met while facing the soul-devourer to unlock skills so early in his System integration.
Moving to the next tab, then was the Map. Upon it was an image of his home village. Nislaann, the map labeled it. It included all of its geographic features in great detail from the vast crop fields and their vibrant colors, to the brick-laid village routes, the locations of the houses, and even that massive, droopy-branched tree the village was erected around, which had its own unique location marker: [The Giving Tree].
It seemed he could personalize it himself with unique location tags and markers too. He tested it out, inserting a house pin on his position and labeling it: [Home] with the holographic keyboard that manifested.
Once there, it was there forever until he decided to remove it, it looked. Handy stuff.
As for everything beyond the village, the vast plain surrounding the village and the major forests to the village’s north and south were engulfed in an undulating, obfuscating fog of war. Maybe there was some other prerequisite he had to meet to broaden its perspective.
Then came the Log. That tab was empty of all but one thing—a task to be completed in exchange for System progression:
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{Trials of the Ascendant}
[Ascension Task]: Gain 5 cumulative points in any attribute. 0/5
[Completion Reward]: Level +1
----------------------------------------
That one was simple enough. Do tasks; level up.
He was glad he didn’t have to run around committing genocide on the fauna populace to level up. No matter how determined he was, he simply didn’t have it in him to become blase about senseless murder and animal cruelty. If that was the case, he would’ve thrown his aspirations for the pinnacle away right there and then. It wasn’t worth it if it meant reducing himself to something akin to the sociopaths his parents of his past life were.
The first trial would complete itself regardless of whether he pursued it or not, for most of his attributes would increase as he continued to grow. Five cumulative points across all his attributes was a simple feat. Though, it was his guess the trials would grow progressively more difficult, arduous, and life-threatening the higher he leveled up. It was like completing a simple fetch quest at the start of an MMO and increasing by three levels immediately, then killing God at the end and hardly leveling up once.
It was his goal to snatch the so-called ‘pinnacle’ The System mentioned for himself, so he had full intention of putting in the work to raise his attributes of focus.
Where he was then, the attribute he wanted to focus on most was Arcana. He was a sucker for magic.
And last was the Events tab. To his surprise, there was one ongoing event, set to expire in thirty days and demonstrated by a cool graphic of a generic fantasy knight rising into the cosmic realm beyond the terrestrial plane like it was the Catholic’s rapture. The Eve of Nascence, it was titled in an extravagant, fantastic font. [As a gesture of My well-wishes for one’s future as an Ascender, a reward to initiate the kindling of one’s journey.]
Intrigued, Sorrinn tapped the [Claim Now] button at the bottom. An item labeled as a [Serendipitous Mystery Box x1] was inserted into his inventory.
[Grants the Ascender a magic item which will aid their ascent in the near future. Shall one’s light grow to illuminate the world into a new era.] was what its description read.
He hopped back to his Inventory and tapped its icon, choosing to [Summon Item] from the drop-bar options. Immediately, an ornate, metallic cube phased into existence above him from a convergence of glowing particles. It floated for a moment before dropping onto his chest where he lay. The moment his hand met the cube, its frame vibrated, its joints twitched and shifted, and its inner mechanisms ticked and chinked as a pale light surged through the deep-set crevices from within with an intensity that painted rays through the moonlit dark.
Before long, the object’s top half popped open into two halves from the middle. He grabbed the object awaiting within—a strange, silver monocle with mystic engravings carved into the frame. Scrutinizing it in the moonlight, the object soon dissolved into particles in his hand to be transferred to his inventory. He checked out what its name was and what its functions were.
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{Transliterating Glass}
(Magical Item) - (Tool)
[Unstable]
(0.2)
{Magical Effect}[Wayfarer’s Companion]: Looking through the lens of the monocle will translate any foreign texts or symbols within your eyeview into characters of the tongue you’re most familiar with for as long as it remains to your eye.
(Quality)[Unstable Arcana]: This item will be destroyed following seven uses. (7/7)
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His pale-shaded brows arched. The first thing rushing to mind were all of those daunting, thickset tomes stashed in Orrillimmirr’s study. He hadn’t thought about how the language barrier was going to throw a wrench into his aspirations for arcane wisdom. Considering Nislaann was a self-sufficient farming village in the middle of nowhere, it made sense why neither of his parents had ever bothered trying to teach him to read despite him already being four. It probably wasn’t all too much an immediate necessity or concern for the humble life they lived. Literacy and simple arithmetical skills wouldn’t be a huge factor for perhaps all of the village’s population—forget about general schooling. Trade skills, labor skills, and preparing their children for targeted apprenticeships beneficial to the village’s continuity were likely what every family there prioritized in a place where what service they could offer someone else was the most precious gold.
He definitely would still express interest in learning how to read to Orrillimmirr whenever his episodes stopped. His father was the type who would somersault through hoops to educate his children in whatever they expressed an intellectual captivation in—and sometimes hadn’t, if they were in earshot of one of his ramblings.
The night was the most ideal time for sneaking some study material. He crawled from the softness of his bed and tiptoed through the darkness enveloping his bedroom, slipping through the cracked door.