The tier structure for advancement spans from 0 to 200, with four milestones known as spirit locks within these tiers. These locks restrict part of the spirit, halting its evolution beyond a certain tier. Interestingly, there are no milestones between the 100th and 200th tiers. This implies the potential to evolve to the calamity class at the 101st tier. However, extensive experiments and tests have shown that absorbing a calamity core before reaching the 180th tier inevitably leads to death.
Awakened advancement theory
By Professor Caldred Kyrendor.
Ragnarok, year 2245.
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They sank to their knees immediately they appeared within the rift, and Daruk groaned. “Great, only a second in, and I already hate this place.”
They had appeared in a swampy marshland, but specifically in quicksand, and as they struggled, they only sank further. Aodhán flicked his fingers, and the scarf around his neck suddenly transformed into a long, thick chain that shot towards a tree a few meters from them and wrapped itself tightly around a gnarled branch.
The chain expanded, elongating as Aodhán poured energy into the construct until it floated very close to their heads.
“Wow, it would have taken me an extra minute to think of that.” Daruk muttered as they grabbed the chain, and Aodhán scoffed in response. “For how book smart you are, you can be very unimaginative.”
The chain rattled as it shrank and slowly pulled them out of the quicksand.
Daruk chuckled. “I would have thought of it eventually.” Their feet exited the sand with a squelch, and Daruk gagged. “That was gross; besides, I don’t have enough control to make something like the scarf yet.”
A storm platform about a meter wide appeared beneath their feet, and the chain returned to its original form and once again wrapped itself around Aodhán’s shoulders.
“That is true.” Aodhán agreed. “But we were surrounded by water—muddy water that could have been frozen to prevent us from sinking.”
“Oh.” Daruk replied with a subdued expression and said, “I really should have thought of that.”
“It’s alright, you’re still very unfamiliar with your affinity and your current limits; you just need to expand your imagination; you never know what you can do until you try.”
Daruk sighed in response, and Aodhán turned his attention to their surroundings. The rift was a murky, foreboding marshland, covered in fog that hung heavy with a slight scent of decay. Tall black trees, twisted and gnarled, loomed overhead, their twisted branches casting eerie shadows upon the murky waters, entwined with a mesh of rotten roots.
“Okay, this place sucks.” Aodhán muttered, and Daruk chuckled. “We don’t have much time, though, and if we intend to be among the first 100, then we need to find the rugworts as soon as possible.”
“Yeah..” Aodhán muttered softly as he focused on his core sense, slowly expanding it until he sensed a core blazing with murky brown light, and he turned in its direction.
“Did you sense something?” Daruk asked, and Aodhán grinned. “Not something, but multiple somethings.”
The platform lurched forward, and five spears of ice materialized around Daruk as he prepared himself to impale the first creature they found, while Aodhán simply stretched a hand out, and Daruk watched, open-mouthed, as he summoned multiple bolts of lightning from his palms and seamlessly condensed them into a ball of crackling electricity.
Daruk shook his head in amazement. Next to Aodhán, his control was abysmal, but he was still an awakened of adequate strength, so he funneled a quarter of his tamed will into the spears and imbued them with durability and sharpness.
When the platform came to a stop a minute later, Daruk was prepared, but when he found no creatures to battle, he turned to Aodhán in confusion. Before he could ask any questions, though, Aodhán shot the condensed ball of lightning towards the swamp below them.
Daruk reacted fast, trying to create a shield to protect them, but his actions were unnecessary as a black dome materialized around them an instant before the ball of electricity sank into the swamp and exploded with a boom of thunder.
Muddy water erupted out of the ground along with a tangle of rotten vines and bloody guts, and a cry, like the sound of a dog being choked to death, rang out of the swamp as three heavily wounded creatures broke the surface of the swamp.
Rugworts were larger versions of pigs, save for the addition of the horn on their snout, which somehow remained pristine, regardless of how much dirt they soaked their bodies in.
Without waiting to identify their tiers, Daruk shot five spears at the creatures, three at the largest and one each for the remaining two. The rugworts were already wounded from the lightning attack, so it wasn’t surprising when the smaller ones died immediately after the spears pierced their necks.
The largest one refused to go down, even with three spears sticking out of its guts. The rugwort groaned in agony but was quickly put out of its misery when a spear of lightning pierced through its skull and exploded in a shower of blood and brain matter.
Trying to be imaginative, Daruk forged a blade-tipped spoon and imbued it with sharpness before using it to dig out the core of the largest rugwort. The spoon brutally tore through its abdominal tissues, and a minute later, it floated before them, with the evolved core sitting amidst a pile of blood and viscera.
Aodhán grimaced at the sight. “Couldn’t you have come up with a less horrific construct?”
“I was trying to be imaginative.” Daruk grumbled. “You know, scoop the core and all.”
“Well, congratulations. You failed.” Aodhán replied with a chuckle as he lowered the platform towards the ground, and a minute later, they’d harvested both the horns and the cores.
They zoomed off after that, and Aodhán led them towards the next muddy core he could sense. Their hunt continued in this manner, and in twenty minutes, they had gathered a total of eight cores, which meant they only needed two more.
“Can you sense any others?” Daruk asked as he placed his share of the cores into his ring.
“None, just people. I can’t sense that far yet.”
“If there are people around here, then they must have hunted every rugwort in the vicinity.”
“Then we need to go deeper.” Aodhán replied, and the platform lurched forward once more. They passed by several other aspirants, and Daruk kept his ice spears close, just in case they needed to fend off the aspirants too.
It took almost ten minutes before Aodhán sensed another rugwort core, but rather than rush in this time, he came to a sudden halt and whispered, “There’s a group of them nearby.”
“A pile; they are called a pile of rugworts.” Daruk corrected.
“Whatever, there are about four of them a few meters from here.” Aodhán replied with a worried frown, and Daruk asked. “How strong are they?”
“They’re all tier 18, except one who’s a little weaker than the rest.”
“We can’t afford to look for another pile; we have to take these ones; besides, they’re only a few tiers stronger than us.”
“I’m not worried for myself, Daruk; I’m worried for you.” Aodhán replied, and the words hit him like a jackhammer. He gritted his teeth in annoyance. “I can handle myself.”
“Yes, you can, but not against Tier 18 monsters; you’ve seen what they can do.”
Daruk had indeed seen what they could do. The rugworts had an affinity closely related to swamps, and unsurprisingly, their attacks were poisonous. They belched out highly toxic fumes that were extremely lethal, even to those of a higher tier, and now that the rugworts were four whole tiers above him, their poisonous fumes were bound to be even more effective.
Still, he couldn’t ask them to spend more time trying to find an easier pile of rugworts when they could kill these ones. “I’ll be fine; if we’re going to do this, then we should do it now. Time is running out.”
Aodhán observed him for a moment before nodding. “Okay, remember, use your strongest skill; we want to kill them before they have any chance to belch out anything.”
“I understand.” Daruk muttered as the platform lurched forward, and as anger boiled within him, he stretched out a hand and concentrated on the moisture in the air. He pushed, funneling an insane amount of willpower into the skill he was trying to create.
The skill resisted, but it only fed his anger, which in turn fed his will, and with a sound like the shattering of glass, the skill gave, catapulting his control to a higher level just as they burst into the clearing.
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Daruk instantly took control of all the moisture in the clearing, and with a single movement of his hand, they froze, causing hundreds of tiny icicles to materialize around them. He then released his aura, causing the temperature in the clearing to plummet significantly.
Bolts of lightning gathered in Aodhán’s palms, condensing into a ball much larger than the one he’d previously made, and this time, when the ball of lightning shot into the swamp, Daruk was ready.
He poured his tamed will into every ball of frozen moisture and forged them into needles as thick as his fingers. The rugworts roared as the ball of lightning exploded, and as they broke through the surface of the swamp, Daruk’s needles shot towards them.
With his new level of control, he could feel every icy needle as they pierced the hides of the rugworts. He channeled the power of his bloodline, merged it with the last portion of his will, and commanded. “FREEZE!”
Ice rapidly spread through the bodies of the rugworts, and the next instant they shattered like glass, leaving only their horns and cores behind. Ice wrapped around the horns and cores, and the next instant, they floated before them.
“See, I told you I could handle myself.” Daruk whispered and collapsed. He had completely drained his energy and willpower to use that skill, and it feels like his core was gasping for breath.
Aodhán reacted immediately, shoving one of the cores into Daruk’s palms and ordering him to absorb it immediately.
Immediately, Daruk clasped the core. The system asked if he wanted to direct the energy into his class, but he denied the prompt and willed the energy into his core. It rushed through his bruised pathways, roaring with an intensity that sent a rush of euphoria through him.
Energy surged out of his core an instant later and rushed through his pathways, restoring them before diffusing into his tissues and muscles.
Daruk didn’t stop absorbing the core’s energy even after his advancement; instead, he pulled faster, willing more of the energy into his core, hoping for another surge of ecstasy, but the core crumbled in his palms before he could break through to the next tier.
Still, Daruk gasped, drunk on the power flowing through his veins, until the feeling subsided a moment later, and with a thought, he reviewed his status.
….
[STATUS]
Name: Daruk Brystion
Class: Evolved Ice awakened (28.7%)
Title: Neophyte.
Tier: 15-73.8%
Skills {Innate} : [Ice manipulation and creation] [Ice conversion]
{Other}: [Freeze] [Forge constructs]
Bloodline: FrostForged Ancestry (Rare+).
•Amplifies ice and cold-related abilities by 2.25%.
•Grants major resistance to cold.
•Aura of frosted heart.
...
Bloodline skill gained: Freeze: Consumes a significant amount of willpower to completely freeze an area no more than 3 meters in diameter.
….
Aodhán pulled him back to his feet and grinned. “I have no idea how you did that, but it was amazing.”
“I told you I could handle myself.”
“I believe it now, but we also have to go; we are done with the trial.”
“Right.” Daruk agreed. “I gained a new skill, did you see?”
“Yes, but we can.” Aodhán suddenly paused and turned to the side of the clearing. “Whoever you are, I can sense you. Show yourself.”
Squelching sounds rang out as two people walked out from behind a bush of rotten vines, and a moment later, two boys stepped out from behind a tangle of vines and leaves. One was tall and lanky, but it was the second boy Aodhán recognized.
He had vivid green hair, and although he was younger than the other boy, he faced them with an expression that seemed eager to fight. Aodhán focused his senses on their cores and realized that they were both at the 10th tier, which was the minimum required tier to enter the academy.
“We’re sorry; we didn’t mean to spy on you; we were just observing.” The younger boy extended a hand and introduced himself. “My name is Andrew Willowood, and my friend here is Pope.”
“Well, nice to meet you, but we have to go now.” Daruk replied, and his ejector appeared in his palms, but Andrew shouted.
“Wait, please; we’ve not been able to gather enough horns, and we know you have two extra.” Andrew hesitated for a moment, hating the words he was about to say, but this was not the time for pride, and with a small bow of his head, he begged. “Please help us.”
Aodhán exchanged a glance with Daruk and asked, “How do you know we have two extra cores?”
Andrew turned to look at his friend, but when Pope refused to speak, he sighed and explained. “Pope is a sight awakened with the innate ability to see what many cannot; the stronger he becomes, the more he’s able to see, and he can see the number of horns you have in your rings.”
“Can he see our statuses?” Daruk asked, alarmed at the thought of such an invasive concept, but Andrew shook his head. “Not yet; he’s not strong enough. Look, can you help us? Time is running out.”
“I guess.” Aodhán muttered as he gave the extra two horns to Andrew, while Daruk forged two long, jagged swords and gave them to them. “Like my father would say, it’s better to have it and not need it.”
Aodhán’s heart ached a little at the familiar comment, but like he usually did with painful or sad memories, he pushed them aside until he had no choice but to deal with them.
They clicked their ejectors a moment later, and we’re instantly teleported out of the rift. Aodhán stumbled into the rift station with Daruk barely a second behind him and sighed in relief when his name appeared on a large holographic screen, occupying the 36th slot.
…
Andrew Willowood.
Andrew had awakened when he turned sixteen less than a week ago, and his father, Baron Willowood from the 6th sector, had been ecstatic and had bought him all the resources he could to push him to the 10th tier, which was the minimum tier required to attend the prestigious academy of the 5th sector.
The examination trial had been quite easy for him, but he had only passed the trials before that by sheer force of will, and having to pull his retainer along had not made things any easier. Pope was more of a friend to him than a retainer, as they had been together ever since they were children, but now when he looked at his friend, anger boiled inside him.
Pope had been utterly useless throughout the entire trial, and although his abilities didn’t lean much towards combat, things would definitely be easier if the boy would just walk or run on his own.
Andrew turned to stare at the area the boys had just vacated with a sigh. Pope had found the rugworts first, but it would have been foolish to fight against four creatures eight tiers above them.
They had watched the clearing for almost two minutes before deciding to leave, and that was when the boys rushed into the clearing and destroyed all four monsters in seconds. Haq! He’d been awed and amazed. His elder sister was at the 29th tier, and he doubted she could have dealt with those monsters that quickly.
He’d half expected them to laugh in his face when he asked for the extra horns, but surprisingly, they’d given them to him, and now they had three horns, which meant they needed seven more to pass the trial.
“We’ve failed the trials; we should give up.” Pope muttered, and Andrew shook his head in disappointment. “If I’d known you would be such a burden, I would have asked for a new retainer. All day, all you’ve managed to do is drag me down.”
“I’m not a coward just because I’m afraid to die.” Pope replied in anger.
“We are not going to die, Pope! We have an ejector, and I’m sure the professors are watching.”
“I didn’t want this; I never wanted this.” Pope complained. “The academy was your dream, not mine.”
Andrew glared at him, and although he wanted to respond, he chose to keep quiet instead. This wasn’t the first time they were having this discussion, but Andrew just wanted him to try. The least he could do was fail with dignity.
Andrew sighed and gripped the icy sword in his hands tighter. His hands were frozen to the sword, and a thin layer of frost was climbing up his hands, but he refused to let it go.
The noise of the previous battle had attracted three other rugworts around the area to their location, and Andrew aimed the ice sword at them as they swam over. Pope shook behind him, murmuring in fear, but Andrew refused to cower in terror.
He wanted to be strong, to dominate a battle like those boys had done. He wanted to instill fear in his enemies, not the other way around, and he couldn’t do that by cowering in fear.
Andrew identified the rugworts as they burst into the clearing, and he realized they ranged between the 10th and 12th tiers. He didn’t hesitate, and with a wave of his hand, black vines constricted around their snouts to prevent them from belching out toxic fumes, while rotten roots wrapped around their necks, strangling them and cutting into their hide.
He rushed towards the first of the three monsters and drove the ice sword deep into its skull. It let out a strangled cry as Andrew brutally twisted the sword before pulling it out.
Blood erupted from it’s head, and the next moment it fell limp as life left its body. Andrew channeled his bloodline skill {Forest of thorns} as he rushed towards the second rugwort, and thorns burst out of the rotten vines.
They tore into the rugwort’s hide, and as he poured more energy into the skill, the thorns grew longer, puncturing deeper into softer tissues. Andrew plunged the ice sword into the monster’s belly, and it screamed, breaking through the constructing vines as it let out a cloud of toxic fumes.
Andrew dodged away from the fumes and channeled his awarded skill, {Secrete Poison}. The thorns on the roots and vines enlarged, piercing further into the rugwort’s hide and pumping the neurotoxin into its bloodstream. The rugwort roared, growing berserk, and a moment later, it tore free of the constructing vines.
Andrew stumbled back, but the rugwort lurched forward and pierced his knee with its horns. He let out a scream of pain even as he plunged the ice sword into the monster’s belly, and this time, instead of pulling it out, he pulled the sword to the side, tearing through the rugwort’s belly until it collapsed, releasing its blood and entrails into the muddy swamp.
Andrew turned to Pope, who was still battling the last rugwort, and with the last of his strength, he constricted the rugwort with rotten vines and began funneling the last of his energy into {Secrete Poison}.
Rotten thorns dug into the rugwort’s hide, but it wasn’t enough, so Andrew channeled a wisp of his willpower into the skill. The thorns exploded, digging into the monster as if in a frenzy as they pumped toxins into it.
The rugwort roared in pain as it futilely tried to escape the constructing vines, but Andrew only channeled more of his will into the skill. The pain soon became too much for the rugwort, and it gave up with a choked cry.
Pope stumbled to his feet immediately after the rugwort died, and he shouted. “I don’t want to be here. I almost died! I can’t survive here.”
“Because you’re not even trying, Pope.” Andrew screamed in anger. “You had a fucking sword, but there’s not a single mark on the rugwort; you’re not fighting.”
“I don’t want to fight!” Pope replied. “I’m not like you, Andrew; I don’t want to conquer the world or dominate my enemies; I just want to be free and live in peace.”
“Peace is only for those who can fight for it!” Andrew pressed, quoting his father, but Pope had finally had enough.
“I’ll take my chances.” Pope replied and gestured towards the dead rugworts. “You can have the cores and the horns; congratulations, but I can’t do this. I’m only here because you wanted this; you live for the thrill of battle and danger, but I don’t; I just want a normal life.”
Pope clicked the ejector before Andrew could respond, and he disappeared the next moment. Andrew stared at the now vacant area for a few seconds before he moved toward the rugworts, harvested their cores, and cut off their horns.
He’d just lost his best friend, and he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t a crime that the Pope disliked violence, but to be incapable of it was a crime, especially in a kingdom like Ragnarok. How could he protect himself or the ones he loved without it?
Andrew had thought this was a dream they shared, attending the 5th Academy, but now that they had a chance to actually do so, Pope has bailed. Andrew placed the horns in his spatial ring, and with a dejected sigh, he clicked the ejector.
The next moment, he appeared in the rift station and sighed in relief when he turned towards the holographic screen and saw his name occupying the 57th slot.