A small cloaked figure darted into an alley between shops as a figure in blue robes gave chase. The moon lit the area as the cloaked figure pulled a pair of discarded skewers and then turned the corner leading the old man to an enclosed space. Backed into an alleyway the small figure turned around.

“Stop, why has someone of your power chosen to attack my family unprovoked?”

“Your people decided to act like weasels and met my fist.” The small figure said with a surprisingly deep voice.

“Lies honored father! His cultivation must be higher than mine because I can’t sense his power!”

“That’s not possible. He must be a skilled young master then possibly quite skilled if I can’t sense it either.”

“You! You’re with that snake that ambushed me!” The small figure sprung forward like a compressed spring.

The old cultivator dodged the blow casually and raised his cane to his opponent's throat. Though it was reduced in power to avoid decapitation it was still a technique fueled by chi. A direct hit should have injured the cloaked figure.

Slithering around the cane using his chin and neck both feet stood atop the weapon as both points were shoved towards him.

The old man scowled as he launched his cane upwards sending the yellow-eyed boy towards a wall. “He’s a child! Not even peach fuzz, and covered in dirt.”

Flipping in mid-air the boy pressed both feet into the wall and sprung forward again this time faster.

The old man, suspicious, took a skewer to the shoulder and while his shoulder was somewhat pierced and blood was drawn the weapon broke due to interacting with a wave of chi that ran through the item quickly.

“So it’s a talent, I can handle that.”

“Dragon creates the river.” The old man chained a series of quick precise strikes that did little damage but hit multiple places in quick succession which would lead to the opponent passing out from a shock to their system. To a cultivator, that's what should have happened.

However, each strike opened wounds or broken bones as they connected as a dragon of blood rushed forward to end the fight.

The boy landed on his feet and rolled to the side, grabbing a broken wooden plank and executing a series of movements that caused the dragon to disperse into water that fell at his side.

“No… Not even a cultivator.”

“What are you going on about? Honored father.”

“You lost to someone who wasn’t even a cultivator.”

The boy moved forward faster than he had previously as the old man blocked, and parried every strike aimed at him, rotating to the side and countering with a cane slap to the back of his head.

As the boy fell to the ground unmoving a blue-haired woman ran into the alleyway, “Stay down, Fon! Don’t get back up!”

“Get…up…” the small figure got to his feet, then vanished like a breeze as he appeared behind the old man. He was slamming a flurry of blows to his back.

The old man turned and tripped him with his cane and slammed it down.

Grabbing the cane with his left hand the boy slid to the old man’s throat and did nothing as the old man slammed his head into the boy’s causing his expression to go blank as a fist was slammed into his gut just in case.

The boy dropped the dagger he’d unconsciously taken from the old man’s belt as darkness began to fill his vision.

“Oi! Somebody get him to a doctor! He isn’t a cultivator! Take good care of him. Understand? Also don’t let the white robes hear about this.”

“Yes father in law.” The brown-haired man next to the elderly man clicked and looked away as the blow to his pride landed.

----------------------------------------

A roar echoed above the city streets as a floating head the size of a carriage with white horns protruding from its forehead flowed through the city in a panic. A violet ghastly tail followed behind it as its bulging orange eyes accented by red markings looked for a place to hide.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn you all! I already told you I’m not a demon! I’m here to warn you!” The entity howled through the street as a squad of four black-haired warriors in robes moved with the swiftness of wind and gave chase.

“Stop, foul demon, and be exercised by the sect of divine proclamation!”

“Oh I’m getting exercised all right! So much so that I’m not going to let you catch up!” The entity did not move faster despite visibly trying to do so.

The distance didn't change despite both groups attempting to push themselves.

The floating head turned down an ally behind a restaurant and crashed into something with a loud clang. “Yeouch!”

The warriors turned the corner and walked down the hallway passing up a trash can and continuing forward to find the rogue spirit.

Unlucky for the spirit, it was trapped within something that was very inconvenient. Laying in a dumpster behind a restaurant lay a boy around the age of thirteen though his body seemed dangerously thin and malnourished. He had dirty orange hair with dim yellow eyes that had seemingly given up living.

The spirit didn’t possess the boy, no it was even more lucky than that. No, the entity was trapped inside a discarded drinking gourd that lay deep within the garbage.

“Get off of me you damned brat!” The gourd yelled telepathically.

“Un!” The boy responded as he rolled to the side and winced in pain as various broken rib bones decided to flare up in response to the vibrations used to make sound.

“Serpents and Weasels boy! What happened to you?”

“N-” The boy replied tiredly, his eyes looking at the lid above.

“Let me get a good look at you…Oh…You can't talk. Fine then guess I can get you out.”

The lid to the dumpster shot off allowing the boy to climb out if he had such an ability. He did not, his state was a bit worse than that.

“Damn it to the Trenches! Fine then. Making me waste my power on this! Revitalize.”

Cracking occurred as bones were placed in their proper shape, impurities were expelled from the open wounds and closed forcibly leaving behind silvery scars over his torso and arms and legs and giving him the bit of strength he needed to climb out of the dumpster.

“Great now take me with you.” The gourd said directly into the boy’s brain.

“Why would I do that?” The boy answered aloud as though he was talking to himself. He sounded older than he looked, though that wasn’t saying much.

“Have you heard of cultivation?”

The boy shook his head.

The gourd sighed. “Your life is like a plant, or a flame depending on your philosophy.”

“My what?”

“How you think about things. When you cultivate a seed it eventually grows into a plant. It’s like the same thing only with people instead of plants.”

“You lost me at think.” The boy grabbed the gourd and tied it to his waist. It truly looked like a discarded drinking gourd; various small cracks appeared on the surface as though dropped far too many times. Nobody would take something like that from a street urchin like him.

“How did you get put in the garbage can?”

“Oh, some guy in blue robes bumped into one of my siblings. I stood up to them and the next thing I know, I’m in there.”

“Robes, blue? You didn’t steal anything from him, did you?”

“We don’t steal. Well we don’t steal things from people.”

“So he bumped into some kid and you were beaten to near death over it.”

“I wasnae close to death. I just got out? Very much alive.”

“You were in a garbage can with multiple open wounds. You’d die had I not ended up there.”

“I guess, though I’ve survived worse. Fine, the robe ones are evil vits.”

“The horse sized rats that some locals ride?”

“Is what I said.” The boy rubbed at his arm as he led them to a back alley then pushed a brick into the wall causing the sewer grates lid to pop open.

“How did you come across the tomb of a Precursor?”

“A what?”

“What is this place?”

“It’s ma home.” The boy made his way through a set of easily avoidable traps. In that, once one knows about them it’s easy to avoid them.

The gourd waited for them to pass through them before speaking in surprise. “You’re mighty comfortable with your body to maneuver through traps like that.”

“I have to be, when using that door. Only a few of us can do it.”

“Your siblings?”

“Yup.”

“And where are they.”

“Fonta’s alive!” They heard someone yell.

“He’s alive?”

“Brother's back!”

“Did he bring gifts this time?”

Voices passed from one corner of the room to another through various long tubes set up throughout the chaotic housing of wood, cardboard, and thrown-out materials.

“Serpents and Weasels are your or–.”

“Don’t say that while you're here. The little ones are still a bit sensitive when it comes to this.”

“Right. Shouldn’t an adult look after them? It can’t be easy taking care of this many.”

“Business is very lucrative. It’s just that I have no intention of buying a home above ground and getting cheated. We tried that once and the bastards sold us a house that already had people living in it. They weren't happy when kids knocked on the door.”

“Did they?”

“They helped us find the person who sold us the house. We got half of the refund back as the rest was already gambled away.”

“So there are good people.”

“They were surprised to see how much they fleeced from us.”

“How do you get so much money?”

“The Vits drop money down here when they die. Us older siblings go in and kill them before retreating. The monsters come back in seven days and we do it again. Sometimes we delve a little deeper.”

“I see. Do you know what compound interest is?”

“No.”

“You see. You put your money into the bank with a savings account, then over time it grows.”

“So it sits there and grows,” The gourd seemed to vibrate in excitement.

“Correct. Now let me…”

A teenage girl, possibly a year or two older than Fonta arrived, she had long blue hair, and golden eyes with a pretty face. Everything else however had a layer of dust and dirt due to what the gourd assumed was a lack of bathing options.

“Big brother Fonta. Thank you for saving me!”

The young woman hugged the thirteen-year-old. Before something clicked. “Uh, how old is the girl?”

“Sixteen.” Fonta said with a face as though he was being forced to shovel dung.

“And you said she was younger, how old are you?”

“I believe seventeen in a few months. We’re twins, I'm the older one.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“O.K. so she’s your actual sister. What about the others?” The gourd seemed suspicious.

“They joined us along the way.” Fonta replied.

“Fonta, why are you talking to yourself?” The twin asked.

Fonta froze for a long moment. “You can’t hear the ghost? Did I hit my head on the dumpster?”

“What ghost?”

Fonta didn’t think for long as he got an odd look in his eyes. “I was beaten so close to death that I can now hear ghosts. Or at least this one.”

“Is that so?” Molta

“Yes, Molta. I think i need to lay down–”

“You will enter that death trap alone. Again? Do you really think you can keep doing this over and over again?”

“Actually, I’ll go do some scouting. You know it's easier for me to move alone.”

“I’ll go get Ted. You know he’s the only one who can keep up–”

“Stop. If I die, you know where my personal stash is, the two of you will need to look after the kids.”

“Fonta thats madness.”

“I’m feeling lucky today, and you greatly underestimate the stash. I have around 30,000 ducks.”

“You’re always buying the kids new things. How do you have any money?”

“Fonta, repeat after me. I’ve lived in the city longer than anyone here.”

“Fonta, repeat after me. I’ve lived in the city longer than anyone here? Look, the only reason I’m telling you this is because you’re right here. You look old enough, buy a bath, comb your hair, and get some nice clothes. Own not rent, go to the firm near the end of bar street, he’ll get your papers in order. Then, use the money to buy a house in the middle district through the proper channels.” Fonta repeated.

“Uh…huh…Where did you hear about that? Did you hit your head or something?” Molta stated

“I’m always delving into the ruins. If I was better with money we wouldn’t be in this position.” Fonta said on his own as he moved to his room and picked up a backpack full of various weapons and tools for the trade. Weapons were three wooden clubs, a metal club, and a wood chopping ax. 2 piles of fifty-foot rope, pitons made from metal spikes, a small hammer, a matchbox, and a few bottles with a fuse sticking out.

“You seem prepared.”

“We aren’t just scouting, are we?”

“No, places like this are full of mystical items and tools as well as the ability to unlock your ability to cultivate. When you get to the end. How good are you at lockpicking?”

“Pretty bad at it.”

“I may need to teach you, if you can’t get the keys then you’ll want to be able to lockpick. As getting the keys is usually dangerous.”

“Got it.”

“I don’t think you do. When I say treasure, I mean treasure.” The gourd chimed greedily.

“Yeah yeah.” Fonta sighed as he adjusted his pack.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I know what's in there. It’s just vits. So long as I don’t let them surround me. Then I can handle it.”

“Hopefully it stays that way.” Fonta moved to the tomb entrance and pushed open a set of double doors.

A loud creak passed through the area as a vit immediately rushed the boy.

Prepared for that form of assault he moved forward and rolled past the creature which had trouble turning where it had landed.

Fonta withdrew a hammer and piton and stabbed the Piton into the area between its neck with his left hand and right under its ear then hammered it in causing the creature to explode into a pile of golden hexagonal currency that quickly fell to the ground.

Fonta continued to walk this time drawing two more pitons approaching a T intersection. He took three steps forward, then stomped his right foot on the ground taking two steps back.

“You are prepared. But aren’t you going to take the money?”

Fonta threw the Pitons toward the wall hitting it in two places simultaneously as four Vits rounded the corner only for spikes to impale them from both above and below.

The spike trap retreated as a pile of coins lay in front of him.

Fonta moved the coins away from the trap and collected a few spikes that hadn’t returned after use. Adding three metal needles the size of a spear to his arsenal.

“Yes, I mostly know what I'm doing. The gold is nothing but excess weight and greed will get you killed here. Easier just to grab it on the way out.

Fonta turned left and walked down until he was halfway across the room and lit the bottle using a match before he stood up turned and ran down the hall at full speed. Oil fell from above and covered the ground as he sprinted barely ahead of it. As he made his way back to here he started an army of Vits ran down the hall and tripped over the bottle causing them to be covered in flames which spread rapidly as they were also covered in oil.

Screams covered the area as vits died all over the place leaving each and every one of them dead in seconds and the fire faded after a minute of waiting.

“Has anyone died on these trips?”

“I am not one of the oldest because we found this place, I’m just one of the few that managed to survive and chose to stay after getting good at it.”

“Have you gotten to the end?”

“No. My knowledge ends in around two more rooms.”

“Admirable. So you know, things will get more difficult the further you go. Degrees more. Are you ready for that?”

“How far do you need me to go?” Fonta asked.

“Until you get to the terminus.”

“Is that the end?”

“Of something. Now then, lead the way.”

Instead of going back left, Fonta continued down the path to the right, his expression hardened as a familiar gonging sound passed through the opposite way signaling the monsters on the other side as the entrance and hit path forward closed.

Fonta pressed a brick on the wall, causing the trap to recede and the path forward to open up.

“Double back to the place with the oil. This is a key worthy trap.”

“Hmmm?”

“I assume the trap worked two ways, by going right and above a certain height, oil falls making escape difficult and going right traps you in a place with limited mobility and nowhere to run when the monsters come anyway.”

“That’s evil.”

“But there should be some kind of key in that direction.”

“I see,” Fonta turned and made his way back to the opposite side walked down that pathway, and scowled as a doorway he hadn't seen prior was present.”

“Why hasn’t anyone tried this before?” Fonta scowled at the door.

“Trauma? The key returns after being brought out of these places. It also needs to be used only on the chest it belongs to.”

“Ah so if someone doesn’t know to do so it's more trouble than it's worth.” Pulling out a club out of habit when testing something new he watched as the club was pierced by a thin needle that stayed inside. The club then began to rapidly turn silver, finishing its transformation in seconds.

“What's going on?”

“Drop it!”

Fonta let go of the club and grabbed the key. Noticing the pressure plate he ran listening as his club fell down a shoot and was now unreachable.

“You didn’t tell me the key would be trapped.”

“It really shouldn't have curses like that. That goes against usual fairness. This will likely be much shorter than I first expected.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ruins with traps this unfair are shorter to compensate.”

“Why?”

“Look at your left hand.”

Fonta turned his hand over and scowled as a star mark on his palm was completely solid and made from silver.

“You have until you become a silver statue to finish this unless you lose the limb. A curse like that is slow but insidious and the only way to heal would be to make it to the end. Places like this offer rejuvenation if you make it to the end.”

“Great, just great. There goes my plan to nap after each room.” Fonta said with sarcasm as he took the key down the hall into the next room.

“The room was dome shaped as hundreds of vit waited at the bottom of a pit as hammers swung from the left and right across a ledge promising a grim death.”

Pulling out one of the needle spears, Fonta looked towards a large sac floating above the ledge and threw it past the rope causing balloons of oil to cover the rats below before pulling out his second firebomb he waited until it was ready and tossed it into the pit causing the smell of burnt rats to fill the room.”

“That shouldn’t be there.”

“I know, I put it there last time I cleared this room. The hammers stop moving when the rats die and I don’t intend to come back. Ted also won't be coming here if they get that house.”

“So you figured out that your money making venture would be done after this.”

“I assume we’re somehow destroying this place.”

“In a way it will be a lot less deadly and alot more helpful. With enough time to research it.”

“Got it.” Fonta waited for the hammers to stop before he hammered a ption down and built a basic rope and pulley system next to it. He then climbed down and collected 10k finding a keyhole in the center.

Placing the key in the keyhole and turning it caused a rusty short sword to appear along with some kind of book, and a dirty wool navy blue cap. He put the cap on and tied the sword to his hip. With the loot collected Fonta climbed out of the pit and let out an annoyed sigh. “A rusty sword and a beanie. I thought you said this place would have good gear.”

“What does the book say?”

“Don’t know. I never really learned to read. No parents, teachers, and all that, on top of a curse that makes them run away. I can count just fine though. Basics are possible, but anything more is an exercise in insanity. Can’t you read it?”

“I am a gourd. Don’t worry about it. You’ll get the knowledge you desire soon.”

“That's rather scary.” Fonta sighed as he continued forward past a set of double doors as he lost feeling in his left hand.

The next room appeared to be a battlefield with various vits placed around the area in cages.

“Damn it.”

Moving forward, Fonta tied a tourniquet around his left arm and let the limb dangle uselessly as he took his wood ax and removed the limb before limiting the blood loss as a solid silver hand fell to the ground.

Fonta kicked it into the middle of the room and entered. “Allright! This room is a fight with multiple waves of Vit. I don’t know how long it will last but I can’t afford to retreat this time.”

“Correct. Now go forth and show me what you can do.”

Withdrawing a shortsword Vit moved forward as four monsters were released at once.

Despite no formal training, Fonta was a beast in combat. Not in the sense of raw power. But in that, he was like a wild animal with a sword. Sliding under one he used the blade to tear out its throat before cleaving open its abdomen causing guts to spill out. Moments later it was turned into coins.

The other three hardly had time to reach before he was atop another and plunged his sword into its eye and through its brain killing it as coins formed under him causing a swipe toward his face to miss.

Slicing with swift movement the throat of the third rat was severed as he rolled to the side and threw it at the fourth.

The fourth rat knocked the blade aside with its forehead but was prepared for the human teeth to tear through its jugular. As Fonta spat out the meat and fur in his mouth. Coins appeared on the ground.

“Disgusting.” Fonta retrieved his sword and then sheathed it.

“How did you get beaten so badly again? I am starting to suspect that it wasn’t a simple fight despite not being a cultivator.”

“Ah… Well you see the guy bumped into my sister, then said something she didn’t like that I won’t repeat, then I tried to de-escalate…”

“And?”

“Well…I tried to be nice, I really did. But one does not live this long like we do without having some ability to fight.”

“How did you end up in the dumpster? Your sibling was unharmed, a cultivator could have easily chased her down after dealing with you. If that’s what happened. A mortal realm cultivator is only slightly stronger than a human at the earlier tiers, but still usually stronger. If they weren't well trained it’s possible to beat them if you have enough experience. Given what you did today, the fighting isn’t difficult.”

“Fine. The guy was beaten soundly and sent running home. I had finished my shopping when his father arrived. I beat him too, though he was much stronger and it was close. Then the bastard went and got his friends and I was really put through the ringer when they ambushed me. I won that fight as well. Then he went and got his father and that man beat me till I was black and blue, asked me why I was bullying his descendants until he realized I wasn’t one of those cultivators, nor had any training. He then beat said descendants with his cane and grumbled a bit before I passed out. To be fair, I have nothing against that old man. If anything, when you healed me I was pretty sure the other two got it alot worse.”

“Ah. Must have been in the next realm if he was annoyed to have been called. Did the old man ambush you?”

“No. But it was nowhere near a fair fight because he was leagues above the others.”

“So, you went toe to toe with someone much stronger than you and survived more than a few hits. You must have quite the Talent.”

“Talent?”

“Right, guess you won’t know about that. A talent is like a core ability everyone has, it may be a minor ability or a greater one.”

“Your innate talent tends to build a basis of what you can do. Or how you learn.”

“What is yours?” Fonta asked.

“That's rather private.”

“How so?”

“I’ll tell you one day, but that day isn’t today. You should finish this room. Second wave incoming.”

“Right.” Fonta moved through the second wave with an efficiency that made the first battle look like a warm-up as one by one the vits died.

“Just a question. Did you ever jump down that pit to clear that last room?”

“I was hit by the hammer the first time and fell down. I had to fight just to crawl myself back up. The next time I went down willingly, eventually I managed to fight my way through. When I could do it consistently I set up the trap just in case I needed to do it again. All in allI kept getting injured at the best of times and the vits are much stronger in this room.”

“How much stronger?”

The number shrunk back down to four this time they wielded various weapons.

Fonta paired, riposted, dodged, and countered his way through showing prowess with the sword that showed years of practice despite having never wielded one prior. The being in the gourd did see some areas that could be improved, but in his hands, the sword was more effective than anything the vit could produce.

“Sword master? No, that would be more specialized…Weapon master does make sense, though that would explain he could kill with tools on hand…Curious.”

“What?” Fonta finished the second weapon wave and watched as a bridge appeared towards the next and likely final room. Fonta pickled up his silver hand and placed it in his bag. As the shock of what he was doing hit him like a boulder.

“What's wrong kid.”

“When in the depths did I learn to use a sword like that?”

“It could be related to your talent.”

“I see. Is my talent also why I'm not panicking?”

“That’s me dulling your sense of pain. You feel something but I don’t know your threshold and need you to get out of this alive not pass out from shock.”

“Let me feel it. I feel addled in this sta–Agh!” Fonta grimaced as the pain suddenly returned, his vision clearing a bit.

“Do you want me to take it away?”

“No, It isn’t that bad just suddenly. Ok let's do this.” The young man entered the next room, face to face with a vit with a humanoid shape standing around six feet tall with claws half a foot long coated in a green liquid.

“So you finally invaded my sanctum, you have been a thorn in my side for so long. I will offer you a deal, become my servant and you don’t die today.”

“That is a crappy deal.”

“Then die a thousand deaths, dog!” The large vit or Vitar dashed forward. Claws raised to slash at the human invader.

Fonta saw the creature coming and dashed to the side and slashed at its ribs with the blade only for a long tail to slap him away.

Fonta flew onto his back and was stunned for a brief moment.

The vitar capitalized on the opening and stomped on his head.

Fonta barely managed to roll out of the way and thrust his sword into Vitar’s leg.

Fonta was kicked in the ribs for his trouble. The blow was powerful enough to send him flying into the wall. His sword sent flying in the opposite direction.

Fonta felt his consciousness wane but the battle was one he had to survive with his one good hand he lit his last fire bomb and threw it at his charging opponent causing fur to catch fire and flesh to burn.

With the Vitar distracted, Fonta drew a club and his silver hand. Tossing the limb in the air and slamming the club into it.

The closed silver fist crashed into the Vitar and knocked it prone.

Moving forward Fonta slammed a piton into its chest and hammered it in. Only for the piton to shatter and a claw to slice open the arm with the missing hand causing the limb to fall and then rapidly turn silver.

“To the depths with you!” Fonta yelled as he was knocked aside with a kick.

Fonta took out his woodcutter's ax and threw it at the Vitar. He watched as the ax did nothing to the creature. His silver fist had done more to it.

“Damn it. There has to be something I can do to exploit a weakness.”

“Throw me.” The gourd stated.

“Huh?” Fonta’s surprise left him open to a shallow slice in his abdomen causing more blood to spill from him.

Fonta pucked up the gourd, throwing it at the Vitar. Watching as the gourd was slashed to bits.

A spirit flowed from the object and into the Vitar causing wounds to open up. “Damn it kid! If you make it out alive, head to Lumino City!”

The spirit seemingly vanished as it lost integrity and was recalled.

“No!! Damn it, goodbye no name. I will remember you.” Fonta said before visibly collapsing from pain. His eyes grew dim as his focus waned and something flowed into him.

Blood covered the chamber, dents littered the floor and a silver hand attached to a silver arm lay motionless palm open.

“Looks like you’ve finally lost the will to fight. It's been a while since I've eaten anything that wasn’t my own species. Do me a favor and don’t give me indigestion on the way down.

Light returned to his eyes as they glittered gold for a moment.“You think it’s over? No, I won’t submit to you. The young man rolled to the side and threw what appeared to be a petrified arm at the creature causing it to wince in pain and stagger backward.

Getting to his feet the young man rushed forward and thrust a rusty sword into the entity, letting out a roar.

The shout shook the Vitar almost as much as the rusted sword that showed silver for the briefest of moments before shattering into silver light causing the hole in its torso to expand until it was the size of a pumpkin.

As the Vitar faded Fonta felt immense pain, Falling to his right hand Fonta vomited a black ichor and passed out having opened one of his meridians. Pushing himself to the limit left him useless.

A pedestal rose from the ground. In the center was a dodecahedron that floated and spun. The ground is covered in various ancient scripts. In the center of the pedestal is an alabaster dodecahedron with various odd symbols on each side. The symbols seemed to morph as the item floated, spun, and rotated as though it was rolled.

Fonta pushed himself to the item and instinctively touched it with a primal curiosity. His blood trailed behind him as he forced himself to his feet to touch it. Font felt an itching where his left arm had been as it fully regenerated, from bone to muscle, blood skin, and everything in between.

The pedestal glowed, first blue then green, next red, followed by orange, and stopped at around purple before the light turned into words. Words he knew the meaning of, despite not recognizing them.

Primary talent: All things in this universe are a weapon, and you are a master of all of them. Rarity: Lost:

Secondary talent: locked.

Tertiary talent: locked

Producing cultivation techniques,

Tier: Lost

Affinity: Wood, Metal, Earth, Fire. Water,

Pathway channel formation, Triple Helix Rope,

Speed; Fast initial start that slows down, before receiving exponential growth via time and effort.

Technique name: “Way of the Unrelenting.”

Fonta felt the information carve itself into his being with brutal efficiency as he understood how he could best use it in the style and when to use each form.

The technique had three ways to train. Pure meditation was sitting in an area and concentrating on the flow of chi and pulling from the environment. Then there was passive meditation usable when walking or doing light training. Less effective than the first but makes up for it in flexibility. Finally, there was Battle Meditation, a lot less than the first and second but allowed for one to regenerate chi while fighting and could leave spikes in growth. The more these were practiced the stronger he’d get. Battle Meditation was beyond anything he could do now. Until then he’d build up his passive meditation capabilities.

“Well, that sounds strong.” Fonta didn’t feel any stronger after that, he just knew that he needed to gather ki, and then trace the pattern through his meridians in that formation until they opened up. It was somewhat intuitive at least that part was. What came after he didn't know.

Rewards for cleaning these ruins. As the first to complete the trial of perseverance, your blank tome has been converted into the Mal Dynamis. With it, you may spend your hard-earned coin to buy things you need. This item is soulbound and disappears forever upon death.

“What in the depths is going on here?” Fonta said as he pulled out the strange book and opened it, only to see that another screen appeared with odd letters. Though everything he saw cost a whole lot of money.

“I may not be able to read but I know that that many zeros is a lot of money. That also doesn’t look like anything I can read.”

As sole owner of Mal Dynamis, you may allow others to use the magical marketplace and receive 10% credit from anything they buy. You may also spend 10,000 Ducrates to create a copy of this book with your own terms and conditions.”

“I won’t be able to use this for a while.” Fonta moved to put the book away only to watch as it disappeared from his hands.

The Beanie of protection, this cloth wrap keeps you safe from the cold as well as strikes to the head and is more effective than most armor.

Sword of Silver, this sword was once made entirely of star silver, age has rusted it to the point that nothing remained of its true status as a legendary weapon. The weapon is now soul-bound to you, which has left it much weaker. But now it can’t be destroyed and as you grow in power it will always be a reliable companion.

40,000 Ducarates have been awarded for the completion of this trial corridor.

Fonta watched as a chest full of money appeared in front of him. Greed pulled at his face for a brief moment as he realized he’d need to carry quite a bit of coin out of the place on his own. Oddly enough his limbs felt shorter than they were earlier. Could be that cultivation thing.