Two years passed like a blur, marked by sleepless nights and the constant pressure of balancing my two lives. By day, I was the diligent Academy student, a 12-year-old trying to keep up with classes, stay in touch with Ava, and maintain the appearance of normalcy. By night, I was a runner for One-Bill, navigating the dangerous web of the night market—known officially as the Festival of Sin infamous across the capital for its revelry, debauchery, and power games.
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When I first started working for One-Bill, I thought the night market was nothing more than a collection of eccentric merchants and black-market dealers. Over time, I realized it was so much more than that.
The Festival of Sin wasn’t just tolerated by the kingdom; it thrived under a delicate balance of power. It was a place where people from all walks of life mingled—wealthy nobles in disguise, desperate commoners, and figures from the city’s underworld. One-Bill was more than just a merchant; he was a key player in one of the mafias that kept the festival running.
Working for him gave me access to the underbelly of the capital, a world I never imagined I’d be part of. But it also came with dangers I hadn’t anticipated.
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It happened three weeks into my second year at the Academy. I was on a routine delivery, weaving through the crowded alleys on my hoverboard, when a figure stepped out from the shadows.
“Hand it over,” he growled, brandishing a knife.
The blade caught the faint glow of a nearby lantern, and I froze, my mind racing. I’d seen scuffles in the night market before but had always managed to avoid them. This was different.
“Hexa,” I thought, panic creeping into my voice. “What do I do?”
“Do not engage,” she said firmly. “Prioritize your safety.”
I hesitated, clutching the package tightly against my chest. The man took a step closer, and I saw the flash of desperation in his eyes. I didn’t have a choice.
With a muttered curse, I tossed the package onto the ground and kicked off on my hoverboard, the knife swiping harmlessly past me as I darted into the night. My heart pounded in my chest as I zigzagged through the alleys, adrenaline pushing me to speeds I hadn’t thought possible.
When I finally reached One-Bill’s tent, breathless and shaken, I expected anger. Instead, he laughed.
“You’ve been made, fish boy,” he said, slapping his knee. “Welcome to the big leagues.”
“Made?” I asked, still trying to catch my breath.
“The competition knows who you are now,” he said with a grin. “Happens to everyone eventually. Comes with the game. You gonna quit?”
I hesitated, the words catching in my throat.
Hexa’s voice cut through my thoughts. “This risk is unnecessary. Ceasing your involvement would be the logical course of action.”
But then One-Bill leaned forward, his grin fading. “You lose a package, you pay the price. That’s eleven gold coins you owe me, fish boy. You got that kind of coin lying around?”
The weight of his words sank in. Between my recent spending and the cost of my enchanted uniform, I didn’t have enough to cover the loss.
“No,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Then you’d better keep running,” he said, his grin returning. “Unless you want to start digging yourself out of debt.”
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I didn’t quit. Over time, I learned to navigate the risks, leaning on the other runners for guidance.
There was Sona, a sharp-eyed girl no older than 15, who moved through the market like a shadow. Git, a former street rat in his early twenties, always had a story to tell about his scrapes with the law. Then there were two others, seasoned runners whose names I never caught but whose presence was enough to deter most trouble.
Together, we formed an uneasy camaraderie, bound by the shared danger of our work. They taught me how to spot trouble before it found me, how to blend into the crowd, and how to handle myself when things went south.
“You’re not bad for a fish boy,” Git said one night, clapping me on the back after a particularly tricky delivery.
I rolled my eyes but didn’t correct him. The nickname had stuck, and I’d learned to live with it.
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Despite the demands of my work, I never let go of my training. Every spare moment was spent meditating to absorb ambient mana, forcing it into my body in small, controlled increments.
Hexa monitored my progress with meticulous precision.
“Your endurance has plateaued,” she noted one evening as I sat cross-legged in my dormitory. “Your focus on agility and intelligence is shifting the distribution of your stats.”
“It’s working, isn’t it?” I replied, feeling the faint hum of mana coursing through me.
“Yes,” she said. “But your aversion to physical training is limiting your potential. Balance is critical.”
I nodded, but the truth was, I didn’t have time for balance. Between classes, deliveries, and training, I barely had time to sleep.
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The night before my 13th birthday, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My body ached from two years of pushing it to its limits, but the results were undeniable.
“Hexa,” I whispered, pulling up my profile.
Name: Wolfhart Valda-Ashdock
Race: Human
Age: 12
Strength: 15
Dexterity: 30
Endurance: 15
Intelligence: 35
Wisdom: 25
“You’ve come a long way,” Hexa said. “The consistent mana intake is yielding significant results.”
I smiled faintly, exhaustion pulling at me as I drifted off to sleep.
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The voice woke me.
“Congratulations on your human evolution,” it said, clear and eerie, cutting through the haze of sleep. “You are now a HUMAN ADULT MALE AGE 13.”
I bolted upright, the words echoing in my mind. Hexa’s voice was strangely absent, as though she hadn’t heard it.
My profile shimmered before me, the numbers shifting as new stats were added.
Name: Wolfhart Valda-Ashdock
Race: Human Adult Male
Age: 13
Strength: 20 (+5)
Dexterity: 50 (+20)
Endurance: 16 (+1)
Intelligence: 55 (+20)
Wisdom: 35 (+10)
Skills: Mana Adaptable Blood (New)
The voice returned.
“SKILL ACQUIRED: MANA ADAPTABLE BLOOD. Skill granted due to advanced mana training before the first evolution.”
The description appeared in my mind:
(The blood of this user will adapt more readily to forced mana absorption, increasing its effectiveness.)
“Hexa?” I whispered, my voice shaking.
“Yes?” she replied, her tone normal.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
I stared at the profile, the new skill glowing faintly in my mind. For the first time since waking in this world, I felt truly alone.
The voice had vanished, but its echo lingered in my mind, unnervingly similar to Hexa’s. It was calm, precise, and clinical—the same tone I’d grown so used to hearing over the years. But this wasn’t Hexa. It couldn’t be.
“Hexa,” I whispered again, my voice trembling. “You really didn’t hear that?”
“No external auditory stimuli or internal system alerts were detected,” she replied, her tone steady, almost dismissive. “Are you certain of what you heard?”
“Certain? Of course, I’m certain!” My voice cracked, and I sat up straighter, gripping the edge of my bed. My heart pounded, a drumbeat of unease reverberating in my chest. “It was a voice, Hexa. It spoke to me. It said things—things about my evolution, my stats, my... my skill.”
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“Describe its nature,” she prompted, but I could sense the detachment in her tone, the methodical questioning that didn’t come close to addressing my growing fear.
“It was like you,” I blurted out. “It sounded like you, Hexa. Calm. Precise. The same voice in my head—but it wasn’t you.”
For a moment, Hexa was silent, her pause as unnerving as the voice had been. “That is not possible,” she said finally. “My interface is the sole connection to your cognitive processes. No external entity should have access to your mental framework unless permitted by me.”
“Unless permitted by you?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Then what the hell was that, Hexa? Because it sure as hell didn’t ask for your permission!”
My mind raced, tumbling over itself as I tried to make sense of the situation. If Hexa didn’t know what the voice was, then who—or what—did? I thought back to my first moments in this world, the hazy memories of being born, of hearing Hexa speak for the first time. The tone, the rhythm—it had been the same.
“No, no, no,” I muttered, clutching my head. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“Wolfhart,” Hexa said, her voice sharpening slightly. “You are exhibiting signs of stress. It is imperative that you remain calm to analyze the situation rationally.”
“Calm?” I snapped. “You’re telling me to be calm when there’s something out there—something in here—that sounds like you and knows more about me than you do?”
I stood, pacing the small dormitory. My legs felt shaky, and the walls seemed to close in as my thoughts spiraled further. What if this voice wasn’t just an anomaly? What if it had always been there, watching, waiting?
“You’ve always been there,” I said aloud, my voice tinged with desperation. “Since the moment I woke up in this world, you’ve been in my head, guiding me. What if... what if you’re not alone?”
“Your conjecture is unfounded,” Hexa replied, her tone firm but unconvincing. “There is no evidence to suggest—”
“Don’t give me that!” I interrupted, gripping the edge of my desk as I leaned over it. “That voice said I evolved. It knew my stats, my skills, things that even I didn’t know. It spoke like it was me, Hexa. Like it was part of me. And you didn’t hear it.”
The room felt suffocating. My breaths came shallow and quick, each one feeding the growing panic clawing at my chest.
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A faint memory surfaced, unbidden and fragmented. The moments just after the accident—after the Tesla truck, after the suffocating realization that I was dying.
“Exercising emergency procedures,” Hexa had said. “This is unacceptable.”
The voice had been calm then, too, as I slipped into the void. Had it been Hexa speaking? Or... had it been something else?
“Hexa,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Back when I died... when you saved me... you said something about emergency procedures.”
“That is correct,” she replied.
“What did that mean?”
“It referred to my protocols for preserving cognitive patterns,” she said, her tone carefully measured. “Your neural data was transferred and integrated into a new biological host, ensuring continuity of consciousness.”
“But who initiated it?” I pressed, the question tightening in my throat. “Was it you? Or was it... something else?”
“Only I have the capability to initiate such protocols,” Hexa replied. “There are no other entities involved in your transition or integration.”
Her words did little to ease the knot forming in my stomach.
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I sat back down on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands. The voice had been so real, so certain, and so utterly alien despite its familiarity.
“Hexa,” I said finally, my voice steadier but still strained. “What happens when people evolve? Is there always a voice like that?”
“Evolutionary milestones are a natural part of this world’s system,” she explained. “However, no entity beyond myself should be capable of communicating with you during such events.”
Her certainty only made the situation worse.
“So it’s just me,” I said, the realization hitting like a punch to the gut. “It’s just me hearing this voice.”
“That appears to be the case,” she replied.
The room was silent save for the faint hum of mana that always seemed to linger in the air. My thoughts spiraled further, tumbling through possibilities that all seemed to lead to one terrifying conclusion: I didn’t know everything about myself—or the forces shaping my life.
For the first time in two lives, I felt a creeping sense of helplessness that even Hexa couldn’t dispel.
The panic swirling in my mind didn’t subside as I sat there, staring at my profile. The numbers were stark and undeniable, glowing faintly in my thoughts like a challenge I didn’t understand.
Strength: 20
Dexterity: 50
Endurance: 16
Intelligence: 55
Wisdom: 35
The changes weren’t subtle. They weren’t the slow, incremental gains I’d worked tirelessly for over the last two years. This was a leap—unnatural, abrupt, and unsettling.
“Hexa,” I whispered, breaking the silence. “What does it feel like when stats change? Shouldn’t I have... felt it before?”
“You have experienced gradual improvements due to your mana training and consistent physical activity,” she replied, her tone steady and clinical. “This, however, is different. Evolutionary milestones trigger significant enhancements across multiple attributes, as dictated by the system of this world.”
I flexed my fingers, feeling the subtle strength in them, the new speed and precision that hadn’t been there yesterday. My legs felt stronger, my movements more fluid, as though my body had been reshaped overnight to fit a new mold.
“It’s like... I’ve gone through puberty all at once,” I muttered, shuddering at the thought.
“In some respects, that analogy is accurate,” Hexa agreed. “Your physical, mental, and cognitive capacities have all undergone a sudden and pronounced shift.”
I frowned, the unease clawing deeper into my chest. “Even my voice sounds... different,” I said, testing the words aloud.
“It is deeper,” Hexa confirmed. “A direct consequence of the system recalibrating your biological framework to align with your new status.”
The sound of my own voice startled me. It carried more weight now, more resonance, as though I were speaking from a different place entirely.
“Faster. Stronger. Wiser. Smarter.” I rattled off the words, each one feeling like a strange addition to my identity. “It doesn’t feel real, Hexa. It feels... wrong.”
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I stood, pacing the room, testing the limits of the changes. My legs moved faster than I intended, my balance instinctively compensating for the new speed. My thoughts raced, calculations and observations forming quicker than I could process them.
It wasn’t just my body that felt alien; it was my mind. Every sensation was sharper, every thought more precise. I noticed details I’d have overlooked before—the faint hum of mana in the walls, the distant murmur of students in the halls, the way my breath fogged slightly in the cool air of the room.
“I’m stronger now,” I said aloud, almost to convince myself. “Smarter. Better. This is a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Improvement is beneficial,” Hexa replied. “However, the rapidity of these changes may pose challenges. Your mental and physical integration with these enhancements will require adjustment.”
“Adjustment,” I echoed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s like I’m living in someone else’s body.”
The voice from earlier—the one that congratulated me, that spoke of evolution—echoed faintly in my mind, and a shiver ran down my spine. It hadn’t just told me about the changes; it had made them.
“Hexa,” I said, my voice unsteady, “how do I know this is me? That I’m not just... something else now?”
Her response was measured, clinical. “Your cognitive patterns remain consistent with all prior analyses. These changes, while dramatic, have not altered the core of your identity.”
But I wasn’t sure. The strength in my limbs, the speed of my thoughts, the depth of my voice—it all felt wrong, like I’d been rewritten without my consent.
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I sat back down on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands. The numbers stared back at me, mocking in their simplicity.
“You wanted power,” I muttered to myself. “And now you’ve got it.”
But power had always come slowly before. I’d worked for every point in my stats, every tiny gain a hard-fought victory. This leap—it felt unearned, like a gift I hadn’t asked for. And gifts, I knew, always came with strings attached.
“You’re not acting rationally,” Hexa said, breaking the silence. “These enhancements are an opportunity. They place you at a significant advantage as you approach class selection. You should focus on how to leverage them.”
“Leverage them,” I repeated, the words bitter on my tongue. “Leverage something I don’t even understand.”
Hexa was silent, her lack of response only amplifying the unease crawling through me.
For years, she had been my constant—my guide, my anchor in a world that made no sense. Now, for the first time, she felt... fallible. There were things she didn’t know, voices she couldn’t hear, changes she couldn’t predict.
For the first time, I felt truly alone in a way I hadn’t since waking in this world.
Hexa waited, a pause that felt heavier than usual, as though she were processing my spiraling thoughts with the same precision she applied to everything else.
“You are aware,” she began, her tone measured, “that this is not the final evolution.”
I froze, staring at the faint glow of my updated profile in my mind’s eye. “What do you mean?” I asked, though part of me already knew the answer.
“Your next evolutionary milestone is set for age 15,” she said. “At that time, your profile will unlock available class options. These options will be influenced by your current stats, skills, and accumulated actions.”
I let out a hollow laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “So, what you’re saying is... all this weirdness is just the beginning. Great.”
Hexa didn’t respond to the sarcasm. Instead, she pressed on, her voice taking on its usual pragmatic tone. “It is imperative that you approach this milestone with strategic preparation. The system of this world allows for significant customization of class evolutions, but the selection will be dictated by your progress and choices up to that point.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Fifteen years to create a class. Gotta be some kind of record.” My tone softened, the humor slipping through despite myself. “But I guess that’s what makes it so customizable, huh?”
“That is correct,” Hexa replied. “It is a process designed to reflect individuality and specialization. However, it also demands focus and intentional action. The choices you make now will heavily influence the paths available to you.”
I sat back down on the edge of my bed, the weight of her words settling over me like a lead blanket. “So, no pressure, right?”
“On the contrary,” she said. “The pressure is significant. This is an opportunity to define your role and capabilities within this world. It is in your best interest to use the remaining two years to optimize your profile.”
Her words hung in the air, stark and unyielding. She wasn’t wrong. The nobles I’d envied and resented since arriving in the capital—they’d been preparing for this milestone their whole lives, guided by family resources and inherited knowledge. I was coming into it with whatever scraps I could gather, cobbled together from stolen moments of research and the lessons I learned dodging knives in the shadows of the Festival of Sin.
“We’ll prepare,” I said finally, my voice low but firm. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Agreed,” Hexa said. “This will require a multi-pronged approach: continued mana absorption, targeted physical training, exploration of combat techniques, and an expansion of your knowledge base.”
I exhaled, a mix of frustration and determination tightening in my chest. “So... no sleep for the next two years, huh?”
“Sleep remains a necessary biological function,” Hexa replied. “However, efficient time management will be critical.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips. “No rest for the future class creator.”