📖 CHAPTER 1 – “BEYOND THE THRESHOLD”

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I remembered the pull. The pressure. The world splitting apart. And now… nothing. Silence.

Not the kind that comes with a quiet room at night, filled with the distant hum of traffic or the soft creaks of settling wood. This was absolute.

Thick. Pressing. Wrong.

I didn’t move. Instinct held me still, years of training kicking in before conscious thought could catch up. Listen. Observe. Assess before acting.

Except—there was nothing to assess.

Too dark to see details. No airflow. No sound. No obvious threats. Even my own breathing felt… distant.

Time to move.

The ground beneath me was smooth stone—and warm. Not like sunlit pavement, but like something alive. A slow pulse ran through it, faint but steady—a heartbeat beneath my skin.

That set off every internal alarm I had.

I opened my eyes.

Light flickered along the walls. Golden veins pulsed erratically, carved into towering stone. The air was thick with pressure, something I couldn’t name pressing into my bones. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, lost in shadow.

The walls weren’t just flickering—they were pulsing. Struggling.

A temple. Or something like one.

Not abandoned, but… waning.

I exhaled, jaw tightening. It didn’t matter what this place was.

“Spark.”

The name rasped from my throat before I even processed speaking.

Silence.

I turned sharply, already scanning. My body moved too smoothly, ignoring the usual sluggishness that should come with waking up in a place I didn’t recognize.

I flexed my fingers. No stiffness. No delay. A test. How much force could I use?

Spark wasn’t beside me.

That wasn’t right.

Pushing up onto one knee, I braced my hands against the stone—too easy, too steady. My pulse was climbing, my mind shoving aside every creeping realization because it didn’t matter right now.

Find Spark.

I rose fully, my voice stronger this time.

“Spark!”

The name echoed back at me, swallowed by the vast chamber.

No answering yip. No scrabble of claws.

Nothing.

A cold weight settled in my chest.

I took a step forward. Then another. My mind was still piecing things together, but my instincts had locked onto something else entirely—

If he was here, he wasn’t moving.

And that was unacceptable.

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I steadied myself.

The ground beneath my feet was too stable.

I moved—and nothing resisted me. No hesitation, no sluggishness, no whisper of old wounds holding me back. It was wrong. And I wasn’t sure if I liked it.

That was new.

I shoved the thought aside. Priorities.

“Spark!”

The name rang out again, swallowed by the emptiness. No familiar rustling, no soft breathing.

My chest tightened.

That was not acceptable.

I started moving.

Not faster. Not stronger. Just… unhindered. The tiny adjustments I always made—the slight favoring of my knee, the subtle bracing of my lower back—gone.

Not healed. Just… gone.

I ran a hand along the nearest pillar. The runes beneath my fingers pulsed weakly, gold flickering against the stone before dimming out.

A slow tremor curled through the floor, deep and deliberate, like something shifting far below. The air pressed inward, thick and waiting.

Then—movement.

Near the base of a pillar, a small shape stirred.

I was already moving.

Spark lay sprawled on the stone, belly up, his feathery tail twitching faintly. His silky, ruby-red coat barely caught the failing glow of the runes, ears drooped over his paws.

His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm.

Unbothered. Completely untouched.

Relief hit me hard.

Then the little idiot snorted himself awake with a full-body sneeze, blinking groggily before letting out a deep, theatrical yawn.

He smacked his lips, stretched luxuriously, then rolled onto his stomach with all the urgency of a cat in a sunbeam.

I just stared.

This damn dog.

I crouched beside him, pressing a hand against his side. Warm. Solid. Normal.

Spark blinked up at me with big, trusting eyes. His tail gave a lazy thump against the stone, his front paws stretching forward in a dramatic, indulgent stretch.

“Yeah, nice to see you too, buddy,” I muttered, rubbing behind his ears.

Spark let out a sigh of deep, unearned satisfaction and melted into the touch, tail wagging harder.

Exactly the same.

My jaw tightened.

Something was wrong.

Not with him.

With me.

Spark wasn’t acting weird. He was exactly the same.

I was the one who felt… off.

I exhaled sharply, standing. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

Spark huffed happily and trotted after me without hesitation, completely unbothered by the ancient, probably-haunted temple crumbling around us.

I took two steps—then stopped.

The air shifted again.

The last weak pulse of gold in the runes stilled.

Not faded. Not drained. Waiting.

Spark stopped, his tail pausing mid-wag, his ears flicking toward the altar ahead.

I followed his gaze.

And something stirred in the air.

Something was watching.

This was just the beginning.

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The chamber stretched endlessly, a vast space carved from stone that didn’t quite feel like stone. The air was thick, not with dust, but with something else, something I couldn’t name.

Spark padded along beside me, tail swishing lightly, his nails tapping softly against the stone floor. Completely unbothered, as if we were just out for an evening stroll.

Me? Not so much.

The deeper we moved into the hall, the more the space felt aware of us. The towering pillars lining the chamber flickered with unsteady golden veins, the engraved runes pulsing in no discernible rhythm. A failing heartbeat.

I exhaled slowly. I wasn’t a fan of places that reacted to my presence.

Something shifted.

Not the ground—the air itself.

The space tightened, a weight pressing down on my shoulders, thickening with a hum that crawled up my spine.

Then the altar ahead of me lit up.

Golden radiance surged from its carved surface, sudden and absolute, like someone had flipped a switch from dead to divine. The pulsing veins across the chamber snapped into sync, I could somehow feel like all energy was converging toward the center in delicate, spiraling lines of molten light.

Then it snapped, like a misfiring synapse. For a fraction of a second, the temple itself hesitated.

Spark stopped, eyes widening, tail stiff. He let out a quiet huff—not alarmed, just… interested.

I took an instinctive step back. “Yeah, I don’t like that.”

The glow intensified, then flickered. Just once.

A deep hum resonated through the chamber, not a sound, but a vibration, something that rattled in my bones instead of my ears. The altar itself wasn’t speaking—but something else was.

> “At last.”

The words weren’t spoken. They rang through my skull, clear and absolute, like they’d been placed there rather than heard.

Then the glow above the altar shifted.

Tendrils of golden light curled inward, spiraling, folding in on themselves. And then, with an impossible perfection, they coalesced into the shape of a woman.

Tall. Flowing robes of gold and white, blending seamlessly into the light itself. Her face was sharp, striking, her amber eyes burning with a radiance that made it hard to focus on them directly. She wasn’t standing on the altar—she was part of it, an extension of its glow, something more than physical.

Power radiated from her in slow, rhythmic waves, not heat, not pressure—just presence.

> “You have arrived.”

Spark wagged his tail.

I, however, stayed exactly where I was.

Her gaze fixed on me, pinning me in place.

The golden aura surrounding her pulsed, her voice carrying a weight that settled into the bones of the world itself. It wasn’t just powerful—it was overwhelming.

And yet…

Something about it felt unstable.

Her light flickered on occasion. Just for a fraction of a second.

That shouldn’t happen. A leader losing control in front of subordinates? That was the start of a negotiation losing leverage.

The thought hit me then, a god descending should have been unshakable.

I kept my voice neutral. “And you would be?”

Her eyes locked onto mine, unblinking.

> “I am Athena, Keeper of Knowledge.”

A beat of silence stretched between us.

Then she inclined her head slightly. Her expression was unreadable, but something about the motion felt off—like she was calculating, recalibrating.

Her eyes lost focus, and she murmured something under hear breath.

> “…unknown… issues.. attuning…”

Then she refocused her eyes and found me, before saying with the same unwavering confidence and strenght as she started, like nothing happened.

> “And you… are the one known as Rick.”

Something about the way she said it made my skin crawl.

She hadn’t asked.

She knew.

I resisted the urge to shift my stance. “Lucky guess?”

The air pulsed.

> “No.”

Another pause.

Then her gaze narrowed, as if she was truly seeing me for the first time. As if something wasn’t quite right.

> “Your arrival was… premature.”

And just like that, the first crack in her godlike presence appeared.

I almost didn’t notice it—just the barest flicker in her aura, the slightest moment of hesitation in her words.

But it was there.

And that meant something wasn’t going according to plan.

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A stillness settled between us. Not peace—anticipation.

Athena’s golden aura rippled, the light around her shifting in subtle, uneven waves. She stood tall, commanding, but something was wrong.

Not hesitation. Not fear. A cost.

A crack in control. I’d seen it before—in boardrooms, in negotiations. The moment someone overextends.

She had spent too much.

And that meant I can take advantage of the situation. I have leverage.

The chamber around us reacted in kind. The golden veins along the walls dimmed, their pulse unsteady—not dying, but struggling.

Athena’s gaze held mine, unreadable. Then, after a long moment, she spoke.

> “They encroach. The temple is no longer safe.”

A flicker ran through the air—not seen, not heard, but felt. The weight of the space around us shifted, like something vital had loosened from its foundations.

I was already feeling tired of this mystical charade. So many cryptical statements doing nothing for my trust factor.

I crossed my arms. “And that has something to do with why you dragged me here early?”

Athena lifted a hand, fingers curling slightly, as if feeling something unseen. The glow around her flared too sharply, then pulled back inward, like fire consuming the last of its fuel.

> “The Wells were strained beyond their limit. There was no choice.”

Her tone was absolute.

The golden veins that ran along the altar pulsed once more, weaker than before.

I wasn’t the only one noticing it.

Athena’s eyes flicked downward—just for a second. A slight movement, one that shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

She wasn’t expecting this.

Regardless of my own thoughts on this whole thing, one thing remained crucial- Information is key for survival. That is true anywhere, be it on Earth or in whatever this Fantasy land is.

I inhaled slowly. “How bad?”

> “The Summoning demanded more than was left to give.”

A deep hum resonated through the chamber. Not a tremor. Not a quake. A warning.

My gaze flicked to the temple walls. The runes, once constant, were failing in stages. Some barely flickered, others had already gone dark.

The temple wasn’t just reacting to me anymore.

It was collapsing.

Oh good, more good news.

And so was she.

Athena stood firm, her expression betraying no alarm, no fear.

Only purpose.

Then, for the first time, something shifted in her tone.

> “This place was once a beacon.”

The words carried weight, layered with something I couldn’t quite place.

> “The devotion that once flowed here has withered. It is no wonder the Wells have faltered.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh great. So I got drafted to fix divine plumbing?”

A pause. Her eyes—not glowing embers anymore, but something more distant, more searching—fixed on me.

> “Once, the temple thrived on faith.-on belief Now, none remain who remember, let alone believe.”

Another pulse ran through the temple. This time, it did not recover.

> “Rick.”

The weight behind my name rippled outward.

The golden veins surged one last time—then flickered violently, like a flame starved of oxygen. A pulse ran through the chamber, not stone crumbling, but energy displacing. A sensation of something pulling inward—like reality was shifting under its own weight.

She wasn’t fading.

She was spending what little she had left.

For what, I had no idea.

But whatever came next, it wasn’t going to be my choice.

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The chamber was dying.

Golden veins traced the stone, their glow now dim, pulsing faintly like the last embers of a great fire. The walls no longer thrummed with life—they waited.

Athena stood at the heart of it all, the light surrounding her flickering, unsteady. She was waning.

She knew.

This was not how it was meant to happen.

She lifted her hand toward me, slow and deliberate.

> “I will not fade.”

The words rang through the air—not as sound, but as truth.

A crack of golden light splintered across her form, jagged like lightning frozen in place. The radiance surrounding her rippled, momentarily fraying at the edges—not in failure, but in sacrifice.

The pulse beneath the temple’s foundation shuddered. Not collapsing—shifting.

Something ancient realigning itself.

My instincts screamed at me to move. To evade. But something deeper—something far older than instinct itself—held me in place.

This was not an attack.

This was a claiming.

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I exhaled sharply, bracing myself for the weight of it. For unbearable pressure, for the divine presence pressing into my bones, for pain—

But there was none.

No fire. No suffocating force.

The light did not strike me. It entered me—flawlessly, seamlessly, like I had been shaped to receive it long before I had even arrived.

A golden radiance folded into me, pouring through my chest, settling into my very being.

Not a presence that overwhelmed. A presence that belonged.

My breath caught.

The world did not blur. My body did not weaken.

I remained whole.

And yet, I knew.

Something had changed.

A whisper stirred through my mind—not spoken, not sent—woven into the fabric of my thoughts as if it had always been there.

> “I shall remain.”

The words did not echo. They did not demand.

They simply were.

Spark whined beside me, ears twitching. His nose flared, scenting something unseen, his tail lowering—not in fear, but recognition.

He knew, too.

I clenched my jaw, pressing a hand to my chest, expecting—what? A pulse of divine fire? A mark seared into my skin? A weight that did not belong?

Instead, there was nothing.

Only stillness.

Only presence.

I was unchanged.

And yet, I was no longer only myself.

I swallowed, exhaling sharply. “Athena.”

Athena’s presence pulsed—then, for the briefest moment, I felt nothing. No divine weight. No tether. Just void.

No response.

No voice in my ear. No command.

She was silent.

Not gone. Dormant.

A goddess bound within me.

Goddess, hah! Let’s roll with that for now.

The breath left me slow and steady. Too steady.

Then—a flicker.

Not in the air.

Not in the temple.

Within my sight.

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[Interface Notification] - [New Quest: Restore the [Mana Wells] 0/5] - [Reward: The temple survives] - [Penalty: The temple collapses] - [Timed Quest: 4 Days 23:59:59]

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I barely reacted.

Not because it wasn’t alarming—but because some part of me had already known.

The knowledge had settled inside me as naturally as breath. A purpose given. A path woven before me.

It was at that moment that the vibrations started. The floor shook ominously like a giant organism trying to shake off a pack of fleas.

They lasted for a full heartbeat making me skip one of those myself, until. They settled, like nothing had happened in the first place.

I pinched my nose. “Huh?”

The golden veins along the walls pulsed weakly. The temple waited.

I let out a slow breath. “Oh, wonderful. A dying sanctuary, a goddess in my skull, and now divine obligations.”

Spark huffed beside me.

I turned to him, hoping—foolishly—for some kind of grounding reassurance from my perfectly normal, not-at-all-magical, completely mundane dog.

He wagged his tail.

Useless.

I ran a hand through my hair, steadying myself. One thing at a time.

Athena remained.

The temple was failing.

A path had been set.

I wasn’t really sure what to think about all this. Too many occurrences, too quickly to process them fully.

I took deep breaths, leaning against a wall nearby, recentering myself.

Apparently I was summoned here by some sort of divine ritual carried out by a dying? damaged? broken? goddess??? The underlying implications were obvious, magic and divinity were implied, never stated, but one needs not be a genius to make that leap.

My brain eventually settled enough to remind myself of Arthur C. Clarke: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

Magic and Divinity, whatever those things were, or were not, was a problem for another day. If that’s what the locals called it, I’ll go with it for now, best to make sure I communicate targeting my audience after all.

I squared my shoulders and exhaled.

“Right,” I muttered, staring at the altar. “I guess that means I should probably start giving a damn.”

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Silence settled over the chamber.

Not peace. Not emptiness.

Just the kind of unnatural stillness that came after something massive had shifted out of place.

The air was thinner now, quieter. Athena was gone. Her presence had been weighty, vast, a force pressing down on reality. Now, that force had withdrawn, and the room felt…hollow.

I clenched my jaw. The veins were still holding—barely. If they went dark, what would happen? Would the roof cave in? Would the entire temple collapse?

But the world hadn’t just snapped back to normal.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected—flashing red lights, an alarm blaring, a massive WARNING: SYSTEM FAILURE message hovering over my head?

What I got instead was the quiet hum of a place that no longer knew what to do with itself.

And the ominous text still floating in my vision.

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[Interface Notification] - [Timed Quest: Restore the [Mana Wells] 0/5 - 4 Days 23:59:45]

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I inhaled slowly, trying to push past the low throb in my skull. “Right. Okay.”

Five days.

Not immediate catastrophe. Not a countdown to the floor disintegrating beneath my feet. Just… a timer I didn’t understand for a problem I didn’t know how to solve.

No big deal.

Spark sat beside me, watching with those dark, too-calm eyes. His tail swished once against the stone.

I glanced at him. “You got any insights on how to fix a [Mana Well]?”

He sneezed.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

I exhaled and turned my attention back to the chamber.

Whatever power had run this place was fading, and I had no idea how to stop it. I wasn’t about to run into the unknown without at least trying to understand what was happening first.

I needed answers.

What the hell was a [Mana Well]? How did it work? How was I supposed to “restore” it?

If I was lucky, there might be some kind of clue left in this room.

I took a slow step forward, eyes scanning the chamber for anything that stood out.

The golden veins lining the walls were dim but not fully dead. Their glow flickered erratically, like dying embers struggling to hold on.

And then I saw it.

A cluster of deep, runic engravings near the base of one of the massive stone pillars. Different from the rest. Older, maybe. The symbols weren’t flickering—they were holding steady.

That meant something.

I crouched down beside them, reaching out cautiously. My fingertips brushed against the stone—

A pulse of warmth.

I jerked my hand back.

Not pain. Not an attack.

Just… recognition.

Like the chamber had acknowledged me.

Spark tilted his head, watching me like I’d just done something mildly interesting.

I frowned. “What the hell are you trying to tell me?”

The air shifted again.

Not from the temple.

From inside my own head.

A low mutter brushed through my mind, faint and irritated.

> “Took you long enough.”

I went completely still.

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My body was still locked in place as the words rippled through my brain like an aftershock.

> “Took you long enough.”

The pulse of warmth beneath my fingers hadn’t faded. It still lingered, pressing into my palm, an acknowledgment of something I hadn’t fully grasped yet.

The temple had recognized me.

Now, apparently, so had something else.

I pulled my hand back from the runes, fingers curling instinctively into a fist. The voice hadn’t come from the chamber.

It had come from inside my own head.

Spark gave a soft huff, his tail flicking lazily against the stone. Completely at ease.

I exhaled slowly, my mind already running through the possibilities.

No one else was here.

Athena was gone.

The only other presence in this room was—

> “Oh, don’t strain yourself, man. Thinking’s never been your strong suit.”

I snorted before I even realized what I was doing.

“Yeah, well, at least I still have a brain. What’s your excuse?”

The words left my mouth on pure instinct. A response so deeply ingrained it came before thought, before realization—before the weight of who I was responding to caught up.

A half-second beat of silence.

Spark perked up slightly, ears twitching at the sharp pause in my sentence.

My jaw tightened.

I ran the conversation back in my head.

One sentence.

Two voices.

Only one of them was mine.

My breath stalled.

Not possible. Not him.

I turned my head slightly, like I expected to find something, but there was nothing—just empty space and the dying glow of temple runes.

And yet, his voice had been there. Clear as day.

My stomach knotted. My brain refused to move past the impossibility of it.

Interstellar communication, or worse, multi-dimensional communication, was definitely not a thing.

I wet my lips, trying to make the question feel real. “…Fred? What the hell are you doing in my head?”

Another beat of silence.

Then, a long-suffering sigh.

> “Took you long enough, dumbass.”

I froze.

My thoughts stuttered, tripping over themselves. My brain tried—and utterly failed—to reconcile what I’d just heard with where I was.

Fred’s voice was clear as day, as real as if he were sitting across from me with that same smug, self-satisfied expression he always wore whenever he got the upper hand.

Except he wasn’t.

He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be. Could he?

I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay even. “Okay. I have some questions.”

> “Yeah? Well, so do I. Like, why the hell am I in your head?”

Another pause.

I exhaled sharply and rubbed my temples. “You know, I was about to have my own existential crisis, but clearly, you’ve got dibs.”

> “Damn right I do.”

The glow of the runes dimmed further, their once-thrumming energy settling into the stone. Yet, something beneath the surface had changed.

I could feel it.

Not just in the air—but in me.

It wasn’t a revelation. It was a realization. A quiet shift, like the moment before waking up, when you become aware of yourself again.

Like I had suddenly unveiled something.

And the moment that thought took shape—I knew.

There was no blinding light. No cascading notifications.

It should have been jarring. It should have unsettled me. But it felty eerily natural.

Just an undeniable certainty, settling into my thoughts like it had always been there—waiting.

For a moment, it felt like I was standing outside myself, staring inward. And then-understanding

I could see myself. My strengths, my weaknesses—laid bare in my mind with the cold weight of truth.

Like a sheet of cold, unchangeable reality.

Not something I had learned.

Something I had always been.

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Attributes

Body Attributes

Attribute Value Commentary Agility 7 “I don’t trip over my own feet—usually. Progress!” Dexterity 8 “Keyboarding speed? Unmatched. Swordplay? TBD.” Endurance 6 “Pulling all-nighters isn’t quite the stamina benchmark I hoped.” Strength 5 “I’ve moved furniture solo. That counts, right?”

Mind Attributes

Attribute Value Commentary Charisma 15 “Years of talking down angry bosses have paid off.” Intelligence 20 “My real superpower—too bad this world lacks a functioning API.” Willpower 19 “Surviving corporate bureaucracy hardened this stat.” Wisdom 17 “Mistakes teach you wisdom. I’ve had a thorough education.”

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“Huh. That’s weird.”

I blinked. “What is?”

“Dunno. Just had a moment where I—huh. Nevermind. It’s fine now.”

That was not reassuring.

A pause. I could sense Fred deep in thought.

But eventually, like he dismissed the whole thing, Fred whistled low. “Well, damn. You got a cheat sheet now?”

I didn’t answer. Because that wasn’t all.

This wasn’t just stats.

It was me—every skill I had ever honed, every instinct I had developed, every quirk that had shaped me.

I could feel them. The things that made me… me.

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Rick’s Traits

Learned Traits

Trait Effect Quip Unyielding Spirit Increases Endurance and Willpower by 30% in high-stress situations. “My soul is stubborn. Who knew?” Natural Diplomat Increases Charisma by 15% when engaging in persuasion or conflict mediation. “Never thought office politics would pay off.” Analytical Vision Enhances Intelligence by 20% when identifying patterns, weaknesses, or inconsistencies. “When in doubt, look for the cracks.” Moral Anchor Temporarily boosts Willpower and Charisma by 10% for allies in high-stakes situations. “Great, I’m the group therapist now.” Dogged Loyalty Enhances Wisdom and Intelligence by 15% when performing actions with trusted companions. “The goodest boy deserves the goodest friend.” Crisis Strategist Improves Wisdom and Intelligence Efficiency by 15% in emergencies. “Step 1: Don’t panic. Step 2: Fix it fast.” Empathic Observer Increases Wisdom and Charisma by 20% when detecting hidden motives or reading people. “Reading people: a skill forged in bad interviews.” Resilient Heart Enhances Endurance and Strength by 25% during rest or after injuries. “Sleep is for the weak. Or the sensible.” Humor as Armor Reduces morale loss by reinforcing Willpower by 10% in grim situations. “When all else fails, laugh in its face.” Strategic Leadership Boosts Willpower and Intelligence by 20% when leading a team. “Leadership: fewer speeches, more action.” Conflict Resolution Temporarily boosts Charisma and Wisdom by 25% when resolving disputes. “Yes, I’ll hold the group therapy session.” Mentorship Increases Wisdom and Intelligence by 15% for mentored allies. “Great, I’m the teacher now. Where’s the syllabus?”

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Innate Traits

Trait Effect Quip Adaptable Mind Enhances Intelligence and Wisdom by 20% when tackling unfamiliar challenges. “Creativity: Just code for improvisation.” Vision of Possibility Increases Wisdom and Intelligence by 10% when working toward unique solutions. “I don’t see what is. I see what could be.” Process Optimization Boosts Intelligence and Wisdom by 20% in resource and time management. “Efficiency is just laziness in disguise.” Tenacious Learner Reduces penalties for failure and improves Intelligence by 20% in repeated attempts. “Failure: free lessons with a side of pain.” Self-Taught Genius Enhances Intelligence and Wisdom by 25% when acquiring new skills or knowledge. “College of YouTube, Dean of Me.”

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Racial Traits

Trait Effect Quip Limitless Potential Removes caps on Attributes, Skills, and Magical Growth. “A literal blank slate with infinite potential. No pressure.” Mystical Resilience Increases Wisdom and Intelligence by 10% against magical or environmental effects. “Being hard-headed finally pays off.” Adaptive Mastery Grants the ability to gain racial abilities through resonance and synchronization. “Yes, I absorb cool powers now. No, I can’t explain it.” Ethereal Presence Temporarily enhances Charisma and Wisdom by 15% in social or combat scenarios. “Turns out, charisma’s not just for job interviews.”

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I had seen myself in mirrors, in memories. But this? This wasn’t reflection. This was absolute. No bias, no deception—just reality, laid bare.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Fred, of course, had zero chill.

> “Soooo… what’s the damage? Are you secretly a god now, or just a level one scrub?”

He took a dramatic pause, before adding with a hint of sarcastic hesitation.

> “You realize you are weirdly sharp for someone who just got isekai’d. Shouldn’t you be a little more shell-shocked?”

I ignored him, staring at the knowledge etched into me.

This wasn’t a game.

This was me.

And for the first time since waking up here…

I had a path forward.

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For the first time since waking up in this temple, I was beginning to accept that my day had reached peak absurdity.

The glowing runes.

The ancient goddess embedding herself in my skull.

The disembodied voice of my best friend casually complaining about his new existence as an intrusive thought.

All of it had pushed my suspension of disbelief to its breaking point.

And yet—none of it compared to what happened next.

Spark sniffed at the last still-lit pillar, nose twitching as if contemplating some deep philosophical truth.

I glanced at him. “Hey, Spark. Maybe don’t mess with the—”

Too late.

He lifted his leg.

Fred and I both watched in mute horror as my tiny, floppy-eared Cavalier King Charles Spaniel unleashed holy war upon the last functional piece of divine architecture.

For a single, terrifying second, nothing happened.

Then—

The golden light of the pillar pulsed violently, flaring outward in a wave of divine energy.

The impact lifted Spark clean off the ground.

He somersaulted midair, tail over ears, caught in the kind of slow-motion display you’d expect from a tragic action sequence—only instead of a dramatic explosion, he was just rotating uselessly in an arc of shimmering gold.

Then, he landed.

Perfectly upright.

Completely unbothered.

A faint shimmer briefly flickered across his fur before fading entirely.

He sneezed. A full body sneeze for dramatic effect as he is wont to do.

I blinked once. Twice. Just to make sure I hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

Fred broke the silence first.

> “Well. That just happened.”

I rubbed my face. “You know, I think I’m done. I think I’ve officially hit my daily limit of ‘what the actual hell’ moments.”

Spark sniffed at his own fur, apparently unimpressed by his newfound divine baptism.

Then he turned, locked eyes with me—held my gaze—and, with the unwavering confidence of a creature who had made a decision he was proud of…

He huffed. He puffed. He shook his body awake, sending droopy ears all over the place.

And then—

Lifted his leg again.

But before he could follow through—

The entire chamber shuddered.

A deep, vibrating thrum resonated through the stone, not sound but force, a wave of pure pressure hammering outward from the altar. The golden veins lining the walls flared violently, then snapped to black.

Spark yelped, ears flattening as he stumbled back, his tail dropping.

Fred lost it. “Oh my god, he pissed off an entire temple system—literally.”

The altar’s glow collapsed inward, folding into itself like a dying star. A moment later, golden sigils flickered into existence mid-air, sharp and unfamiliar, a sequence of arcane scripture rewriting itself.

Athena’s voice returned, faint but filled with absolute horror.

“The beast has desecrated the—”

Her words cut out abruptly.

The interface flashed red.

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[Interface Update] - [Timed Quest: Restore the [Mana Wells] 0/5 - 1 Day 23:45:00]

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I inhaled very slowly.

Fred sounded like he was barely holding it together.

> “Rick, I need you to process this. I need you to fully grasp that your dog just committed high blasphemy—twice.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh great. My dog’s declaring war on the gods.”

Fred actually lost it.

Spark, meanwhile, wagged his tail, completely and utterly proud of himself.

I sighed. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Why not. Let’s just roll with it. What is another day in a quest to do something I know nothing about?”

My mind kept trying to file this under ‘deal with later.’

Like I could shove reality into a backlog queue and pretend this wasn’t happening in real time.

I was fine with that.

Because at this point, what the hell else was I supposed to do?

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

The laughter was still fading when I felt it.

A shift.

Not in the chamber, not in my head—outside.

Spark’s head snapped toward the temple entrance, his tail slowing mid-wag.

I turned, scanning the vast hall, but the flickering glow of the runes made it hard to tell where the shadows ended and the stone began.

Something about the air felt different now.

> “You feel that?”

Fred’s voice was sharp, humor gone.

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I reached out—not physically, but instinctively, the way a soldier listens past gunfire for the movement that really matters.

It wasn’t a sound.

Not exactly.

It was a pressure, a shift in the environment like a current moving through deep water.

And it was getting closer.

I exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I feel it.”

Spark let out a soft whine, shifting closer to my leg. He wasn’t afraid—not exactly. More like he was acknowledging the change.

The golden veins along the walls dimmed just a little more.

> “So, tell me,” Fred muttered, “are we assuming this is friendly company, or are we going full ‘violently territorial crypt guardian’ on this one?”

I squared my shoulders, rolling out the tension in my neck.

“Let’s assume they’re hostile, and they’re not getting the fight they want.”

> Fred made an exagerated exhaling sound in my head. “Fantastic. So we’re in agreement that we’re completely screwed?”

“Good to be on the same page.”

I took a measured step back, keeping my gaze locked on the door to the chamber.

Then I noticed it.

Just past the altar, leaning against the base of a carved stone pillar, sat a metal rod. Not discarded—placed. A ceremonial relic, maybe. Not a sword. Not a spear. But it had weight, and right now, that was enough.

I strode over and grabbed it, testing the balance in my grip. Slightly top-heavy, but serviceable.

Not a sword. Not a spear.

But still a weapon.

> “Oh wow. Look at you, already looting the place.”

I ignored Fred.

Instead, I focused.

That shifting pressure in the air had changed—no longer a vague unease, but a sound now, faint but distinct.

The chittering sounds didn’t just grow—they spread.

First a whisper. Then a tide.

Layers of movement skittering over each other, overlapping, tangled—until it was impossible to tell how many things were out there.

Then, all at once—silence.

My grip tightened on the rod.

The pause wasn’t relief. It was calculation.

A single, sharp click echoed from beyond the door. The air grew thick, damp—not with moisture, but something else, something too warm, too alive. Like breath against my skin where there should be none.

Not a random scuttle. Not an accident.

A test.

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

The silence stretched.

Spark stood motionless, nose twitching, eyes locked on the door. Listening. Waiting.

Then—

The silence broke.

Not all at once—but piece by piece.

A slow chitter. A shifting scrape. Then another.

Like something stretching its limbs after a long wait.

Spark stood poised at the door, tail stiff, nose twitching—calm, where he shouldn’t be.

As usual. That silly dog always thinks everyone is his new best friend.

Then a pause, the sounds stopped for a heartbeat, maybe two, before the chittering and scraping resumed.

I gripped the ceremonial metal rod, shifting my stance, the weight of it settling against my palm. Not ideal. Not a proper weapon. But it would do.

Spark stayed close to my leg, his head tilted toward the source of the sound, ears twitching. Not afraid. Just waiting.

Fred exhaled in my head, somewhere between exasperated and intrigued.

> “So, what’s the plan, fearless leader? Charge in swinging, or are we actually going to use some of that ‘tactical genius’ you keep pretending to have?”

I smirked, but my focus stayed locked on the archway ahead.

If I could force them into a bottleneck, I could control the pace. If they swarmed me all at once, I was dead. But if I made them come in small waves…

“No charging. No swinging. We control the fight.”

I took another step forward, eyes narrowing as I studied the ancient stone doors leading out of the chamber.

They weren’t fully open—just slightly ajar, enough that whatever was moving outside hadn’t poured in yet. That was an advantage.

I could use it.

> “Oh, here we go,” Fred muttered, “your inner control freak is kicking in. Should I be worried?”

I ignored him.

Instead I glanced around once more, confirming there’s only one way in. If they came through here, they had no other exits—but neither did I.

So I crouched slightly, tapping the flat of the metal rod against the floor—once, twice—just enough to create a controlled sound.

The chittering spiked.

Movement. A rush of small, scuttling limbs scrambling against stone.

But they didn’t charge in.

Not yet.

> “Huh. They’re hesitating,” Fred noted.

“Yeah.”

I tapped the rod against the ground again, sharper this time.

Another wave of skittering movement—closer, but still not rushing me.

That confirmed it.

They weren’t mindless.

They were testing the space, responding to input.

They weren’t just tracking movement. The pause in their clicks, the way the air shifted before they moved—it wasn’t random.

They were studying me, the same way I was studying them.

I exhaled slowly. “Alright. If they don’t want to commit, we’re not giving them a choice.”

> “Oh fantastic. I can hear the bad ideas forming in real time.”

I adjusted my grip on the rod and took another measured step toward the doors.

“Spark, stay behind me.”

The dog wagged his tail. Completely useless feedback, but I took it as compliance.

> “You do realize you’re about to start a fight with something you haven’t even seen yet, right?”

I reached out with my free hand and pressed lightly against the stone door.

The air beyond the archway carried a hint of something sharp, damp. Not rot, exactly—but close.

Just a test. A small shift.

The scraping and chittering spiked again.

I grinned.

“Yeah. And?”

> “And I’m just saying, I admire the dedication to bad decisions.”

I pushed the door open a fraction of an inch more.

Then I stopped.

Waited.

The chittering lurched forward.

Spark’s prepared to pounce, a low growl coming from his throat, tail lowering a fraction—not in fear, but anticipation.

I gripped the rod tighter and braced myself.

“Come on then,” I muttered.

“Alright. Let’s see what ugly looks like.”

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Far from the temple, unseen eyes marked the disturbance.

Their map flared to life.

A single pulse, brief and blinding, lit up the enchanted parchment like a sun bleeding into ink.

The Watcher’s fingers stilled over the edge of the table, his gaze narrowing at the sudden disturbance.

Not a minor shift. Not a natural fluctuation.

A rupture.

Something had awakened.

His cloak whispered as he moved, boots silent against the smooth stone of his observatory. A flick of his wrist sent the arcane map shifting, scrolling outward, the glowing threads rearranging themselves into a grander view.

Atlareon pulsed before him—a shifting weave of ley lines, flickering mana signatures, and carefully controlled energy flows.

All of it was predictable. Ordered. Measured. Even the chaotic Black Dungeons didn’t operate in this scale.

Except in this one occurence. There.

The pulse on the map hadn’t faded.

A jagged scar of raw energy burned at the very edge of the visible chart. Not natural. Not accidental.

Artificial. Long. Channelled.

As if a high-tier ritual was being performed.

In a random place in the Deadlands.

The Watcher exhaled slowly, fingers curling under his chin.

His fingers twitched—an old habit of anticipation.

The Deadlands had been abandoned for millenia. And for good reasons. Nothing of this scale should ever happen there.

And yet, it had—violently, like something had been invoked for a lengthy period.

That meant something—or someone—had caused it.

A disturbance of that magnitude would not go unnoticed.

Not by him.

Regardless of the others.

The Watcher studied the map for a long moment. He had seen many disturbances. None had ever burned like this.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he traced a single arcane symbol into the air.

The pulse locked into place, a permanent mark on the chart. A vow. A reminder.

Investigate.

He leaned back, tapping two fingers against the wood in thought.

A strange ripple of anticipation ran through him, though he wasn’t certain why.

Only that the world had just shifted, and he intended to find out why.

Soon.

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