📖 CHAPTER 3 – THE WEIGHT OF SURVIVAL

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The corridor was damp, the air thick with the scent of mildew and something else—something metallic. Blood, maybe. My fingers tightened around the ceremonial rod, its weight unfamiliar but comforting in my grip.

I took another step forward, careful not to make noise. Fred had gone quiet in my mind, the usual chatter absent. That wasn’t a good sign.

A flicker of motion in the dim torchlight. A figure. Broad shoulders, hunched forward. Dark green skin.

Orc. - Or at least I expected him to be one given the similarity to all those fantasy games I used to play.

I tried hiding in the shadows, but I was not good at it. A foot that moved too far gave me away when it hit subtly against the wall.

The sound felt like it propagated slowly across the corridor, until-

It took him less than a beat to realize I wasn’t one of his own.

It took him even less to react.

With a guttural snarl, he lunged, reaching for the sword strapped to his back—but he was too slow. His off-hand darted instead, pulling a dagger from his belt. A smarter move, faster.

I didn’t give him the chance to use it.

> [Shadow Blink – 0.5% Focus]

I was already moving before the thought fully formed, my body flickering forward in a whisper of darkness. The world blurred, and when it snapped back into focus, I was behind him.

He barely had time to flinch.

The first blow struck the side of his skull with a wet thud.

He staggered forward, dropping the dagger.

The second strike shattered bone.

The third turned his guttural cry into a gurgle.

I didn’t stop.

The rod was slick in my hands by the time the orc’s body stopped twitching. My breath came fast, my muscles tight. My arms burned from the exertion, but I felt something shift inside me—an adaptation, a reinforcement.

> [+1 Strength]

Apparently swinging a rod relentlessly into an Orc’s head was rewarding enough that my muscles started feeling like just slighly wet noodles.

The interface flickered again in my mind.

> [Essence Consumption Available] ** (1) Attribute Increase – Strength, Agility, Endurance. (2) Racial Ability – Warped Rat. (3) Racial Trait – Warped Rat.

I staggered a little. The adrenaline rush fading and the shakes hitting me full swing. My body was adjusting, but I still had control.

I took a slow breath, forcing my hands steady. The Essence pulsed inside me—raw potential, waiting. I couldn’t afford to waste it.

I hesitated, eyes flicking to the orc’s still form. I didn’t know how many more fights were ahead, but this thing had been strong. Durable. The kind of resilience I’d need.

A 10% boost to all body attributes. A solid return.

I focused, making my choice.

> [10 Orc Essence Consumed] [Orc Racial Trait Unlock – Brute Force: +10% to All Body Attributes]

A sudden rush filled my limbs, an undercurrent of raw power humming beneath my skin. My grip on the rod felt stronger, my breathing easier. But there was something else too. A weight in my gut.

I had killed before.

But this was different.

I reached down, looting the orc’s body with mechanical precision. A waist pouch—coins, but nothing else of value. The canteen—another hidden coin pouch.

Fred’s voice finally cut through the silence in my mind, quiet, almost hesitant.

> “That was… a bit much Rick. You still with me?”

The silence remained. I didn’t reply. I didn’t even think at this point.

> “You okay, Rick?”

I strapped the orc’s sword to my back, but my fingers remained curled around the ceremonial rod. It had done the job. Efficiently.

I wasn’t sure if that should make me feel better or worse.

> “Rick?” Fred tried again.

I exhaled, shaking the tension from my shoulders, and glanced down the darkened passage ahead. I knew the first Mana Well chamber lay waiting.

But before stepping into it, instinct took over.

I couldn’t leave things half-done—not out of paranoia, but something else, something ingrained.

Being thorough and methodical had saved my corporate hide more times than I could count. I figured it was even more important when my life was actually on the line. So…

I had to check the surroundings.

I explored the depths of the temple, but aside a minor skirmish with some more Warped Rats, and some strongly needed exasperation with Fred, I found nothing of note.

> [Essence Absorbed: Warped Rat – +18 Units] [Essence Consumed: -20 Warped Rat Essence → Strength +2]

As I returned, Spark paddling alongside me at a trot, my silence was interrupted. Fred’s voice was mockingly serious.

> “Found any more enemies to plunge your sword in? Had fun on your little foray?”

I grit my teeth. “I’ll never wield an orc sword again.”

> Fred’s laughter followed me all the way back to the Mana Well. “Some lessons my friend are learned only the hard way.”

I shook my head, staring at the sword like it was the source of all my problems.

The first Mana Well chamber lay waiting—right beyond the orc’s body.

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📊 Stat Changes

Attribute Value Commentary Strength 6 → 9 “I might not be breaking boulders, but I’m breaking skulls with a little less effort. That’s an upgrade.”

🟢 Essence Reserve

Essence Type Original Collected Spent Remaining 🐀 Warped Rat Essence +12 +18 -20 10 🏹 Orc Essence 0 +10 -10 0

📌 Trait Unlock:

Trait Name Type Description **Brute Force Racial Trait (Orc Essence) +10% to All Body Attributes**

Style: Analytical, immersive, with subtle environmental storytelling

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The first Mana Well chamber was larger than I expected—circular, domed, and lined with faintly glowing runes that pulsed like a dying heartbeat.

At the center lay the well itself: a stone basin embedded in the floor, veins of faded blue light running along its carved edges. It looked broken, or at least… out of sync.

I crouched beside it, tracing a finger along the engraved patterns. The structure was ancient, but the design had a deliberate logic to it.

Something had disrupted the system.

Fred’s voice cut through my focus, skeptical.

> “You really think you can fix this thing?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I studied the five connection points spaced evenly around the well. Their symbols weren’t just decorative; they were nodes in a larger circuit.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I think I can.”

Alignment puzzle. That’s what this was.

I closed my eyes for a second, running through the possibilities. This wasn’t just a well; it was a conduit, meant to channel something bigger. And if Athena had tried pulling from it before it was ready—

That’s it.

> [Mana Wells Disrupted. Cause: Sudden Overdraw.] [Backlash Effect: Misalignment of Mana Conduits.]

It made sense. She had forced an incomplete summoning, pulling more than the stockpile could handle. The result? A cascade failure that knocked the wells out of alignment.

I exhaled, my mind already working through the fix.

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Each node had a matching symbol along the stone ring encircling the well. The pieces needed to be realigned, but they weren’t identical—each one had a slightly different engraving, like a sequence.

A sequence. A pattern.

I placed my hands on the well, feeling the cold stone beneath my palms. The runes beneath my touch flickered in response—not fully dead, but waiting.

I twisted the first node, shifting it clockwise. A faint hum vibrated through the stone.

Good. That’s progress.

I adjusted the second, then the third. Each one had to be angled precisely, re-establishing the flow between them. The final adjustment clicked into place, and—

The well ignited.

A pulse of pure, blue energy surged outward, flowing along the engraved lines like water rushing through long-dry channels.

> [Quest Updated: 1/5 [Mana Wells] Restored.]

I stepped back as the chamber reacted.

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The runes on the walls brightened, illuminating the space with a deep, cerulean glow. The air itself felt… charged, alive in a way it hadn’t been moments ago.

Then, the reaction shifted.

The energy pulsed again, but this time, it wasn’t just the well reacting.

Something else had noticed me.

The air grew thick, pressing down like something unseen was watching. A distant chime echoed through the chamber, and then—

> [Sanctuary Rooms Activated.]

A low, mechanical grind rumbled beneath my feet. Across the room, part of the stone wall began to shift, revealing a passage that hadn’t been there before.

> [A Paragon is always welcome within these walls.]

The words weren’t just text in my vision.

I heard them.

A voice—cold, ancient, unmistakably artificial.

The weight in the air vanished as suddenly as it had come. The glow dimmed, the mana flow settling back to dormancy.

The temple had spoken.

And now, it was waiting.

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The newly revealed passageway loomed ahead, framed by faintly glowing runes that flickered, then faded. The surge of energy was gone, leaving behind an eerie silence.

> “Okay,” Fred muttered. “That was… not normal.”

I ran a hand along the ceremonial rod, grounding myself. Not normal was becoming the new baseline.

The Mana Wells had been knocked out of balance. Athena had done that.

But the temple recognizing me? That was something else entirely.

I exhaled slowly, shifting my back against the rough stone wall. Muscles ached. Joints protested. The battle had been over for minutes, but my mind refused to settle. The last orc had been strong—too strong. If I had hesitated even a fraction longer, I might have been the one bleeding out on the temple floor.

Fred, ever the conversationalist, filled the silence.

> “Alright, review time.” “We killed some big guys, stole their stats, and now you could probably arm-wrestle a gym rat into retirement.” “Not bad.”

I rubbed my forehead. “You left out the part where I somehow started understanding an orc mid-fight.”

> [Skill Unlocked: Atlareon Language Pack] All Atlareon dialects fully accessible. Fluency: Native (Universal Comprehension Achieved).

The words flickered across my vision, and my thoughts stuttered.

Fred went silent.

Then—

> “Hooooo boy.”

“What?” I muttered.

> “Nothing, nothing.” “Just admiring how you’re going full RPG protagonist.” “Next thing you know, you’ll be spontaneously learning kung fu by staring at a rock.”

I ignored him, focusing instead on the sensation in my head. It was like something had clicked—no, slotted into place. A part of my mind that had always been there, but somehow disconnected, suddenly reattached itself.

Some of the orc’s words when I was observing him, had made sense—fragments, not full sentences. But now? Now it was like I’d spoken Orcish my entire life.

I could understand various languages I hadn’t even known existed before arriving here. No, not just understand—fluency, like I had spoken them my entire life.

I turned my head toward the ancient walls of the temple, squinting at the faded inscriptions carved into the stone. And just like that—some of the symbols shifted, as if my brain was finally recognizing them for what they were.

Words.

Sentences.

They weren’t anything dramatic, or even, goddess forbid, marginally useful. Just readable now.

…Most of them, anyway.

Some markings remained gibberish, completely incomprehensible to me, as if the system had skipped those entirely.

I frowned.

> “Huh.” “Why do you look like someone just told you your entire life was a lie?”

“Some of the text is readable now,” I said, pointing at a nearby wall. “But not all of it.”

Fred whistled.

> “Oooh, so it’s not a full package deal.” “You got the ‘Lite’ version, huh? Guess divine freebies still come with missing features.”

“Or maybe it’s just a selective unlock,” I muttered.

The interface had specifically said: All Atlareon dialects.

So theoretically, whatever language I still couldn’t read wasn’t part of the local package. Either the skill was being weirdly selective… or some things just weren’t meant to be translated-Yet.

If it wasn’t a glitch in the skill, this could only mean one thing: Whatever was still gibberish wasn’t part of Atlareon’s dialects. Which raised the question—who had written them?

Fred hummed thoughtfully.

> “Yeah, that sounds suspiciously like a ‘gift from the celestial slacker’ kind of situation.”

I froze, then slowly turned my gaze upward—toward the unseen presence lurking in the depths of my mind.

Athena.

Or whatever remains of her.

She was silent, as always, an echo of power wrapped in dormancy. But was it really dormancy?

Fred whistled again.

> “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That depends. Are you thinking that our resident celestial deadbeat might actually be doing something useful for once?”

> “Yep!” “And boy, is that a hell of a twist.” “Turns out your divine sponsor is at least as competent as a community college language professor.” “Maybe even a tenured one.”

I groaned. “Fred.”

> “What? I’m just saying—useless or not, she’s apparently slightly more effective than your average overpriced linguistics course.”

“Yeah? Then why didn’t she give me this before I nearly got stabbed by an orc?”

> “Pfft. Part-time gods, man.” “Can’t trust ’em to be on schedule.” Fred snorted. “Honestly? At this rate, I’d settle for a divine intern.”

I let my head thunk back against the stone wall.

Whatever the reason, whatever mechanism was at play—I had full fluency now.

The questions could wait.

For now, I had bigger problems to deal with.

I took a step forward, toward the open passage.

Beyond it, the Sanctuary Room waited.

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The passage leading into the Sanctuary Room was narrower than I expected, the stone walls pressing in just enough to make me feel aware of every breath. The flickering runes barely illuminated the way, casting long shadows that shifted as I moved.

Fred’s voice was the first to break the silence.

> “So, uh… you sure we’re not about to be vaporized by some ancient trap?”

I stepped forward cautiously. “Not entirely.”

Fred made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

At the end of the corridor, the space widened into a circular chamber, its ceiling impossibly high, lined with glowing glyphs that pulsed in a rhythmic, steady beat—alive, but stable. Unlike the rest of the temple, this place felt intentional, not just abandoned ruins but a functioning space, waiting to be used.

And at its center, standing between two carved stone basins, was a small, verdant stalk curling up from the ground, its leaves a shimmering emerald. A few plump, golden beans hung from its vines, swaying slightly despite the still air.

To the right, a wide stone fountain trickled crystal-clear water, its surface shimmering with a faint, iridescent light.

Fred let out a low whistle.

> “Well, that’s either gonna kill us, or make us superheroes.”

I crouched, studying the runes embedded at the base of each structure. The text was similar to the temple’s earlier prompts but less… directive. More like labels.

[Vitality Vine] – Temporary Enhancement: +1 Body Attribute (12h)] [Fountain of Clarity] – Temporary Enhancement: +1 Mind Attribute (12h)]

It didn’t look cursed, which was nice.

Spark trotted up beside me, his tail swishing as he eyed the vine curiously. He sniffed, then—before I could stop him—snatched a bean off the stalk and gulped it down.

I braced for him to explode.

Instead, Spark’s ears twitched, and his body vibrated for a second before he gave a satisfied little huff and sat down, completely unfazed.

> “Guess that means it’s safe?” Fred muttered.

I plucked one of the golden beans, rolling it between my fingers before popping it into my mouth. It had a nutty, slightly sweet taste, dissolving the moment I bit down.

Warmth spread through my limbs, subtle but noticeable, like stretching after a long rest. Not dramatic, but… definitely real.

The water was next. I cupped my hands, drinking slowly. Cool, crisp—like drinking fresh mountain spring water, but somehow clearer.

> [Vitality Boost Applied: +1 to Body Attributes for 12h] [Clarity Boost Applied: +1 to Mind Attributes for 12h]

Fred snorted.

> “Great. Magic beans and magic water. We’re officially in a fairy tale.”

I ignored him, checking the basins to see if they replenished. The vine was visibly regrowing beans, and the water level in the fountain didn’t drop at all.

That meant supply wasn’t an issue.

With nothing attacking us and no urgent time limit, I finally let myself exhale.

“Alright,” I said, sitting down. “I need a break.”

Fred sounded relieved.

> “About damn time.”

I took the waist pouch I’d looted from the orc and carefully collected a week’s worth of rations—beans wrapped in a cloth strip, and a small waterskin filled from the fountain. Enough to last without worrying if the next few days got ugly.

Spark curled up beside me, his tail draped over his nose, already dozing off.

The ambient hum of the runes around us dimmed slightly. The air wasn’t just still—it was comfortable. Almost designed for rest.

For the first time since waking in this world, I let my body relax.

Sleep hit me fast.

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I woke to the feeling of hot breath on my face.

Something warm and heavy pressed down on my chest. A rhythmic, wet sensation dragged across my cheek.

I cracked open one eye.

And found Spark’s massive, fiery snout inches from my face.

His tongue, the size of my entire palm, licked across my cheek again—warm, not burning, but definitely uncomfortable.

And his weight? It was like a warm, living blanket—except way heavier. Also droolier.

I shot up instinctively, nearly knocking my head against his now absurdly large form.

> “The hell—!?”

Spark wagged his much bigger tail, his ears still droopy, his fur still the same ruby-red color, but now with a subtle, fiery glow pulsing beneath the surface.

Fred’s stunned voice filled my mind.

> “Uh… when the hell did Spark turn into a freakin’ horse?”

The giant, wolf-sized Ruby Cavalier blinked up at me, tail thumping, completely oblivious to his own transformation.

I looked at him in disbelief.

I slowly turned toward Spark, who sat patiently, his massive tongue lolling out in a happy pant.

> “Buddy… what the hell happened to you?”

Spark sneezed, a small puff of embers escaping from his fur.

I stared.

Fred let out a low, disbelieving laugh.

> “Well, Rick… congrats. Your dog evolved into a damn boss monster.”

Spark, completely unconcerned, shuffled closer and flopped onto my lap.

His huge, warm weight settled against me like nothing had changed.

Except now, he was half my size.

I groaned.

This was going to be interesting.

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🔥 Companion Evolution Summary – Spark > [Name: Spark] > Species: Ruby Cavalier King Charles Spaniel – Now with Extras, both in Size and Fire > Size: Large (Previously: Small)

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📊 Stat Boost Summary – Rick > [Temporary Enhancements: Active] > +1 Body Attribute (Vitality Boost – 12h) > +1 Mind Attribute (Clarity Boost – 12h)

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The Sanctuary Room remained dimly lit, its runes humming faintly with residual energy. Spark, now half my size and glowing faintly, was curled up beside me, dozing off like nothing had changed.

Fred, for once, was quiet.

I leaned back against the stone, finally allowing myself to breathe. My body was aching, but it wasn’t the all-consuming exhaustion I’d expected.

That was strange.

I pulled up the interface.

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> [Essence Reserves: Warped Rat Essence (10)] [Essence Consumption Available] Select Application Method (Costs 10 units of essence): (1) Attribute Increase – Strength, Agility, Endurance. (2) Racial Ability – Warped Rat. (3) Racial Trait – Warped Rat.

I hovered over my options. Strength was tempting—I could still feel the ache in my arms from the earlier fight—but raw power wasn’t my biggest issue.

I needed to last longer.

My lack of reasoning earlier already had made me waste enough essence on increasing strength. Fred can be… Distracting.

I shook off the thought and brought back my focus to the present.

Endurance.

I confirmed the choice.

> [Warped Rat Essence Consumed: 10] [Endurance +1]

No sudden surge, no dramatic transformation—just a gradual steadiness settling into my body.

It made sense.

Back on Earth, I’d spent twenty-five years fighting against my own limits. Every attempt to regain my fitness ended in failure—diets, workouts, even therapy. My body always lost.

But here?

Here, I could choose to get stronger.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

And this time, my body would listen.

It was already more progress in this single day than I had made in 25 years back home.

Hard to accept.

Even harder to actually believe it.

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The interface flickered.

> [Status Sheet Updated]

The layout had changed. More structured now, clearer. And at the top—something I hadn’t seen before.

> [Level: 4] [Grade: Initiate]

I frowned. Four?

“I thought I’d start at level one,” I muttered. “Why the hell am I already four?”

Fred made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh.

> “And yet, you’re still useless. Incredible.”

I ignored him, scanning the new information. The Grade system was new.

Initiate.

“What does ‘Grade’ even mean?” I murmured, more to myself than anyone.

Fred hummed.

> “Sounds like the system’s still treating you like a newbie.”

He wasn’t wrong.

If Levels and Grades were separate, then there was another hidden system at play.

I had no idea how either were calculated.

And that needed to change.

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The interface flickered again.

> [New Trait Unlocked: Paragon Initiate] [Paragon Attribute Activated: All Stats +2%]

Fred let out an exaggerated whistle.

> “Wow. A whole two percent. We are just drowning in power now.”

I sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. It’s not much.”

> “Oh, it’s garbage now,” Fred continued. “But gimme a second to do the math—yeah, this thing’s gonna get ridiculous later, huh?”

He had a point. A percentage-based boost meant it would scale.

Right now? Useless. Later? Potentially absurd.

I flexed my hands. I didn’t feel stronger, but…

I also wasn’t as tired as I should have been.

Fred caught onto it before I could say anything.

> “Wait. Why aren’t you more exhausted?”

He was right.

Even with the stat boosts, I should have been crashing hard. But I wasn’t.

I frowned. The interface wasn’t giving me answers.

Yet.

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Spark stirred beside me.

Head snapping up before I even moved.

His ears perked, and his gaze locked onto the far wall.

Something was there.

I followed his eyes, pushing to my feet.

A faint sound—a low, rhythmic tapping.

I grabbed the ceremonial rod and stepped forward.

Spark moved beside me, alert but not aggressive.

The tapping became clearer. Knuckles against wood.

A voice—hoarse, weak.

> “Is… someone there?”

I exchanged a look with Spark, then slowly pressed my palm to the doorway. The runes flickered.

With a soft click, the door unsealed.

Inside, slumped against the wall, a woman with dark, matted hair and sharp, wary eyes stared up at me. Her wrists were bound in arcane shackles, her clothing tattered but still carrying an air of nobility or status.

She looked like she hadn’t seen another person in days.

I met her gaze.

She didn’t speak immediately. She just… studied me.

Then, her voice came out low, uncertain.

> “Who the hell are you?”

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📊 Stat Summary – Rick > [Essence Consumed] > Warped Rat Essence (10) → Endurance +1

> [New Trait Unlocked: Paragon Initiate] Passive Effect: +2% to All Stats

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The chamber smelled like stale air, damp stone, and something metallic—blood, maybe. The flickering runes on the walls barely illuminated the figure inside.

She sat slumped against the far wall, her knees drawn up, wrists bound in arcane shackles. Her dark, tangled hair partially obscured sharp, wary eyes that flicked toward me with immediate suspicion.

I took a slow step forward.

> “Hey. You alright?”

No response.

Her expression didn’t change. Not relief, not gratitude.

Not even acknowledgment.

She just… stared.

Like I wasn’t even a person.

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I hesitated, glancing at her restraints. They were etched with unfamiliar symbols, glowing faintly with the same mana-infused energy as the temple.

“Can you stand?” I tried again.

Nothing.

No reaction, no movement.

Spark, however, had other ideas.

He trotted forward, tail wagging slightly, and sniffed at her boots. Then, deciding introductions were unnecessary, he flopped down beside her.

The weight of half a dog and a lot of heat finally earned a reaction.

She tensed, shifting slightly away—but when Spark made no move to attack, she stole a glance at him.

Her fingers twitched.

That was progress.

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

I crouched, keeping my voice level.

“You’re free now,” I said. “You don’t have to sit in here anymore.”

Still, nothing.

Not distrust.

Not confusion.

Just an absence of reaction.

It took me a second to understand what I was looking at.

She wasn’t ignoring me.

She was waiting.

Because, in her mind, I wasn’t a rescuer.

I was another captor.

And captors didn’t ask if she was okay. They didn’t offer help.

They told.

Her whole posture, her lack of response—she wasn’t defiant. She was bracing.

She was waiting for me to drop the act and start giving orders.

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I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over my face. I wasn’t good at this.

I’d expected relief. Maybe even gratitude.

Not this… void.

Fred, ever the expert in crisis communication, was also at a loss.

> “Uh. So, this is awkward.”

Not helpful.

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I shifted my gaze, scanning the heavy backpack beside her.

It wasn’t some dungeon ragged survival pack—it was stocked.

Bedroll. Rations. A full canteen. Even a damn flint kit.

Whoever had thrown her in here hadn’t left her to rot.

I glanced back at her. “Where’d you get the bag?”

Still no answer.

I sighed, shifting my weight.

“Alright, fine. You don’t have to talk.” I nodded toward Spark. “But if you were gonna say something, you should know he’s the best listener out of all of us.”

That finally got a reaction.

A barely-there twitch at the corner of her mouth.

Almost.

She still didn’t speak, but her shoulders shifted just slightly.

Not enough to say she trusted me.

But enough to say she was listening.

That was a start.

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

Half-orc. At least, that’s what I assumed.

She was leaner than the one I killed earlier—less fur, different skin tone, built for speed rather than brute force.

She hadn’t spoken. But she had shifted—just enough to show she was listening.

Only slightly—just enough to show she was listening. Not resisting, not objecting. Just waiting.

Her wrists were still bound in metallic restraints, lined with glowing runes that pulsed in an uneven rhythm. I’d never seen anything like them before—definitely some sort of arcane shackles.

They felt wrong.

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

Beside her, slumped against the wall, was a heavy, well-stocked backpack. Bedroll. Canteens. Rations. Basic tools.

It wasn’t prisoner gear. It was expedition gear.

She wasn’t just thrown in here to die. She was carrying supplies for someone else.

Her fingers rested lightly against the straps. Not clutching, not hiding—just waiting for me to take it.

Not defiance.

Not hesitation.

Just submission.

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

I crouched down, keeping my voice level.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” I said. “That’s not why I asked.”

Her fingers tightened slightly.

She didn’t let go.

That was the first real sign of resistance.

Not rebellion.

Not defiance.

Just… holding on.

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

She spoke without looking at me.

> “They’ll come back soon.”

The words were flat. Empty.

I followed her gaze toward the sealed temple entrance.

The runes on the stone frame were steady. The silence outside was unbroken.

No movement. No sound.

But she wasn’t guessing.

She wasn’t worried.

She was certain.

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

“Who?”

Her voice didn’t waver.

“Orcs.”

I exhaled slowly. “Right. Figured that much.”

I shifted slightly, keeping her in my peripheral vision. “You sound real sure about that.”

Her fingers twitched again against the backpack straps.

> “They never leave things unfinished.”

The way she said it wasn’t a guess.

It was something she had lived through before.

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

Fred exhaled in my head.

> “I dunno, man. She sounds pretty convinced.”

I didn’t disagree.

I studied her for a second, then asked, “Why?”

She hesitated.

Then, finally—

> “Skarn.”

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The name sat heavy in the air.

She said it like it was a fact of life. Something you didn’t question, just survived.

I rested my arms on my knees.

“Okay. Who’s Skarn?”

Her eyes flicked toward me for the first time.

“Warlord.”

The word wasn’t just a title. It was a rank, a status, a position earned through blood.

“He commands a warband,” she said. “Fifty strong. Scouts, warriors, one shaman.”

I frowned.

Fifty.

That was enough to wipe out an entire village.

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

“And they’re coming back?” I asked.

Her fingers flexed slightly.

“Yes.”

Fred groaned.

> “Oh, great. We just killed one of his guys. I’m sure that won’t backfire spectacularly.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “What the hell are they doing out here?”

Her hands tensed around the straps.

> “Searching.”

“For what?”

She hesitated.

Then—

> “I don’t know.”

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

I narrowed my eyes.

“How many prisoners?”

She blinked.

That was the first time she looked surprised at one of my questions.

It passed quickly, but I caught it.

Her lips pressed together before she finally answered.

“Five half-orcs. Slaves.” She swallowed. “And two cage carts. Prisoners from raids.”

I stared at her.

She didn’t look away.

I could hear Fred muttering in the back of my mind.

> “…Shit.”

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

I exhaled through my nose.

“Okay,” I said finally, standing. “We need to move.”

Riska flinched at the word.

Not obviously. Not enough that I would’ve noticed if I wasn’t watching her closely.

But she hesitated.

Not because she didn’t want to obey.

Because she expected me to hit her for hesitating.

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

I took a slow breath, forcing my stance to stay neutral.

“You said they’ll come back,” I continued. “So we can either wait for them or make sure we’re somewhere else when they do.”

Her throat worked slightly.

I could see the struggle behind her eyes.

She wasn’t choosing to obey.

She was waiting to see if I would force her.

Fred, still watching the exchange from the comfort of my mind, sighed.

> “Yeah, uh. You realize she thinks we’re insane, right? Normal people would be running, not fixing ancient magic wells.”

He had a point.

But I wasn’t normal people.

I glanced back at the runes lining the chamber. If we were leaving, we had a lot more work to do before then.

“Come on,” I said, nodding toward the exit. “We need to find the rest of the Mana Wells.”

She hesitated again.

Then, after a long moment—she stood.

Not because she wanted to.

Not because she agreed.

But because, in her mind, she didn’t have a choice.

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

I watched her for a moment.

Then, casually—

“You got a name?”

She stiffened slightly.

Then, after another pause—

“Riska.”

I nodded. “Rick.”

She didn’t respond.

But for the first time since I found her, she looked at me like I was a person.

Not a captor.

Not a threat.

Just… someone she didn’t know how to classify yet.

That was fine.

We had time.

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

The temple still felt dead.

Not completely—the previous restorations had left their mark. The corridors were less suffocating, the air less stagnant, and the once-dormant runes flickered with weak, uncertain light.

But most of the structure remained untouched by the change.

We still had work to do.

> [Quest Updated: Restore the Mana Wells – 1/5]

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

The next chamber was identical to the first.

Same engraved stone basin, same faded energy lines, same problem.

I knelt beside it, fingers tracing the worn carvings. The alignment puzzle again.

I adjusted the nodes, rotating them into place one by one.

A soft hum built beneath my palms.

Then—

> [Mana Well Restored – 2/5]

A pulse of blue light rippled outward.

The walls responded in kind—runes faintly glowing, energy slowly stabilizing.

I stood, exhaling.

“That’s two.”

Spark sniffed at the air, tail twitching. Riska, however, wasn’t looking at the well.

She was staring at the darkness beyond the chamber.

Her posture was rigid, her muscles tense.

She felt something.

And a second later, I heard it too.

A distant, chittering noise.

Low. Persistent.

Getting closer.

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

I turned just in time to see the first rat slip from the shadows.

Then another.

Then dozens.

The corridor seethed with movement as a swarm of Warped Rats spilled into the chamber.

Fifty? More? I couldn’t count.

Their bodies twitched and shuddered, bones bulging at unnatural angles. Their eyes glowed sickly yellow, and their movements were jagged, unpredictable.

They weren’t hunting.

They were feasting.

The moment they sensed the renewed mana, they came for it.

And we were in their way.

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

I swung first.

The ceremonial rod cracked against the nearest rat’s skull, sending it sprawling.

Another lunged—I barely twisted in time, feeling teeth graze my arm.

Riska moved fast.

She sidestepped a leaping rat, then pivoted sharply, driving a vicious kick into its exposed ribs.

A crunch. A wet squeal.

Another came for her—she dodged low, grabbing its tail mid-leap and slamming it against the stone.

She was fast. Efficient. No wasted movement.

Spark was just as brutal.

He met the first rat mid-air, snapping it in half with a single bite.

A second leapt for him—he ducked low, crashing into it with his shoulder and sending it skidding across the stone.

I flickered.

> [Shadow Blink – 0.5% Focus]

My body shifted through the dark, reappearing behind a larger rat just in time to bring the rod down on its skull.

More were coming.

Too many.

“Move!” I shouted, breaking from the swarm.

Riska followed instantly. Spark barreled through, crushing anything in his way.

We weren’t winning this fight—we were escaping it.

By the time we reached the next chamber, the remaining rats were scattered, hesitant.

The mana glow was pushing them back.

The swarm didn’t chase us.

They weren’t here for us.

They were here for the mana.

And that made them predictable.

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

> [Warped Rat Essence Absorbed: 50] [Essence Consumed: +5 Endurance]

> Attribute Value Commentary Endurance 14 “At this rate, I might just outlast death itself. Or at least out-stubborn it.”

I had already committed to not stop increasing endurance until I felt I could last long enough in a fight without geting winded.

Tactically Shadow Blink had so far made me untouchable, but I got tired too quickly. This change? This enables me to run like a normal human being without dramatic wheezing breaks.

This allows me to survive.

Now if only I could dexterously hit things as well… Oh well, that’s a tomorrow’s me problem. Baby steps…

I glanced at Riska.

She was breathing hard, hands curled into fists. But her eyes weren’t on me.

They were on the bodies we left behind.

Or rather, the ones I wasn’t looting.

She didn’t say anything.

Didn’t ask why.

But I saw the way her brow furrowed slightly.

Like she didn’t understand why I wasn’t taking more.

I let the silence settle.

Then I turned to the next well.

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

After that fight, the next two restorations were smooth.

The process was the same: - Adjust the nodes. - Stabilize the flow. - Let the temple wake up.

Each restoration reinforced the structure.

More of the halls held light now—but only in select areas.

Everything else?

Still cold. Still dead.

> [Mana Well Restored – 3/5] [Mana Well Restored – 4/5]

As I stepped away from the fourth well’s room, something shifted.

A shadow moved somewhere in the distance.

Not a rat.

Something taller. Heavier.

Then, a metallic groan filled the corridor.

I could just barely see the Guardian step into the light.

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

Something was wrong.

Its body was metallic, humanoid, covered in faded engravings.

Its limbs twitched erratically, and the runes on its body flickered unevenly.

A construct. A broken one.

Maybe the disrepair of the temple had broken it. Maybe this thing was never meant to be awoken at all.

Either way. It didn’t care. And neither did I.

Then, without hesitation, it charged.

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

I barely blinked away.

> [Shadow Blink – 0.5% Focus]

It slammed into the stone behind me, cracks webbing out from the impact.

Riska darted left.

Spark snapped at its leg, fire licking from his teeth.

It stumbled—but didn’t stop.

I tested a strike—the rod cracked against its metal plating but barely made a dent.

Fred’s voice was dry.

> “Yeah, so… blunt force? Not working.”

I shifted my grip, adjusting. If I couldn’t break it, I’d have to dismantle it.

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

“Joints!” I called out to Riska.

She adjusted immediately.

The seams of its armor, where the plates met—those were the weak points.

Spark moved first, barreling into its leg and throwing it off balance.

Riska struck second, slamming her foot into the back of its knee.

I flickered—

> [Shadow Blink – 0.5% Focus]

—and reappeared behind it, driving the rod into the exposed gap at its spine.

It spasmed—

The runes flared—

Then died.

The construct collapsed.

Motionless.

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

It didn’t takes us long to reach the final Mana Well room, it was just at the other side of the corridor that the broken guardian came from.

Fixing it was no more of a challenge than its other 4 predecessors.

> [Mana Well Restored – 5/5] [Quest Complete: Restore the Mana Wells – 5/5] [New Quest Unlocked: Restore the Broken Mana Wells – 0/???]

The final well stabilized.

The temple reacted in kind.

Some areas were brighter now, but most of the temple still loomed in darkness.

Whatever we’d done, it wasn’t enough to bring this place back completely.

But something deeper had changed.

Something unseen.

Fred hummed.

> “You know, you didn’t absorb anything from that thing.”

I frowned.

He had a point.

“Maybe because it wasn’t alive?”

Fred paused.

Then, in a low, knowing tone—

> “You still need to tell me about the Orc.”

I didn’t respond.

Instead, I stepped toward the final well.

And the hidden compartment slid open.

Inside, resting on a pedestal, was an aged, dust-covered scroll.

> [Ancient Ritual Scroll Acquired]

Ancient. Fragile. And glowing just enough to make me wonder what the hell I was getting into.

I reached for it slowly, brushing away the dust.

Fred sighed.

> “Yep. Definitely cursed.”

I ignored him.

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

The scroll felt old in my hands. Not fragile—whatever material it was made from wasn’t ordinary parchment. It was thicker, smoother, slightly warm to the touch. Like something that had been preserved by magic rather than time.

I unrolled it slowly.

Lines of arcane script coiled across the surface, curling into intricate diagrams that pulsed faintly in the dim temple light. Geometric formations, layered symbols—definitely some kind of ritual construct.

Fred hummed.

> “So… you gonna pretend you understand that, or just wing it like usual?”

I ignored him.

For once, I did recognize something.

The structure—the way the symbols connected, the arrangement of runic loops—it followed a pattern. Not identical to anything I’d seen before, but close enough to an electronic circuit that I could feel the logic behind it.

But knowing something had logic and actually understanding that logic were two very different things.

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

I frowned, scanning the lines, trying to break it down.

* A summoning grid? No… more like a power relay.

* But it wasn’t drawing energy—it was distributing it.

* Which meant…

I exhaled. “This is a restoration spell.”

Riska’s head snapped up. “You can read that?”

“Not exactly.” I tapped the parchment. “But the structure—it’s similar to other things I’ve seen. This isn’t about creating mana, it’s about channeling and stabilizing it.”

Her gaze flickered over the markings. “That doesn’t tell us what it actually does.”

She had a point.

Understanding form wasn’t the same as understanding function.

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

At the bottom of the scroll, a list of ingredients stood out.

Each item was paired with strange notations, symbols I couldn’t immediately decipher.

* Lattice Dust

* Crystallized Essence Residue

* Mana-Infused Rock

* Aetherial Bloom

* Void-Touched Mycelium

* Eldersap Resin

* Runestone Fragments (Attuned to Celestial Flux)

* Shadow-Woven Silk

* Arcane Salts (Refined from Arcane Wellsprings)

* Primordial Ember (Stable Condition Required)

I blinked.

Fred let out a low whistle.

> “That’s not just unknowns, that’s fantasy author nonsense. Next, it’ll ask for unicorn tears and dragon spit.”

Riska skimmed the list, then let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

> “Half these things don’t exist near here. You’d have to find a city, with an alchemist or a mage to even begin figuring them out.”

I rolled my shoulders, still frowning at the script.

“That last one’s the real problem,” I muttered. “Stable Primordial Ember? How the hell do you even stabilize that?”

Fred snorted.

> “Pretty sure the last guy who tried got turned into a fireball. You wanna be next?”

I sighed. “Pass.”

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

I scanned the list again.

Each item was rare, esoteric. Not something you’d find in a roadside market. And the names… they weren’t just materials.

They were components of something much bigger.

The Ritual wasn’t just a power boost.

It was a large-scale magical event.

But for what?

Restoring the temple? Awakening something inside it?

I glanced at the dimly lit hall beyond us.

We’d restored five Mana Wells… but that was just this section. How many more did this place have? How many would it take to truly awaken whatever was buried here?

This wasn’t just a patch job. The temple wasn’t just stabilizing—it was restoring something bigger. A fraction of what it once was.

And if this was only the first step… how much of this place was still waiting to be repaired?

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

I rolled the scroll back up.

This wasn’t something I could solve now.

This wasn’t something I could solve alone.

Riska watched me, arms crossed. “So? What now?”

I tucked the scroll into my belt. “We need to find civilization.”

Riska’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Sure.”

I caught it—the smallest hesitation.

She didn’t say it outright. But she didn’t want to go.

I studied her for a moment. “What’s out there?”

Her eyes flickered toward the sealed temple doors.

She didn’t answer.

Clearly she didn’t like that answer.

And I wasn’t sure I did either.

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

📜 Interface Updates

> [Ancient Ritual Scroll Acquired] [Objective Updated: Decipher the Ritual Scroll] [New Quest Added: Gather the Arcane Reagents – 0/10]

Fred let out a long sigh.

> “Great. A scavenger hunt for stuff that doesn’t exist. That’s gonna go well.”

I glanced at the scroll again.

This was only the beginning.

This wasn’t just about fixing a temple anymore. This was a breadcrumb trail leading somewhere bigger.

And the only way to follow it… was forward.

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

The silence stretched between us.

Riska sat by the supply chest. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, her fingers pressing into her sides hard enough to whiten her knuckles.

I could feel it before she even said it.

> “We’re running.”

It wasn’t a question.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand down my face. “No.”

Her head snapped toward me. Something in her eyes flickered—doubt, confusion. But mostly disbelief.

She scoffed. “You know about Skarn now. You know what’s coming. Why wouldn’t you run?”

I leaned against the temple wall, arms crossed. “Because I don’t like running blind.”

Riska didn’t respond.

I didn’t expect her to.

She’d spent years under the boot of the warbands, traded between them like a possession. She had no reason to believe standing against them was possible.

I wasn’t even saying we would fight them.

But we sure as hell weren’t going to run without knowing what we were running into.

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

I pushed off the wall and walked toward the storage alcove, kneeling next to the supply chest.

I could feel Riska’s stare digging into my back.

“You want to stay here,” she muttered.

“No,” I said evenly. “I want to prepare.”

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “For what? You don’t ‘prepare’ for Skarn’s warband. You run. Or you bow.”

I kept my voice calm, measured. “That’s what you were taught.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but her ears twitched—a barely-there flinch, as if expecting a blow. “That’s what keeps people alive.”

I met her gaze. “Not everyone.”

Her jaw clenched.

But she didn’t argue.

Because she knew I was right.

For every one like her—who learned to submit—there were dozens who never got that chance.

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

I turned my focus back to the supplies, pulling out dried rations, water skins, spare cloth, anything we could carry.

Riska hesitated before standing, crossing the room stiffly. Her body moved like someone fighting an internal battle they already knew they’d lose.

She knelt on the other side of the chest, muttering under her breath. “This is a waste of time.”

I pretended not to hear her.

Instead, I focused on counting.

> Two weeks’ worth of supplies. Enough to move. Enough to observe.

Enough for a plan.

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

Riska’s hands stilled over a bundle of supplies.

For a moment, I thought she’d finally let it go.

Then she spoke.

“If we leave, you’re going to try and free the prisoners, aren’t you?”

The question landed like a rock in the silence.

I looked up.

Riska wasn’t sneering. She wasn’t mocking.

She was watching. Measuring. Bracing.

Because she already knew the answer.

And she hated it.

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

Her fingers curled into the fabric beneath them.

She shook her head, jaw tight.

“They’ll turn on me.” Her voice was flat, certain. No hesitation. No doubt. “They’ll see you. See me. See what I am.”

Her throat bobbed.

“And then they’ll try to kill me.” Her fingers twisted into the hem of her sleeve, the fabric stretching as she spoke.

It wasn’t fear in her voice. Not exactly.

It was resignation.

Like she wasn’t speculating—she was stating a fact.

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

I held her gaze.

“They’re prisoners. Like you.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Not like me.”

She tapped a finger against her temple. “I know how they think. I know what they see when they look at me.”

Her expression darkened.

“And I know what they’ll do if you give them the chance.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.

Neither did I.

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

I set the last of the supplies into the pack, tightening the straps.

“Then we’ll be careful.”

Riska snorted.

I stood, slinging the bag over my shoulder.

“We need more information,” I said. “We need to know where the warband is, where the prisoners are, what kind of defenses they have.”

She shook her head. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Maybe.” I adjusted the strap. “But I’m not wasting my life.”

Riska stared at me.

Long. Quiet. Unreadable.

Then she grabbed her own pack and stood.

Riska let out a slow breath, then reached for a pack—but her fingers hesitated just above the strap, twitching slightly, before she forced them to close. “Fine.”

She slung it over her back, not looking at me.

“But when this gets us both killed, I get to say I told you so.”

I smirked. “Deal.”

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

📜 Interface Updates

> [New Objective: Scout the Warband’s Camp] [Supplies Gathered: Two Weeks’ Rations]

Fred sighed.

> “Ah, moving from reckless improvisation to carefully-planned self-endangerment. Growth.”

I rolled my shoulders.

Riska still wouldn’t look at me.

We weren’t on the same page.

But at least we were walking in the same direction.

Time to move.

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

The temple’s silence felt different now. Not peaceful—waiting.

Like a held breath.

Like it knew the world outside hadn’t changed.

I stood at the threshold, the weight of stone and time pressing against my back. The doorway yawned open before me, revealing the Deadlands in all their bleak, merciless expanse.

Riska lingered just behind me. Not moving, not speaking.

And Spark—ever alert—padded forward with hesitant steps, his nose twitching as he sniffed at the stale wind. His ears drooped slightly, framing his face in the way only spaniels could, but the tension in his stance told me enough.

He didn’t like what he smelled.

Neither did I.

For Riska, stepping outside meant stepping back into a world where Skarn still reigned.

For me?

It meant stepping into a hunt I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

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

The Deadlands stretched before us, a vast and broken expanse of scorched earth, jagged rock formations, and unnatural stillness.

Ruins jutted from the landscape like fractured bones—the remnants of old civilizations swallowed by time and war.

But the land wasn’t just dead. It was wounded.

Deep cracks in the earth pulsed with faint, residual mana—the last gasps of whatever had once thrived here.

In the far distance, veins of corrupted energy shimmered faintly, unnatural growths clinging to their edges like tumors.

This wasn’t a place where life belonged.

And yet, life persisted.

Spark let out a soft whine beside me, shifting his weight uneasily. He didn’t understand this place, but his instincts told him enough.

Danger.

Everywhere.

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

Riska’s voice was quiet, but sharp.

“You’re really doing this.”

I nodded once. “We need to know what we’re up against.”

She exhaled sharply, adjusting her pack. Her movements were stiff—controlled.

“And if you don’t like the answer?”

I glanced at her.

“Then we find a better one.”

She scoffed. “That’s not how this works.”

I let the silence and my smirk carry my response.

Because I refused to believe that.

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

We moved.

The trek across the Deadlands was slow, methodical. Every step measured, every sound noted.

The terrain was treacherous—loose shale, uneven ridges, and deep ravines that cut through the land like old scars.

Spark stayed close, his paws kicking up small puffs of dust as he padded between us. His ears flopped with each careful step, and though he moved in practiced silence, I could feel the way he tensed at every new sound.

Riska took the lead.

She knew this terrain better than I did. And for all her doubts, her body moved with purpose.

She knew how to survive here.

And for now, that was enough.

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

We reached a high ridge overlooking the valley below.

That’s when I saw it.

The warband’s camp.

A massive sprawl of tents, bonfires, and crude fortifications.

Dozens of orcs moved through it—warriors sharpening weapons, scouts returning from patrols, a shaman overseeing something near the center.

And beyond them—the prisoners.

Cage carts. Two of them.

From this distance, I couldn’t see the condition of those inside. But I knew what I’d find.

The barely living. The waiting dead.

Spark let out a low, uneasy whuff.

Riska didn’t speak.

Because she knew what we were looking at.

And then, I saw her.

One of the prisoners—slumped against the bars, unmoving but not broken.

A woman. Slender build, sharp features. Dirty, but something about the way she carried herself stood out.

My gut twisted.

Something about her felt… off.

Familiar, almost.

Not in a way I could place. Not yet.

But I made a note of her.

If I was right—she wasn’t just another prisoner.

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

Fred’s voice cut through the silence.

> “Well. That’s a whole lot of ugly down there.”

I exhaled slowly.

This wasn’t just a warband setting up camp.

This was an operation.

Skarn wasn’t just passing through.

He was searching for something.

And then, as if the thought summoned him—

A figure emerged near the largest bonfire.

Larger than the others, his armor heavier, his stance rooted.

Skarn.

Even from here, I could see the way the other orcs moved around him. Not just with respect. With deference.

He wasn’t just leading them.

He was controlling them.

And that meant he had a purpose.

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

📜 Interface Updates

> [New Quest: Scout Skarn’s Warband] [Hidden Quest Triggered: ???]

Riska stood beside me, arms wrapped around herself.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the camp below, but her knuckles were white.

“If we go down there, there’s no running.”

I kept my voice steady.

“We’re not going down there.”

Yet.

Her shoulders didn’t relax.

Neither did mine.

I reached down, resting a hand lightly against Spark’s fur. His muscles were taut, but he didn’t move—just watched. Waiting. Studying.

Like me.

Time to plan.

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

FINAL STATS:

Attributes

Body Attributes

Attribute Value Commentary Agility 8 “Dodging for my life? Surprisingly good for reaction speed. Also, highly recommended for avoiding teeth.” Dexterity 8 “Keyboarding speed still unmatched. Swinging a rod? Less of a disaster than expected.” Endurance 14 “At this rate, I might just outlast death itself. Or at least out-stubborn it.” Strength 9 “I might not be breaking boulders, but I’m breaking skulls with a little less effort. That’s an upgrade.”

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

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.”

FINAL 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?”

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

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.”

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

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.” Brute Force Gives him 10% bonus to all body attributes “Hah, and you didn’t need to turn green like an Orc.” Paragon Initiate Gives him 2% bonus to all attributes “Look at that, a completely useless bonus. Doesn’t being an all-powerful Paragon wonderful?”

FINAL SKILLS:

Skill Effect Quip Shadow Blink Instantly teleport up to 5 meters in any direction within line-of-sight. Low Focus cost. Brief cooldown. “Congratulations! You are now slightly harder to hit. Try not to Blink into a wall.”