Rory sat in his camp, staring at his interface, specifically taking in his Testaments. Part of him hoped that the shadowed-out pillars would hint at what was needed to unlock them if he stared long enough.
Sighing, Rory finally dismissed the interface.
I have bigger things to consider anyway.
With his first active Testament, Rory had hoped for a noticeable change. Still, attempts at using Essence Spark primarily resulted in the same effect.
All I know is that it 'changes' the skill to somehow align more with the 'concept' of my vocation. So, how exactly does that work?
"Hmm, maybe that's the issue," Rory said, stretching his arms overhead as he stared upward into the sky, watching the suns pass. The season had changed, but it wasn't a season he was familiar with. It reminded him of an early fall or winter morning when the dew clung to the grass and leaves, wet but not humid, cold but not frosty.
Except on Earth, it only lasted for the early morning hours before the sun would dry the dew or the cold would freeze it over. Here, amongst the orange-clad trees, that morning temperament never ceased.
Better than snow.
Putting thoughts of the climate aside, Rory returned his thoughts to his new potential avenue of insight.
"I've been trying to test Essence Spark in a vacuum, but maybe the effects will only show if I'm actively using it in a real project?"
The Rory who had just appeared on the planet would have questioned how that was possible and how it could distinguish the difference. Now, the thought didn't even cross his mind.
Alright, a new project then, perhaps a small-scale project.
He was still working on his new type of tree, but it would take time—perhaps another week or two at the earliest—before he could check the changes, if there were any.
A project… Hmm…
For someone with the Vocational Title of "Architect," Rory struggled to develop any new ideas. He was still severely short on quality materials; the only abundant things he had were wood, obsidian, and the dirt beneath his feet.
Trying to upgrade his knife was likely futile; it was already made of the highest-quality materials he could obtain and was still more than sufficient for every task he had encountered.
Much like his knife, Weaponry had similar material quality issues.
Most of his camp 'buildings' were about as modernized as he could get them. Whenever he had an idea or modification, he'd typically handle it right away; it was not like there was much else to distract him.
The Essence Spire was still something he simply did not want to mess with if he could avoid it.
His clothes were… well, a disaster. However, the issue there was simply that he was still attached to what remained of his earthen threads, even if, at this point, they were something like eighty percent leather and hide and only twenty percent their original make.
He had his beast core that he could do something with. Still, Rory wanted to wait before he started any projects with said core; after all, it would likely be a long time before he got his hands on another core derived from a tier eight monster. When he used the core, it had better be for something good.
"So, that leaves me… what exactly?" Rory pondered.
Thinking about it for some time, Rory finally snapped his fingers.
"I got it!"
Getting up in a hurry, Rory found an isolated space within his camp. Then, grabbing a shovel he'd made some time back, he began digging up the soil and turning it over.
Sometimes, I feel like my vocation should be called 'Glorified hard labor of the Precursors' rather than 'Architect.'
Digging the soil until satisfied, Rory grabbed a large jar from his home filled with ground-up obsidian powder. Pouring it out into the dug-up soil, Rory got down on his hands and knees and began mixing it by hand. The entire time he did, he channeled Essence Spark. He had discovered something somewhat unintended about the skill while he'd been exploring what he had been altered by placing it within one of his testaments. He found that Essence Spark could be 'set' to what Rory imagined was a 'low' setting. Dialed down, its toll on him was far less severe, making it perfect for a larger project where he wanted the same amount of essence but evenly distributed.
Such as what he was doing now.
After finishing up, more heavily exhausted than such simple labor should have caused given his now solidly superhuman capabilities, Rory stood up, wiping at his brow.
"I wish there was a vitality attribute because, god damn, does Essence Spark exhaust me."
Technically, there was durability, which fit the bill, but it didn't change Rory's annoyance at how exhausted he was.
No point complaining.
Not finished, Rory grabbed another jar and filled it from the pond where his Essence Spire grew. It was a lucky thing the pond replenished itself nearly constantly, or he would have run out months ago. Taking the water-like liquid, Rory dumped it into the patch of land he'd just been working on before settling onto his hands and knees and mixing it by hand again.
Once that was done, he grabbed several logs he'd chopped and stored within his camp and quickly worked them into planks using his crafting knife. Once that was done, he planted the planks around the mud patch like a vegetable box. Grabbing his shovel and a spare plank, Rory leveled the mud off, almost as flat as a sidewalk. Examining it, he nodded to himself once before drawing a circle around the entire thing, filling it with Pneuma, which took him over an hour. Scribbling several runes into the earth next to the ring, Rory finally activated it; the Pneuma quickly exhausted as the air within the ring heated up by several hundred degrees, and the mud solidified into hardened clay.
Satisfied that the clay was hard enough to walk on without damaging it or leaving footprints, Rory then walked to the center of the large clay tile, drilling a small hole directly in the center, before once more using Essence Spark, this time using it at max output, as he soon held a concentrated blood gem. Planting it like one might plant a seed, Rory repeated the same process at each of the four corners, waiting half an hour in between while he recovered from the drain of using Essence Spark.
While using Essence Spark, Rory noticed something: a change of sorts. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but something felt different as he used the skill, a type of…. Depth that hadn't been there on prior uses.
Strange.
Having forgotten the project's original purpose, which was to test the changes to Essence Spark, Rory ignored it and focused entirely on his project. Burying five concentrated blood gems, Rory quickly began linking them together. Once they were connected via small channels, Rory then covered them with thin strips of wood that he sliced off from his logs with his knife as quickly as cutting through paper.
Almost done.
With the concentrated blood gems and channels now laid into the clay tile, Rory plastered a thin layer of clay solution over it, drying it out with the bounded circle he'd drawn earlier. Concentrated blood gems and channels now hidden, Rory carved runes all throughout the tile, repeated inscriptions of stability, earth and absorption. Plastering over them, Rory finalized the top layer, a square of clay that he precisely carved a circle within, channeling Essence Spark on low as he did.
I'm not sure if Essence Spark works like that when all I'm doing is carving into something, but it's for testing purposes.
Standing back from the clay tile, he thought of a shotput ring one might find at high schools or colleges with track teams.
If you didn't know better, you'd think it's precisely what this ring is.
Blasting the entire thing one final time with Pneuma-generated heat, Rory finally analyzed it.
Permanent Bound Circle Formation
Status: Active
A simple bound circle formation meant to exist in perpetuity that slowly draws in latent Pneuma to reinforce and galvanize the entire structure. Passively stabilizes excess essence and Pneuma run-off due to Foundational-Aspected essence conduits.
"Foundational what now?" Rory muttered as he examined the description. He was happy that his project had worked; he'd used his experience with his prior ritual formation as inspiration for the permanent bound circle, but that didn't take away from his surprise at the last little tidbit of info within the description.
Oh, wait. That's right. I was doing this to test Essence Spark on an actual project.
Curious once more, Rory pulled the information on the skill.
Essence Spark**
Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low
Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world pivotal to the arts. Essence comes in varying forms.
Essence Affinities: Blood
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
--->
Foundational Essence Spark
Rarity: Rare. Skill Level: Inexperienced
Manipulation of essence is tantamount to directing the unseen world pivotal to the arts. Essence comes in varying forms. Due to the effects of Testament Enshrinement, all essence gains a passive bonus affinity toward Foundational concepts.
Essence Affinities: Blood, Foundation*
"Huh." Rory could only mutter, letting all the changes sink in at once.
First, the skill had quite literally evolved, gaining a rank in rarity in the process. Second, his skill level had increased, or at least he assumed that 'inexperienced' was a rank above low. Third, he'd gained a second essence affinity. Or he sort of gained a second affinity. It was directly stated as a passive bonus, not exactly a true second affinity.
"Alright, so, most importantly," Rory found himself pacing and muttering as he thought it through. "The hell is a 'Foundational' concept and affinity?"
Blood essence was reasonably straightforward. It was an essence that directly drew from his vitality, a concept common in many video games, books, and movies.
But 'Foundational' essence? That was far more abstract.
Well, it must originate from my Vocation, obviously. So… maybe I'm not thinking about this literally enough?
He'd been trying to parse it as some abstract concept, but maybe that was the problem. As fancy as it was with the entire 'Of the Precursors' tagline, his vocation was still at its core, Architect.
And what was a significant component of any architecture?
The foundation.
"I guess it's something akin to my stability rune?" Rory finally mused, puffing out an exhausted breath. "I don't know why it doesn't just call it stability then, unless there is some distinction somewhere. Bah, I guess it can only be determined through more testing."
Confused and exhausted, Rory finally shrugged his shoulders. He'd used Essence Spark enough times that even though it wasn't that late into the afternoon, Rory still felt he could pass out for a day straight.
Intending to do just that, Rory clambered into his moss bed, gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back for a day of successes, and promptly passed out.
----------------------------------------
Elsewhere
"Stupid bastard," Allison muttered, staring at her screen. Ten pillars, columns, whatever you wanted to call them, sat there, taunting her.
A gift from the Architect. Bah.
It had happened only a short time ago, a sudden interface update and then boom, an entirely new feature to their vocations, the addition of "Testaments" that could augment their abilities and skills.
Five of her pillars were clearly outlined with their requirements
Slay a monster level one hundred or above.
Slay a monster level one hundred and fifty or above.
Slay a monster level two hundred or above.
Slay a Territory Alpha solo.
Slay a Dungeon Boss solo.
Of the five known pillars, one she'd accomplished already was the Territory Alpha. It had been an abso-fucking-lutely brutal fight. The monster was also a tier five, a powerful variant; she'd only been tier four then. It had managed to corner against a cliff face, so there was no running, and she'd been forced to throw everything she had at it, but she had won and even earned a minor law in the process.
She wouldn't deny that she was happy it had retroactively counted for one of her Testaments, but looking at the other four was unnerving. A level one hundred, A.K.A, a tier ten monster. The way levels worked was that they correlated to tier and progress. For example, she was a tier five, level fifty-five. In the early tiers, where all ascension benefits were gained instantly, there wasn't a difference between level fifty and level fifty-nine, at least from an attribute standpoint, but that would change further down the road.
The same couldn't be said for monsters. If one compared to tier five monsters, the difference between a level fifty and fifty-five monster would be drastic.
Not only that, but their levels didn't operate the same as humans and other intelligent life. Again, it was less noticeable with lower-tier monsters where the changes were less significant. Still, generally speaking, monsters were a tier below their true strength. It was entirely from the fact that humans, or other sapiens, started at tier one, level ten. In contrast, monsters started at level one at the earliest.
What would children start as? Allison briefly pondered.
Using her own personal experiences, she'd managed to determine much about levels and tiers as they related to monsters. With her Vocation and combat-oriented skills, she'd been capable of handling 'strong' monsters early on. Now that she was halfway through tier five, she was starting to see things change. A level Fifty-eight monster was something like twice as strong as a level fifty-three; each tier or ascension seemed to have a more significant impact on attributes, each attribute' point' counted for more, and thus monsters, who grew stronger with each level rather than a single big jump per ascension, were entirely misleading once you were into the mid-fifties.
All that was to say, staring at the Testaments and their requirements, she only groaned as she thought about what it was asking her to do.
You'd have to be around tier eleven, or toward the end of tier ten, to handle a tier ten monster.
Sure, the Architect wasn't specifically at fault for that. It wasn't as if he had done anything to impact her negatively, but having such brazen demands put in front of her shook her, at least a little.
So, what now?
Battles were becoming more difficult, and it wasn't just because the monsters were growing more powerful at a frightening rate; there was also the fact that her gear wasn't up to par. She'd been magically gifted items a few times as a reward for clearing a wave here or there, and it was only from those that she had managed to keep up her current pace.
I should probably thank Aelia for that.
The world spirit's advice to return to the settlement had led her to replace her most recent spear after she'd managed to fend off yet another wave of monsters. She wasn't sure how Eon magically poofed an item into existence, but it sure was handy.
Because her ability to make stuff? Well, frankly speaking, it was crap. Before everything had gone to shit and the universe exploded, she'd never been much for artsy-craftsy stuff; training to take the fight against an alien race trying to commit universal genocide often precluded much knitting. Still, even as a kid, her hobbies had primarily revolved around physical tests of strength. She'd been rather frail as a young child, and overcoming that had been hell, but it had pushed her into the roughneck she was now.
Even if Dad never exactly approved.
The point was that the limit of her ability to craft new weapons or gear was taking a suitable-looking branch or stick, sharpening it, and then murdering enough things until she could salvage their body parts into a slightly better spear, rinse, and repeat.
Which sounded great and self-sufficient until the weapons she made from the body parts of monsters were no longer sturdy enough to survive more than a few fights.
Hence, why she struggled so much as she stared at her Testaments.
What skill should I enshrine?
The "Obvious" choice would be Descender's Spear. A skill that harmonized everything she knew about spear fighting -including what she saw in movies- with what her body could physically do, it allowed for some seriously impressive feats.
The issue was that she often found herself in fights armed with nothing but her fists nowadays, her body often times physically stronger than her crudely made spears.
Bet that Architect is having a grand fucking time; he probably has an entire arsenal of fuck off weapons making his life a goddamn breeze. I wish we all had it that easy.
Ignoring the ranting of her subconscious, Allison instead looked toward one of her newer skills she had picked up not too long after being forced to fight with just her bare hands.
Vagabond Pugilist
Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.
Following the wayward path of a Vagabond, sometimes even the greatest Spear-master finds themselves empty-handed. Nothing else is as reliable as one's body when all else fails.
There was something strangely insulting about the skill. It couldn't just be a Pugilist; no, it had to be specifically a Vagabond pugilist.
It's basically calling me a homeless bum!
Alright, maybe it wasn't going that far, but it did seem odd to her that it highlighted the nature of her wandering in the unarmed skill.
Maybe that's why it's uncommon instead of a common rarity. Allison thought to herself, lost in thought.
Either way, the point of why she was considering the slightly insulting skill was that it wasn't wrong about her predicament. Sure, she preferred using a spear, but if she needed to fight bare-handed, perhaps enshrining a skill related to bare-handed fighting would benefit her more than enshrining her skill that already revolved around spears. Wasn't that the point of Testaments and enshrining skills? To bring them more in line with one's vocation.
"Or something like that," Allison muttered to herself, not fully remembering exactly the phrasing for how the Testaments were introduced.
Outside her Descender's Spear and Vagabond Pugilist, she didn't have any other skills she considered worth enshrining; they were all so fricken' generic that she wondered why they were even skills to begin with.
I mean, really, why do sprinting, hiking, and swimming all have their own dedicated skills?
Tired of mulling the thoughts over, Allison finally tossed away any attempts at planning her future actions and simply did what felt right. Selecting her choice, she examined the newly enshrined skill.
Vagabond Pugilist
Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.
Following the wayward path of a Vagabond, sometimes even the greatest Spear-master finds themselves empty-handed. Nothing else is as reliable as one's body when all else fails.
--->
Vagabond Pugilist**
Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.
Following the wayward path of a Vagabond, sometimes even the greatest Spear-master finds themselves empty-handed. Nothing else is as reliable as one's body when all else fails.
"That's… That's it?" Allison stuttered, half confused, half annoyed. All that thought, all that mental effort, and all that seemed to have changed were now two stars next to the skill name.
"Fuck." Allison snarled as she swung around, launching her fist into the alien-looking palm tree under which she'd been hiding from the sun. "Fuck." She snarled again as she threw another punch into the tree. "Fuck!"
Punch after punch resounded as her fists cracked into the bark of the tropic tree, her fists tearing and bleeding. Allison's explicit snarls never died out; in fact, they grew louder with each resounding thump of her fist against the tree.
"Fuck."
Thump.
"Fuck!"
Thump.
"Fuck!"
Thump.
Allison wasn't sure how long she went on until, at last, her body refused to throw another fist. The daylight had a distinct orange glow, signaling the oncoming night. Far more exhausted than she expected, Allison finally opened her skill interface again, wondering if she had missed something.
Surprisingly, she was met by a far more drastic change than earlier.
Vagabond Pugilist**
Rarity: Uncommon. Skill Level: Low.
Following the wayward path of a Vagabond, sometimes even the greatest Spear-master finds themselves empty-handed. Nothing else is as reliable as one's body when all else fails.
--->
Ronin's Rage
Rarity: Rare. Skill Level: Low.
A Vagabond wanders without aim; a Ronin wanders with purpose. While typically armed, they are no less dangerous even without their weapon, rage sharpening their very bodies into weapons of their own.
"Now, THAT is more what I'm talking about." Allison's rage was swept away as she took in the more drastic shift. "So, it just needed a proper catalyst to initiate the change, huh?"
Now, if only it explained what it actually does.
Shrugging, there was only one way to learn. Reaching inside herself, Allison felt where the skill existed, a strange overlap between muscle memory and some weird mental location. Finding it, she prodded it, 'activating it' as she prepared for… Well, whatever.
Aside from a slight warmth in her cheeks, nothing much seemed to happen.
"What the hell?" Allison growled, annoyance flaring. She had not just finished punching a fucking tree for-
Fwumph.
Like a flare ignited, her entire body suddenly felt hot, like a flame raged within her.
Oh, right, Ronin's Rage. It's right in the name.
Although her sudden annoyance was replaced with excitement, the burning heat within her chest remained; it only needed rage as the spark to light the fire, not sustain it.
Excited to see what she could do, she turned to the same tree she had been fruitlessly pummeling earlier. Its bark was only partially marred by her fists; it had been vandalized more by her blood staining it than the actual damage of her fists.
Let's see how you like me now.
Throwing a punch, empowered by the burning heat within, for a moment, she felt like she was lashing out with a spear more than her fist. The punch itself didn't see much faster, if at all, but there was something different about it.
Well, ignoring the slight red glow around it, that is.
The fist connected with the bark of the oversized alien-looking palm tree, but it didn't end there as her fist split through the wood like a nail through, well, wood. Feeling her eyes widen in surprise, Allison pulled her fist back, taking in the sight.
A hole had been hammered into the tree, roughly as wide as her arm and nearly a foot deep.
"Well fuck me, that's something," Allison said with a vicious grin on her face. Ignoring the blood still staining her fists, she cracked them together, glancing upward.
"Tier ten, here I come."