Just like that, another year passed in the blink of an eye. Rory spent his time bustling from one project to another. Avoiding the waves for the first four months after killing the Watcher on the first floor of the Maw, Rory instead focused on expanding his infrastructure.

Which was a fun way of saying he made a second plot for his Bloodwood trees.

It hadn't taken too long to have his second site up and running; having already crafted the first one, it wasn't new, and the increased attributes of another ascension aided him. The only thing that required much modification was linking the second growth ritual site to the sub-ritual, where he sacrificed plenty of weaker monsters.

During that time, while working on his tree nursery—a name that felt ill-fitting when the trees in question were Bloodwoods—the value of Scholar's Retreat showed itself.

During that time, he got two notifications.

Skill acquisition: Basic Forestry

Basic Forestry

For those who walk amongst the trees, no skill is as essential as understanding the forest itself. Basic Forestry may further bloom in the hands of those attuned to nature.

For being the first skill he'd received through a notification that wasn't Ascension earned, it was a rather basic skill. It was one of those skills that acted as a foundation, not doing a lot on its own; instead, it paved the way for future changes.

Well, that wasn't wholly true, as Basic Forestry was also one of those skills that gave him an active skill that wasn't of the same name.

Green Thumb

Rarity: Common. Skill Level: Low.

Any hand-planted flora can be granted a permanent 1% growth rate increase at the cost of a small amount of Pneuma.

It was a small bonus that Rory wouldn't refuse, but it wasn't all that important in the grand scheme of things.

That was until one afternoon, wiping away the sweat from his brow after kidnapping more weak monsters for his ritual site. Having largely gotten over the squeamishness that came with committing mass ritual sacrifice, Rory had been enjoying his walk back to his camp, monsters securely bound and bundled in his portable prison, when an idea suddenly sprung itself upon him; his cognition attribute was almost always accelerated through the near constant usage of Eyes of the Dokkalfar-kin, making epiphanies easier to achieve.

What if I used Essence Spark in tandem with Green Thumb?

A buzz of excitement burst through Rory; he dashed back as quickly as he could, dropping the sacrifices within their containment field as he approached one of the two Bloodwood saplings. It was just large enough for harvesting, and so taking care of that as quickly as he could, Rory saved a single branch as he replanted a new Bloodwood. As he did, Rory reached toward the 'space' where skills resided, mentally pinching two simultaneously. Dual skill activation was something he hadn't often done; thankfully, it wasn't difficult. The skills in question were, of course, Foundational Essence Spark and Green Thumb. Rather than channel Essence Spark into an object, Rory imagined himself channeling the blood essence through the second skill at the same time as he channeled Pneuma through it. As he handled the future sapling, his hands began to glow. Usually, when channeling Green Thumb, a soft green glow surrounded his hands, the telltale sign of the nature-type skill.

While they still glowed, it wasn't the soft green of fresh grass but the autumn orange of leaves falling from the trees back on Earth.

Instantly, a screen popped up, and a new notification appeared.

Green Thumb

Rarity: Common. Skill Level: Low.

Any hand-planted flora can be granted a permanent 1% growth rate increase at the cost of a small amount of Pneuma.

-->

Green Thumb

Rarity: Common. Skill Level: Inexperienced.

Any hand-planted flora can be granted a permanent 1% growth rate increase at the cost of a small amount of Pneuma. It may also be channeled with life-aspect essences for greater variable results.

"Nifty," Rory announced as he stood up from his crouch in front of the newly planted Bloodwood.

That was only the first of what felt like a flurry of skills Rory obtained in the year following his Ascension to A5. Mining, Drawing (Apparently, all that time doodling on his tablet deserved an entire skill), Forging, Carpentry, and, strangest of all, Architecture.

Rory had received Architecture when he'd been messing around with physically altering and adjusting his camp, amending his small home, or even propping up walls around his forge. It was a skill upon receiving that Rory could only stare at for several seconds before a snort escaped him.

I'm the damn Architect, and I only just got Architecture as a recognized skill.

Outside of the influx of skills, Rory mostly spent his time altering his camp, as mentioned, or else working on linking his settlement to the Maw. That had been a rather exciting project because it had evolved in a way he hadn't expected. At first, he tried to create a treetop skywalk. It had involved lopping off as many vines from nearby trees, infusing them, and then slowly coiling and twining them through the treetops leading toward the Maw. Once that was done, he planned to add planks and finalize the entire thing.

Instead, Rory had made an interesting discovery about the infused vines he favored in place of ropes.

They were alive, and they weren't friendly.

You see, during Rory's time working on the skywalk project, he noticed something… off about the trees to which he had tied the vines through the uppermost branches. Tied around the branches, the vines began burrowing into the trees, invading them like magical blood-flavored cordyceps. Rather than turning into Bloodwoods as Rory suspected they might, the entire system of trees tied and bound together with the infused vine ropes became a singular entity, like magically corrupted aspens.

Which was precisely what Rory named it.

Ensouled Aspen

Rarity: Common

A colony of trees forcibly infected and converted into a single hive being. In return for poor physical qualities, they are bound together through a singular resource reservoir of essence and Pneuma.

And thus, Rory's plan to make a treetop skywalk turned into the weirdest cable car system ever seen. Rather than the vines serving as the ropes of a rope bridge, they became cables through which things would travel. Meticulously supporting each aspen node with runes, the entire system worked by utilizing a small amount of its naturally regenerating vitality and runes that drew in a tiny amount of latent Pneuma. When something was hung from them, the vines would begin to undulate like the world's creepiest worm, slowly carrying things along. The entire system was slower than if he had just traveled by foot. Still, it meant that he no longer had the issue of being limited in how much he could bring out from the Maw by the size of his pockets. All he had to do was hang a basket from the vines. By the time he traveled to the Maw and handled whatever he intended to do, the basket would be there, ready to transport everything back. He could even hang up several baskets all at once.

And for once, no sacrifices were involved! Well, ignoring the trees forcibly exposed to parasitic vines that had corrupted them into a singular hive-mind existence.

The only other thing Rory had done that year was occasionally hunting monsters. The further he went from his settlement, the higher tier the monsters became. His limit was only a few miles from his camp until he began to find tier fives wandering around casually.

Returning from a hunting trip one day, the carcass of a monster that looked like a cross between a stag and a stag beetle draped over his shoulder; Rory took some time to simply take in the sight of his camp.

It was strange. After around two years on the alien planet, so much had changed, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if so little had happened. Sure, his settlement had undergone some upgrades. However, it was still the same walls, the same hovel that he called home, and the same scattering of amenities within the walls. Rory was now A5, but he still spent most of his time working on whatever project he needed to attend to, a laundry list of things he needed to handle before he felt ready to push deeper into the Maw.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

With that comforting thought, Rory began approaching his gate, frowning slightly.

Whoop. Must have forgotten to close the gate when I left.

Not thinking much of it, Rory approached the gates, paused, and then immediately backpedaled, huddling out of sight behind his walls.

"Aelia!" Rory hissed in a whisper. The only sign that she'd appeared was a gentle breeze as Rory turned to face her.

"It's been a bit, Architect." Aelia gave him a small curtsy.

"Yeah, cut the crap. A year and change are no time for you." Rory retorted before shaking his head, already distracted. "Never mind, not the point."

"Is something wrong?" Aelia questioned, a frown on her face that Rory felt looked just a bit too…. Knowing.

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Rather than say anything about his suspicions, Rory waved her forward as he crept toward his gate. Standing beside them, Rory peeked past, looking into his camp as Aelia copied him, her head peaking in directly above his own.

"Hmm," Aelia murmured as Rory retreated again, only a second later. "Interesting."

"Interesting. That's all you've got?" Rory said, staring at her flatly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Do you believe there is something else to be said?" Aelia questioned.

"Yeah, like, why is there a human child in my camp?" Rory wanted to shout but instead kept his voice low. As if confirming he wasn't insane, Rory peeked within one more time. There, seated comfortably next to his fire, was a boy, no older than ten, with dark copper hair and swathes of freckles dotting his dark complexion. He wore regular jeans and a black T-shirt with some superhero Rory didn't recognize.

"Perhaps a stork dropped him off?" Aelia said, feigning ignorance.

"Yeah, sure," Rory muttered, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, I barely bother you. Surely you can explain this at least, after all I've been through."

Aelia seemed to think about it for several seconds before shrugging.

"Fair enough, I suppose it's not exactly a secret; I just enjoy seeing you turn those wheels in your head. What you're looking at is one of the second wave of sentients to grace my surface."

"Yes, I picked that much up," Rory said. "But one, why is he in my camp, and two, why is he a kid?"

"Perhaps I picked you out as the fatherly sort?"

Rory stared at her, silent.

"Fine, fine. Several reasons. First, each of my eight founders will soon be accompanied by a young companion, as I managed to gather enough energy to spare reaching into the fabric of existence and snatching out some sentients."

"And they had to be children?"

"They did. While it may not seem like it to you, I have not yet reached a proper energy equilibrium. To spur on faster growth, I directly seed more powerful creatures than should be capable of existing on my surface. From there, I directly supplement the energy needed to sustain such a chain of life from my own reserves. The benefit is that when the chaotic nature of these early years settles over time, I will be far ahead of the curve. The downside is, if I ran too low on energy for whatever reason, much of the stronger life forms I've seeded would last only a single generation, incapable of rearing a new generation, all that energy wasted as I'd become like a barren rock."

"Dramatic."

"But yet it remains true." Aelia countered. "More powerful life already takes a significant chunk of my spare energy, but recently, I found myself in a state of stability. You founders have been relatively boring this last year. Thus, I could muster some excess energy and instead expend it toward bringing forth the next wave."

"Still haven't explained why they're children."

"I was getting to it." Aelia sighed. "And the answer is simple: They require less energy to pull free. Don't ask me why; these concepts are far above what I would know as just a simple World Spirit. E.O.N might be able to provide some insight, but given E.O.N won't explain it to me, I doubt it will explain it to you."

Rory didn't bother questioning it. He doubted Aelia was lying; there was no reason to in this case. Instead, Rory examined the kid; analyzing him from his current distance was unlikely to alert him.

"What the-?" Rory said after a moment. "Human - Child. Tier One, level, null?"

"Ahh, yes, that's another easy explanation," Aelia interjected. "Unlike my founders, who were all brought here before the existence of the Eon, these children had Eon from the beginning. In the process of being drawn into this reality, they were remade using the matter of our reality from the get-go. Thus, they are recognized as native inhabitants, something E.O.N handled automatically."

“Meaning no ‘Proto’ tag?”

"Exactly," Aelia confirmed.

"What about the weird level thing?"

"Sentient species start as tier one, unlike monsters, as you've undoubtedly noticed. In the case of children, though, their physical development, or lack thereof, means that their attributes don't properly reflect a tier-one sentient. Rather than starting at tier one level ten, they start as tier one level null until they've matured enough to have attributes that match what an actual tier one would have."

"Got it." Rory nodded, the explanation filling in some gaps about tiers and levels he'd previously wondered about. "Then, time for my most important question."

"Oh? Perhaps you are curious as to the nature of each-"

"Are the other founders responsible enough to raise children?" Rory questioned, taking Aelia off guard. "Hell, none of them are like… creeps, are they? Because I don't know where any of them are, it will take me a long ass time to find them."

"Oho?' Aelia said after getting over her surprise. "I didn't expect you to care so much about children."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not desperate to have kids." Rory corrected. "It's just that I spent a few years doing part-time work as an athletic trainer at some schools, and the idea of kids being crept on or whatever doesn't sit right with me."

"Rest assured, they are safe from such," Aelia sighed heavily. "When I first brought you founders to me, I instinctively understood your core traits. I selected those fitting for my goals, and those with… unfavorable traits such as what you imply would have never passed that selection."

"Even if you weren't as… smart as you are now?"

"Thank you for sugarcoating that," Aelia said with a scowl. "But yes, even as less… informed as I was back then, I would have had a sense for that. I fully trust my founders."

"If you say so," Rory grumbled. "So, just… take care of the kid?"

"Take care of, train, whatever definition of the word you want," Aelia answered with an accompanying nod. "I don't doubt that some of my founders have different approaches to child rearing and training. Some more spartan than others."

"I thought you said that none of the founders were like that?"

"I said they weren't twisted in their view on children. I never said that they wouldn't be willing to put their wards through extreme forms of training. You do not have to worry about their well-being; their safety is another thing, but can any of you claim perfect safety? Is there anything you could do if a tier eight were to appear?"

"Fair," Rory grumbled. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"That's entirely up to you." Aelia countered. "Train them as an apprentice, a son, a younger brother, a soldier in the making. I don't truly care. Do what will succeed and bring forth ever greater heights."

"You're a bit of an ascension junky." Rory sighed.

"That I am. It's woven into my existence. My goal as a World Spirit is and always will be to climb to higher heights, and climb I must. I can feel some of my siblings beginning to stir, and it will not be long before they look to catch up to my successes. I would feel safe guessing that E.O.N. will assist in helping them to catch up; it does like its 'fairness' when possible."

Rory decided not to think about those implications, preferring to handle his life one problem at a time.

"Well, if you say so-oh." Rory turned to find Aelia gone, vanished without a trace.

I hate how she does that.

Sighing, Rory peaked inside his camp and watched the child for some time. The boy looked Mediterranean, as if he were from Greece or another nearby country.

Not that it matters. Countries don't exist anymore. At least, not for…. Probably a while?

Brushing the random wandering thought aside, Rory continued to examine the boy. As much as Rory half expected something to be off about the boy -overly calm demeanor aside- he seemed no different than a boy from Earth.

Ugh. Well, I guess the choice of if I ever wanted kids has been taken from me.

No point in delaying any longer; Rory finally entered his camp. The boy, to his credit, noticed Rory almost instantly. He silently watched as Rory approached, sitting opposite the boy across the fire.

Several silent, awkward minutes passed like that before, at last, the boy looked up from the flames toward Rory.

"Are you my father?"

"No," Rory said almost instantly.

"Oh." The boy said, staring back down at the flames for another minute of silence before he glanced at Rory again. "What's a father?"

Oh… Oh boy.

So, it wasn't just a kid he had to care for. It was a kid who seemingly had no memories.

“A father is a… um… uh….” Rory found himself flailing. There were a lot of things he could take in stride. Is the universe dropping new rules out of the blue? Sure. Is a monster ready to eat his face? Go ahead. A World Spirit appearing to spook him out of nowhere? Dandy.

But explaining the birds and the bees to a ten-year-old boy?

Nuh-uh.

"Fathers are people who are genetically related to you; they share some of your essence and your signature."

"Oh." The boy nodded once more before staring at the fire.

Right…. So, he doesn't really seem to question that.

"How much do you remember?" Rory questioned.

"Remember?" The boy looked up toward the sky before shaking his head. "My name. I'm eleven years old. I really like cheeseburgers. I'm allergic to peanuts. Oh, and squirrels scare me."

Oh, great. Now there are two of us allergic to peanuts. That's assuming I'm still allergic to peanuts.

"What's your name then?" Rory prompted.

"Apostolos."

"Apostolos. Huh. Quite the name." Rory muttered. It at least confirmed his suspicion that the boy was likely Mediterranean; the name sounded Greek.

Once more, an awkward silence hung over the two.

Right. So, he has no memories, but he also appears functional. It's almost like all the 'extra' memories—the unnecessary stuff—were cut, leaving only the stuff needed to be functional and a few random stray pieces.

It didn't sit well with Rory that the boy had effectively had his life stolen. Still, it probably made the transition into this new universe easier, or for whatever reason, bringing along the memories was impossible. The next time he got around to asking her, they were questions for Aelia.

"So, burgers?"

"Yeah!" The boy seemed to stir, a childlike excitement lighting up his face. "I once had a burger with peanut butter on it; that's how I found out I have a peanut allergy."

Wow. He doesn't even question the oddity of having memories that are disconnected from everything else. Shit, that's almost spooky.

"Never had a peanut butter sandwich before?"

"What's a peanut butter sandwich?"

God, that really is fucking weird. He knows what peanut butter is, knows what it is in the context of his allergy, and has had it on a burger once, but the minute it disconnects from those remaining memories, it loses all meaning.

Worried talking about disjointed memories and thoughts would perhaps stress the child if he realized the lapse in his mind, Rory quickly changed the subject.

"So, what Ascension are you?"

"I'm tier one. But I don't think I technically count yet." The boy instantly answered, bringing up his interface and flicking it toward Rory.

Noting the color of the boys' interface confirmed three things. First, the boy liked the color orange, given the interface's color. Second, the boy was, in fact, A1, just without a level. Third, and most importantly, the boy seemed to instinctively understand the mechanics of this universe.

No Vocation yet.

That wasn't surprising; vocations were a weird, nebulous job class system that had rules and mechanics that Rory himself still didn't understand. At the very least, for a child to already have a set Vocation would be strange.

"What do you like to do, Apostolos?"

"I… I don't know." The boy frowned.

With all the screens and stuff back on Earth, even without a mind wipe, a young kid not being sure of any hobbies isn't that wild.

Thankfully, Rory's parents refused to give him screen access until high school. He had seen how weird some of his screen-addicted schoolmates had become, especially during those middle school years.

Oh god, I'm going to have to home-school this kid. Shit, I can barely remember math past algebra. Wait, are triangles still a hundred eighty degrees in this universe? Wait, shit, how much math or science no longer holds? Shit, shit, shit.

Mentally retreating from the horror of being a teacher, Rory stood up instead. Briefly entering his hovel, he returned with a small branch stump and his crafting knife. Sitting back across from the Apostolos, Rory began to whittle away. He wasn't crafting some special weapon or valuable item. No, the shape that emerged was a bird, a small dove. Thinking momentarily, Rory quickly scratched into the small figurine a few simple runes before tossing it to the boy, who caught it with surprising deftness.

"For you," Rory announced before the boy could ask. "I didn't have a lot of hobbies for a long time either. I liked running, but I didn't do much else. Then, well, I got a bit of motivation to try a bunch of new things."

"Like… this?" The boy said, waving the figurine.

"Exactly. I could never make stuff like that before. By the way, I want you to hold that dove in your hands and close your eyes. Then, focus on the feeling of being a split second from sneezing. Really imagine that feeling, then imagine yourself snipping through that feeling."

Rather than question Rory, the boy dutifully did as he was told. Closing his eyes, Rory watched for ten minutes straight as the boy physically strained.

Man, being remade into the image of this universe does a number for kids. At that age, I doubt I could have focused for ten seconds on such random directions, much less ten minutes.

Still, the boy continued until, at last, his eyes snapped open. For a split second, it was as if a ghostly image of a bird pulled free from the statue, flapping its wings once before vanishing.

Oh, good, it worked.

The statue worked similarly to his sketch tablet, drawing in light to use as ink. In this case, the statue drew in light, then, when channeled with pneuma, would project that light outward in a pseudo-hologram. Perhaps because it was made to be nothing more than a toy, it barely needed any pneuma to activate. An untrained boy could, in fact, give it enough of a spark.

"What was that?" The boy asked excitedly.

"Magic," Rory said, waving his hands mysteriously. "I laid the instructions, but you were the one who did it."

"Wow." The boy said, eyes wide.

"Would you like to learn?" Rory asked after a moment.

"Learn… magic?"

"Oh, not just magic," Rory said, waving his knife. "Whittling, bow making, how-not-to-be-a-dark-lord, lots of fun hobbies."

Apostolos looked at Rory, perplexed for a moment by the random reference, before slowly nodding.

"Great," Rory stood up, clapping his hands. "So, is there something you want to cover first?"

The boy silently stared into the fire, contemplating before slowly raising a hand.

"Yes?"

"How do you make a burger?"

In hindsight, I might have gotten ahead of myself.

End of Volume One of Universe's End