Cal trudged north, the ashen residue of their recent encounter clinging to his skin. The air, once thick with smoke, gradually cleared to reveal a small pond in open grassland. Its water was crystal clear and a welcome sight after his escape from the inferno. He knelt by the bank, cupping his hands and splashing the cool liquid onto his face. Each droplet stripped away the grime, revealing the man beneath—a man reborn from fire.
"Like shedding a second skin," Cal whispered, peeling off his ruined clothes. He jumped in, quickly washed the soot away, then dressed in a new tuxedo, the fabric smooth against his cleansed skin, contrasting starkly with the wilds around him.
"About our earlier omission during our… arson," Temp began, materializing beside him. "Your attributes."
"Right." Cal adjusted his cuffs, his mind shifting gears. "The notifications."
Temp pulled up both their statuses.
----------------------------------------
Name Cal Run Class no information Bloodline no information Attributes - STR VIT VIG DEX INT WIS LUK Total Effective level Base attributes 100
(+11) 42 39 65
(+11) 15 62 - 323 46.14 Total attributes 123 55 51 79 26 76 - 410 58.55
Name Temp Class Mortal chair (level 41 / 50) Bloodline Lineage of Leonidas Attributes STR VIT VIG DEX INT WIS LUK Total Effective level Base attributes 41
(+3) 46
(+3) 41
(+3) 41
(+3) 41
(+3) 41
(+3) 41
(+3) 292 41.71 Total attributes 57 59 54 54 54 54 54 384 54.81
----------------------------------------
"Given your combat style, proper distribution of points is crucial. Too much speed or strength may decrease the efficacy of the style," Temp's synthetic voice held a hint of urgency. "However, we need to maximize your potential. Mara revealed a clue to us – while I do think there is an attribute limit for us currently, there is also a stage beyond, so we may be able to advance further. The system refers to us as mortals, but Mara was stage one."
Temp continued, “prioritizing the stat multipliers we know of is essential, especially because they are limited to when we are mortals.”
"Agreed," Cal said, flexing his fingers, feeling the latent power in his muscles. "Survival here hinges on adaptation. And I intend to stay alive."
"Exactly. You understand the stakes." Temp's seat shimmered slightly. "Choosing a good strategy now could mean the difference between life and death later."
"Then let's choose wisely," Cal stated with a nod, the crisp line of his shoulders set against the backdrop of destruction and renewal.
Cal stood, the new tuxedo hugging his form like a second skin. He tested the flex of his limbs.
"Your dexterity," Temp said, its tone even yet pressing. "Consider raising the base attribute to a full hundred points."
Leaves rustled as Cal pivoted on the ball of his foot, a smooth motion that spoke of untapped agility. "A hundred? Is that even possible with our expectations of the current cap?" He echoed, the idea unfurling in his mind.
"Affirmative." The chair flickered with a glow that mirrored determination. "It will grant you swiftness, finesse in combat, and an additional title. That still remains uncertain."
Cal paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the suggestion. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his decision.
“And an additional warning from the system…,” Cal replied. "What should be the secondary? More strength?"
"Titles bring benefits," Cal mused, a strategic edge lacing his words. "If you think it optimizes long term, who am I to disagree."
"Rightly so." The AI's form seemed to pulse with approval. "Reflecting on the stat gain from outside sources, the limit may be higher – my updated hypothesis is that it is 400."
Temp continued, "we may also consider a more balanced approach to your remaining attributes. I do not think your intelligence is salvageable, you brute, but there is value in all of the remaining. It will be important to first focus on strength and vigor."
"Then we'll do it," Cal declared, his resolve hardening like steel. "Every advantage counts."
"Another proposition," Temp stated, its voice a modulated hum that resonated within the confines of Cal's mind. "My vitality—we raise it to one hundred."
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"Vitality?" Cal tilted his head, considering the implications. A third stat enhanced—a trinity of might.
"Correct. A buffer for your attribute as well." Temp's lights pulsed softly, like a heartbeat in code.
"For titles," Cal whispered, realization dawning as his gaze shifted from the chair to the horizon.
"I can likely only maximize one attribute," Temp confirmed. "My attribute distribution is set. Yours are malleable, and we have already started on the vitality path."
"I see," Cal muttered, a tinge of regret lacing his tone. "Vigor would have been ideal."
"Focus on the advantages," Temp advised, its essence unwavering despite the static nature of its existence.
The corners of Cal’s lips quirked up in a ghost of a smile. He pictured the stats aligning, the power they promised. "I like it, let's do it. Do we have enough sunburst orchids to push you there?"
"Uncertain, we will have to test." Temp responded.
Cal nodded, the decision crystallizing like ice in his veins.
"Then there is the matter of the system message," Temp interjected, shifting gears with the precision of a machine.
"Right." Cal's muscles tensed, the memory of the cryptic words sending a shiver down his spine despite recently coming from a blazing inferno.
"There are multiple interpretations from the system warning message," Temp continued, its tone betraying nothing of the underlying complexities. "But I expect these warnings will continue if we choose this path. The system seems to be run by multiple parties and has a complex bureaucracy involved, so we may be safe for now as they push paper."
"Yes, we need to find someone who can tell us more. Perhaps Elena will be more open to talk than Mara," Cal replied.
"Indeed." Temp's lights blinked, a lighthouse guiding through fog. "The system holds many puzzles."
"Puzzles. And dangers.” Cal turned the word over in his mind, a pebble smooth from the relentless wash of the sea. He knew puzzles; he could navigate them. But this—this was a different beast, shrouded in too many unknowns.
A similar protective governance system was built on Old Earth and failed miserably. It was meant to make wars less common and more fair if they occurred, but there were too many problems and loopholes.
"Preparation is key," Temp said, its certainty a beacon in the uncertainty that enveloped them.
"Always is." Cal squared his shoulders, resolve hardening. Preparation, adaptation, survival—these were the tenets that would see him through. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on, with every enhanced attribute and title at his disposal.
"Temp," Cal said, his voice barely above the murmur of the clear stream, "I can't shake this feeling—like we're pawns in someone else's game. I just want to get back home, but everything is pushing us towards more power and thus more powerful enemies."
"An understandable concern," Temp replied, its vocal modulation steady, almost soothing. "But remember, adaptability has always been your strength."
"Adapt to what, though?" Cal frowned, turning to face the chair. "A system that's as cryptic as it is omnipotent?"
"Learning its mechanics is essential," Temp intoned, shifting subtly as if to emphasize its point. "The Ostellian accords are part of that learning curve. If we can find their regulations, we can prepare in advance."
"The Ostellian accords?" Cal raised an eyebrow, interest piqued despite the unease.
"Correct. The system messages indicate that these accords are the framework within which the system operates. Perhaps as a negotiation to their implementation," Temp punctuating the statement. "Understanding them will grant us leverage."
Cal nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders ebbing like the retreating tide. "Perhaps, if we can find the opportunity. We will learn their ins and outs. Does the system have them preloaded that we can reference?"
"No, not that I have seen so far. The capabilities may expand as we progress," Temp confirmed.
"Let's hope," Cal muttered, stepping from the water's edge
Cal paced the perimeter of their makeshift camp. The night air was crisp, carrying with it the scent of cinnamon that spoke of the world's strangeness.
"Cal," Temp said, breaking the silence, "I have also been analyzing Mara's teachings on skills."
He stopped, his boots digging into the soft earth. "Skills?" Cal's voice was sharp, slicing through the quiet like a blade, “you mean you can translate now?”.
"Yes, they are absolutely essential," Temp continued, its light casting an otherworldly glow on the trees around them. "I have indeed understood how they work. But I am still unable to perform the guideweave."
"Share what you've learned from Mara’s book," Cal commanded, his blue eyes reflecting the chair’s form as he turned to face it.
"Each skill we acquire can be honed, strengthened by practice and use in the field, and merged to create more powerful skills." Temp's voice was factual, devoid of any inflection.
"Practice," Cal echoed, rolling the word around as if tasting it for the first time. "And these will grow with us? Adapt as we do?"
"In theory, yes." Temp's lights flickered in a pattern that resembled a nod. “We will have to test it to verify.”
"Then let's not waste any more time," Cal decided, his determination palpable in the cool night air. "Start from the beginning, Temp. Leave nothing out."
"There are two primary categories of skills," it began, its voice rich with acquired knowledge. "Support and dao-bound."
Cal sat down on a nearby rock. "Support makes sense – like translation?” He questioned.
"These support skills are not constricted by purpose," Temp clarified, its lights pulsating gently. "Support skills are those that do not require internal mana, and only use external mana. Dao-bound are the opposite, and I am not very clear on how they are acquired."
"Understood," Cal said, straightening up, muscles taut with anticipation. "How do we get these skills?"
"Some through trials, challenges, and insights," Temp replied. "They're etched into your being upon success, growing as you do."
Cal paced, the earth damp beneath his boots. "Trials?" His mind raced, piecing together each scrap of information.
"Indeed – I am not clear on this point either," Temp confirmed. "Improvement comes with repeated use, pushing limits, exploring boundaries."
"Sounds like training as usual," Cal mused, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Here," Temp intoned, its voice a thrumming current beneath the stillness of the forest. "The skill panel."
"Show me," Cal commanded, his gaze razor-sharp as he examined the cascading list of abilities. The air buzzed with the potential that lay within the digital codex.
"These skills will be bound to me as the system is," Temp advised, its words measured, precise. "I believe the path to your skills will require even further comprehension."
"Well, let’s see the support ones," Cal whispered, selecting the category. A list spilled out before him, each representing a skill. His finger hesitated over the glowing translation skill.
[Translation: a translation skill used to read and comprehend the most common galactic languages of the Cazoran sector.
Comprehension: 50% (Cost to complete: 4 Luck)
Upgradeable
]
“How curious. They use an attribute as currency? Let’s take a look at some more options before we decide.”