It was around 8 am when the Trial of Worth finally ended. In the last seven days, I had survived waking up on a wandering reaper, nearly died of poisoning and a fungal infection, and fought countless beasts above my level. I had exterminated two groups of creatures, one with some aphrodisiacs and a poison bomb—another with parasitic fungi. I had learned alchemy and magic and used a bow, learning the way of this new world. Then, in the blink of an eye, it ended with a chime—one I didn’t expect. It read:
—---
The rankings of this year’s Trial of Worth will not be displayed due to a request. Information on individual performance may be ascertained by speaking to participating neophytes directly.
—---
Did I do that? I thought. I paid for a diamond-level information suppression request, as it prevented the Oracle from giving information about me—or aiding people in manipulating me. It seemed it was already working, and it made sense. If there was a blank name where mine should be—everyone would know who it was, so the ranking needed to be shut down to prevent people from finding out. Still, it was hard to believe a diamond-level request shut down the entire ranking for the year.
It was probably because it wasn’t a voluntary trial.
I didn’t know and it ultimately didn’t matter, so I shrugged and pushed the notification aside, only to find myself face-to-face with something I hadn’t expected. It was a multiverse ranking breakdown—and the description dunked my head in ice water.
—---
Trial of Worth Rankings
Description: Every year, there are regional and multiverse-wide rankings for the Trial of Worth, and even going up against seventy-nine trillion other participants, gaining three legacies after killing hundreds of second evolution beasts and developing two cores of ultra-high purity certainly clinched you the top. It wasn’t easy, though. Four people from this year’s “Send me to the baddest, most dangerous place I can quickly level up!” crop also survived, and they’re all currently kicking trees and shooting spells around after realizing that, even after clawing themselves out of the pits of hell and gaining two legacies, there was someone who did better than them. So revel in it.
—---
My skin tingled with goosebumps when I read the subtext. I wondered how many people would ask for that exact thing. Millions? Hell, Tyler might have asked for that.
Yet only four survived.
It made sense. The Areswood Forest was a murder machine that should’ve killed me with ease. It couldn’t have been the only place that was terrifying.
Let’s see these rewards, I thought nervously, going to the next screen and reading.
—---
Multiverse Ranking:
1. Took first place for kill points (weighted for quality) for this year’s integration for humanoid races. You have also taken the first place for the century in this metric.
2. Took first place for most powerful alchemic creation for this year’s integration.
3. Took first place for strongest mana core in this year’s integration for humanoid races.
4. …
—---
The list kept going, and I got a platinum reward for taking first in seventeen rankings in the entire multiverse. Mana strength, purity, and skill. Soul core strength, purity, and skill. Strongest cleansing. Largest number of kills in one attack. Then, distinctions in most creative kills and the like. I also got two gold rewards for taking second place in two and didn’t rank for dozens of categories, from most alchemic creations to most identifications. There was a long list, but the things I did, I took place for.
I could only imagine Kline’s contributions because he had his chest puffed out, smiling creepily, eyes darting around with an aura of satisfaction.
That was just the start. I also got a gold reward for each regional win as well, taking twenty-one awards. In total, I got a satisfying forty rewards.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” I said. “No one else had a chance.”
Kline huffed as if to say, Really? You really think someone else could’ve survived this shit? Then he returned to his invisible pop-up, smirking wider than ever.
“Good point,” I muttered, looking through my rewards, which were different from my requests. I got my requests for leveling up and a batch for every five levels. I could use those for anything. I got rewards for completing quests, which gave me options. I’m not sure how these rewards would work, but here was the lineup:
—---
Books (3 platinum, 3 gold)
Spells (3 platinum, 3 gold)
Recipes (3 platinum, 5 gold)
Blueprints (3 gold)
Tutorials (3 platinum, 3 gold)
Skills (3 Diamond, 3 platinum, 3 gold)
Equipment (2 Platinum, 3 gold)
—---
The three diamond-level skill requests were Oracle-provided rewards for taking on the legacy quests. The feature was initially locked until I finished the Trial of Worth, as there was a legacy quest as an option, and it was recommended that I shouldn’t buy a specialized skill before I determined my legacy and subclass. Now, they were unlocked, but we’ll get to that.
For now, I was just grateful knowing that my ever-dwindling pile of requests I had to ration for a few months until I evolved went up.
God knows I needed them.
For everything.
Hopefully, the rewards were things I actually needed—as I only got the options it provided me.
This’s ridiculous, I thought. I was overwhelmed by the sight, and pushed them aside like books and skills and recipes. They were relevant when they were relevant. Before then, I would just kick back.
“Hey Lithco. Wasn’t there, like… a Trial of Worth reward?”
A chat window popped up with the following statement:
“Yes. There is a generalized reward. In your case, you have taken first in the entire Multiverse, so you have won the Wreath of Distinction. Here is the reward.”
Another pop-up flashed in front of my eyes, this one containing a juicy, juicy reward that made me drool.
—---
Award: Wreath of Distinction
Reward: Spatial Dividers
Description: In a nearly offensive twist of fate, being first in the multiverse has provided you with the exact thing that you’ve been lacking and still won’t fix your problems: a two-way portal that will let you teleport between locations. Set one array in one place and then activate it from the other, then walk right through. It sounds convenient—but don’t get the wrong idea. This portal doesn’t work one way: leave it on the other side of Galfer’s Gate, and you will find thousands of people flooding in to overwhelm you. Or people might break it, ruining an epic-grade artifact. Or, Brindle will be furious you gave people a door to the forest. So… don’t be an idiot. Use it wisely, leave it where it’s not accessible, and don’t tell a soul.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Warning: The portal must remain in two separate locations, and one portal cannot pass through the other. Spirit beasts and humans can activate it, so leaving it in a monster-rich area can lead stray beasts to break into the other end. Use it wisely.
—---
This’s absurd… I thought, nearly shaking with excitement. It was impossible to fathom how many precious plants I passed up. How much food I left to rot. How many supplies I left in the forest. The doomsday prepper in me had spent the last week feeling her skin crawl! Now, there was a solution. I’ll save ‘em for the harvest, I thought.
I could keep adding items to my equipment drop order so long as it made it to the courier in time, but I didn’t trust anyone to bring anything to me in this forest, and was already warned against it. That made me feel especially wary regarding my epic grade gear.
“Hey Lithco,” I said softly. “These’re epic items. Can’t you make an exception for… you know… teleporting them here or something?”
“I can’t,” Lithco replied in a pop-up. “The Areswood Forest has a barrier that limits fifth-tier-or-higher spatial magic to once per decade.”
My eyelid spasmed. “And you chose me to be your decade attempt? Know what? Don’t answer that question.”
There was no point in dwelling on all of this. It was bad enough that random beasts could eat my equipment if unqualified idiots flew mounts over the wall. It was worse imagining my equipment crashing into a spider nest… or worse. Thinking about these things just gave me needless anxiety.
Well, that’s that… I thought.
I wish there was a bed I could crash on, but I was outside, sitting on a rotted log that could collapse at any moment, listening to the symphony bugs as Kline pranced around like the big man on campus.
I suppose he was.
I guess all that’s left is… I opened my system and went to the untouched tabs.
—---
Name: Mira Hill
Level 24 (Capped Until Evolution)
Evolution: 0 (Pending)
Legacy [New]
Subclass (Blessed) [New]
Requests
Rewards
Library
Spells, Recipes, and Blueprints
Tutorials
Skills
Market
—---
My heart became a slight drumroll as I hovered my finger above Legacy. I chose it.
To my undeserved surprise, party streamers didn’t explode from the screen and I didn’t get pulled into an alternate dimension. A god didn’t materialize like Lithco, either. It was identical to my other screen, except the Request tab was missing, and in its place were three new ones: “Quest,“ “Tribute,” and “Patron Guidance.”
I chose Library. As expected, there was some books on soul manipulation—
—but there were only a few.
I wonder if Brindle controls my learning… I wondered. I still didn’t know how the whole legacy system worked, so I would have to ask about it later.
Interesting… I thought. What’s Quests?
I chose it.
A bulletin board of voluntary requests flashed in front of my eyes, like Indeed job postings or a seedy odd job site. I decided to read a few to Kline, just for the novelty.
“Capture a soul, clean a soul, connect to a living soul, cleanse your soul core… This’s ominous…” I muttered. It was just now reaching me that I was messing with the souls, the real fucking souls, of real things. I looked at Kline to see if he was judging me—
—not like that would say much—and chose one.
—---
Neophyte Mira Hill has been offered a new Quest.
Legacy Quest: Capture a Soul
Quest Summary: Before you can brutally stretch and carve and whittle down a sentient being’s soul, stuff it into a foreign body, and brainwash it into becoming your pet, you must first grab a soul. It’s just like kidnapping anything else—you just have to reach out and grab it… when you have enough strength to grab it. Luckily, you already have a soul core, so you will be able to do that in a few weeks of eating spirit beasts when you recover your strength.
Requirements:
* Hold onto a soul for one minute.
Rewards:
* Soul Cleaning Skill
—---
I suppose I’ll needa take a tutorial… I thought—
—and I did. There were tutorials on each of the quest items.
Once I confirmed that, I focused on the power of the legacy. I was getting a skill for completing a simple action that I would’ve done anyway.
If I survived. One week had nearly killed me countless times. I had to remind myself that most of my troubles were from time pressure and legacy quests. Right now, all I had to do was survive. I could sit in one place and train my mental fortification for months. I was free.
It wouldn’t be a problem.
I thought.
I continued my tour, staring at the Tribute tab nervously. I chose it and got a notification that left me feeling relieved.
—---
Your patron god had not issued any tribute requirements. You will receive a notification when this changes.
—---
At least one of ‘em’s easy-going… I knew that Elana’s tribute would not be so simple.
I moved on to the glaring one that screamed “This is a god’s Legacy!”—Patron Guidance.
I chose it and got four options.
—---
Patron Guidance:
Lectures
Request a Lecture
Recorded Tutorials
Request a Tutorial
—---
I winced. I felt hesitant to pester a god. Yet… I got the feeling that I’d get in trouble if I didn’t at least reach out to them.
Turned out, it didn’t matter for Brindle.
There was nothing in any of the tabs.
Well that’s rude… I closed my eyes and leaned my head against a tree. But… it’s ideal.
I was getting skills for learning things. That meant that I would get books and recipes and tutorials simply by teaching myself. That was a dream come true.
But…
I looked at the Subclass tab.
I… don’t wanna…
Elana was going to be opposite Brindle. I knew it.
I went through the Subclass and found it the same, except that the quests felt more rigid, and the rewards for each lecture were individual recipes and tutorials. My resources would be far more limited.
Then I finally chose the Patron Guidance, and to my great surprise, I hadn’t missed a meeting during my hooky day. Instead, I saw that our first meeting was a week out.
A week…? I was genuinely shocked. I went into the Tribute tab and looked through the supplies and saw that there were only a few alchemic creations and a shopping list of raw resources. Something doesn’t feel right…
Then I got the notification that explained everything.
-----
All neophytes in the first domain have been offered a voluntary mission for the Domain Quest, “Air Drop Equipment in the Areswood Forest.”
Mission: Trial of Survival
Description: If you wish to earn the diamond reward to drop off supplies in the Fourth Ring of the Areswood Forest, you must first prove you have a chance of delivering the equipment. Bring your mounts to the Third Ring of the Areswood Forest in three days to start the event. If you drop mock equipment halfway to the end of the Bramble. The first to complete the Bramble will immediately gain the right to deliver the equipment.