It's here! 7K words long... A little smaller since its a chapter I've made from zero, its around how things will be once we catch up to where we were.
Peace!
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Philip's reflection wavered in the microwave's dented surface, the warped metal twisting his features into something grotesque. He leaned closer, the appliance's cold and dry surface pressing against his knuckles as he studied the stranger staring back at him.
"...Urg... I do look like a walking bag of bones." His voice sounded alien to his own ears, thinner, reedier than he remembered. The words left a bitter taste on his tongue, like chewing on chalk
Sharp angles and hollows. Sunken cheeks that made his cheekbones look ready to pierce through parchment-thin skin. Dark circles beneath his eyes so pronounced they might have been bruised... they likely were.
His lips were chapped, peeling in places where dehydration had taken its toll, cuts and small injuries scattered across his skin...
'... I feel like my skin is tugging at my bones.' he thought, running a trembling hand through greasy, unwashed hair that clung to his scalp in clumps
'Uneven features, dark eyes...' His nose had clearly been broken at some point and healed crooked. A small scar bisected his left eyebrow, the story behind that lost to whatever memories hadn't transferred with him... or those he hadn't bothered to look into
"This is one ugly son of a..." Philip's reflection grimaced back at him, "That's me now… Not one of my most gracious take-overs…"
The microwave door squeaked in protest as he released it, the sudden movement making him lightheaded. He steadied himself against the counter, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him of just how long it had been since this body had had proper nutrition.
Although its unusual weakness was already a glaring sign of that…
"Huff... Can I even swing anything with a body like this? I'd probably faint if I went fishing on a sunny day..."
'If there's one thing I can be happy about...' Philip straightened slowly, taking stock of his frame. Despite the malnutrition, the basic proportions were familiar, the same long limbs, the same shoulder width…
'This body's overall proportions are like mine. So there shouldn't be too much downtime getting used to the changes in physical structure.'
He stretched experimentally, feeling joints pop and muscles protest, 'He's tall and thin. If I put some muscle into this body...' The ghost of his former physique flickered in his mind's eye, the hard-earned definition from his training and suffering… 'I'll likely get a physical outline akin to mine.'
His lips twisted wryly. 'But doing that is another issue entirely...'
A cockroach skittered across the counter, disappearing into a crack in the wall. Philip watched it go with detached interest. "... So this is how it feels to be a transmigrator."
The word felt strange in his mouth, like something out of the webnovels he'd read during sleepless nights back home. The reality was far less glamorous than the stories suggested... No triumphant arrival, no awestruck onlookers, just a dingy apartment that smelled of mildew and defeat, and a body that felt like it might collapse under its own weight.
"Compared to our arrival in the Palace... Sigh... I'm not even free here."
'To take over another body and restart life from there...' He flexed his hands, watching the tendons shift beneath his papery skin, 'Well... if it had been me before becoming a Hero, that might've been the case.'
A dry chuckle escaped him as he spat on the ground, it wouldn't make a difference in this dump, 'What do I call this, though? The summoned Hero is transmigrated?...'
The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. He'd gone from world to world, each transition stripping away another piece of whatever he'd once considered "normal." Now here he was, standing in someone else's life, wearing someone else's skin… and finding it funny.
Philip studied his reflection for several more minutes, committing every hollow and shadow to memory as he continued to curse its depraved conditions. This was his canvas now, battered and neglected, but his to reshape...
Somehow, he needed to turn this dirty, impure blob of river clay into a pristine pot. It only made him appreciate his old body even more.
Turning away, he surveyed the apartment with fresh eyes. The piles of trash had been organized into something resembling order, "clean" would be too generous a term, but at least now there were pathways between the mounds of discarded takeout containers and yellowed newspapers.
The air still carried the sour tang of neglect and mold, but opening the window earlier had let in a faint breeze that carried the distant sounds of city life.
The supermarket delivery had arrived not long ago. He could still see the delivery driver's face at the back of his mind: the poorly concealed disgust, the way the man had held the bags at arm's length as if afraid whatever Philip had might be contagious. The memory burned, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
His fingers brushed against the new clothes draped over the back of a chair - simple, durable fabrics in dark colors. Nothing fancy, but they'd hold up to training and, more importantly, they were clean… a luxury it seemed.
Philip's gaze drifted to the door, beyond which lay the shared bathroom down the hall. Just the thought of it made his skin crawl. The few times Darius had ventured in there played in his memory like horror scenes, cracked tiles swimming in questionable fluids, a shower stall that looked like a petri dish, the ever-present smell of mildew and something decidedly more biological.
'Even if I were to take a shower...' he thought with a shudder, 'I'd revert back to this state soon after if I stay around.'
The idea of standing barefoot in that cesspool made his toes curl instinctively. '... I'd probably come out with more diseases than I went in with...'
"Maybe that's why Darius was always fucking sick… If those side hustles of him weren't enough… working from morning to night... Right, I may have to ask for resignation or whatever."
He wasn't going back to work, that's for certain. At least right now was a kind of holyday given the event that was about to happen. Of course, Darius wasn't going to enjoy it.
Someone had to work to keep things afloat. People like him were the chosen ones, and he was even more special as he wouldn't be paid overtime.
A truly blessed man...
"What a headache." he muttered, scratching at his itchy scalp with increasing frustration, "How am I supposed to take a shower? Should I go to a hotel?..." The idea had merit, but his newly acquired debts loomed large in his mind
He needed the money for something else, and until he got his hands on those, extra expenses like that weren't that high on his priority list… even though they should.
/BZZZ!/
The intercom's buzz startled him from his thoughts. "Ahh... The first round of takeout has arrived..." A faint smile tugged at his chapped lips as his stomach growled in anticipation.
He could already imagine the flavors, the warmth spreading through his undernourished body, 'Time to bless this stomach with some decent food in a while.'
The thought alone was enough to make his mouth water... 'Let's see how this world's cuisine compares to Eden's and Earth's...'
The five flights of stairs left him winded, his legs trembling by the time he reached the lobby. The delivery person handed over the bags with none of the previous judgment, just the weary indifference of someone at the end of their shift.
As he closed the door and turned around, he realized he'd still have to return… With a dark expression, turbid vision, and weary breath, he climbed back to the fifth floor. Collapsing as soon as he put his food on the table.
This repeated a few extra times with him acting more desperate each time. To the point he was forced to pay a tip to the delivery driver if they sent the food directly to his door.
It worked wonders. He called it a stroke of genius…
Later on, back in the apartment, surrounded by an increasingly ridiculous amount of food containers, Philip began his project of rebuilding his body in earnest. He ate methodically, savoring each bite even as his shrunken stomach protested the sudden influx.
More deliveries arrived throughout the afternoon, enough food to last two weeks, much less two days…
As the sun dipped below the city skyline, casting long shadows through his grimy window, Philip sat cross-legged on the slightly less-dirty carpet, surrounded by the remnants of his feast. The new clothes didn't itch against his skin like his previous ones... which he promptly threw aside.
His belly was full for the first time since waking in this world. The relative comfort let his mind wander, tracing the contours of his strange new existence. The System's messages, the impending trials, the memories of a boy who'd been failed by everyone around him. It all swirled together in his thoughts as the sounds of the city filtered through the thin walls.
But that was all soon drowned out by his incoming priorities. And as he grew used to, Philip threw all of those thoughts away, focusing solely on his tasks…
...
/Around three hours later.../
/Burn.../
The stale apartment air shimmered with heat as blue flames licked across Philip's skeletal frame.
/Crackle.../
The fire danced like living liquid, forming intricate patterns that writhed across his skin before solidifying into ghostly armor plates. The scent of burnt air mixed with his sweat as the energy played across his hollowed features.
Wisps of cerulean energy spiraled upward, casting flickering shadows on the stained walls. Each tongue of flame left behind a tingling sensation, not quite pain and more akin to numbness. The temperature in the cramped room had risen several degrees, making the peeling wallpaper curl at the edges.
It was like a sauna inside the room. Philip's breath came in measured cycles as he maintained the energy flow. In his current state, traditional training would do more harm than good. Instead, he moved through careful stretches, his body protesting each motion with creaks and twinges.
Simple planks became endurance trials, his trembling arms barely supporting his weight even with Armament's support.
[Armament 1 -> 2]
[Help 3 -> 4]
The notifications burned across his vision, their silver text stark against the blue-tinged darkness behind his eyelids.
"Haaa..." Philip exhaled slowly, a stream of super-heated air distorting the space before him. Nearby, a plastic water bottle sagged, its surface bubbling where the concentrated heat touched it. The stench of melting polymer joined the room's already potent bouquet of sweat and stale takeout
"It's progressing smoothly." he murmured, watching the energy patterns shift across his forearms, "At this rate I might gain just enough to carry me through the first stages of the Trials."
His fingers flexed experimentally, blue flames responding like eager hounds to their master's call, 'Raising Armament's level is pretty straightforward.' he mused, feeling the familiar pathways of energy flow through his nervous system.
The System's guidance was clear, almost instinctual, like remembering how to pedal a bike after years of stagnation, 'Just going through the methods imprinted on my mind is enough training for me. But what matters most here is adapting it to this vessel.'
The flames flickered as he shifted position, his spine popping audibly, 'Help is also progressing smoothly…' The supportive energy thrummed beneath his skin, knitting together overtaxed muscle fibers even as he trained. It wasn't the skill's original purpose, but an welcomed side effect.
'Maybe because Armament is a high-level power, every time it levels up, so does it... Help seems to have additional properties as well. But I'm all alone here.'
'Darius was born with two unique abilities distinct to him. Usually this only reveals itself after someone goes through the trials, but he can't reveal his uniqueness to others. It already backfired once.'
His brow furrowed. 'That said, I have the impression things shouldn't be progressing this fast.'
A memory surfaced, 'Probably because I already know how to develop Armament? Well...' The flames pulsed in time with his heartbeat as he inhaled them back onto his body, 'It doesn't matter much. The only things that do here are those strange visions.'
Each level gained came with fragmented memories, not his own, but something... other. Echoes of different paths, alternate evolutions of these same powers, 'Whenever my skills level up, I seem to receive some kind of memory fragment to supplement its change.'
He watched a newly created wisp of flame form into a shape resembling a gauntlet before dissolving again…
'I can understand it for some skills, but I don't need it for my own, do I?'
'Armament is much more than the fusion of my previous Skills… I can't quite put it in words no matter how many times I rehearse what I know.'
'A power that envelops the body and transforms it. I thought some kind of swordsmanship or martial exercises would be combined with the Arcane source of the Pthumerians, but it became something else entirely.'
'To be more precise, that was what happened when I first fused it all. This change came to be when I evolved it… The System took it in some strange direction that makes me feel as if I'm looking at a blank wall.'
'So far, I can very well understand where the techniques of the Pthumerians and the Inhuman Martial Arts have gone, but what about the swordsmanship I created? Where does it fit in this strange manual?'
'Some aspects of it still exist within my memories, but they don't look necessary at all… Why did Skill Fusion say this technique was suitable for fusion while my others weren't?'
'Hum… It could be because Inhuman Martial Arts were developed to supplement Samuel's revised methods and thus were one and the same. Performing one without the other only leads to an imbalance as something needs to be there to bind it all together.'
"I think I understand it somewhat, but something's still missing…"
'… I'll have to put this matter aside for now. What matters is that I can use Armament's innate properties to cleanse and stimulate this body rapidly. It won't make me a greek god, but I'll grow a little bit. Maybe just enough to not fall flat after swinging a blade once.'
Out of all his recent thoughts regarding Armament, his most unsettling realization was how these visions diverged from his hard-earned knowledge, "This System..." Philip whispered, extinguishing the flames with a thought
"It has most likely interpreted this skill differently from what I'm used to." His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air as he thought about something only he could see, "If I follow this path, won't I end up with a completely different Armament from the one I created?"
The possibilities swirled in his mind, 'Or would it be just an interpretation? Would it be distinct enough for me to fuse both together later on?... hum... Maybe both can coexist within the same…' His stomach growled, interrupting the train of thought
"Looks like I overdid it… Trying to stimulate this body through Armament isn't easy… One wrong move and I'm half done on the barbecue."
The cracked phone screen illuminated his face as he checked the time, "Let's see... It's 5pm..." The numbers glared back at him accusingly, "Then I have tomorrow, and the trials open at 8am the day after..."
His fingers tightened around the device… urging him to throw it away again, "That's barely a day and a half."
The glow highlighted the hollows under his eyes as he considered his dwindling options, 'Aside from training, I need to find some equipment.' conforming to his memories, government-issued gear was notoriously flimsy, barely adequate for normal candidates, let alone whatever he was training to do
'The government provides those attempting the trials with basic gear, but I doubt a standard issue equipment will tolerate even a fraction of Armament's power.'
He imagined the pathetic weapons disintegrating in his hands mid-combat… 'Once I advance enough, I'll likely find something better, but I need to get there first...'
"I can start looking tomorrow." he announced to the empty room, the audience of roaches and plastic bottles, voice rough from disuse and smoke inhalation, "But it's too late now to go after it."
His thumb brushed across the phone's cracked surface... "Even if it's just a rod of metal, anything is better than those flimsy knives."
The device warmed in his hands as he began searching, '… Their version of the internet is so dirty… so heavily monitored…' he noted, navigating through layers of bureaucratic filters, 'But it's easy to navigate if you know how...'
'I just need to find some shops in the vicinity and see if they have what I'm looking for.'
Then reality came crashing back, 'That said... I'm short on cash.' The loan money was substantial, but would it cover his equipment?
"If I can't buy something decent…" Philip growled, tossing the phone aside harder than intended, "… then I'll have to improvise." He glared at his wrists, so thin he could nearly encircle them with thumb and forefinger, "This body won't last one punch with my wrist being the thickness of a chopstick..."
Frustration fueled another round of training, blue flames erupting from his skin with renewed intensity. The cycle continued late into the night, brief periods of meditation punctuated by light exercises, all while Armament's energy worked its metamorphosis on his malnourished frame.
Sleep claimed him for only four pitiful hours before dawn's light crept through the grimy window. He awoke with a start, muscles protesting but mind sharp, immediately resuming his routine.
Only when the sun had properly risen did he pause to scrub himself down with a damp towel, the lukewarm water turning brown with grime. The makeshift bath did little beyond removing the worst of the surface filth, but with fresh clothes, the simple black pants and a gray hooded sweatshirt, he at least no longer looked like a vagrant.
… Or so he told himself… The subway windows told a different story, reflecting a gaunt-faced young man with hollow cheeks and fever-bright eyes. The other passengers gave him a wide berth, though whether from his appearance or the faint scent clinging to him, he couldn't tell.
His destination was one of the city's many open-air blacksmiths. The rhythmic clang of hammer on steel grew louder as he approached, mingling with the hiss of quenching and the shouted instructions of craftsmen to their apprentices. Here, modern alloys met ancient techniques to forge weapons for a new generation of would-be heroes.
Heroes did more than just fight. The Trials weren't solely meant for those able to handle a weapon. If you were outstanding in other areas, be it hammering iron away or speaking to the people, the Trials would reshape themselves to fit the challenger.
"… Let's get this over with."
…
After half an hour of heavy negotiation, Philip stepped out of the dimly lit shop with his weapon in possession. The late afternoon sun glared off the uneven blade, highlighting every imperfection in its crude construction.
It felt terrible in his hand, 'The grip is fucking terrible…' he thought, fingers shifting uncomfortably over the bumpy leather wrapping. The material felt cheap and already peeling at the edges, 'The edge itself is as dull as my kitchen knives, and it looks ugly...' His lips twitched in reluctant recognition… 'It's oddly familiar...'
The blade, if it could be called that, was about the length of his arm, with a slight forward curve that did little to disguise its fundamental awkwardness. It was a Dadao, albeit they did not call it that in this land…
The metal was nearly a quarter-inch thick along both edges, making it resemble a curved metal club more than a proper sword. The weight distribution was atrocious, pulling uncomfortably at his wrist with each experimental swing.
With its shape and weight, calling it an unfinished dull axe might be more appropriate…
The hilt was perhaps the worst offender, poorly balanced with a pommel that dug into his palm at certain angles. For a wild moment, Philip considered stripping the wrapping entirely and gripping the bare tang.
"Damn…"
'The metal scraping against my skin would likely do less to my health than this bumpy and uneven hilt.' he mused, wincing as a particularly sharp ridge pressed into his calluses.
There was no mystery as to why this weapon had been languishing in the shop's discount bin. The smith had been all too eager to part with it, though not without extracting every credit from Philip's dwindling funds. Only its construction from some sort of high-grade tungsten alloy made it remotely suitable, although Philip couldn't quite tell if that was the case.
He could only assume it was that based on his limited knowledge. In either case, it was one of the few metals that might withstand Armament's full power without shattering on first use… ordinary metals that is… and one he could afford too.
Without MT to give him an analysis of the metal, he could only base himself on its properties, which Darius did not know much about. And with half a day of study, it was hard to draw conclusions.
With his mission completed, his fingers twitched toward his wallet before remembering its emptiness… 'I can't even go on credit.' he recalled bitterly as he kicked a stone on the sidewalk
Every payment method had been frozen until he addressed his mounting debts. The hole kept getting deeper, and he kept digging… The walk back to his apartment was punctuated by the weapon's awkward weight bumping against his back.
That evening, he made a decision. The squalor of Darius' apartment would do him no favors before the Trials. After another grueling session of conditioning his malnourished body and testing the blade's limits, Philip packed his meager belongings and left without turning back.
The hotel near the Trial Spire might drain his funds further, but at least he'd arrive rested and clean. Whatever money he had right now would mean nothing once he left the Trials. So why keep it?
He took this chance to clean his clothes and to be ready for tomorrow. While presentation wasn't his goal, he didn't want to be looked at once he got there… low key… he thought as he took off his clothes.
While there wasn't much of a noticeable difference, his body was visibly larger than two days ago. His training was doing something, but would it be enough?
/Shuaaa!/
The difference was immediate when he stepped under the hotel shower's steaming spray. After avoiding the apartment building's biohazard of a shared bathroom, the hot water felt like a revelation.
"Ahhhg!… Huff… I forgot how it felt to get hot water on your ass… I'm so used to my body that I just… Haaa…"
'I wouldn't even feel the difference. Only a shower hot enough to cloud a bathroom in mist would make me feel anything…'
His skin prickled at first contact, unused to such luxury, then seemed to drink in the warmth greedily. Days, perhaps months, of accumulated grime swirled down the drain in gray rivulets.
Philip leaned his forehead against the cool tile, letting the water pound tension from his shoulders. As he worked expensive hotel shampoo through his hair, the first proper washing it had received in living memory. He tried recalling when Darius had last experienced anything resembling self-care. The memories came up empty, just like everything else in his life…
"… phew… Now then, time to get this… whatever this is cleaned up." He said with a grim smile as he looked at his face
"… ouch!… Fuck!… To think I'd cut myself like this… I curse this plastic-wrap thick skin… urg!…"
A proper shave, hair product to tame the worst of his unkempt mop, even applying the complimentary moisturizer that left his face smelling faintly of aloe. The black jumpsuit and hoodie were far from stylish, but clean and functional. His new-old sword, wrapped in an old strip of white cloth, sat across his back with a comforting weight.
Dawn was just breaking as he stepped onto the streets, joining the growing stream of candidates flowing toward the Trial Spire.
The massive structure dominated the skyline, its twisting form like petrified roots grasping at the heavens. The surrounding park, normally a bustling commercial district, had been transformed into a sea of humanity.
Philip navigated the crowd with single-minded focus. The government emails and notifications had been relentless in their instructions: section E-9, arrive by 7:30 at the latest, bring identification. He could have recited the requirements in his sleep due to how many times his phone beeped from it.
The surrounding scene was equal parts festival and military mobilization. Hawkers shouted last-minute deals on "Trial-approved" gear. Panicked candidates crammed in final training sessions. Entrepreneurs offered "guaranteed success" coaching at exorbitant rates. Most striking was how few appeared combat-ready, the majority wore business attire or simple protective gear better suited to an office job than life-or-death trials.
This world's Trials weren't just about combat or crafting. The System granted skills for every aspect of life. A banker might receive mental arithmetic enhancements. A chef could gain perfect temperature control. These people weren't here to become warriors; they were here to secure better careers, better lives. The contrast with Darius' desperate, all-or-nothing approach was stark.
The line at processing moved with bureaucratic efficiency. The clerk's eyes widened slightly at Philip's declared goal, "Combat Specialization"… He looked at him up and down and grimaced. But the man said nothing beyond the required warnings.
The waiver forms were extensive, the disclaimers dire. When the clerk hesitated before stamping approval, Philip met his gaze steadily. He'd lie if necessary, responding in whatever way would get him out of trouble and waited. In the end, the trials were his and his alone. He'd be the one to make the final choice. Why delay the inevitable?
The issued gear was laughably inadequate, thin plastic-ish pauldrons that would shatter under real impact, knee pads better suited to gardening or biking, and a padded long shirt that might stop a fatal cut once or twice.
The issued knife was barely sharper than his new sword. The "shield" was a flimsy composite that flexed worryingly between his hands. Better equipment existed, of course, for those willing to sign contracts binding them to government service or corporate sponsorships.
This kind of thing was usually discussed beforehand. The army, for example, sponsored its soldiers and individuals going through service, mandatory or not.
Philip took only what was freely given, being happy he went after something decent for once.
Philip found a quiet corner to center himself, running through mental exercises as the final minutes drained away. As the clock ticked toward 8:00, the cavernous hall grew thick with nervous energy. Thousands of voices created a constant hum, punctuated by the occasional shout or burst of nervous laughter.
/CLANG!/
Then, a deep, resonant chime echoed through the chamber, silencing the crowd. The Trials had begun.
"…"
'It's time.'
Philip took a step forward, and in the next moment, he was somewhere else. No warning, no flashing light, just somewhere else.
Endless white in all four directions.
…
The air in the trial chamber grew heavy as the familiar silver script materialized before Philip's eyes:
[The Challenger has been confirmed]
A pause followed, a silencing hum... Philip exhaled slowly through his nose, feeling a faint smell rise in the air… As if in response to his feelings, the world itself seemed to inhale as he momentarily felt his body be pulled somewhere far away…
[Welcome to the Trials of Ascension. As per the ancient pact, a path to the divine is open]
The System prompt appeared before him, but at the same time, it seemed to speak to him inside his mind in a tone he could not recall.
The voice resonated through his bones rather than his ears. Ancient and weighty, it shook his whole being, sending away all forms of exhaustion he might've had, preparing him for what was to come.
[Stand ready to face the limits in which you're most confident]
[It has been proclaimed: four gates descend before you…]
A metallic groan echoed through the chamber as the ground trembled beneath Philip's feet. His muscles tensed instinctively, the fine hairs on his arms standing erect in response to this unknown pressure…
/CLANG!/
Four colossal gates slammed down in perfect unison, their impact sending vibrations through the stone floor that traveled up Philip's legs. Each portal stood thrice his height, their arched tips gleaming with otherworldly light.
The first gate shimmered with a soft golden hue, its polished surface reflecting Philip's gaunt face back at him. The scent of parchment and ink wafted from it, carrying whispers of hushed negotiations and rustling paperwork. With the scent of city life he was so familiar with… it gave him a sense of familiarity he longed for, but one he knew it was not yet time to dwell in.
The second pulsed with bronze light, its surface etched with intricate engravings of tools and blueprints. The tang of molten metal and sawdust filled the surrounding air, underscored by the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil. It too was a familiar sight, but different from the last; it invoked little response.
The third gate… called to Philip's very Soul. Forged from blackened iron, it was sharp and threatening.
As his gaze locked onto it, the coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth. The air around it crackled with restrained violence, raising goosebumps along his arms.
The fourth rippled like liquid mercury, its silver surface shifting endlessly. Discordant music, notes that shouldn't harmonize yet somehow did, drifted from its threshold, accompanied by the petrichor scent of rain on dry earth.
But as soon as his attention went elsewhere, once he put his eyes on it again, the feelings he felt from the gate had changed completely. An ever-revolving enigma, a gate of constant mystery.
At the same time, several notifications fell before his eyes:
[Prove your worth to your peers and aspire to be a better man. Become an irreplaceable cog in the machine that is society - The Trial of Community]
[Prove your skill and ascend the realms of mastery. Stand alongside those that built the past, the present, and the future - The Trial of Craft]
[Prove your might and carve through all in your path. Cull all that say otherwise, become the last one standing and slay all falsehood - The Trial of Combat]
[Prove your free spirit and tread a path unique to you. Leave your destiny in the hands of the Gods and persevere through their vision, become a new page in their endless biography - The Trial of Self Will]
[Choose your path]
Philip's lips parted without conscious thought, "The Trial of Combat."
'There's not even a need to consider it. I'm not a smooth talker, nor do I have traditional skills beneficial to society. The first is the path most of the population would follow, but it's not my path… not anymore.'
'Even though I have some ability with my hands, crafting and creating things is not my strength. It's complementary at best. And the last path is for those who have no direction. Some say it's the path where true Heroes are made… Maybe there's some merit to it, but is there one sole answer?'
'My path I know very well… To reach the heavens through violence… as someone would say…'
/Clack!/
The third gate from left to right opened before him, flashing red as a dangerous energy swept over him. Gigantic chains surged from within, splitting the world in which he stood, bringing its calmness to a chaotic state of annihilation.
Before he could fall onto the surging tides, the world turned dark… When the lights returned; it resumed its previous state, but this time, the doors weren't there.
A new System notification appeared before him, but this time, it seemed to burn at its edges with bloody-red flames.
[The Challenger wishes to prove their strength, but do they understand their limits?]
[Reach for the realm beyond mankind…]
[Civilian]
[Soldier]
[Champion]
[Heroic]
[Extreme]
Five paths opened up before him. But Philip already had something in mind…
"Civilian."
[A choice is made. The path unfurls…]
[Civilian First Stage 1-Star Trial, begins…]
/Shaaa…/
The System notifications turned to dust, scattering in the wind…
/CLANG!/
A powerful bell rang in the heavens, and a ball of darkness formed in the distance. From within, a creature stepped out, growling violently…
/Woof!/
"… Pfft…"
A mighty beast now stood before him, standing at a mighty twenty centimeters tall. It was a growling and visibly angry… poodle.
"Haaa… I knew it would be pretty simple, but this is borderline giving it to me for free…"
Seeing how the "beast" hadn't yet made its move, Philip rehearsed his plans one last time as he checked his equipment. No matter how easy his opponent may be, it wasn't correct to drop his guard.
One mistake here could very well cost the life of a God, after all…
"The first state… Three trials… The Hero of legend shall face the mighty… poodle… Sigh…"
'… The Trials are divided into five difficulties, each containing three stages. Most people attempt to go directly at what they believe is their level, but there's nothing stopping them from doing a gradual increase in difficulty.'
'It can be taxing to do that. After all, if you choose one difficulty, it's just three trials, but for each one beneath it, you have to go through three additional trials… Right now, it may be simple, but it's only the first stage.'
'Once you are deep down in the stages, even the first trial would be taxing, much less going through so many extra. Besides, finishing a higher stage awards you with the same things as you'd receive from going through all trials beforehand, so why waste extra energy if you can go through it all in one go?'
'Well… there are several… for once, one can grow stronger through each trial, which can be enough to challenge a higher one by the time you're done. But that's not my reason…'
"One reason I chose the lowest difficulty is merely due to the Help Ability." He said out loud as he took out his blade and unwrapped it
'If I go through multiple controlled stages, each one fueling power into Help and my other Abilities, then this would cause its power to grow, which will increase the efficiency of the skill once I complete further trials and so on… that was the thing the Goddess taught Darius in the past.'
'Of course, there's the chance I could end up with a bloated status from miscellaneous and discardable abilities… but I don't mind. At least not right now… If only I had Skill Fusion right now, but that will have to wait for later.'
'That's also only applicable to the first stage. The difficulty you complete the first stage limits what you can complete in the next one. So if you choose too low, that's just as high as you can go on the second one, although nothing stops you from going lower afterward.'
'Because of that, some people will aim really high on their first trial just so they can get access to higher rewards even if it means lowering themselves afterwards… After all, Challengers that reach higher difficulties are given extra benefits… It's enough to die for.'
"Now then… enough waiting, right? How do I start this… do I just take a step forward?"
'How kind of them.'
/Step…/
Philip stepped forward, and the poodle charged at him ferociously!… It was honestly pretty slow…
"… This trial is likely to just get the ordinary person used to killing… But would someone determined on following this path even hesitate at that?"
"A poodle isn't an awful choice in that regard. Dogs are far harder to kill than other animals given their status, even if… it's a dog like this… I'm not into animal cruelty, but…"
/GROWL!!/
/KICK!/
/WHIMPER!…/
Philip kicked the poodle away, injecting its body with a faint trace of Armament. The poor beast burned away in pain, dying within mere moments.
"… I'm sorry, little one. But you're not worthy of me spending any extra energy than this. If I could, I would've finished this painlessly…"
Its body burning in blue flames, it let out a last whimper…
[Trial Completed - Challenger Rank Updated]
[Civilian First Stage 1-Star]
The poodle's body turned to shadows, and the trial grounds returned to their previous state… mind the charred ground.
It seemed it only cleaned a portion of what was left behind… and with reason, after all, who's to say someone doesn't have an ability that'd benefit from the remains of each trial?
[Congratulations, Challenger!]
[Issuing rewards…]
[Abilities]
[Experience]
[Items]
"Hum… It's a little different from what I read so far… It seems the trials have changed slightly in this iteration… No matter, it doesn't change much."
'I don't need any extra abilities. Not from something this low-level, at least. Same with items, what could I even gain from defeating a poodle? A fashion bag?…'
"Experience."
[Providing one level worth of experience to a given Ability…]
A faint but continuous stream of memories and ideas passed through his mind. Fast and sharp, it slashed a place inside him before he even had the chance to blink.
It was far smoother this time, Philip wondered as he adjusted his thoughts. For once, he believed it was due to the Trial Grounds' uniqueness in the way it awarded the challengers, but maybe there was something else to it.
[Help 6 -> 7]
[Armament 3 -> 4]
[Greenhouse 0 -> 1]
"Excellent. Just as planned."
'Because of how small my Status is, there is only a one in three chance that experience will be directed where I want it to. However, I have Greenhouse… Its unique power is that it can isolate certain things from even the eyes of a God. Because of this, Darius theorized it was possible to hide it from the System as well.'
'Of course, that remains to be seen… But by the rate things are going, I may not even have the chance to prove that…'
'Anyhow, that's when things get interesting. Help has a hidden function, one shared by the Goddess… If experience is directed at Help, given its nature of providing and offering support to other Abilities, related skills will also receive the same experience… and not only will they receive it, the experience will be boosted by its innate properties.'
'So one level of experience suddenly turns into a one and a half… and since Help improved, next time, it'll be a little more than that and so on… and as Help increases in complexity, so does the value of each level.'
'Of course, the same will happen to Armament, but it doesn't matter… I could even say that since it's one level worth of experience, the same applies to all connected Abilities… But we'll see about that.'
'Either way, it's essentially free experience, and I can always hide skills if I want one of them to be chosen.'
"There was a reason Darius was the Goddess' Champion; his inner potential worked ridiculously well with this world's systems…"
'And that's not even putting Greehouse into consideration. It can do the same thing as Help as it nurtures whatever is placed under its influence. And as the abilities within evolve, so does it, albeit it took some time for that to bear some effect… Maybe there are more conditions for its growth…'
'What matters now is that I can also put Exceed onto Greenhouse, and I believe the number of slots inside will continue to rise as its level increases… and once Help evolves and I'm able to choose multiple targets… Heh.'
"Enough of that. Time to move on."
Philip adjusted his Status and focused on the swirling energy around him.
[Civilian First Stage 2-Star Trial, begins…]
/CLANG!/
A mass of shadows formed again where the poodle once stood, and a new, bigger dog appeared…
"… A bulldog?… Really? It's not even one of the bigger ones…"
Philip stepped forward…
/DASH!/
/KICK!/
The bulldog rushed after Philip with grand obsessions, as if starved for days. Yet… just like its predecessor, it burned away as Philip's feet clashed with its body.
[Trial Completed - Challenger Rank Updated]
[Civilian First Stage 2-Star]
[Congratulations Challenger!]
[Issuing rewards…]
[Abilities]
[Experience]
[Items]
"Experience."
[Providing two levels' worth of experience to a given Ability…]
[Help 7 -> 9]
[Armament 4 -> 5]
"There you go, one of my conjectures has been proven false... urg…"
Philip stood still, processing the memories as they came… Once they stopped, he took a deep breath, flames erupting around his body.
"Phew… Let's get this over with, I want a real fight…"
[Civilian First Stage 3-Star Trial, begins…]
/CLANG!/
A mass of shadows formed again where the previous dogs stood, and a new, bigger dog appeared…
"So it's a husky this time… Maybe we'll get to an actual wolf in the next round? Quite standard for a God's trial... Was I expecting too much from something as simple as combat? And the first trial to boot?..."
'... I like huskies though… This won't be nice…'
/Growl…/
"Come on… I'll at least end it fast for you…"
"WOOF!"
/DASH!/
"... See you in dog heaven…"
/SLASH!/
Philip held his blade in his right hand as he waited for the large husky to approach. The moment the dog jumped to bite at his ankle, he swung his sword down while stepping sideways, delivering a fatal strike against its neck.
By wrapping the blade in the blue flames, it burned through its hide and cut through its flesh, decapitating the poor thing in one continuous move.
"… Sigh."
[Trial Completed - Challenger Rank Updated]
[Civilian First Stage 3-Star]
[Congratulations Challenger!]
[Issuing rewards…]
[You've been granted 300 Trial Shards]
[Abilities]
[Experience]
[Items]
"Experience."
'The last reward, so that's how you get them. Trial Shards… That's what I need to finish this mission…'
But he wasn't given much time to think about that.
[Providing three levels worth of experience to a given Ability…]
[Help 9 -> Limit]
[Help Limit -> Care 0]
[Armament 5 -> 6]
The memories flashed, and he took them all with little issue. This time, something was unusual as the memories changed slightly, showing him something new, something beyond what he had seen before…
It was showing him how to go beyond his previous self, to the stage above his previous powers.
"I see… Simple but effective. And so far, my other conjecture has proven to be correct."
'Statistically speaking. If Greenhouse can't hide skills from the System, then there's only a one in twenty-seven chance Help was chosen as the focus of these experience rewards... Unless my will and desires are taken into account as well.'
'Because of this, Help has evolved to Care… Now I can also assist with Exceed's growth. Will it gain more slots as it evolves?… I'll take a look at its description once I'm done with these trials.'
'Not only that but everything.'
Lost in thoughts, a door materialized before him…
[Challenger, you have completed your trials. Proceed to the next stage, or attempt a greater challenge]
[You may also choose to relinquish future blessings. If you decide on such, you may keep all your current rewards and continue with greater challenges, but they won't provide you with anything until you complete a set]
[But if you are to fail, your ascension won't come to a sudden halt but continue from where you left off]
[Soldier]
[Champion]
[Heroic]
[Extreme]
"Quite kind of them… but I won't be needing it."
"Let's proceed, Soldier."
[A choice is made. The path unfurls…]
[Soldier First Stage 1-Star Trial, begins…]
…
.
.
.
Notes
Thank you for reading!