/Vroom!.../
"Haa… What an ass of a day… I went up and did it in the end, huh…"
In the middle of the night, when most crept into their dreams, a young man sat at a bus stop in the quiet streets of a metropolis, waiting for his ride back home.
After another stressful day at work, he sat down with his head hanging loose, too tired to look straight.
'Shit… What am I to do now? This was my first job… The only one I knew what I had to do.'
'I don't have many savings… Barely even started… Yet here I am throwing the letter…'
"Sigh…"
'Guess it's right back home. Too expensive to rent out around these parts, only did it because it was close, I could work a bit more and be more relaxed, always preferred to be close to my responsibilities.'
"... Maybe it's a bit too soon. I don't have much money, but I have half a year of expenses saved up since I barely spent it anywhere."
'Not having any expenses, such as a girlfriend or son, makes it easier. My hobbies aren't that expensive either, although I did blow a paycheck to boost my PC's performance a few months back… That said, I might be able to last a bit longer if I want to… If I don't touch "that"...'
'Most of my money went to my investment account… The one I opened with my grandmother's inheritance. There's quite some cash in there, but… Not a smart thing to do.'
'That money is meant to help me retire early. Have no plans of working till my 60s like my father did… The goal was to make myself indispensable in the office by learning a bit of everything and being the only person able to do tasks like fixing the printer on time… The only thing I got for that was unpaid over-fucking-time.'
'Everything would've been fine if not for that supervisor, always wanting to pull everyone's ass off. If not for him not wanting to keep working hours when they should, and maybe if the others hadn't been so passive about it, I would've been able to work five to ten years and climb up and gather enough to hit it big with my investments.'
'Modern day working… To hell with it, I've had enough of it. I'm only 25!'
"... There's only that job left… I passed the second interview, but I'm not confident. I suppose I'll be moving out soon…"
"Having difficulties, friend?"
"?"
The young man turned to the side to see a middle-aged man with black sleek hair and a long brown coat.
In this cold weather, it wasn't strange to see such a long one, but this wasn't what the boy found odd. No… It was, rather, his atmosphere.
He felt something strange as he looked at man, in fact, he felt the whole world… Slow down.
"I… Apologize. Didn't realize there was someone around."
"No issues, young man. I went through the same when I was your age. Company went through 'restructuring', you see? And being laid off wasn't an option."
"Had to bite and claw my way through the confusion to survive… Now, I just keep going." He said with an enigmatic but gentle smile as he looked at the cold street
No cars were in sight, and the traffic lights were yellow, blinking endlessly without stop.
"Say, what brought you to this situation?"
"Haa… Bad management. Wanting everyone to work extra hard for some bonuses that only end up in his pocket… Thing is, company doesn't pay for unapproved overtime."
"In fact, we're kindly asked to leave exactly as soon as the clock ticks 7… But the supervisor loves to have us work a bit longer just so our team gets a little ahead of the others."
"This wouldn't be a problem if he paid us, but he can't… So I told him I wasn't going to work. And that's when it all began…"
"If the team had worked together, things would've been fine, but they would rather prefer the performance bonus from being on top than the pay from overwork. It's good and all in the long run for the portfolio, but I don't have all the time to spare."
"I… Wanted to keep working here and do well… Now it's all down the drain. And my portfolio took the hit."
"Hm… Not the first time I've heard of such a thing. Life isn't easy anywhere."
/Vroom!/
"!!"
Suddenly, the bus arrived, but as the young man got up, he realized it wasn't his ride. So he sat down dejectedly.
"This is my ride. Thank you for the time young man… A piece of advice if you may."
The man stepped into the bus, looking at him momentarily as he climbed above:
"Always keep your head high. You never know when an opportunity may arrive. Who knows? It may be closer than you can ever imagine…"
/Close…/
/Vroom…/
The bus went on its way, leaving him all alone.
"Work absolutely messes up my shoulders… Yawn…?...!"
He stretched his arms, but as he did so, he felt his arms, or rather, his entire body, stop.
'Wha… What's going on?!'
He panicked, but calmed down, realizing something was strange. This didn't seem like some medical case, because he couldn't even feel his body move… Or the wind… Or the cold…
Even the lights in the street had stopped, as if not only his body, but time itself…
Had come to a halt.
/Step…/
"!!"
At that moment, a strange figure stopped by.
"Mind if I take a seat, gentleman?"
A tall man, he didn't seem older, being rather slender.
He wore a suit very much like his, short-combed hair… But that was where their similarities ended.
Sharp horns protruded from his head, black wings behind his back… Something swung behind him, cutting through the air as it moved by…
"Now, we don't have much time, I'm afraid. I only ask that you remain calm. You see, I'm not too good at calming others."
The man… The devil… Tapped his shoulder, and he immediately felt his body relax, yet no air escaped his lungs.
He clenched onto his throat, but nothing came, he felt strange; the urge to breathe was strong yet… He was utterly fine.
He looked at the creature next to him, only to see a faint smile as he clapped his hands once.
"Excellent, I knew you could pull it off. Not many remain calm to this point… Let's keep it up, shall we?"
"???"
"You must be confused, all do. So allow me to explain it."
"I am a 'Recruiter'. My task is to find candidates, and you, my friend, are exactly who I've been looking for."
"You must be asking yourself: Just who's this winged freak? How did he appear from nowhere? Why was my body frozen? Why can't I breathe?!... Don't worry, those are all reasonable questions."
"I can't reply to them all, however. We don't have that much free time."
/Snap!/
The devil snapped his fingers, and a strange key manifested in the air.
"My friend, I came to you with an offer. To change your future, to seek a new destiny. To pursue a life of wonder and wealth."
"I know that a man such as me coming from nowhere may sound… Exactly as you'd imagine, but I'll say it right here and now that there's little to fear."
"I merely present you with an option, one you can easily cast aside, if you chose so later on."
"If you ever feel like what I propose is not what you seek, then you may say so and you'll return to you daily life, as if nothing ever happened."
"You'll go back home, sleep, then go for your third interview and succeed, getting your job."'
"In a few years, with smart investments, you'll become financially independent and retire, albeit you'll keep working for years to come just to keep in contact with others."
/Vroom!/
A bus arrived, stopping before him. It was the one he had been waiting for.
"Just climb its stairs and move on, you'll forget this ever happened in no time… But if you want to know more… Just grab the key."
"..."
"You'll be safe, you can have my word… As much as it is valuable to you…"
"I'd say you can have your time to think, but we don't…"
"I'll do it."
"... I see you're a man of action. I like you."
/Grab!/
The man grabbed the key, and the devil…
/Snap!/
Snapped his fingers.
…
"... Hm?!"
He opened his eyes in a hurry, dazed beyond belief.
His vision spun around him, but soon came to a halt, letting him breathe the dust and mold around him.
An old, seemingly abandoned room sprang up before him, illuminated solely by a broken, unusual orb lamp above him.
Casting the room in a soothing yet uncomfortable white light, its broken shards casting distorted shadows around the place.
Shaking his head in confusion, still feeling the coldness in his lips, the man rose to his feet, taking a look around.
It was a large room over eight meters wide and long, like a living room. The ceiling wasn't too tall, but still out of reach even with his mightiest jump.
The ground was hard and cold, albeit silent. Made out of wood, despite its age, even if he jumped and kicked, it didn't make a single sound. '... sturdy...' He thought in passing as his thoughts drifted away.
Stone-cold walls covered in something akin to cement, but their age was apparent as it broke away, leaving a thin but noticeable layer of dust on the ground.
Boxes were piled up everywhere. The room was divided into multiple sections by low-hanging walls, which confused him as they looked like nothing but tripping hazards. However, with a deep look, he noticed that those walls had thin pieces of paper attached to them, making him realize that once upon a time, those walls reached all the way to the ceiling, covering others from looking beyond them.
This gave him a better understanding of the room's layout, and with it, the purpose it once served. One half of it was clearly meant as housing, with even a room on the side, which he quickly confirmed as a bathroom of sorts. Made almost entirely out of wood and stone, a strange style, older then some things he'd seen in museums.
The other half of the room had another purpose, one he couldn't quite piece together.
A wide wooden double door blocked passage to whatever was on its other side, closed from the inside by a series of thick metallic bars, nails, and a large wooden block preventing the doors from moving.
Opposite to this door was another door… Or he assumed it once was one, at least.
Covered by rocks, the doorframe was now one singular obelisk, as if the entire door had been turned to stone. Even if there was a way to open it, it was definitely not from this side. A closer look revealed nothing, but he didn't spend too long observing it either.
His attention fell on the most prominent part of the room, one he had been ignoring from the start… The central table standing between the two doors.
Many unusual items stood above it, cobwebs and dust everywhere, almost sending him into a coughing fit just from being around it. Stepping closer, he noticed a few objects such as a chair, a set of extremely rusty keys, so corroded they had fused with the table, and a broken metallic helmet, like those used in medieval times.
"... Where am I…?"
/Shaa…/
Mist began to fall from the ceiling, and the man felt an immense feeling of dread, as if he was being watched.
He had the urge to run, but before he could do so, a voice rang before him, stopping him in his tracks:
"Now, now. You're in no danger."
"!"
The strange devil-man from before!
"I apologize for the delay, I had some things to prepare first. I'm not the kind to carry everything with me like some do, it's too much work."
He walked past him, reaching the table where he waved his hand around, saying:
"Cough… This horrid place… Let's clean it a bit first."
His tail moved to his mouth, covering it as his eyes narrowed in displeasure. His right hand rose to his waist, his fingers crackling as a strange energy gathered around them.
A spark forming between his fingertips, he released it:
/Snap!/
The devil snapped his fingers, and a powerful impact suddenly hit the table! But rather than sending everything flying, only the dust and dirt were sent flying back, pooling neatly on the ground like one messy ball.
"This will have to do."
He turned to the shocked and agape man, chuckling as he put his hands behind his back.
"I suppose introductions are due, together with some explanations… Do not fret, however, for all will come in their due orders."
He bowed graciously, displaying his mighty horns as they twisted behind his back with his hair.
"You can call me Razelkon. Before, I introduced myself as a 'Recruiter', and while not entirely wrong, it's not the truth either. If I must, I'd say it's an oversimplification of what I do."
"You may refer to me as your 'Manager', although I don't think the term is correct either. You'll come to understand why that is soon."
"... Jackson… Jackson Bramwell."
"A pleasure to make you acquainted, Jackson." He replied with a smile as he sat at the table
"Now, for some answers… Welcome to the Cradle."
"Cradle?"
"This is where we 'train' our future prospects… Or rather than that, it refers to the program instead. This place is just one of the many 'sites' where we conduct the… Post interview process."
"You could even say it's our internship program. In here, you'll learn the skills necessary to succeed moving on. And I am your manager in this instance."
"So uh… The Cradle is the program, and I'm here to be trained?"
"Precisely. As for the details, you'll understand soon enough. First, let me log you in our system; it won't take long."
The man stepped away from the table, pulling a circular handheld mirror from his suit. Its frame was golden-brown with intricate designs of creatures and animals he had never seen before.
Its smooth surface reflected his face clearly even from afar. Although for some strange reason, he felt as if no matter how much the mirror moved, it always reflected his face at its center…
/Clink!/
He raised the mirror before him before pulling it back. The clear ringing of glass echoed throughout the room soon after.
"Just a moment… Almost there…"
/Buzz…/
"?...!!"
Pain.
"ARG!!"
Immense pain spread around his body, sending him to his knees. Even as his hands and limbs bled from the impact, he paid it no heed as his body was cooked from the inside out!
/Buzz…/
A weak spark of light jumped between his fingertips as his clothes fluttered in the air under a faint breeze…
But everything else remained still, as if nothing had changed.
"... Done."
And then, the pain all but vanished, leaving behind only his aching hands and legs.
"Let's get you patched up before we move on."
/Snap!/
Jackson took a step back as he felt a strange force push him away. When he regained his footing and looked down, he realized his dirty clothes had all but been cleaned, and the cuts on his hands had all but gone away.
"What…?"
"You've been logged, congratulations!... Let's see… I usually have a long speech here about the nature of everything and bla bla bla, but it's quite redundant given how little we're allowed to share. So I'll be short instead."
"The nature of this job is simple, although it may sound odd given what you did before… But in the end, what'll come to do will highly depend on your actions. Whether you have an active or passive duty will depend on your actions and desires. But do remember that if you ever feel the need to stop and return to your previous life, you can just turn say so and I'll send you back."
"You'll forget everything, of course, but that's the gist of it. If you want to work with us, you'll need trust, and that's earned, not given."
"I got that, just tell me what I have to do."
'All of this is so strange… But he's keeping something to himself. He's avoiding telling me what this is all about.'
'One's things certain though… This goes far beyond what I thought possible in this world… Far beyond even the most complex of pranks out there.'
"It's not hard to understand. See that door over there? Your task is to walk outside and proceed through the assigned chambers. Once you reach the end, if you can that is, you'll pass the test."
"In truth, there's no way to fail this test as even if you can't complete it, you can still join us… Although I'd highly suggest against doing so. Its your call in the end."
"... You talk as if there'll be danger…"
"Because there is. You will die out there."
"What?!"
'Why would I want this then?!'
"Hm… Your expression tells me everything. It's always the same. That's why I prefer to just throw everything first… Though that hasn't worked well."
The devil man took another item from an inner pocket of his suit, a small, ornate wooden box. From within, he took a small translucent amethyst eight-sided dice.
"Let me clear here. You aren't at risk of danger. For any injury you take, we can and will heal you like I did just now. However, while that is true, you aren't exactly pain proof…"
"... What do you even want from me? For me to be a warrior? To fight? What even is this place?!"
"I thought I explained that before… You must be asking about the circumstances… Well… It's complicated. Nothing someone like you should know."
"Its a shame to say this, but that's reality, you're a man going with the flow of society, living in an illusion where your actions dictate your future. They may lead you somewhere different, but you'll forever be someone to be commanded, and not the other way around."
"There's nothing wrong with that. I only want to inform you that the way you are right now, you aren't qualified to know about this."
"... And how do I change that?"
'He avoided the answer… Again. I'm not that gullible… Or is this a hint?'
"By doing well. That's all you can do."
"..."
"Let's move on, there's much I want to say before it's time for you to decide… So… Roll the dice."
"... What will happen when I do?"
"The dice will determine how many chances you have. Right now, you only have one chance to complete our trials. And while some may say it's unfair, what if we gave you another chance?"
"That's where the dice come in. At worst, you'll have another chance to improve your results and learn more. At best, you'll get eight more attempts. With each, you'll grow more proficient and capable, improving your score and with it, your chances at succeeding in the future."
"Out there, just passing by isn't enough. You'll understand if you get there."
"... Does rolling the dice prevent me from refusing your offer?"
"Not at all, as I said before, you're free to do so throughout this entire process and all tries. Only at the very end will I explicitly tell you that you cannot turn back. Even so, once you're out there, opportunities to backpeddle will present themselves to you, albeit not as frequently as just being able to leave whenever you feel like it."
"... Okay… I'll give it a try."
"Feel free, but be warned… You may only throw it once, and don't try any tricks, the dice is smarter than you think."
"The dice?... Whatever…"
'From time stopping to the Devil to a dice that can think… It can't get any stranger.'
/Throw…/
Jackson threw the dice into the box in the Devil's hands, and it rolled around slightly before stopping, revealing his number:
"Seven… Some say this number brings fortune. I don't believe in such things… It's the second-highest value one could achieve. Congratulations."
"At the slightest, you won't fail the first trial, that's for certain."
Razelkon turned around as he closed the box, approaching the table.
"Now, for your basic supplies… You can imagine anything you like, and I'll provide you with an appropriate weapon. But be mindful that there are limits to which I can provide you, and the more you spread your choices, the worse their quality will be."
"Anything?... Even a gun?"
"Of course, if you ask for a gun, I can deliver you a standard 9mm pistol with a few rounds of ammo. Once you blow those away, you'll be left with your fists. How does that sound?"
"I can just take the equipment of whatever I take down, no?"
"Do you believe they'll be to par with whatever you can get here? Be aware that this isn't a choice you'll get everytime."
"Everything that we're discussing and doing now is something pre-trial. Once you begin, even if you fail and try again, it'll have to be on the terms of what you had with you once you started. Are you certain this is your choice?"
"... Can I at least know what kind of challenges I'll be facing?"
"Something within the realm of Human ability. Nothing more, nothing less."
"...Then… A Halberd."
"May I ask why?"
"A halberd is probably one of the best weapons I can think of. It covers most of the threats I can think of, because if I choose just a spear and end up having to face something with armor, I'll end up on the ground."
"Other weapons like the sword are viable, but even if the halberd isn't easy to master, far from it even, it's likely closer to a spear than to a sword. And those are notoriously difficult to master."
"I like your thinking, you're already envisioning training and usability rather than appearances."
"Isn't that obvious?"
"You'd be surprised by how many go for obvious choices like a sword, an axe, or I be damned… A bow."
"A bow's not a bad choice, though…"
"For someone who knows how to use it, of course… For everyone else, they'll run out of arrows before hitting their enemy, and that's because they dropped their quiver on the ground."
"Anyhow, so your weapon is a halberd? Are you certain? The last one I saw using one didn't last long, though that was quite some time ago."
"... Can I ask for a shield too?"
'Didn't last long… I can imagine what happened.'
"Hoo… I knew you weren't ordinary. Just for that question alone, I'll give you a decent shield without deteriorating the quality of your weapon."
/Snap!/
Razelkon snapped his fingers, and with a clinking sound, Jackson turned to the wall to see a large weapon and a shield resting against it.
A rather simple halberd with an axe, hammer, and sharp tip combination. A smooth wooden handle with metal bolts on the sides. It didn't look legendary, but it certainly wasn't of low quality.
Next to it was a simple circular shield made mostly of metal. It had a large dome at its center, and with its curve, it was obviously meant to deflect blows.
"There you go… Though be mindful, with your level of skill and strength, you'll struggle to even carry the halberd, so try not to use both at once, they weren't meant for that."
"It's good you went to the gym, at least your body isn't decaying. Your muscle mass just needs some tunning." He said as he looked at Jackson's arms
"... I won't even ask how you know that…"
"I know a lot about you. I thought that was evident…"
Razelkon turned around again, reaching for the table:
"A few extra things. First, your rations. In here, you'll need to seek out your own resources to survive. But you'll have some leverage, of course."
He placed a small bag full of small, rough cubes. They felt similar to protein bars, albeit heavier given their size.
"Compact nutritional pellets. Each can feed you for about a day. There are fourteen inside."
"For water, you can go to the bathroom. I know the room seems abandoned and old, but the water inside is clean. You see, once your trial starts, it'll be you against nature, and be warned, time doesn't wait for you."
"But this room is special. You can rest, heal, and recover for as much as you want. No matter how deep your injury is, you'll recover; it's a second chance at whatever attempt you are on. Not only that, but time outside stops, giving you the chance to surprise your opponents or train if you so desire."
"..."
'There's a catch to this…'
"However… Once you spend a total of two weeks inside this room, or if you give your enemies time to breach inside, its magical properties will end, and you'll be cast into the world outside on your own. But don't worry too much, if you train yourself enough, a few days will be all you'll need, maybe not even that."
"Wait… So all of that applies… Once the trial starts?"
"Yes, I'll activate the trial once we finish here."
He smiled, approaching Jackson as he whispered:
"Actually, a word of advice. The trial only truly starts when you step out of the room for the first time."
"... Wait!..."
/Smile…/
"It seems you got it. Keep it to yourself, though, I've already said a bit much… But try not to overdo it. People tend to go insane when isolated for too long. A friendly reminder, nothing else." He added with a smirk as his tail swayed behind him
Jackson thought deeply about Razelkon's words. If what he said was true, then it meant that as long as he never stepped outside, he could train and prepare for as long as he wanted and not have to worry about anything!
"A few extra words of caution. This room… Which I'll call the "Start" room from now on, won't repair or sate your hunger. You may preserve your stamina and energy, but it's not complete. You'll grow hungry over time and will require nutrients for growth."
"Actually, if you train at an ordinary pace, you can easily extend your rations. Having them last a month, if not longer, if necessary."
"Besides that, the Start room can prevent equipment from deteriorating while inside, which can let you train with anything without the risk of it breaking. But once it does shatter outside, unless you put it back together, it's over."
"Don't worry about it getting in the way if you want to tinker with something; the Start room won't stop you if you intend to modify something. But it won't put things back together if you change your mind after."
"This covers most of what this room can do. Use it well. With the amount of tries you have, you have the mind to do it, you could theoretically last half a year inside… Oh, this leads me to the next section."
"Your dice… It represents how many times you can attempt the trials… But what it truly does has been left in the open. You see, it's more than it may seem, because you aren't being given another chance… You're being given the chance to try AGAIN."
"... That looks about the same to me."
"Try to interpret this another way… You're being sent back straight to square one… As if nothing had changed… Do you get it now?"
"... Are we talking about… Time travel? Are you saying that each attempt is actually about rewinding time?"
"Precisely. You have eight attempts. Each time you do so, you'll be sent straight to the beginning just as I said before."
"To help you with that, I present you a solution…"
/Clack!/
A large wooden chest was rudely dropped beside him, almost falling on Jackson's feet.
"What's this?..."
"This is your trusty companion. He'll help you score better if you play your cards right."
"You understand how with each attempt, you'll be thrown back to the beginning to do everything again. However, if you feel that things are doing too well… Or going downhill… Just leave what you need inside the chest, and it'll be brought back with you to the start of the trial."
"That's…!"
"Not so fast… There is a catch. Once something enters the chest, it remains there. You cannot take it out until the next cycle, and if you start the trial again, the chest will lock itself out until everything repeats again... And for someone with eight trials, I can only wonder how far you can go…"
"Now, only one thing left before I leave you… Here." He said as he pulled a large mirror from beneath the counter
It was covered in dust and grime, but he quickly cleaned it with a snap of his fingers.
"Come on, don't be shy… Take a look."
"..."
Jackson warily approached the mirror, looking at his reflection.
But as soon as he saw his face, it quickly dimmed, displaying something else…
Words began to form in the mirror as it turned dark, glowing faintly as they danced in its surface like leaves in the water.
They strung into multiple paragraphs framed in a golden window:
[Jackson Bramwell - 27
>Developed Abilities:
>Manifestations:
Bound Levitation Lv0
Static Discharge Lv0
]
"... This looks like something straight out of a videogame…"
"Is it? I suppose that's how it looks to you."
"Pardon?"
"What you see isn't the same as what I see; it adapts to whatever the observer would understand and comprehend the best. But some bits of information remain the same overall."
"This is your portfolio. Take it as the manifestation of your identification. Others usually won't have access to it, but some will… Be careful of that. Not everyone will approach you with good intentions."
"In short, this mirror will show you the extent of your abilities and assist you in your journey. I know it may feel overwhelming, but you'll grow used to it sooner or later. I'd even say you'll grown attached to it in no time, given how many abilities you awakened, two at once is quite rare."
"Abilities?... These two? You mean like superpowers?"
"If that's how you want to view them, then yes, superpowers… Take your time to get used to manifesting them, you wouldn't want to move on without them."
"Over time, more of your abilities and actions will be recorded here. But only whatever it deems appropriate. So even if nothing appears, it may not mean that you don't understand, just that it doesn't feel the need to display it."
"I… Guess I understood what you meant…"
'Levitation… Static Discharge… This is oddly familiar. It brings me back… When I was younger, I used to have constant dreams revolving around these aspects, to the point I used to believe them to be real.'
'Even now, I often still have dreams where these aspects are reflected. I tend to be able to levitate and transport myself around in dreams, so it's a shame I didn't gain something like teleportation… heh.'
'As for Static Discharge, the strongest memory I have of it is when I was younger. I had a dream where I threw around lightning in my room… The memory is so strong I took it as real for many years… Until I forgot about it.'
/Smirk…/
Razelkon smirked as he looked at him, but only briefly before resuming:
"I know it is a lot to take in at once. Here, sit down and write your doubts and questions. I usually find it easier to sort things out if I write them down first." He replied as he gave Jackson a thick notepad and a pen
/Shift…/
Jackson turned to mirror, curious by its change, and it was then he realized that it was reacting to the notepad:
[Simple Notepad - Item - Miscellaneous
Description…
]
"... Does the mirror react to inanimate items as well?"
Razelkon smiled faintly as he replied:
"I never said it didn't. The mirror, like many other things, is far more than what it seems… But with that, we're essentially done here. Just a few extra things before we move on."
/Shift…/
The mirror went dark, returning to its previous state.
This time, it reflected not the room, not him, not the notepad in his hands… But Razelkon.
A strange image was displayed before him, twisting and curling in itself as Jackson heard the echoes and calls of distant voices… He tried to focus and listen, unconsciously drawn to this mystery:
"... already?... That was one was quite promising one…"
/Snap!/
But before he could hear more, it was all stopped as Razelkon snapped his fingers, awakening him from his delusion.
"... Everyone has a story, some are more willing to share than others… Try not to peak too much, you never know when someone might snap at you for doing so."
His tone felt cold, almost threatening… Yet Jackson brought his words to heart. No one liked a snooper, and this was likely even more the case with such a magical device.
Razelkon took a deck of cards from his suit, opening it for him.
"Here, take these. Choose three cards."
"Cards? What are these about?"
"Just something light to assist you. Think of a skill you'd need, something you don't possess, and you'll get it. Just like before, the process is rather simple."
"Anything? You mean… Anything?"
"There is a limit to what you can get, and it has to be within what you understand. And even if you want to become a master fighter, you'll have to start at the bottom. This is only meant to give you a quickstart."
"Cards like these are amidst the many rewards you'll find out there, so be attentive and give it your all to get and develop them, after all… Even if you choose to give up this opportunity, some of the abilities you develop here will return with you."
"!"
/Chuckle…/
"I can see your eyes have changed… They always do… Have you made your choice?"
"... I have."
"I'm listening."
"First… The ability to train effectively and instinctively know how to better myself."
"Oho… That's a curious pick… Let's see what you got."
[Inherited Ability, Self-Development Lv0 has been created]
"!"
"Surprised? In certain circumstances, the System will reveal itself to you. But don't grow too used to it. This is a privilege of the Cradle."
"Now… Self Development… I can see it being quite useful. A fine choice, no complaints from my side. Your next choice? Try to be a bit more 'on point'. Being vague can often lead to undesirable results. You were lucky this time, it may not remain as such for long."
"... The ability to remain focused on a given task, to resist adversity and distractions, and follow a goal to the end with my all. To be sharp and intuitive towards a given goal."
"I see it now, what you're trying to achieve…"
[Inherited Ability, Resolve Lv0 has been created]
"Self Development and Resolve… Quite the combination. With both side by side you won't find yourself lacking in determination. The question now becomes: To invest in it further, or to choose something more tangible?"
Jackson thought for quite a while before he replied, resolute:
"... Talent… No matter how determined and focused one is, if they don't have the talent, one will eventually reach a roadblock. I want the ability to break through the limitations one has been imposed on, and to become more than what I was before. The innate talent to surpass oneself, to see one's own limitations and those that bound others, to see what others cannot and reach towards it, even if distant… The definition of what one calls a genius!"
"... Or a lunatic… Some say the greatest minds are often crooked towards the other end… Jackson, this request may be a bit too much for what you're meant to receive. The previous two were merely mental adjustments. But this borders on the supernatural."
"You can still go on with it… Are you certain this is what you wish to gamble your fate on?"
"... Yes!"
"Very well, such resolve often makes one succeed in this field… Just try not to overdo it. I've seen far too many fall seeking empty dreams also."
/Shine…/
The cards shone like before, and one of them slowly faded as a message appeared before him:
[Inherited Ability, Insight Lv0 has been created]
"Insight?... I suppose that fits what you're looking for. But let's see if it'll carry its weight in the long run. You're ambitious, I'd choose something more concrete like the ability to wield weapons proficiently, but that's something you can train on your own over time."
Razelkon pulled his sleeves, revealing a small wristwatch wrapped around his forearm, an unusual place to wear a watch.
"We didn't take too long, thanks to your levelheadedness. They won't complain much if we go slightly off course…"
Razelkon looked straight at Jackson's eyes, smiling faintly as he raised his right hand:
"How about this… Let's make a deal."
"A deal?"
"Yes, something between me and you, not merely as a recruiter and trainee… But not anything binding either. I would like to sponsor you."
"Sponsor?... How does this even work? What's the point of a recruiter sponsoring someone like me?"
"You're quite familiar with it, Jackson… The expectations of those above you. The things you have to do to keep up with their ever-increasing expectations… Which often accompanies no appropriate rewards."
"I've seen many trainees come and go. Some succeeded, others failed. Within the limitations of my role, there is only so much help I can provide, yet when one fails to meet expectations, I am punished for not doing my work appropriately, as if it wasn't the rules they made that prevented me from doing so."
"It's unfair, for both you and me. So here is my offer… Accept a condition from my end, and I'll give you more tools so you may exceed even more."
"..."
'He's trying to tug at my heartstrings, I've seen this be used many times in the office before… I've done the same too when talking to my boss and asking for a promotion.'
'Emotional manipulation… A basic necessity in today's world. For even if you do not desire to manipulate others, you need some sense to not be swayed by them.'
"What do you propose?"
"It's simple… Don't give up. That's all I ask."
"What?"
"I'll make it a bit clearer… I need you to remain in the Cradle and go through your cycles. Give it your all to the bitter end. Don't hang the towel in the middle even if you feel like it."
"Of course, if you truly cannot stand it any longer, I'll concede and send you back, but what I want from you is for you to promise me that you, at the very least, will seek out to do your best."
"... But I was already planning to do that. I don't see how you benefit from that."
"... I've seen many think the same, only for them to give up when if they had sat down and collected themselves, they'd be able to go much further. There are limits to what I can do, but there's nothing more grueling than seeing someone give up after everything you did for them."
"I just need you to not be like them, to stay a bit longer and balance the scores a bit. It looks better in the report when you do so. In exchange, I'll give you information and some extra tools, nothing too exuberant but enough to make up for what you lack. And if you ever decide to trust me a bit more, we can write a proper contract somewhere down the line."
"... Only a fool would sign a contract with a devil… No offense, but I can't see myself doing that."
"None taken… It only makes me respect you more. It's something I'd like to see you hold onto in the future. To not be corrupted by desire and greed…"
Razelkon raised his hands, and with a flash of light, a sword and a strange bag manifested in his hands.
He gestured for him to take them, saying:
"First, a weapon. The one you chose was quite decent, but you can never go wrong with a shortsword. And with a shield, you'll go quite far. Use it when a halberd proves ineffective."
"More often than not, mastering a single weapon doesn't cut it. Most that made it far had something to rely on when their main insurance failed… Some take it as plan B, others view it as each weapon having its proper place… I like the latter more."
"As for this, it's similar to the pellets from before, but in a liquid form. A highly concentrated, nutritious solution that can last a month without problem. And like I said before, you might even ration it, making it last two months. Adding this with the pellets, you would have around three months of downtime before starting the trials, far longer than most even last with all their cycles counted."
"Unfortunately… It doesn't taste too great. You'll miss the taste of food soon enough once you start. And trust me, you'll only understand the worth of what you had before when you realize the only thing you have to eat is one of those dry, tasteless pellets."
"I can't offer you much given my limitations, but its more then enough to complete the trials ahead."
"... Alright, then if you want to help me, I have a concession of my own. I want to know, for certain, what I'll face ahead. No more changing subjects."
"Very well. I won't repeat myself again, so listen…"
"This is a scenario, a place crafted to challenge trainees like you into displaying and developing their abilities, but the crux of it is displaying your "worth" to others."
"You'll have to fight with both your mind and body against things you only saw in stories and your dreams, evade traps, and more challenging mechanisms made with the sole goal of taking your life."
"Those aren't the sole challenges ahead, but compromise most of what you'll experience, it's what 'we' seek the most."
Razelkon looked at the walls and the sealed doors, thinking about what to say…
"This place was once a great bastion, built to resist a great evil. It was eventually sealed and forgotten in the face of a great disaster… That's all I can share for now. If you want to learn more, you'll have to find it out by yourself."
"... Okay, I'll do what you want."
/Snap!/
Razelkon snapped his fingers, and the room was filled with a strange, ephemeral energy that filled him with strength.
"I've improved the Start room's inherent traits. They'll make you last twice as long… though defining such isn't easy. But they'll only last until you start your trials."
"Pay attention and keep your head low. Make the most of each Cycle and take what you must, do what you can. There is no one here to judge you; common sense is a noose within these ancient halls. Cut it before it strangles you."
"We'll meet again Jackson, I wish you good luck in your challenges ahead."
/Fwoosh…/
Razelkon vanished just as quickly as he arrived, leaving nothing but a dusty old room and Jackson behind.
"... And there he goes… Am I really doing this?..."
'Jumping from my previous job to this… I used to say I'd give my life to experience a supernatural ability once… Is this God's way of punishing me? It seems rather fitting…'
He stood in the middle of the sealed room and exhaled.
The silence here felt thick, oppressive—like the air was pressing in against his ears. The light above him flickered faintly, but it wasn't going to die anytime soon, or so he told himself.
"Train… Fight… I don't even know where to start… Cough!"
Jackson looked around the dirty room and grimaced, thinking that Razelkon could've at least cleaned it before he left.
"I have to start from somewhere, and cleaning this place is the way to go."
Nodding to himself, Jackson made his way to the bathroom, only to realize that even with running water, there was little he could do to clean the place, and using his own clothes as a rug wasn't going to cut it…
/Flash!/
"I forgot just one thing…"
"Huh?!"
Razelkon suddenly materialized behind him, startling him as he almost fell back in shock.
"I've prepared this little training dummy for you. It isn't anything special, but it'll do. Unfortunately, since I was a bit late… It'll only last this cycle, I apologize."
He pointed at the wall where his other items were hanging, showing a small wooden dummy with a wide metallic base.
Actually, the dummy was reinforced with metal in some key areas, but some of the bolts connecting it all together were rusty, and some were even missing. It was hard to say how well this dummy would fare. Still, it was better than hitting the wall.
"... Thank you."
"My pleasure. Now…"
"Wait!... Can you help me clean the room?..."
"... There are some old rags on those storage boxes over there… Good luck."
/Fwoosh!/
"... Sigh… Very well then."
'Rather than cleaning up this room, making an inventory of everything I have is better.'
Jackson started by checking the larger half of the room with the counter, since it was the "cleanest" section.
"Let's see… Aside from the pellets, the bag, and the mirror…"
"These are… Rusty keys… Urg, they're so old I can barely even hold them right… Does this room heal me if I get a disease? I feel like I'll either grow sick due to the mold or get Tetanus."
"Hum… If this room is like this, I can only imagine what the outside looks like. Maybe this is a hint for me to grow accustomed to it?... Well, I'd rather grow sick inside this room than outside that's for certain."
'I still don't know how this "System" works. Would it give me Skills and Abilities based on my actions, or would it just reflect what I can currently do?'
'Razelkon did say there were other rewards hidden outside, maybe there's something to assist me with this horrific environment. Because I can't see myself cleaning an entire fortress to live in.'
"Maybe I can clean the keys… A shame I don't remember how to clean rust, maybe a chemist would know, but I'm a Programmer… I don't even remember most of the things I learned back in Engineering… Maybe I should've asked for an ability that boosts my memory or something."
"Well, too late to regret it now."
Jackson quickly threw his disordered thoughts aside, focusing on the table before him.
He didn't notice at first, but this was clearly his inherited abilities working already.
"Next is the metallic helmet… It looks mostly intact aside from some rust… Is this even rust? I know some of it can be pretty bad."
'I'll start with a deep clean with some water and a cloth rag and continue from there.'
Jackson began to think, ideas popping up inside his head as his memory began to flash:
"I don't see any green corrosion, only brown. A deep clean together with a good scrub should do. Without some acid or a way to grind this away, I can't take it off in even a million years."
'Good thing I have lots of wood around, I can make a simple tool to scrub it without too much risk. After that, it should be good to go.'
"This helmet looks like a Roman one, simple protection to the head and nape, with two extensions to protect the chin… But no front protection."
Jackson placed the helmet aside with his other equipment, moving on to the rest of the table.
He was very careful not to damage or hurt himself, as he still wasn't sure if the room was strong enough to remove viruses from his body.
"Hm… Old papers, but I can't read any of it. The paper itself is rather crumbly, even a slight touch cracks it."
'The paper is yellowish and dry… The writing seems similar to modern English, but it's too scrawly; it reminds me of Arabic.'
'Still, there aren't many pages here, and no imagery to help me at all… I could try to decipher this language, but at this rate… Wait, I have an idea!'
A spark of insight reached him, and in a swift motion, Jackson placed the large mirror before the paper, quickly turning it to face him so he could read the item's description.
Still, it took him a few tries to pinpoint the stack of papers. He could've tried to move it instead, but given how fragile it was, he'd rather not.
After a few tries, he got an answer:
[Ancient Orders - Item - Miscellaneous
Description: A degrading set of ancient orders written in a long-dead tongue describing a set of orders given to a soldier long gone.
]
"... This doesn't help me much either. The System definitely knows what's written here, but it refuses to tell me outright. Even a simple translation from a single line would already help me considerably."
"That said, it's probably worth it to show many things to the mirror, you never know what it has to say about something. It may reveal an unknown context behind it. And if I gather enough of it, a picture of my surroundings or what happened may unfold."
With a slow nod, Jackson took his notepad, writing this idea, including the paper's description on its first page.
"Now that I think about it, I don't need to be careful with how I write at all. This notepad is quite large, and since it was given to me before Razelkon left, wouldn't this mean I'll get a new one every Cycle? I can just drop this one in the chest and continue from where I stopped!"
"Okay… I think I'm starting to get the hang of this… Next."
Jackson went through the rest of the counter, looking underneath, around, and inside its drawers.
He found a set of old boots, a knife, extra papers, and a few other small items, some too broken for him to understand what they were or to have a use.
"The boots are in a similar condition to the knife, but I found a detail odd… It has quite a lot of fur in it… Could the outside be cold? Was it Winter when the guard left, never to return?"
"Boots and a helmet… It's nothing fancy, but it's a start. Makes me remember starting with nothing in those RPGs. As for the knife, its appearance isn't bad at all! Likely because it was inside the drawer rather than exposed like the helmet."
"A knife will do me well. If I ever find myself in need of cutting something with precision, I won't have to do with a large blade… That said, it's a bit dull."
"Thankfully, I think this block I found is a sharpening stone. It was stored with a few other items… I think they were all meant for equipment maintenance, but most of it is too old to be used anymore. I think one of them was once filled with oil, but it all dried up."
"One drawer was full of papers, but I can't pick any of them without breaking them into a thousand tiny pieces, so I'll leave them there until I figure out how to take them out."
"... That's about it for the counter. Maybe it has more secrets, but for now… It's nothing but firewood. Although I'm not happy with lighting a fire inside this place."
Before he left, Jackson wiped a stain from the table's edge with his shirt—and froze. Scratched into the dusty wood, half‑hidden beneath where the rust‑fused keys once were, was a tally:
Five cuts, four, three. Beneath it, a single, jagged slash, as though someone had given up counting.
He traced the marks with his fingertip. "Were they counting something? Or does this symbol mean something else?... Either way, it looks like a countdown. " The thought sent a small shiver up his spine.
/Clink…/
As he moved his feet around, a soft plink reached his ears. He turned and bent, spotting a single shard of the broken orb lamp lying on the floor.
Jackson knelt and pried it free—it was razor‑sharp, cutting into his skin, which quickly healed in the next minute.
"Some of the earliest tools were made out of stone like obsidian, this could work." he muttered, putting it on the table where he was certain he wouldn't cut himself.
"At least I didn't step on it… I'll have to carefully go through this entire room before doing anything else…"
Jackson then moved to the boxes stored on the side next to the stone door, picking one of them up and opening it.
There were three of them: squat, reinforced, and nailed shut. Not exactly treasure chests, but maybe they'd hold something useful.
/CLACK!/
The ancient box opened not with a creak, but with the dull snap of the old metal hinges that gave out long ago, now dusted in flakes of greenish-blue corrosion. The inside smelled almost clean, eerily so—sterile, with a faint dry tang, like old parchment and stone.
It was a familiar smell, one he felt far too often. If not for the corroding metal, most of the room would've smelled similar.
Jackson pulled the sealed box, wood-bound in corroded bronze, but failed. "Crunk!" With a tight pull the box unlodged itself from the ground, leaving behind an ancient mark of clearer wood as it dragged across the dusty room.
The box's metal edges cracked as he opened it, an unusual detail given that the helmet and dagger were fine, if not slightly corroded.
Jackson soon attached this fact to their composition. Maybe the metal used on those items differed from that used on cheap boxes meant for transportation. Nonetheless, he focused on what had been left inside.
/Shaa…./
The lid came free with a little pressure. A faint puff of dry air blew onto his nostrils. 'It smells like my grandma…' He thought silently as his eyes narrowed.
The smell of aged fabric, like a church pew where no one prays anymore, and a trace of… Old lavender oil?
"Cough!... So much dust… This looks like… Bedsheets?"
The entire box was full of ancient pieces of cloth bound together in large rolls. The cloth bundles were astonishingly intact. Cold and stiff to the touch, but not rotten.
Jackson moved to another box, finding similar bundles as he opened them with the help of a wooden stick he found on the side. But as he opened the others, he found similar items made out of wool and linen, the former mostly intact, but the latter cracked even with a faint touch, it was unusable.
"Hum… Well… It doesn't seem like they were in a hurry; everything is tightly stored with surprising structure. There are some creases where it's been folded, but no signs of mold or other bad signs."
"As for the linen, its mostly whole, but its not usable at all, it tears and cracks far too easily. Not that this wool is any useful, but at least I should be able to lay in it rather then the cold hard ground."
As he inspected the items, a flash of an idea coursed through his mind, and he rechecked all of the items, frowning.
"There are no symbols anywhere… The boxes are clean, and so are the items… Maybe it faded over time, but it's odd I haven't seen it anywhere at all."
'There were some inscriptions in the dagger I found before, but I don't think they meant anything.'
"... These are all simple supplies. Actually, they look like the kind of items someone would use outside rather than inside. I mean, it's cold, but not to the point I need to wear a full-on wool coat."
'Maybe these supplies were meant to assist the soldiers in leaving and not staying, being abandoned after they had their use.'
'There isn't anything I'd associate with luxury here, but it's hard to assume what these people thought valuable based on a bunch of old, dusty boxes… For all I know, wool like this could be of the highest quality and a luxury so high it can't even be bought…'
Jackson moved on to the other half of the room, which had been modified into a makeshift living quarters. It was quite bare, having one side with two bunkbeds enough for four guards to sleep in, and another section where several more boxes and shelves silently waited.
He turned to the left, standing before the beds–cramped barracks frozen in time. Two skeletal bunk beds hunched against the wall, their frames warped into arthritic angles. Four mattresses lay fossilized under centuries of dust, their burlap skins split to spill straw as brittle as bone.
/Creak!!/
The bunk beds sagged like the ribs of a long-dead beast as he touched them, their wooden frames warped by time and their own weight.
"Cozy… Four guards for a narrow passage…" he muttered as he knelt down, running a hand over the nearest bunk. The wood groaned like a dying thing. "Just what were they looking out for?"
'The mattresses are far gone, maybe I can use them if I lay the wool rolls over them, but that's a big if…'
'As for the other room, it looks like a storage of some sort. More organized than the old boxes thrown against the door.'
He started with the leftmost bunk, carefully going through the beds in case any item had been hidden beyond sight.
Soon enough, he found it. The collapsed mattress revealed a leather-bound journal fused shut by time and wax, hidden underneath the pillows of the bottom bunk, which likely helped preserve it.
When he placed it under the mirror, it flickered as he angled it over the relic:
[Journal of the Lost - Item - Miscellaneous
Description: A fragmented account of the bastion's final days. The writer seemingly eager to leave at the first opportunity presented to him, his hands growing erratic near the end.
]
The second item was found in the same messy pile, a glint of light caught his eye as he found a rusty locket enveloped in a colorless cloth.
Its chain slithered coldly into his palm. Inside, a portrait of a woman and child lingered like a ghost—their features blurred, but their postures stiff, formal. A painting, not a photograph.
The image was all but faded, but it gave him a look into how this world likely was outside... or used to be. How old is this place?
[Locket of Remembrance - Item - Miscellaneous
Description: A memento of a life left behind. It seems to soothe those who wear it, reminding them of those waiting for them to return.
]
After slightly clearing the rest of the first bunk, he found nothing else of value, and the same could be said for the second one.
The right bunk yielded nothing but dust and despair. However, as he turned to leave, his shoe scuffed the wall. There, carved into the bed's support beam, was a symbol: overlapping circles scored by a single, violent slash.
Another mark similar to those on the counter, but it had an unusual shape, followed by a deep gash in the end, as if whoever had carved it lost their control, cutting straight through it.
He didn't expect to find anything, but he still awkwardly attempted to shine it into the mirror, showing the following:
[Warding Sigil - Special - Miscellaneous
Description: A desperate attempt to repel one's fears, failed by the lack of concentration.
]
Jackson traced the grooves silently, whispering: "What were you so afraid of?... I'm terrible with horror…"
"... That's all for that. I'll take a deeper look later on, but for now, this will suffice."
'I'm particularly interested in the description of the Locket and Sigil, they seem to hold a strange power, likely connected to everything supernatural I've experienced so far.'
"I'll leave those aside for now."
Jackson gently placed the diary and locket on the counter, moving to the storage section as he avoided the broken shards of glass on the ground, collecting them as he walked.
A few had already stuck to his shoe, but it was better than his feet.
The storage area loomed, a small maze of leaning shelves and crates shrouded in cobwebs, one of the few signs of insects he'd seen so far. Here, the air seemed to hang heavier, thicker, but he soon realized it was the smell of old iron mixed in with something else.
Some of the shelves had collapsed, scattering what they once held around like small traps for him to step on. Ancient stains were clearly marked on the ground, but like everything else, they were dry.
'This must be where this room's smell comes from… It's just stronger here.'
He avoided the boxes for now, focusing on the mostly empty shelves as he scavenged for supplies.
Close to the entrance were several pots and vials piled up neatly. He checked them but found little inside, whatever they once held having long dried up. Still, after some thought, he realized he could use them to store water once his trials began. Even though this room had an infinite water supply, it was bound to end once the room's magical properties ended.
With these, at least for a while, he'd have access to clean water… Assuming these pots were clean of contaminants and toxins…
Unfortunately, using the mirror on them showed him nothing, whatever purpose they once had, it wasn't of any importance.
He moved on to the next stack of shelves, realizing something. They each had faint symbols carved onto them. He assumed it was for identification, but he learned nothing even with the mirror's help. It seemed particularly choosy regarding what to tell, wanting to share as little as possible.
Moving on, Jackson found an assortment of "raw" materials, metal plates, bolts, leather strips, wooden rods, metallic tips, bolts… Many items one would expect to find in a guard's possession.
Many were unusable, but a few could be repurposed. It would take some time to clean it all, but nothing a day or two of work wouldn't resolve.
What gathered his attention, however, was a shattered crossbow propped against a box, its string long rotted.
A replacement could be found for it, although whether it would still fire a bolt was something he'd likely not see anytime soon.
Something seemed to be carved on its side, and for the first time, the mirror revealed a direct translation:
"... Kael… So this crossbow belonged to Kael… Finally, some words I can work with."
'I can work with this, but it's not very useful since it's likely a one-use thing in a fight. Still, a crossbow bolt can be quite powerful if used right.'
However, before moving on to closed boxes, Jackson saw something carved on the stone wall next to the ground underneath a shelf.
Multiple carvings seemingly written in a hurry, for they were sharp and inconsistent. Putting them before the mirror showed another translation, which surprised him. Something he wouldn't appreciate for long…
[... THEY LIE IN THE WALLS…]
"... Excellent, just what I needed. Thank you for translating this glorious piece of art out of everything in this fucking room."
'... I'm starting to reconsider my stay here…'
Jackson shook his head, knowing this room was safe for now. Still, it was another thing to ask Razelkon when they next meet.
"Almost done then… Only the boxes are left."
He took a deep breath. Even if he wanted to stop, what else could he do if not work?
Jackson soon cast his doubts away, resuming:
/Clack…/
The crate huddled beneath a collapsed shelf, its corners gnawed by time and its iron bands rusted into brittle lace. Jackson crouched, wiping grime from the lid with his sleeve.
"This suit isn't cheap dammit…"
The wood beneath was unnervingly smooth—too smooth, as if frantic hands had polished away the grain.
He tried to pry it open, but the lid resisted, so he grabbed a wooden rod and shoved it into the seam, forcing it open.
The lid gave with a splintering gasp. The smell hit him first—not rot, but a cloying sweetness, like honey left to ferment in a tomb inside multiple pots, now all dry. Inside lay a nest of oilcloth, its folds pristine despite the centuries. Jackson peeled it back, fingers trembling.
Beneath lay a crossbow bolt. Not just one but an entire box of bolts. And around it were similar supplies for crossbow maintenance, strings, rods, tips, cranks, and more.
"Hum… This likely wasn't honey… Some oil to maintain the crossbow?"
Jackson carefully took the items outside the box, putting them on a shelf behind him.
With the box empty, he moved on, but not before noticing something unusual about this box.
"The bottom… It doesn't match the box's height… The inside and outside diverge by about… A fist?"
Jackson tapped around the box, eventually confirming that the box had a false bottom.
Intrigued, he looked for a way to take it off without damaging it, and after looking around for a while, he decided he'd have to pull it forcibly.
With the help of the corroded knife, he slowly angled the false lid covered the real bottom of the box, grabbing it with his hands and pulling the wood away.
Prying it open revealed multiple compartments the size of his fist, neatly arranged side by side, with tiny boxes in each. Yet, a few had been taken away, leaving behind only three boxes.
In the first, lay a ring. Not gold or silver, but bone—pale, porous, carved with infinitesimal runes.
[Markman's Sight - Special - Consumable
Description: A ring containing the mastery of an old marksman.
Effect: Wearing it grants the user with the Skill: Archery Lv8
Shattering the ring permanently grants the user the Skill: Archery Lv3
]
"There it is. This must be one of the items he talked about."
'To wear or to shatter the ring… I'll keep it on me for now. There's no point in cracking it open for a Skill I can't even use. Maybe I can slowly learn the Skill and when the time comes, crack it so I can train with it effectively and raise it back to where it should've been.'
Jackson moved on to the other two boxes, expecting to find something just as good, but was disappointed as he inspected the items. The boxes contained jewelry, but they didn't possess any unique properties, leaving him upset and hollow inside.
He closed the lid on the box, planning to use it to dump his trash into in the future.
"A hidden opportunity. I wonder how many found this…"
'If his words are to be believed, that is.'
Finished, he explored the rest of the section, prying open the last few boxes tucked away in the storage.
One of the boxes was full of dried, half-rotten bars of grains he assumed to be rations. According to the mirror, they were still edible, but he didn't buy it. Jackson believed that if he prepared them with special methods, then with the assistance of the room's magical abilities, he might be able to consume them and live to tell the tale.
It was obvious they were meant as a last-ditch resort to those truly about to die of hunger. And he still had a lot of time left on his clock.
The other boxes were either empty or full of useless trinkets, far too corroded to be used. Only a few materials could still be used, although he'd have to sit down and sort them all once he had the time.
Finally, after about an hour or two since he was left alone in this silent world, Jackson finished with his rudimentary exploration of the room.
There wasn't anything in the bathroom. Only an old bathtub and a toilet seat. Both still worked fine, but he knew that was only because of the room's unique properties. Soon enough, he'd be forced to find his own water… And a place for him to relieve himself.
"... That's about it. If there's anything left to be found, it's hidden under the mess all around."
"I found the rags and the cloth. It's time to make this place a little more presentable."
'Strangely enough, I haven't found any insects, only old cobwebs and a few husks of long-dead critters… Maybe the room protects me from those as well.'
Jackson was proud of his progress so far. Although he had much to do, he followed the principle of one thing at a time. This wasn't a race; this was a marathon. He had to persevere, that was all.
He took a large wooden bucket he found in the storage room and filled it with water. Thankfully, it held up without leaking, so he started cleaning.
He separated the boxes and stored everything he'd need while throwing away what he didn't need in specific boxes, cleaning the messy room of all the rotting and unusable trash it had accumulated over the decades it had been left abandoned.
As the hours passed, Jackson barely sweated, working overtime without so much as resting. It was impressive how well the room helped him recover. He felt as if he had infinite stamina.
After around five hours of constant cleaning and nitpicking shards of glass on the ground, Jackson finally stopped. He hadn't yet cleaned everything, but for now, it'd do.
"Phew… Finally. I can at least walk around without coughing. I cleaned just about everything and piled the rest in the corner. I'd like more room to move around, but this will do."
"Honestly, if I had internet access and maybe a small kitchen, this place would be livable. I mean, I'm not even hungry yet. I don't think I even sweated…"
Jackson reached for his pockets, taking a glance at his cellphone. That's right, despite being sent into another world, he still had everything he carried, including his cellphone and wallet.
While he had found a cracked ampoule to measure time and an oil lamp, his cellphone could do both without much issue, so he put them aside for now.
He'd definitely need them in the future, but until then, he had technology at his side.
"It's been just about six hours since I arrived… And my cellphone battery hasn't decayed even a tiny bit. If only I could access the internet…"
Jackson moved to the corner of the room near the double doors, taking a look at the equipment resting against the wall.
"Is it time to start?"
He looked at his hands, thinking about the strange sensation he felt when Razelkon logged him into the system. He had tried to replicate that feeling numerous times, but failed each attempt.
Even so, he couldn't stop without trying, so he sat down in a box he pulled from the storage section, concentrating.
/Buzz…/
After an entire minute of deep thoughts, finally, something occurred. He opened his eyes, looking at his fingers. Bolts of electricity circled around them, jumping from one fingertip to the other, running down his fingers and into his palm, entering his skin as their flew throughout his hands.
The smell of ozone permeated the air as his hair stood on its end, his eyes flashing with light as bright worms of electricity swam through his irises…
"Okay… I did it… Now what?"
'Static Discharge, the name implies its some sort of ability that releases static electricity, its rather simple to understand. The question is how it works?'
'How does it gather? How does it form? Where does it come from? How can I use it? What are its limits? What is the impact in my body? Does it even have an impact on my body?'
"I have a million questions, and for now, the only thing I can do is write them down on my notepad. That said, I don't think I'll find an asnwer for them anytime soon. But there is one thing I can do."
'Slowly but surely I can trace out its limits and figure out what it can do and maybe how it works. It won't be anything scientif founded in facts, but as long as it makes sense and works, it'll do.'
'I can try to learn more from him when we meet again.'
"I guess I'll try small." Jackson said as he watched sparks form between his fingers
/Bzz…/
Jackson spent the next hour wholly focused on mastering the feeling of invoking this unusual power so he could conjure it whenever he felt fit.
He soon learned this ability didn't originate from nowhere, it passively generated charge overtime, gathering it inside his body. But it was up to him to release it. If he didn't, the energy would be released naturally outside in a small amount, canceling its passive generation.
It was like being an electric eel, gathering energy and releasing it when he deemed fit.
Thinking about that gave him ideas, so he began with simple exercicies, such as trying to gather energy and disperse it throughout his body, to condense and release it somewhere like a taser.
He didn't have to worry about running out of power as he energy kept pouring from within him. The longer he trainer, the greater his senses towards it became…
"... If I gather all of the energy I can and release it all at once, it'll produce a small spark that will jump through my palm. It won't go very far but it doesn't seem follow the principle of electrical arcing. After all, I don't believe I'm actively producing thousands of volts all the time."
'I think it was something around ten thousand volts per centimeter? I don't remember, its been years since I studied that…'
'The biggest arc I can create between my hands is about ten centimeters, that's be well over a hundred thousand volts, but uh… It's a rough estimation.'
'I think this is more magical than it is logical, and for the sake of my sanity, I'll just take this as truth for now.'
"With that in mind, if I fill out my output of energy and try to release it, I'll spend about eighty percent of my reserves in one strike. And this value is changing as I improve."
'Overall, I also learned something else, and that's the fact that I do have some control over how this energy behaves. In other words, this ability isn't solely about releasing power all at once to tase someone. This could very well be a simpler form of electric control as seen in fiction.'
/Bzz…/
Jackson looked at the sparks between his fingers, successfully moving them from one hand to another, causing each to flow faintly. He had advanced considerably since he first started. Not by much, but it was a beginning.
"Now, for my other ability…"
Jackson focused, this time, not on his hands, nor his chest, nor his legs… He didn't focus on his body at all! His attention was drawn to the ground, where he sent an intention… To get away from.
/Float…/
His foot broke free from the ground, rising in the air, it stopped just two centimeters of the ground. This time, with the previous feeling already strong in his mind, it was just a matter of isolating his other ability and focusing on that which he hadn't reached for yet.
It took a minute, but he did it in a fraction of the other's time:
"Huff… This is difficult…!!"
His concentration suddenly broke and he fell. And aside from a little startle, it did nothing.
Like missing a step in a stair, his stomach went cold, but that was it for the backlash.
"Bound levitation… It's not levitation per se as it has a limitation, and I think I understand what that is. It needs a surface for me to remain on."
He tried concentrating again, and this time, move around.
He smoothly slid across the room, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he tensed greatly.
"This… Is difficult… Like holding my breath and diving several meters underwater, its like there's someone pressing on my chest."
/Thud!/
"Huff… This will take some practice."
'But this doesn't look like something difficult to master. Give me a few days… Weeks… And I'll turn this into a second nature.'
"Now, I have some ideas on how to use this ability… I doesn't has as much offensive potential as the other, but its mostly about how creative one is."
Jackson moved to to the wall, putting his hand against it.
/Push!/
It was faint, but his body was pushed back despite him not moving his arm at all.
"It worked. I'm levitating off the wall. I also confirmed a question I had regarding this power… Partially at least."
'When I levitate, am I floating above the ground, or am I pushing it away from me? It doesn't look the latter since I was pushed back instead, so maybe when used against objects with higher mass than me, this is the result?'
"It has an specific range, but what about strength?"
Jackson raised his head and arms, jumping slightly before using his ability to levitate on the wall. And like a certain comic hero, he momentarily stuck to the wall before sliding down due to gravity.
"It worked!... My concentration broke in the blink of an eye, but it worked, this is incredible! And I barely felt any weight."
'If I can levitate on walls, then I can do the same on ceilings. This means I can effortlessly scale any surface, giving me three-dimensional movement in closed off environments.'
'And since I didn't feel any weight, maybe I can use this ability to lift certain items as well… At the very least it seems like I can lift myself, so that's what? Eighty kilograms at the very least…'
Jackson was excited, so he jumped as high as he could, aiming for the ceiling. And just as planned, he stuck to the ceiling like a spider, although not for long as he soon feel, falling awkwardly on the ground.
"Urg… One wrong step and I might break my ankle…"
[Manifestation, Bound Levitation Lv0 -> Lv1]
"What?... Already? What did I do for that?"
'I can't be due to use, I barely toyed with it… Creativity? Do these abilities evolve not through use but actual improvement in skill?... No, that's just natural, it was me who was stuck too much with an unrealistic videogamy perspective.'
"I still have some other ideas…"
Jackson's first action was to see if his ability had improved, but despite the level up, it remained the same. It seemed that it was just as he imagined. The Skill Level wasn't anything magical, it was just a cold representation of what he could do.
To evolve, he'd have to train and deserve it, so he got his hands dirty:
He approached the heavy boxes and used levitation, trying to lift them in the air, but had difficulty doing so. Moving his hands even a little bit broke the levitation, and he still couldn't nail the feeling of maintaining the connection with the surface he "levitated" off from.
With training, he knew he would get things right, but he couldn't help be disappointed at his lack of immediate progress.
To make things fair, he spent the next hour toying around with it, and after much experimentation, he successfully managed to use levitation to manipulate objects in the air like telekinesis! And the System was happy to reward him:
[Manifestation, Bound Levitation Lv1 -> Lv2]
"Huff… Its a strange feeling, like tugging at cords but they're inside my arms instead…"
'I see potential in these abilities of mine… I suppose now's the time to get to the real deal.'
"I won't go far with just this, if I want to succeed like he told me to, I'll need to get my basics down."
'Before I start though, I'll need some new clothes… My suit isn't going to cut it. I found an old, ragged uniform in the boxes. It's falling appart but it'll hold around my body as I train.'
Jackson changed clothes, putting on a slightly discolored set of clothes that once belonged to the guards. While they weren't anything to go by, at least they didn't smell.
He then moved on to the area in front of the counter where his weapons and dummy were located, grabbing the halberd before approaching the dummy.
"... How do I do this then? Do I smack it once or twice?... That won't do, I need to think… What does a soldier needs? Precision? Control?... Mastery over movement?"
"I do remember something about footwork being extremely important… I don't have much practice with that though…"
'One step at a time…'
/FWOOSH!/
Jackson began his training, thrusting, swinging, slamming, and cutting at the dummy with his halberd.
/Clack!/
He didn't know if what he was doing was right, but at the very least, he was going to get mastery over his body so he wouldn't miss a strike when it came down to. Although it was hard to argue he was doing any right when the dummy didn't do much to evade his strikes.
The most he could do to spice things up was to move around and try to maneuver around it. But that was a little too advanced for someone who never wielded a weapon, so he went with the idea of repeating the same movement a thousand times before moving on to another one.
It didn't matter if he didn't know what he was doing. Anything was better than nothing. Thus, focused on his training, time passed…
…
/A few hours later…/
/FWOOSH!/
/Clack!/
With another series of strikes, the dummy recoiled back into the wall as Jackson took a deep breath, tired.
"Huff… Its hard work… But this isn't as boring as I first thought it'd be."
'Having a System recognize your efforts and display them to you can be quite the motivator…'
[Jackson Bramwell - 27
>Developed Abilities:
Rudimentary Halberd Combat Lv1
Rudimentary Footwork Lv0
>Inherited Abilities:
Self-Development Lv0
Resolve Lv1
Insight Lv0
>Temporary Abilities:
Archery Lv8
>Manifestations:
Bound Levitation Lv2
Static Discharge Lv1
]
"Its a bit slow but I'm getting there. It didn't take long for the System to give me a respective Skill for what I was doing. Maybe its because I've been following the little I know about this."
'Even if a little shameful, I've been trying to copy the movements of videogame characters as I try to remember the little I remember about medieval combat… Actual medieval combat and not the slop often shown in movies… Between that and videogames, I think the latter is more accurate.'
'Honestly, I think its pretty intuitive if I have the right to say that… I go with a simple set of rules: Maintain a stable base, use the halberd's length, and make use of your body. There's a reason why so many pieces of fiction often exclaim for one to use their waist. It is very important.'
'Positioning and effective use of one's body is essential. To the point even an ammatuer with enormous strength would fail against a frail master. Control is far more important then physicality.'
"Besides, I'm uncertain if I'll get any other magical powers so until those come by, throughout this entire trial, I'll have nothing but my body to rely on. This means being in topnotch condition is a must."
"... I think I'm starting to form a schedule here… Train my powers, write down my discoveries, think a little, then move on to physical exercicies… Write some more…"
"This would be the time I'd sit down and take a rest, but I'm neither tired nor hungry… Although I'd say I'm mentally exhusted. I… I've never thought so much in life before."
'This comes more from my constant worries then my training. I suppose this is something that'll wear down over time but I can't help but think about all of this.'
"... My mind's all over the place with everything that happened, and I'm not in the mood to eat those unapetizing pallets… I think… This is the time to shower…"
'A hot bath does wonders to sooth one's mind… I particularly often liked to think a lot under the warm shower… And I sure know that once I open those doors, I'll not be having warm showers, if any at all until the next cycle.'
"After the shower, if I'm in the mood, maybe I'll train my powers again? Though right now, I'm more in the mood for some sleep…"
With a light yawn, Jackson went to the bathroom and filled the bathtub with warm water, it wasn't too hot but given where he was, anything was better than freezing solid.
Given the conditions he was thrown at, everything about this room was merciful, which only made him grimace at what awaited him outside. It was clear that whoever made this trial knew full well people wouldn't function right without a medium to adapt.
Humans were very good at adapting in the face of danger, but some needed more time to adjust then others, and the longer you made this time, the greater the chances everyone would have of surviving.
Once he took his bath, Jackson prepared a simple bed with the only semi-intact bed frame available, using the cloth and wool bundles as a cover for him to lay on.
Overall, it wasn't so bad, far from it even. Unfortunately, he didn't have a pillow, but nothing an extra bundle or two couldn't solve.
Despite his worries, Jackson fell onto the world of dreams soon after, his fatigue pulling him down like a punch to the gut.
"ZZzzz…"
Sweet dreams…
…