The candle burned low in the room. Its golden flame flickered gently, casting shifting shadows against the wooden walls. The scent of wax filled the still air.
He sat alone.
Not Ashen.
But the Creator.
Alein.
The true one. The boy whose real body was too weak to do anything heroic. The one born with no special lineage, no famed talent, no system-blessed destiny.
Just a mind.
And now, through that mind, he created.
A system window hovered in front of him, showing Ashen's perspective as if it were his own eyes. The sights, sounds, and sensory information streamed into his mind seamlessly. It was immersive. Real. Yet... he remained here.
Trapped in a frail shell.
Ashen, however, moved through the world like a forgotten god given flesh. Silent, calm, graceful. But most importantly, independent.
The Creator exhaled, eyes fixed on the clone's status log.
[Clone Active: Ashen] Status: Observation Mode Autonomy: 86% Obedience Layer: Soft-Nudge Integration Memory Access: Enabled
"He's not just a puppet," the Creator murmured. "He's a character. A story. A mind crafted by code, by archetype... but now molded by experience."
Ashen wasn't told what to do — not directly. That was the beauty of the AI personality shell. It gave the clone identity. Independence. Yet, a subtle command embedded in the back of his mind could shift his path entirely.
A thought. A desire. A nudge.
Ashen felt them like instincts.
Even now, Alein could enter the clone's mind and take control — become him — but it wasn't time. Not yet.
He leaned back in his rickety chair, fingers drumming against his knee.
"I forgot to give him a cultivation-oriented physique," he muttered, annoyed. "He has decent stats and those starter traits, but no real internal technique."
He opened Ashen's genetic sheet:
Cultivation Potential: Unlocked (Low Efficiency) Qi Root Grade: Undefined Physique: None
That last line stung.
"He has talent in multiple systems," he said, thinking aloud. "Leveling, cultivation, maybe even awakening and mana adaptation... but right now, he's a scattered weapon. No edge."
Still, the memory sync was incredible. Every thought Ashen had, every emotion, every sensation — all accessible like his own.
[Memory Sync: 73% Today] Most Recent Echo: The Tharos Fragment
"I could live through him," the Creator whispered. "Walk the world through his feet... learn everything."
But for that, he needed more.
More power. More resources. More rolls.
He scrolled to his Genesis dashboard.
Clone Slots: 1/1 (Used) Rare Rolls: 0 Mythic Rolls: 0 Divine Rolls: 0 Genesis Credits: 875
"Ugh. Empty."
He rubbed his eyes.
"Alright," he finally said. "Ashen, you're going to the forest. It's time to earn something."
He didn't say it aloud. He didn't need to.
The system carried the command as a soft suggestion into Ashen's behavioral matrix. The clone would feel a pull — a reasonless curiosity toward the outer woods, a desire to walk there.
To hunt. To adapt. To begin.
And soon, perhaps, to truly awaken.
"If I can't rise in this body... I'll rise through another. Even if I must craft a hundred lives to do it."
Alein smiled faintly as the system flickered.
Ashen had begun to move.
---
The trees whispered.
Ashen walked through the edge of the forest, bare feet brushing against moss and scattered leaves. The morning light barely reached through the canopy — casting shifting shadows like slow-dancing ghosts.
He wasn't hunting blindly.
He was tracking.
[Target Identified: Lesser Fangboar — 3 nearby. Smell radius high. Hearing: poor. Weak point: between second and third rib. Aggression: triggered upon blood scent.]
[Weapon: None. Combat Protocol: Barehanded Simulation – Approved.]
Ashen moved silently between branches. His robe fluttered once — and then stilled. His blindfold rested above unreadable eyes, gold and black, reflecting the forest like glass.
Ahead, a clearing.
A trio of fangboars grazed near a fallen log. Thick hides, tusks jutting sideways, muscles twitching beneath fur.
[Distance: 12 meters. Wind Direction: favorable.]
Ashen crouched.
He didn't draw a stance. He didn't announce himself.
He breathed.
And the world slowed.
The memory of sword strikes echoed behind his thoughts — not from training, but from instinct. Movements seen over days of quiet observation. Internalized. Repurposed. Synthesized.
[Empty Blade Style – Foundation v0.14] → Passive Execution Mode: Enabled.
He moved.
His first step snapped no branches. His second hit the ground just as one boar raised its head.
Too late.
He was already inside its guard.
His left hand slid along its flank — and his right palm drove forward like a spear, striking between the ribs with frightening accuracy.
The boar spasmed.
Ashen twisted his wrist slightly — and the beast collapsed, legs kicking once before falling still.
The other two roared.
The first charged.
[Trajectory Calculated.]
Ashen stepped to the left, shoulder barely dipping. The boar missed by inches, slamming into a tree.
Ashen's heel spun — kicking off the bark.
He launched forward.
One knee smashed into the boar's head.
Its skull cracked like wood under weight.
The final beast hesitated.
It saw him now — not as prey, but as something wrong. Something that didn't move like a man. Something that learned with every breath.
It turned to flee.
Ashen let it.
He stood still, breath calm, heart steady.
Not a scratch on him.
[Combat Complete: 3/3 Targets Neutralized.] [Physical Fatigue: 2%] [Skill Adaptation Efficiency: 89%] [Warning: No monster core detected – low-tier flesh targets.]
He crouched beside the corpses.
Their tusks were crude but salvageable. The meat was thick and ugly but sellable.
He carved with a flat stone, hands steady. Movements precise.
This was survival — not showmanship.
From the interface deep inside his mind, a message pinged.
[Alein's Directive: Earn Credits. Secure Resources. Confirm Survival Efficiency.]
Ashen nodded once, barely consciously.
The nudge was there.
The Creator… always watching. Always directing in quiet.
But Ashen did not resent it.
To him, the voice was not control.
It was purpose.
He gathered the tusks in a bundle of cloth. Slung it over his shoulder.
Blood trickled from a cut on his knuckle.
He stared at it for a moment.
Red. Familiar.
Then turned.
And walked deeper into the woods.
Meanwhile…
In the dusty home on the south end of town, Alein leaned forward.
His hands trembled slightly from exhaustion, but his eyes didn't blink.
He was inside Ashen's head.
He had felt the pressure of that first kill. The crack of bone under knee. The moment of stillness after action.
Ashen was a weapon.
But more than that — he was proof.
Proof that Alein didn't need to swing a sword to touch the world.
Proof that creation… mattered.
He pulled open the system panel.
[Materials Acquired: Fangboar Tusks (3) | Low-Grade Hide (2)] [Currency Estimate Upon Sale: 1 Silver, 8 Bronze.]
[Clone Vitality: Stable] [Recommended: Clone continues forest sweep → Locate mid-tier beast for system exposure.]
He smiled faintly.
"No sword. No spells. And still… flawless."
He tapped the interface.
[Command: Ashen → Continue Hunt → Mid-Tier Target.]
Deep in the woods, Ashen paused mid-step.
He blinked once. The faint nudge arrived — a command, not urgent… but clear.
He turned toward the denser forest.
Toward where real monsters slept.