Darien was placed inside a small wooden box within the rusty carriage. He expected to meet a few other unfortunate souls and fellow future slaves, but no, he was the only one. The only company he had were a dozen more boxes stacked together, filled with fruits.
Darien's best guess was that these boxes of fruits served as a decoy, in case they ran into any trouble like a law enforcer or encountered someone along the way, who definitely would not ignore the inhumane act being carried out.
The steeds neighed quietly before they lunged forward, and made the first hooves against the cobblestones to begin what Darien could already tell was going to be a long journey. He knew this because one of the men told him:
"The road ahead is rough, boy. But don't worry, heh. Your new masters will teach you how to crawl."
The thought of being a property to someone else sent a shiver down Darien's spine, and his limbs turned cold. The galloping of the carriage made him hit his head countless times against the solid hardwood the box was made of. It barely allowed him to concentrate on his thoughts, and the scent of fresh fruits all around and above him rumbled his starving stomach.
'If my mouth wasn't gagged, I would have begged for one fruit at least to sate my hunger. Now, I can't even scream for help or beg.'
Darien wiggled his body, attempting to loosen his scrawny frame from the tight tensions of the thick rope. But the knots didn't budge, and he sighed in defeat, the carriage continuing on into the cold night.
'This would be the perfect time to summon the system… and find out exactly what kind of powers I've got!'
'If this body really failed to Awaken, then I probably don't have any affinities or talent at all. Damn. I can only imagine what that means for me!'
Darien settled his thoughts and closed his eyes, letting his body rest and succumb to the squeezing girth of the ropes that dug into his skin. He then recalled the countless cliché words and phrases that usually triggered the system in the webnovels he often read.
"Status…?"
[Generating host's Status…]
Darien's eyes widened in triumph as a translucent holographic interface resembling the windscreen of a car, materialized before him.
[Generating complete.]
[SKILL MAKER SYSTEM]
[Name: Darien Seaborn]
[Mage Rank: Beginner 0/250]
[Knight Rank: Beginner 0/250]
[HP: 28]
[STR: 6]
[AGI: 8]
[DEF: 5]
[VIT: 4]
[STA: 5]
[INT: 12]
(Congrats, Darien! You have been blessed with a special talent. You are a Skill Maker! The best pathway to becoming both a Mage and a Knight is now in your hands!)
(Skill Maker System grants you the ability to create your own skills simply with the act of thought and imagination.)
(Primordial Energy is not required in the creation of Physical Enhancement and Arcane skills, but is required in Discharge and Null skills.)
(The Intelligence Attribute is also important in skill creation, as it is your core imagination and cognizance of the skill you have in mind. The power of the skill created solely depends on how high Intelligence is. Other Attributes depend on the activation of the skill, and not its creation. Defense, Vitality and Stamina all equals your HP when multiplied by 2.)
(Skill Points are the most important of all. Without them, you should not think of opening the Creation Panel, as they are considered your currency for creating skills. You can acquire Skill Points only when you kill a being higher than your Rank.)
'Wooahhh!!'
Darien was stunned by the flood. He never believed he would one day be presented with a system interface so detailed about him. But he understood it wasn't time to ogle and fascinate, but to truly grasp what his system was about.
'Skill Maker System?'
He thought aloud as his eyes descended to the next details.
'My full name is Darien Seaborn? Was I born next to a river or something?'
[In this world, there are noble last names, common last names, and bastard last names. Highborn names are more unique and rarer than Lowborn names, which are analogous to each other because of territorial similarities. On the other hand, Baseborns like you often have the same last name based on the Province you were birthed in.]
'Oh. It's really nice the system can respond!'
Darien believed it was a profitable bonus if his system could actually respond and answer his important queries.
But he frowned at the fact that he was a bastard. He really expected to be isekai'd as a Duke or Baron's son, something princely and royal that would exclude him from the common folk.
But so far, he hadn't seen anything that made him special in this world. He was just an Unawakened bastard who was on his way to slavery.
'That explains the name "Seaborn".'
'Madam Sansena's home was near a watchtower, and I remember the scent of waves and sea breeze. This province must be located near a large water body.'
Darien connected the dots like a genius and immediately put an understanding to his name. However, he was a bit surprised that he was capable of cognizing quickly. He knew he had a sharp mind, but not that sharp.
Darien glanced at his Intelligence Attribute and noticed that it was 2 points above the average value for a normal human.
'That explains it.'
He thought as he studied other Attributes, and a greater frown blemished his beautiful face. Strength at (6), four values less than average. Stamina at (5), five values less than average. In fact, all Attributes except Intelligence were sour lemons.
'And that also explains why I am as fragile as an egg!'
Darien whinged and cursed his step-mother for never feeding him well or even letting him step out to get some rich nutrients from the sun.
What's done is done, and Darien knew he would have to remedy his physical situation soon enough. Since he had a system now, it would be easy to do so.
'What's Primordial Energy?'
From the system's earlier mention of the term, Darien surmised it might just be the term for mana in this world, and likely worked in much the same way.
[Primordial Energy is the foundational life-force that permeates all matter and existence. It is the source from which all power flows: physical, elemental, and mystical. All beings possess it in varying degrees. Control of it determines potential.]
Darien nodded as he understood the haunting fact that he possessed no Primordial Energy and hence, failed to Awaken. But since the system indicated a Mage Rank, was it possible to actually become a mage sometime later?
'Skill Maker… Hmm.'
Darien pondered deeply as he considered his golden finger in this new world.
The ability to create any skill was an outstanding blessing cloaked in gold, really. It literally promised infinite possibility, and it was all going to originate from thought. Darien could shape power from that thereupon, sculpt techniques unbound by element or mystique, possibly even become more powerful than his Isekai idols.
While others were confined to what the Awakening Orb revealed, he held the potential to forge his own path and strike his own definitions. Darien knew very well that he could create a skill that could grant him the ability to hone Primordial Energy, which was the only way to walk the path of a Mage.
Without even getting to know about the rate and cost of creating Skills, Darien already sensed that such a skill like the one he had just imagined, relating to honing Primordial Energy, would be immensely pricey.
'How many Skill Points do I get per kill?'
Darien asked, shuddering with a strange mix of excitement and anxiety at the thought of killing something. Even though it would mostly be beasts and monsters, it was still a terrifying and dithery thought.
[Skill Points (SP) are only rewarded when you slay a being of a higher Rank than your current standing.
The SP granted follows a fixed exponential formula. Each Rank grants four times the points of the one before it:
— Rank 1: 50 SP
— Rank 2: 200 SP
— Rank 3: 800 SP
— Rank 4: 3,200 SP
— Rank 5: 12,800 SP
(and so on…)]
'Wow!'
Darien was surprised by the structured organisation of the barometer. He then asked the system how many Ranks there were in total, and it answered that there were a total of 10, ranging from Rank 0 to Rank 9.
[Beings from Rank 0 to Rank 2 are Mortals. From Rank 3 to 5 are Ardents. Ranks 6 and 7 are Transcendents. Finally, beings in Rank 8 and 9 are Paragons.]
From this grading, Darien understood there was absolutely no chance of ever slaying a being of Ardent level and above. Not in this weak state, he wouldn't.
Although the system had clarified things, he wanted to ask a few more questions. However, something strange happened in his physical surroundings. Surprisingly, the carriage began to slow its pace and eventually came to a complete halt.
Darien was already used to the sound of the thick wooden wheels lumbering over the rough terrain. So, the sudden reveal of the night's silence spooked him a little.
'Have we arrived at the barracoon already?'
Darien questioned the premature halt as he glanced around. Sadly, he was surrounded by darkness, so he couldn't see anything.
'Do they want to camp?'
'No, that'd be too much of a risk with the lawless act they're carrying out.'
Darien was sure he could still smell the faintest trace of sea breeze, which meant they hadn't even reached a quarter of their journey. His head spun with various reasons until he heard conversations brewing outside.
The walls of his box were thick and solid, preventing him from fully catching the essence of the conversations that sounded muffled to him.
However, what was happening on the outside was an unexpected encounter with a mage.
The two Chattel Merchants, both Rank 1, hopped off the carriage when a certain figure blocked their path.
"My name is Bennin. A mage of the Honored Spire Guild. I'm on a special mission tracing the quiet, growing bloom of slavery from the Waterlands into the Finelands."
His voice was very loud, as though amplified by the wind. But he was no Wind Magus, he was a Fire Magus. The chilly night and forested atmosphere were the major factors behind his imposing tone, which sent a subtle shiver through the Merchants who stared at him.
"You've the wrong scent, ser."
"We deal in what is permitted. If foul things stir, they stir elsewhere. We've no part in it."
Bennin cocked his head at the sleazy words of the husky men, whom he figured must think him dumb. He had already caught two groups in the past weeks, and they looked exactly like these two compact buffaloes.
They were always burly in this manner to easily overpower the slaves, and never, ever possessed Primordial Energy substantially. If they did, they would have fetched another purpose rather than chatteling.
"Might I draw nearer? I would like to see what wares your carts are so tightly concealing."
The two merchants glanced at each other to exchange a sort of communication. They knew this figure was a mage, likely Rank 1 or Rank 2. Whatever rank he was, he could easily wipe them if it came to a fight.
They then agreed within themselves to let him come and inspect their wares. After all, there were dozens of fruit boxes ensconcing the snow-haired boy; they would serve as a perfect decoy. And if it did result in a fight, the mage being closer in proximity would have just compromised his upper hand.
"Thank you."
Bennin appreciated their solute compliance and came forward to the carriage. He had dark yellow hair and a handsome face. His eyes locked onto both merchants at the same time, as he walked in between them and began to scan the countless boxes of fruit.
Darien, whereas, was totally at a loss for what was happening outside. Had he known, he would have begun to kick and throw his body at the box to alert Bennin and rat the merchants out. Since he didn't know, throwing a tantrum like that didn't even dare cross his mind, for he feared discipline from the merchants.
But Bennin already suspected these men, and he was keen on fishing out their nefarious deed.
As a Rank 2 Fire Magus, he had the ability to sense body heat that was considerably close enough. So, when he came nearer to the boxes that enshrouded Darien, he felt a weak wave of body heat emanating from within.
"Liars..."
Bennin's eyes shot up. Behold, the two burly merchants were already swinging their massive clubs to attack him.
Bennin reacted swiftly, parrying backwards and slicing his right arm across the crisp air. A scorching, dense streak of flame burst out and cracked through the night's mist.