I barely had time to finish stretching when the HUD pinged again.
Spell Draw
Name: Psychic Abilities - Astral Projection (Two Dots)
Source: World of Darkness: Sorcerer
Chapter: Transformation
Cost: 100 CP
"Splitting one's spirit from their body, becoming a living ghost. In this state, they cannot affect the material world, except through the use of their psychic powers. [...] The psychic is now capable of leaving their body for short periods (five minutes), though they cannot travel more than a mile from their catatonic vessel. Furthermore, whilst in astral form, they may only perceive the world through sight."
(CG Note: Requires Astral Projection – One Dot. Which you don't have.)
I stared, blinked and then scrolled up to read the footnote again.
"…Seriously?"
Not only was it barely useful—five minutes of floating around in ghost-vision range of my unconscious meat shell—but it also needed a previous unlock to function.
I rubbed a hand down my face.
"Cool. So I just bought a haunted screensaver."
Then tapped the reroll key.
"Try again, system. And this time, let's skip the fine print."
Spell Draw
Name: Farore's Wind
Source: Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time
Chapter: Domain
Cost: 400 CP
"A spell handed down by the goddess, this power allows you to create "warp" points in nearby safe places, allowing you to return to points you've already passed in case of emergency."
I blinked. Then again.
Slowly, a grin tugged at my mouth.
"...That's—actually really good."
No damage. No control. No flashy effects. But this?
This was survival in a spell.
If I ever got locked in a vault, buried under rubble, chained by some sorcerer with control issues—this was my way out.
A cheat card.
A hard reset.
A floating "Exit" sign in the middle of a boss room.
I leaned back, grinning to myself.
"Like pulling a Get Out of Jail Free card… except I printed twenty of them and hid them under every rug in the city."
The grin wavered slightly.
Four hundred points, though.
For something that didn't blow up, slice through dimensions or summon an army?
That stung.
A little part of me had been hoping—no, expecting—something monstrous for that price.
Still, I couldn't deny it.
Not flashy. Not loud. But it would keep me alive.
And fireworks? Fireworks are fun—till the respawn screen hits.
I tapped Accept.
Not a power move.
But a solid win.
The kind that keeps you in the game.
I didn't need to say anything. Just thought about setting a warp, and the magic did the rest.
A breeze curled through the floorboards—faint, controlled, almost polite. The kind of effect that whispered exit point confirmed without subtitles.
The HUD pinged softly, Terraria-style.
[Farore's Wind – Warp Point Established]
→ Safe Zone: NY Center Base
I blinked.
"…Base?" I muttered.
Bit dramatic. But not wrong.
Didn't feel like much—yet. But if the system said so, I'd take it.
Not home. Not really. But it was something.
And right now? Something was enough.
I swiped over to the mana bar.
MP: 200 / 250
Fifty points down. Could've been worse.
Could've been Astral Projection.
I headed to the kitchenette and opened the fridge. Still humming. Still stocked. Couple more of those green shakes on the middle shelf—cold, citrusy, suspiciously healthy.
I grabbed one, twisted the lid off, and downed half in a single go. Same taste. No complaints.
The melon container was still there too. I speared a slice and chewed while scanning the freezer.
Mostly pre-cooked stuff. Nothing fancy, but serviceable.
I picked a sealed tray, stabbed the plastic, and tossed it in the microwave. Timer set. Start.
Leaned against the counter, finished the melon slice, and waited.
When the beep came, I pulled the tray out, peeled back the plastic, and let the steam rise. Some kind of teriyaki stir-fry—mass-produced, smelled decent. Warm, filling. Good enough.
Didn't bother with a fork. Just grabbed a pair of disposable chopsticks, sat on the couch, and ate in silence. Focused—not because I was in a hurry, just because the part of me that could relax hadn't caught up yet.
The tray emptied faster than I expected. Tossed the container, rinsed my hands, and moved to the closet.
Pulled it open. Simple choices. Barebones. I ditched the heavier layers—jacket off, undershirt peeled away, gloves tucked into the sleeves. Swapped into soft black shorts. No shirt. Didn't need one.
Just enough to sleep. Or try.
I sat on the edge of the bed. Legs loose. Head down.
Everything had gone quiet.
Not just the room—me.
For the first time since I landed, there was No next move to chase .
I'd dropped into a fictional world with a system.
Broken into buildings—museum, old police storage, a few others.
Took everything that wasn't nailed down.
The system paid me for it—in points, in perks. Three of them, all today.
Crafting options unlocked themselves in the background.
And now, a way out if things went sideways.
I'd been lucky. Over and over.
And not just lucky—safe.
No alerts. No footsteps coming up the stairs.
No one even looking twice.
I hadn't expected that.
I was still waiting for the crash.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Still wide awake. Body ready to run again. Heart not even trying to slow down.
Could've been the enhancements.
Could've been the day catching up in reverse.
Didn't matter.
And then it hit me—between the quiet, the calm, the rare moment of safety—I still hadn't asked.
Not out loud. Not to the Grimoire. Not how I could leave this world, or what would be required if I wanted out.
Something outside caught my eye—a streak in the sky, bright and blue-white, moving fast.
Not lightning. Not a plane. Too smooth.
The HUD pinged.
[Environmental Effect – Terraria Perk Active]
[Falling Star Detected – Nearby Drop]
I blinked.
"…Seriously?"
I stood.
Install: Assassin.
Gear change—instant and quiet. The manabar dipped. Still within expected drain.
Opened the door. Stepped into the hallway. Two flights up and the rooftop was clear.
Another streak flickered east, above the skyline. The first star rested on a nearby roof—faint glow, floating just above the surface.
I picked it up. It vanished instantly—straight into inventory.
I kept going. Rooftops, ledges, signs—wherever the stars landed, I followed.
Nothing slowed me down. Distance barely mattered.
No one else noticed them.
Even when one dropped near a lit window, nobody reacted.
By the ten-minute mark, I'd picked up over sixty. The counter in the inventory confirmed it.
I stopped beside a rooftop vent and opened the crafting tab.
[Mana Crystal – Terraria]
5 Falling Stars = +20 MP.
I crafted ten Mana Crystals and used them one by one. The mana bar rose with each use—twenty points at a time.
Then I made one more, just in case the system allowed extra.
Tried to consume it. Nothing.
No increase. No message.
The Effect simply didn't trigger.
I stared at the crystal, then put it away.
Terraria never let you go past 200 mana with stars alone.
I'd hoped the Grimoire would bend the rule. Apparently not. Fair enough.
I leaned back against the rooftop vent, eyes flicking to the mana bar.
[MP: 4783 / 6450]
Still draining—just under three points per second. Ten minutes of Assassin active had left a mark.
I frowned. Something felt… off.
The regen value.
I blinked and double-checked.
[Regen: 6.95/sec]
That wasn't what it said before.
When I first activated the card, it had clearly read 6.75/sec. I'd stared at it for a full thirty seconds, watching the dip, calculating the window.
Now? A clean bump of 0.20.
I pulled the numbers together in my head. My max mana had jumped from 6250 to 6450.
But the ratio didn't line up.
If the regen were just 0.1% of my total mana, I'd be sitting at 6.45/sec, not 6.95.
Close. But not equal.
So… not a fixed formula.
Still connected, though.
"Mana pool scales regen, sure," I murmured, "but it's not the whole story."
Maybe it wasn't even about effort.
I hadn't trained. I hadn't unlocked anything new.
This wasn't magical feedback or some passive "you're improving just by existing" nonsense.
No.
This felt calculated.
Deliberate.
My eyes narrowed as the HUD flickered again—stable numbers, clean ticks.
"Could be a perk," I muttered. "Or a hidden effect. Something I picked up without realizing it."
Maybe one of the Fate perks had passive regen tied to circuit saturation. Or the Terrarian system was sliding in unseen bonuses as I hit new thresholds.
Hell, for all I knew, Stranger or Mystical Infiltration had a quiet side effect buried in the fine print.
I hadn't read the manuals. Because there weren't any.
I exhaled sharply, watching the mana bar tick down—still dropping, but slower than before.
Just a little over two points per second now.
Manageable.
Not ideal. But better.
With this pace, I had maybe forty-two minutes of runtime if I started full.
Not permanent uptime—but definitely usable in bursts.
I flexed my fingers, letting the HUD hover for a few more seconds.
The boost in regen wasn't from training or use. That much was clear.
Somewhere in the mess of perks, passives, and system quirks, something was nudging the numbers higher.
Maybe a background interaction. Maybe a perk with hidden lines I hadn't fully read. Or maybe the Grimoire just liked rewarding me for hoarding stars.
Whatever it was, I wasn't about to complain.
"Keep leaking," I muttered under my breath, watching the mana drain tick by.
"As long as I'm not dry when it matters."
I flicked open the flip phone. The monochrome screen blinked twice before settling on the home menu.
No GPS, obviously—it was the year 2000, not exactly satellite-tracking luxury.
But it had a city map. Static. Simple. Downloaded straight from whatever shady data cache Enkidu's identity had access to.
Crude, but functional.
I scanned the layout, fingers tapping the arrow keys like muscle memory. Midtown sat right in the center. That was me.
From there—four corners. North, east, south, west.
If I wanted proper warp coverage over the city, I'd need to anchor each point physically.
"One in the north, one in the east... then down, then across."
I zoomed in on the northernmost practical spot—a rooftop overlooking Harlem, near the river.
That'd be the first.
The second near Long Island City, by the East River.
The third would go down by Battery Park.
The fourth, somewhere near the Hudson, west side—maybe Chelsea.
I checked the time. Just over thirty-two minutes of Assassin runtime left.
Plenty—if I moved.
I tapped the screen, mentally locking in the four coordinates, then stored the phone and stood.
North — Harlem
About forty seconds later, I stopped on a rooftop near the river. Quiet, flat, and open. Close enough to the park and the bridge.
[Warp Point Placed — NY North]
[MP: 4631 / 6450]
East — Long Island City
Thirty-five seconds east. Rooftop near the East River. Industrial zone.
[Warp Point Placed — NY East]
[MP: 4492 / 6450]
South — Battery Park
Fifty-five seconds south, past dense rooftops and narrower ledges. I landed behind a small observatory near the harbor.
[Warp Point Placed — NY south]
[MP: 4302 / 6450]
West — Chelsea
Last stretch . Twenty seconds across, low skyline, no resistance. Rooftop by the riverwalk.
[Warp Point Placed — NY West]
[MP: 4201 / 6450]
I checked the HUD.
Time left: around twenty-seven minutes.
Mana was still dropping, but steady.
And now the map was mine.
Warp grid: complete.
City: half untouched.
Class Card: still active.
I turned back toward the other side.
No more stars. No enemies.
But there were still Pots to steal.
I took off again.
Museums, antique stores, old cultural centers. Any place that looked like it might have pottery displays, I checked.
I didn't waste time.
Security didn't matter.
Forcing doors without noise was trivial at this point—and with Presence Concealment active, even the alarms didn't register that anything had happened.
It was 2000. Most systems weren't ready for ghosts.
I stayed in motion, moving, grabbing, storing.
Some of the places were goldmines.
One museum had an entire wing of preserved Mesoamerican ceramics.
Another had a full exhibit titled "Practical Clay Across the Ages."
I looted both from top to bottom.
I hit maybe fifteen locations—large ones. Museums, archives, showrooms, university halls.
By the time I looped back toward home, I'd pulled just over a thousand more Pots into the inventory.
The old stack capped at 999.
The rest started a new one.
Slot 28 – Pot ×999]
Slot 29 – Pot ×962]
Not bad for twenty-five minutes of work.
I was watching a falling star drift across the skyline when it happened.
Had to duck under a low-hanging billboard support.
Would've eaten metal if I wasn't paying attention.
If I hit something wrong, I'd go through it.
Not in a cool way. In a "surprise ventilation upgrade" way.
Well — I guess that'd still be Kool-Aid.
Only thing missing is the "Ohhh yeah—"
I snorted. Actually snorted.
Couldn't help it. That joke was awful.
Then: solid impact.
My shoulder clipped the corner of a rooftop vent—hard enough to throw me sideways.
I skidded, bounced, and gouged a visible scar across the gravel surface before tumbling off the edge.
Caught the ledge with one hand. Pulled myself back up.
The rooftop looked like it got mauled.
"Let's hope they blame a mountain lion or something."
Totally worth it.
I'd do it again.
I was still grinning a little.
Couldn't even pretend to regret it.