The arsenal unfolded inside Carlos' field of vision like a flood.
Even after multiple filters, what remained was still overwhelming, once expanded, it swallowed nearly everything he could see. Among the countless entries was something that had been there from the beginning, a system artifact that had never been removed: Passage Rule. It was available from birth, summonable at will.
All system-generated armaments could be carried on the body or concealed within an attached personal subspace. Passage Rule lived permanently inside that subspace.
It was a purely defensive tool, effective only against directed energy. Against that, it was formidable. Against something as simple as a brick to the head? Useless. That was why he'd never had a chance to use it.
He could have exchanged for No Passage early on as well, but its defensive ceiling depended entirely on the user. For someone as weak as him, the real goal had always been,
[Confirm exchange: Pseudo-Scripture · Light Halberd Matrix?]
As his focus locked onto Light Halberd Matrix, a voice cut into his thoughts, mechanical, emotionless, unmistakably female.
He was used to that flat, unchanging tone. Still, heat flared in his chest.
"Of course I confirm! I've waited nine years for this! Do you have any idea how I've lived these nine years?"
[Acknowledged. Initiating transfer. Pseudo-Scripture · Light Halberd Matrix, transmission begins.]
The instant the final syllable faded, the manifestation he'd imagined never appeared.
No flashy pillar of light. No dazzling divine radiance. Just... a flood of new memories pouring into his head.
"…So it's just knowledge?" he muttered. "Then why didn't you give it to me from the start?"
[Some Pseudo-Scriptures have no physical form. They require only simulated neural circuits and the corresponding data to operate. However, there is a minimum strength threshold. Forcing activation would place extreme strain on the Final Individual, potentially draining all their power. Also, starting from weakness aids in eventually defeating the strongest. Therefore, this unit must avoid over-assisting the host.]
The system answered faithfully, without a trace of emotion. As always, it addressed him as Final Individual.
According to the system, his rebirth had involved Artosh in some way. That technically made him a special case among the Ex-Machina-adjacent beings, a classification that explained the strange title.
He had no wings. No halo.
Yet within his pupils rested a cross-shaped sigil, proof of a fundamental, constant art shared by that lineage.
Most of the time it was hard to notice. But when he pushed his magic to its limits, or actively drove it, the sigil ignited. Light bloomed in his vision. His sight sharpened, motion clarity increased, night turned transparent. He could even see energy flowing through the air, within living bodies, beneath the ground.
At that point, he stopped complaining about how unlucky it was for an Oni to have crosses in his eyes.
…
Setting aside the system's favorite title, he frowned and thought it through.
"So basically, I need to reach a certain level before I'm qualified to use it?"
[Correct.]
"And the extra energy? Where did it go? Don't tell me you skimmed it."
[There is no surplus energy. All power derived from negative emotions is absorbed by Divine Essence. When the system creates armaments, it consumes energy from the Final Individual's body or extracts ambient energy through the Horn. Thus, Energy Points are defined as 'points.']
"I get that points are just a record of spending," he sighed. "Still feels bad somehow… Whatever. I'll focus on studying Light Halberd Matrix."
Negotiating with a mindless machine was pointless. He'd learned that lesson thoroughly over nine years.
With a quiet breath, he gave up the argument, sat down on the ground, closed his eyes, and dove into the magical data flooding the depths of his memory.
He wasn't a true Ex-Machina. He wasn't a machine. He couldn't simply read and reproduce the technique flawlessly.
Understanding came first. Integration second. Execution last.
While studying, he made a decision.
Once he mastered this magic, he would leave the village.
The Oni Village was perfect for farming points, everyone was strong, and he could gain Energy Points easily. But he wasn't a masochist. Years of discrimination had worn him thin. He wanted to see the outside world.
Out there, he could use modern knowledge to make money. With money, he could hire powerful mercenaries as bodyguards. Then he'd come back and bully the people who had bullied him.
The stronger the negative emotions, the faster the points would roll in.
Of course, that all depended on whether Light Halberd Matrix, selected as a high-value spell even among Ex-Machina Pseudo-Scriptures, was strong enough.
And whether everything went smoothly.
…
…
Life in the Oni Village passed without incident. In the blink of an eye, half a month was gone.
Training every night under the system's guidance, Carlos had reached the point where, after entering Oni Form, he could use Light Halberd Matrix with reasonable proficiency for both offense and defense.
"A bit more practice," he murmured on his way home from the river, "and I should be able to leave… though how do I even get out of a sealed village like this?"
He pushed open the door, still muttering, barely sparing a glance at the two people talking on the wooden sofa.
Normally, acknowledging them only led to irritation. It was easier to pretend they didn't exist.
But today was different.
The middle-aged man on the sofa, plainly dressed, yet striking thanks to the Oni Clan's strong bloodline, spoke first.
"Carlos. Why are you back so late again?"
"Gathering food," he replied flatly. "Emergency supplies."
"Emergency supplies?" The man frowned, clearly wanting to say more, but thought better of it. He changed tack. "I ran into Edgar at noon. We've decided, you're getting married next year."
"Oh. Sure. Weddings are nice. Free food too, "
He froze mid-step.
Mid-sentence.
Then spun around, staring at his father, who, for the first time in his life, was smiling at him.
"Wait. What did you just say?" Carlos' voice jumped. "Who's getting married? Me?"
"Of course. You, Lady Ram, and Rem."
"No, no, no, details! Why?! I'll only be ten next year!"
The announcement hit him like a brick. Nine years old. Married next year. His brain shut down.
His father slammed a hand onto the armrest.
"Ten is old enough. And don't forget your position!"
"Even if I'm Single-Horned, what does that have to do with marriage?!"
"I originally planned for you and Rem to contribute to the clan, at least have a child to prevent the Oni Clan from dying out. Single-Horned with Single-Horned might produce a normal Oni. But Edgar spoke with Lady Ram and Rem today. Since Lady Ram refuses to be separated from her sister, they've agreed to marry you together."
His father leaned forward, eyes burning.
"You must seize this opportunity. No matter what, you will marry Lady Ram."
When he spoke of Ram agreeing to the marriage, the man looked ready to celebrate. All that was missing was a declaration that their ancestors' graves had burst into holy flame.
He finished with a hard warning: if Carlos failed to maintain a good relationship with Ram, he'd be thrown out of the house for good.