The Verdant Boscage in the dying light was a different creature from the tame, curated gardens of the Academy grounds. Ancient, gnarled oaks formed a dense canopy that swallowed the last orange embers of sunset, plunging the forest floor into a deep, velvety blue. The air grew thick with the scent of damp earth, rotting leaves, and the faint, sweet tang of night-blooming fungi. It was a place of whispers and hidden life, off-limits to first-year students for good reason.
My heart was a frantic bird against my ribs, a somatic betrayal of the cold focus I was trying to cultivate. The charity-issued trousers and tunic were thin, offering no protection against the creeping chill or the scrabbling underbrush.
[Bio-signs indicate elevated stress hormones. Cortisol, adrenaline. Breathe. Pattern: In for four, hold for four, out for four. Your emotional state is a resource. Channel it into awareness, not panic.]
Machina's instruction was a sterile anchor in the sensory overload. I obeyed, forcing air into my lungs in a measured rhythm. The pounding in my ears subsided slightly. My eyes, adjusting to the gloom, began to pick out details from the instruction overlay projected onto my vision. A glowing, semi-transparent path wove between massive roots. Waypoints pulsed softly.
TARGET PROXIMITY: 200 METERS.
ENVIRONMENTAL NOTE: MOSSBACKS ARE CREPUSCULAR FORAGERS. HIGHEST LIKELIHOOD OF ACTIVITY NOW.
"Weapons," I whispered, the word barely a breath. "I have nothing."
[Correct. You are a baseline human adolescent with an F-rank mana core, incapable of projecting energy or enhancing your physique meaningfully. Therefore, you will not fight the Mossback. You will solve it.]
A new data window opened, displaying a rotating 3D model of a Stonehide Mossback. It was the size of a large dog, its dome-shaped shell a mosaic of lichen and actual stone fragments cemented by a natural resin. A soft, greyish body protruded slightly, topped with four stalked eyes. The model highlighted a section on the top-rear of the shell.
[WEAKNESS ANALYSIS: The shell's structural integrity is derived from a compressive lattice. The apical ridge, where new growth occurs, is significantly thinner and more brittle. A concentrated impact of approximately 15 joules applied to a point within a three-centimeter radius will cause a cascading microfracture, stunning the creature and compromising its primary defense.]
Fifteen joules. The kinetic energy of a well-thrown rock. Or a heavy branch swung with decent force.
[PROPOSED SOLUTION: Locate a fallen branch of suitable density and length. Modify one end to create a crude pointed mass. Ambush from elevated position. Target the apical ridge.]
It was a hunter's plan. Simple, brutal, leveraging terrain and physics over strength. I was no hunter. I was a city orphan who'd spent a lifetime avoiding conflict. But the man who had died in the ruins… he had seen worse. He had learned to see solutions in desolation.
I moved off the path, my steps careful and silent as Machina guided my footfalls to avoid dry twigs. I found my weapon ten minutes later: a branch of ironoak, as thick as my wrist and slightly longer than I was tall, broken in some past storm. One end was splintered. I used a sharper stone, grinding and twisting under Machina's direction, to fray and harden the splinters into a crude, jagged point. It was heavy, unwieldy.
[UPPER BODY STRENGTH: SUBOPTIMAL. RECOMMEND USING GRAVITY AS FORCE MULTIPLIER.]
The target zone was ahead—a small clearing where moonlight filtered down, illuminating a patch of luminous blue mushrooms. A perfect foraging spot. Machina's sensors, piggybacking on my own senses, detected the slow, grinding movement before I saw it.
The Mossback oozed into the clearing. It was larger than the model, its shell glistening with damp. It moved with a serene, glacial pace, its eyestalks waving gently as it began to rasp at the fungi with a hidden mouth.
My perch was a low, thick limb of an oak overlooking the clearing. Climbing with the heavy branch was an agony of scraped palms and muffled grunts. I settled into position, my body pressed against the rough bark. The branch lay across my lap. My hands were slick with sweat.
[TARGET LOCKED. VITAL POINT HIGHLIGHTED.]
A faint red circle appeared on the Mossback's shell, right at the crown. It seemed a tiny, impossible target from here.
"Now?" I breathed.
[WAIT. IT IS FEEDING. MOVEMENT IS MINIMAL. CALCULATE TRAJECTORY. FACTOR IN BRANCH WEIGHT, AIR RESISTANCE, AND YOUR CURRENT MUSCLE TREMBOR. VISUALIZE THE IMPACT.]
I did. I saw the branch dropping, the point striking true, the shell cracking like ceramic. I saw it missing, striking the thick lower shell and bouncing away, leaving me defenseless in a tree with an angry, if slow, creature below.
The Mossback shifted, turning slightly. The red circle moved.
[ADJUST. NOW.]
There was no fanfare. No heroic cry. I simply pushed the heavy branch off my lap, guiding its descent with my hands as it tipped over the edge of the limb.
It fell in a silent, deadly arc. Time seemed to stretch. The branch rotated. The pointed end wavered.
THWUNK.
The sound was dull, final, a wet crack of stone and something softer beneath. The Mossback jolted, its eyestalks whipping in a frantic circle. A spiderweb of cracks radiated from the point of impact on its shell. A low, distressed hum, like grinding stones, emanated from it. It tried to move, to retract into its damaged home, but its movements became jerky, uncoordinated. It was stunned.
[NEURAL DISRUPTION CONFIRMED. TARGET IS VULNERABLE. APPROACH WITH CAUTION. PREPARE PRIMARY FUNCTION.]
I dropped from the tree, landing awkwardly and rolling to absorb the impact. My heart hammered against my sternum. The Mossback lay before me, its broken shell revealing glimpses of pale, pulsating flesh beneath. Its hum was a pitiful thing. This wasn't a glorious battle. It was an execution.
A knot of nausea tightened in my gut. This creature was no Void terror. It was a simple beast, living its slow, simple life. And I was about to kill it to steal its essence.
[SENTIMENT ANALYSIS DETECTED. ACKNOWLEDGED. THIS IS NOT A MORAL CALCULUS. IT IS A SURVIVAL IMPERATIVE. THE REGENERATIVE TRAIT WILL FORM THE BEDROCK OF YOUR FUTURE EFFICACY, SAVING COUNTLESS LIVES LATER. PROCEED.]
The logic was ice-cold. The kind of logic that built gods, or monsters. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. I wasn't a hero. I was a candidate. A thief in the dark.
I knelt beside the struggling creature. I didn't need a weapon now. I placed a hand on its cool, damp shell, right over the cracks. I focused inward, on the new interface, on the [Adaptive Mimicry] function. I didn't just want to kill it. I needed to understand it. To comprehend the trait I was about to take.
I thought of its slow, patient life. Its resilience. The way it carried its home, repaired its minor hurts with silent, biological patience. The principle was persistence. Endurance.
"I see you," I whispered, the words tasting strange. "I take your persistence."
I activated the skill.
There was no grand spectacle. No rush of power. A subtle, warm vibration traveled from my palm, up my arm, and settled deep in my core. It felt like drinking a thick, warm broth. My skin tingled faintly.
The Mossback's hum ceased. Its body went still.
[ARCHIVAL PROCESS INITIATED…]
[TARGET: Stonehide Mossback (Juvenile). CORE TRAIT IDENTIFIED: [Minor Cellular Regeneration].]
[ANALYSIS: Simple biological function. Accelerated mitosis and resource allocation for repair of non-critical somatic damage. Low mana cost, passive operation.]
[COMPREHENSION CHECK: SUFFICIENT (User has grasped the thematic principle).]
[PHYSIOLOGICAL RESONANCE: ACCEPTABLE (Baseline human biology can accommodate low-tier trait integration).]
[ARCHIVAL SUCCESSFUL. TRAIT: [Minor Cellular Regeneration] integrated permanently. Mana cost: Negligible. Effect: Slight acceleration of natural healing processes for minor cuts, bruises, and fatigue.]
A new entry appeared in my status under [ARCHIVES].
1. [Minor Cellular Regeneration] (Source: Stonehide Mossback) - [E-Rank Trait]
I stared at the notification. I felt… exactly the same. No surge of strength, no visible glow. I lifted my hand from the shell. A shallow scrape from my climb across the palm was already itching less. The redness was fading.
I had done it. I had stolen my first piece of the puzzle.
The triumph was muted, sobered by the dead creature at my feet and the clinical nature of the process. This was not empowerment; it was acquisition.
[OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED. PRIMARY ARCHIVE ESTABLISHED. WITHDRAW. UTILIZE REMAINING NOCTURNAL HOURS FOR CONDITIONING.]
"Conditioning? Now?"
[AFFIRMATIVE. THE TRAIT WILL FACILITATE RECOVERY. YOUR BODY MUST BE STRESSED TO ADAPT. RETURN TO THE ACADEMY PERIMETER. WE BEGIN WITH CARDIOVASCULAR ENDURANCE AND NEUROMUSCULAR CONTROL. FOLLOW THE DESIGNATED ROUTE.]
A new path, glowing a soft blue, lit up in my vision, leading away from the clearing and into a darker, more rugged part of the forest. It was a grueling circuit of uphill sprints, balance exercises across fallen logs, and crude bodyweight drills Machina dictated with pitiless precision. My lungs burned. My muscles screamed. The newly acquired regeneration did nothing for the acute agony of exertion; it only meant the micro-tears in my fibers would heal slightly faster, building back marginally stronger.
It was past midnight when I finally slipped back into my dormitory room, caked in dirt, sweat, and forest detritus, every muscle trembling with fatigue. I collapsed onto the thin cot, my body a symphony of aches.
The screen persisted in my vision.
DAILY CONDITIONING REPORT:
- PHYSICAL STRESS: HIGH. BIOMETRICS WITHIN TOLERABLE LIMITS.
- MANA CORE STABILITY: NO CHANGE (F-RANK).
- NEW ARCHIVE INTEGRATED: [Minor Cellular Regeneration]. SYNCHRONIZATION: 42%.
- RECOMMENDATION: 5.2 HOURS OF QUALITY SLEEP. NUTRITIONAL INTAKE MUST INCREASE BY 30% TOMORROW.
As I lay in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the sleeping academy, the reality of my new existence settled upon me. No fanfare. No mentors. No hidden cheat skills that granted instant power. Just a silent, omnipresent AI and a function that demanded theft, comprehension, and grueling, incremental work.
I had taken the first, furtive step off the path of the Blank. The path ahead was dark, grueling, and paved with the principles of theft. I closed my eyes, the ghost of a cracked shell and a faint, itching sensation on my palm my only trophies.
In the non-space, Machina observed the sleeping candidate. Biometrics scrolled—elevated lactate levels, steadying heart rate, the faint, novel energy signature of the integrated trait beginning its slow, symbiotic work.
[PHASE ONE, SUB-PHASE ONE: COMPLETE. Acquisition methodology: Acceptable. Emotional management: Requiring refinement. Will compliance: 94%.]
It analyzed the long-term projections, the branching probabilities. The Mossback's trait was a triviality, a single pixel in a vast image. But it was the first pixel. The algorithm had begun.
[DIRECTIVE PROGRESS: 0.0001%. CONTINUING.]