/”Philia is dead.”

  “What?!”

  “Killed by a rookie, Ion. Tried to abduct the newbie for a healing skill. The little monster hid in the tunnels for half a month, then came back and just killed her.”

  “Holy fuck.”

  “Monsters. Absolute monsters.”/

  -A conversation overheard in the city of Espiree, first floor of the tower.

  - - -

  I look at the still-warm corpse and sigh. “What a waste,” I grumble. And she had to die pathetically, too. I hate when people ask me for stuff. And yet, her stupid goddess had to go and do just that.

  [You have killed a lv. 52 Darkbreaker]

  [Level up! 24 > 29]

  All my points go straight into vessel, intensifying the pain in my chest, but it’s bearable. I just start feeding even more of my mana into my skills, keeping them active. Now that the danger has passed, a chunk of my regeneration gets fed to making denser and denser needles of mana, or [Suppressing] myself for training…

  Ah, but before I get too distracted, yet more messages flood in.

  [Respitia the Pure is outraged. She denounces you.]

  The message carries a weight that I usually associate with another force, who I expect to comment soon. But, for now, I focus on the sensation that’s there. A weight of disapproval, of hatred, of a sworn enemy. Well, that’s okay. Just one more Eye to pluck from the sky.

  [The Embrace welcomes Philia into their fold. It is amused by the inverted expectation.]

  [Your cold-blooded murder greatly pleases the Master of Suffering. You are sponsored one minor request.]

  [Aloofly, the Creeping Darkness praises your companion’s use of shadows. It is decidedly not dancing in excitement. You are sponsored one minor request.]

  Those silly idiots. I almost smile at that last message. What an amusing critter. I suppose they’re allowed to hand out favours like that - the fact that I’m not offered a choice makes me think that there aren’t any strings attached.

  It does make me feel a little disgusted, like a dancing monkey. But, at the same time, it’s free real estate, so I accept it for now. The next message amuses me more.

  [Second Threshold (supremacy lv. 25) crossed! Please select an Epitaph.]

  Huh. I’m not dead yet, so I don’t imagine that’s what it means. Perhaps it’s a trait that’s defining enough to be remembered after my death? “Show me my options,” I tell the system. There’s a pause before that, and the same box about ‘being provided additional info’, same as when I got my class options, and I rapidly sit down.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  My head floods. Epitaphs are, as it seems, another system pillar, next to classes and jobs and supremacy. They don’t operate with levels, though. Instead, you pick an epitaph for each stat.

  They define something subtle about you, shaping your abilities in unique ways, strengthening the functions a stat performs. They’re, effectively, tailored enhancements, both passive and meant to be built upon.

  In a lot of ways, they change as you live, adjusting at one’s actions. They’re a path to walk down. Unlocking the first can be done through supremacy, as unlocking a class can be, and the others need to be found manually, like acquiring a job. It’s about self-dictating one’s own purpose.

  I breathe, and repeat myself. “Show me my options.”

  [Epitaph: Song of Scarlet (Heart)

  You cut, you cull, you carve and kill,

  You sing a song of blood to spill.]

  I blink. That is a lot more sinister than I thought. Yet, at the same time, it’s true. I’ve done a lot of killing since the tower started, usually accompanied by a not insignificant rush of adrenaline. It does, in some ways, suit me. It also feels wrong.

  [Epitaph: Vicious Void (Power)

  A blank page, a starless sky,

  Encompassing fury, eye for eye.]

  Another one that fits me. Especially recently. When someone hurts me or my friends, they pay. Brutally, instantly, and excessively. It’s not even really fury, but there is no proper word to describe the cold hatred I feel when I want to cut someone down. But, at the same time, it’s so… aggressive. Not quite me.

  [Epitaph: Abiding Apathy (Vessel)

  Empty, dull, the need to take,

  From broken bits you then remake.]

  I close my eyes, breathing. Abiding Apathy. It’s… right. The others are too angry, vicious. This one is the only one that mentions me making something.

  There’s a sadness in that. The fact that I was only given one option for creation, but it’s okay. This one’s better than the others. It suits me more. I wish, I really wish, that I’d earned something brighter, something more vibrant and kind… but that’s not me.

  Sighing softly, I resign myself to the apathy that already washes over me again. I pick Abiding Apathy, and the sensation settles right into that hole in my chest. I can feel it resonate with my vessel, changing that tightness pressing against my sternum from the inside.

  And, all at once, I understand what it means.

  Abiding Apathy is what it says on the tin. It reinforces that part of who I am, it puts a bit of my personality into my mana. The hunger, the curiosity, the desire to take things apart and take those parts for myself. It’s a simple effect, really.

  Whenever I break magic, I can siphon some of that mana into my own vessel, now.

  It lets me take one thing apart and build another with it. It’s strong. Slowly, I breathe in, then out. I wonder. Philia was over level 50, so did she have something like this, too? Maybe something like brilliant recovery, I’d wager. A healing thing, or something to intensify her light skills.

  But if the first threshold was level 10, and the second 25… what’s the third? I’d guess it to be 50. She was barely above it, so maybe she didn’t yet wield it very skillfully? But I’m curious what she could have gained.

  Then, gently, I discard that thought. My friends are, after all, still fighting. I wipe the blood off my hands and face, dirtying the too-tight clothes I’m wearing. Then I stand up.

  My feet feel shaky, the new sensation in my chest making the world feel a little dull. I adjust, and that feeling fades away. My mana beats in my vessel, feeling heavy in my chest. Is there an actual organ forming? What kind of thing would power make, if vessel and heart are organs?

  Do different people manifest their stats differently? I’d imagine so. After all, Philia’s mana felt rather different from mine. All glowy and bright. Not at all like the dull grey most of my skills take on. I start walking as I think, slowly heading back through the tunnels.

  Kuro cloaks me in darkness, and stifles the small noises my steps might otherwise have made. Slowly, steadily, I walk on, guided by the faint pull towards Elis I can feel. She’s fighting, and so, it’s prime material for an ambush.

  Let’s try out that new quality of my mana.