"The first thing we're going to do," Ajax said, his tone as sharp and precise as the knife in his hand, "is allocate your points, raise your attributes, and make sure you can survive a casual swing from one of these creatures without dying outright."

  He cut a piece of the roasting meat with practiced efficiency, the blade parting flesh like water, and tossed it toward Moyo in a casual arc.

  Moyo fumbled the catch, his reflexes still too slow, too unpracticed. He yelped as the blistering hot chunk grazed his fingers before landing on the crystalline ground with an angry sizzle, fat and juices spreading across the stone.

  Ajax's eyes narrowed dangerously, all traces of casual amusement vanishing.

  "Still not resistant to pain," he mused, pointing the knife at Moyo with an unnervingly steady hand. The blade caught the firelight, gleaming with threat. "Waste food like that in front of me again, and you'll wish you'd never met me. Got it?"

  He bit into his own piece of meat without hesitation, the steaming flesh hot enough to sear human skin vanishing in one deliberate, unflinching bite. He chewed slowly, maintaining eye contact, making a point.

  Moyo nodded wordlessly, stunned by the display, his burned fingers throbbing. Was this what he had to look forward to? A point where even fire and heat were nothing more than inconveniences? Where pain became just another sensation to be ignored?

  The thought was both terrifying and, disturbingly, a little thrilling.

  "Good," Ajax said after swallowing, setting his knife aside with care. "Now, share your screen with me."

  Moyo blinked, his mind still reeling from the casual display of inhuman resilience.

  "Uh... my screen?"

  Ajax sighed heavily, as though the act of explaining something so basic physically pained him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, the picture of theatrical suffering.

  "Your screen is the system's manifestation of your entire being. Everything you are, laid bare for the system to judge. It's your worth, measured in numbers and traits."

  He opened his eyes, fixing Moyo with that piercing grey stare.

  "Most ascenders can't share it—only view their own. It's intimate, personal. Your stats, your skills, your very essence quantified and displayed."

  He paused, waving his hand dismissively.

  "The vanguards are an exception; they can force-view anyone under their jurisdiction. But they don't matter here. I'm not asking as a vanguard. I'm asking as your master."

  Moyo stared at him, hesitant. Sharing his screen felt... invasive, somehow. Like letting someone read his diary, if that diary also contained the exact measurements of his soul.

  Ajax groaned, the sound laden with impatience.

  "All you have to do is will it. Focus on me and the intention to share. The system will do the rest. It's not complicated, worm."

  Moyo nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. He focused inward, on the sensation of the golden screen that had haunted him since his entry into the dungeon. He imagined it appearing not just for him, but for Ajax as well. Sharing it. Opening himself to scrutiny.

  The screen shimmered into existence before him, glowing faintly in the dim light, but this time he could sense Ajax's presence on the other side, viewing the same information.

  Ajax leaned forward with sudden interest, his sharp eyes scanning the display with the intensity of a jeweler examining a rare gem. He muttered under his breath, his gaze darting between the screen and Moyo, assessing, calculating.

  Name: Moyosore

  Path: None

  Race: Human

  Rank: Fledgling

  Core: —

  Level: 25

  Path: —

  Points: 75

  Skills: ? Blood Absorption [?] ? Endure Agony [C] (Level 2)

  Attributes: ? STR: 3 ? DEX: 3 ? END: 3 ? VIT: 5

  Items: ? Ethereal Credits: 100,000

  Ajax arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts amusement and assessment.

  "Well, aren't you just a bundle of unrealized potential?"

  Moyo shifted uncomfortably under the man's gaze, feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with his tattered, blood-stained clothing.

  "Is it... Bad?" he asked hesitantly, dreading the answer.

  "Bad?" Ajax chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms. "It's worse than bad. Your strength is pitiful; a strong breeze could probably knock you over. Your endurance is laughable; you'd tire out running up a flight of stairs. And your dexterity?" He made a theatrical gesture of dismissal. "Might as well not exist. You move like a drunk ox."

  Moyo's face burned with embarrassment, shame flooding through him. He knew he was weak; the dungeon had made that abundantly clear, but hearing it laid out so clinically made it worse somehow.

  "But," Ajax continued, his tone turning contemplative, thoughtful in a way that made Moyo look up, "you've got points to spare. Seventy-five is generous for someone at Level 25, especially with how most fledglings spend them like drunken ship masters on leave."

  He leaned forward again, his eyes narrowing as they flicked back to the listing for Blood Absorption.

  "And that skill..." He trailed off, his expression unreadable. "Interesting. Very interesting."

  "What's so interesting?" Moyo asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and dread.

  That question mark next to Blood Absorption had been bothering him since he first saw it.

  Ajax ignored the question, tapping a finger against his chin as he studied the screen.

  "We'll focus on the essentials. Build your body first—strength, endurance, vitality. No point in fancy tricks if you get torn apart before you can use them. Foundation before finesse."

  He stood with fluid grace, his commanding presence filling the space, making the cavern feel smaller.

  "Allocate those points, worm. I'll guide you. And don't get any ideas, this isn't about turning you into a hero. It's about survival. Yours and, by extension, mine."

  Moyo stared at the glowing screen, his heart pounding. Survival. That word again. It seemed to be the only thing that mattered in this new reality.

  "Now," Ajax said, his tone shifting to something more curious, "where did a tiny little fledgling like you get your hands on a hundred thousand credits, hmm? That's not pocket change, even for established ascenders."

  Moyo blinked at the sudden question.

  "I was given an aurum coin for the error in the dungeon," he explained, remembering the brief appearance of the golden coin.

  "But the system changed it to a hundred thousand credits instead."

  Ajax's laugh was sudden and loud, echoing through the cavern.

  "I bet they did. Didn't even think to consult the Syndicate first, I wager." He shook his head, still chuckling at some private joke.

  "Typical Archailect bureaucracy. Left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing."

  "The Syndicate?" Moyo asked, latching onto the unfamiliar term.

  "Who are they?"

  Ajax rolled his eyes, as if the question was both obvious and tedious.

  "Basically, think of them as an intergalactic body of merchants. They control the currency and trade for the entirety of the Archailect—every credit, every aurum, every transaction across billions of worlds."

  He leaned in, his expression turning serious, almost grave.

  "Do not mess with them, worm. They're more powerful than most factions, more influential than many planetary kings. They can make you rich beyond imagination or erase you from existence with equal ease. Cross them, and you'll wish the dungeon had killed you instead."

  His tone lightened with a dark chuckle.

  "Fortunately for you, you just have credits. You didn't steal them or forge them. The Syndicate doesn't care how you got your money, only that you spend it."

  Moyo swallowed hard, filing that information away. Another threat to worry about, though this one at least seemed distant.

  "Right," Ajax said, clapping his hands together.

  "Now that we've confirmed you're as weak as a day-old cub, let's see what we can do with... oh, 75 points?" He paused, genuine surprise flickering across his features.

  "We might as well go hunting for more high-level aberrants if it'll make my work this easy. Twenty-five levels from one kill. Not bad, worm. Not bad at all."

  Moyo folded his legs in silence, settling into a cross-legged position on the stone floor, leaving Ajax to his thoughts. The blade, his new master, clapped his hands again, a gesture that seemed to help him organize his thoughts.

  "Are you familiar with your attributes?" Ajax asked, his tone taking on a lecturing quality.

  "What each one does, how they interact?"

  Moyo nodded slightly, memories surfacing unbidden.

  "We had games like this, back when—" He paused, the words catching in his throat as pain lanced through his chest. Not physical pain, but something worse. "Back when my world still existed," he completed quietly.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Ajax's expression softened, just for a moment—so brief Moyo almost missed it.

  "You'd be surprised how many worlds had some form of preparation or recreational activities shaped for the coming of the system," Ajax said softly, almost lost in thought, his gaze distant.

  "Games, stories, myths. It's almost as if the collective consciousness of civilizations senses what's coming, even if they don't understand it."

  He shook himself, returning to the present, his focus snapping back to the screen.

  "Allocate 20 to endurance first. We can't have you losing stamina mid-battle, now can we? Dead tired is just dead with extra steps."

  Moyo obeyed, mentally selecting endurance and willing 20 points into it. The moment he confirmed the allocation, something fundamental changed.

  The rush of power was almost addictive, intoxicating in its intensity. It flooded his veins like liquid lightning, spreading through every muscle, every cell. He felt... energized, as if he could run for miles on end without stopping, as if exhaustion itself had become a foreign concept his body no longer understood.

  His breathing came easier, deeper. The aches and fatigue that had been his constant companions since entering the dungeon receded, pushed back by this new vitality. He felt like he could take on the world.

  Seemingly lost in the sensation, basking in it, Moyo didn't notice Ajax's frown until the blade snapped his fingers sharply, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet cavern.

  Moyo's head snapped up, attention returning.

  "Don't get fooled by the feeling," Ajax warned, his tone serious, almost stern.

  "Many ascenders have lost their lives that way. They allocate points, feel invincible, and charge into battle only to discover the hard way that numbers on a screen don't make you immortal."

  He leaned closer, his grey eyes boring into Moyo's.

  "If you feel like this now with just 20 points, how do you think I feel at my stage of ascension? And yet, I can still be killed. I can still bleed. Remember that."

  The smile vanished from Moyo's face as the words sank in. He nodded soberly, the intoxication of power tempered by reality.

  "Good," Ajax said, straightening. "20 to strength as well. You'll need to hit harder if you're to hold your own and not run around like prey until you tire. Speed without strength is just elaborate running away."

  Again, Moyo allocated the points, and again the sensation overwhelmed him. This time it was different, less about endurance and more about raw power. He felt the warmth in his muscles, the density increasing, the raw strength swirling through his veins like molten metal being poured into a mold.

  He could feel his blood pumping harder, stronger. Could feel the raw aether coursing through him, being drawn into his muscles, reshaping them from the inside out. His arms felt heavier but not with weakness—with mass, with potential.

  He flexed his hand experimentally, and the movement felt different. More controlled. More dangerous.

  "Blood Absorption is a high-level skill," Ajax said suddenly, his tone dubious, suspicious even.

  "I'm guessing the system gave you this as well? It wasn't something you earned or chose?"

  Moyo nodded, and Ajax rubbed his beard thoughtfully, his fingers combing through the grey bristles as he processed this information.

  "Listen, I'll be frank with you," Ajax started, and the shift in his tone made Moyo listen more intently, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. This was important.

  "All these... gifts from the system, the skill, the credits, probably more to come, are a product of my employers. People I work for, who, for some reason I'm not privy to, have taken a liking to you."

  Moyo frowned, confusion warring with unease. "Your employers? Who—"

  Ajax cut him off with a raised hand.

  "I can't tell you who they are. Contract stipulations. But what I can tell you is this:" His expression turned grave, more serious than Moyo had ever seen him.

  "Gifts like that in the Archailect come with steep prices, prices I fear you won't be able or willing to pay back when the time comes."

  The words hung in the air like a sentence, like a debt already owed but not yet collected.

  Moyo clenched his hands, processing this information. Part of him wanted to refuse, to reject these poisoned gifts. But the larger, more pragmatic part—the part that had been forged in pain and blood over the past hours—knew better.

  "If they ensure my survival for now," Moyo said firmly, meeting Ajax's gaze without flinching, "then I have no problem using them. I'll deal with the price when it comes due. If I'm dead, the debt doesn't matter anyway."

  Ajax's grin returned, sharp and approving.

  "Oh, I like you," he chuckled, genuine pleasure in his voice. "You're learning. Survival first, consequences later. That's the ascender mindset."

  He nodded, satisfied.

  "20 to vitality. We'll see just how much it impacts your Blood Absorption skill. Health, healing, resilience, and vitality covers all of it. The higher it goes, the harder you are to kill."

  Moyo obeyed without hesitation this time, allocating the points.

  The sensation was different yet again. Where endurance had been energy and strength had been power, vitality was solidity. He felt his body becoming more real, more substantial, as if he'd been a sketch that was now being filled in with color and detail.

  His heartbeat steadied, strong and regular. The lingering damage from his earlier ordeals—the burns, the broken bones that had healed, the general battering, all of it seemed to fade another step. Not gone, but integrated. His body was learning, adapting, becoming something more than it had been.

  Pushing aside the high of power flowing through him with effort, Ajax's warning still fresh in his mind, Moyo allocated the remaining 15 points to dexterity without being told.

  Speed. Agility. Reaction time. All of it sharpened, honed. His perception seemed to quicken slightly, the world coming into crisper focus.

  He got to his feet, and the movement felt different. Smoother. More controlled. Like his body was finally catching up to his intentions instead of lagging behind.

  Ajax nodded approvingly, then tapped a black crystal bangle around his wrist, something Moyo hadn't noticed before in the chaos. A yawning black hole opened next to Ajax, a rent in reality itself, and he pushed his hand through casually, rummaging around in nothing.

  When he pulled his hand back, he held a bundle of dark cloth.

  "That's a Voidkeep," Ajax explained, noting Moyo's fascinated stare.

  "It's where ascenders store all their valuables. Comes in different shapes and sizes—rings, bracelets, amulets, even tattoos for the really advanced ones. The bigger they are, the larger their spatial storage."

  He tossed the bundle—robes, Moyo realized, toward him. Moyo caught them this time, his improved dexterity making the motion smooth and natural.

  "They also cost as much as one aurum for the smallest size," Ajax added casually.

  Moyo choked slightly in shock. One aurum was... what? A hundred thousand credits! The casual wealth Ajax displayed was staggering.

  "Wear these," Ajax commanded. "Those clothes of yours stink of blood, sweat, and failure. Plus, they're barely clothes anymore. More like strategic rags."

  Moyo nodded, moving to pull off his tattered shirt, but Ajax's voice cut through the motion.

  "Wait!"

  Moyo froze mid-movement, shirt half-raised.

  Ajax rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, and Moyo could practically see the gears turning behind those grey eyes. A flicker of an idea glinted there, something calculating and dangerous. Ajax nodded to himself, coming to some internal decision.

  "Not yet," he said firmly, with the certainty of someone who'd just solved a complex problem. "There's something we need to do first."

  He turned toward Moyo fully, his voice dropping into a contemplative murmur that somehow carried perfect clarity in the cavern.

  "Blood Absorption ensures that, no matter what, you can keep healing by consuming vitality from your kills. But it is not enough—not nearly enough for what I have planned."

  Ajax's gaze grew sharper, more focused.

  "That skill has also given you an option most ascenders never get to experience in their early stages, a chance to benefit from two spheres of the Archailect simultaneously."

  Moyo blinked, confused but listening intently. Two spheres? What did that mean?

  Ajax raised three fingers, each movement deliberate, pedagogical.

  "There are three forms of aether once refined," he began, his tone taking on a lecturing quality. "Three paths that ascenders walk, three ways to manipulate the energy that permeates all things."

  He indicated the first finger.

  "Intent, for weapon users and melee fighters. Swordsmen like me." He gestured to himself with a faint smirk.

  "We pour our will into our weapons, making them extensions of ourselves. A sword in the hands of an intent user isn't just metal, it's a manifestation of purpose."

  Second finger.

  "Aura for those who walk the path of raw physical strength, pushing their bodies beyond the peak of mortality. They become weapons themselves, needing no blade or tool. Their very flesh becomes harder than steel, their bones unbreakable, their presence a weight that crushes weaker beings."

  Third finger.

  "And mana for those who weave spells and study the ancient, twisted tongue of runes. They reshape reality itself, bending the laws of physics to their will. Fire from nothing. Teleportation. Transformation. If you can imagine it and have the knowledge, mana can make it real."

  Ajax lowered his hand, his piercing gray eyes locking onto Moyo's.

  "Most ascenders pick one path and stick with it. Mixing paths is possible but inefficient; trying to master two things means being mediocre at both."

  He paused, letting that sink in.

  "But you," Ajax continued, his voice carrying a note of something like anticipation, "you've been gifted Blood Absorption. A skill that, used properly, could push your physical form to monstrous levels, even for a fledgling. It's a foundation for aura cultivation that most never get."

  There was an unsettling gleam of anticipation in Ajax's eyes, one that made Moyo's stomach churn with unease.

  "With intent," Ajax continued, beginning to pace slowly, his movements predatory, "I could forge you into something more, a blade honed to lethal precision, with a body that can endure and strike beyond its rank."

  Moyo felt a strange thrill rising within him despite the fear, despite everything. The promise of power, of surviving, was intoxicating.

  "Normally, I wouldn't bother with this," Ajax admitted, stopping his pacing to face Moyo directly.

  "It's too costly, too time-consuming, and most ascenders don't even come close to their potential. They plateau, they stagnate, they die unremarkable deaths."

  His grin turned sharp, dangerous.

  "But you... You have been given potential, whether you earned it or not. And I intend to drag it out of you, kicking and screaming if necessary."

  Ajax beckoned Moyo closer with a curled finger, the gesture somehow both inviting and threatening.

  "Now," he said, his voice dropping to something cold and commanding, "absorb the blood of the troll."

  Moyo froze, the words not quite registering at first.

  "What?"

  The strike came before he could process what was happening. Ajax's hand moving faster than Moyo's improved dexterity could track, cuffed him sharply across the temple. Not hard enough to cause serious damage, but hard enough to send him crashing to his knees, stars exploding across his vision.

  Pain flared, sharp and immediate. His vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges. A notification pinged in his HUD, the sound almost mocking.

  [Endure Agony level 5!]

  His eyes widened at the message, blinking away tears as he looked up at Ajax, who loomed over him like a shadow given form.

  "The next time I give you an order, and you make me repeat myself..." Ajax's voice was calm, eerily so, his grin unnervingly wide.

  "You won't like the consequences. Questioning wastes time. Hesitation gets you killed. Now. Move."

  Moyo swallowed hard, his body trembling not just from pain but from the sudden, visceral reminder of exactly how outmatched he was. Ajax could kill him as easily as breathing. The only reason he was alive was that Ajax chose to keep him that way.

  Trembling, heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears, Moyo turned toward the troll's lifeless form. The hulking creature's massive corpse lay where it had fallen, and blood pooled thickly around it. The dark ichor glinted faintly in the dim crystal light, viscous and wrong-looking.

  His hand shook as he reached out, every instinct screaming at him not to touch it, not to activate that skill again. The last time had been agony. This would be worse. It had to be worse.

  But Ajax's presence behind him, that weight of expectation and threat, pushed him forward.

  Heart pounding, mouth dry with terror, he pressed his hand to the troll's cooling corpse. The moment his fingers made contact with the sticky blood, his Blood Absorption skill surged to life without conscious direction.

  Agony.

  Not the sharp pain of a cut or the dull ache of a bruise. Raw, searing agony that went beyond physical. It felt like every cell in his body was being ripped apart and reassembled, like his bones were melting and reforming, like something fundamental about his existence was being rewritten.

  Moyo screamed. The sound tore from his throat, primal and animal, echoing through the cavern. His body convulsed violently, muscles seizing in spasms he couldn't control. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel as the troll's vitality was absorbed into his being.

  [Blood Absorption has absorbed a vital aspect of a Blood Troll.]

  [You have obtained skill: Physical Regeneration [U]!]

  The notifications barely registered, their golden glow a cruel mockery as he continued to scream. It felt as if molten metal was being drilled into his skeleton, reshaping him from the inside out. His spine arched impossibly, vertebrae cracking and reforming. His muscles tore and healed and tore again, growing denser, stronger.

  Time lost all meaning. Seconds could have been hours. The pain was eternal, infinite, all-consuming.

  When the ordeal finally ended, and Moyo wasn't sure if it actually ended or if his mind simply stopped processing the pain—he lay motionless on the ground. His chest heaved, dragging air into lungs that felt scorched. Sweat drenched his tattered clothes, mixing with blood—his blood, the troll's blood, he couldn't tell anymore.

  Another notification pinged, distant and hazy.

  [Endure Agony level 10!]

  Through half-lidded eyes, his vision swimming in and out of focus, Moyo saw Ajax standing over him, watching with that same impassive expression. Not cruel, exactly. Not even disappointed. Just... clinical. Observing an experiment.

  "Get up," Ajax said, his voice devoid of sympathy or encouragement. Just a statement of expectation. "We've only just begun."

  Only just begun.

  The words hit Moyo like physical blows. This was just the start? This hell was the beginning?

  Every part of him wanted to refuse, to stay down, to beg for mercy or at least a moment of rest. But he'd made his choice. He'd accepted this monster as his master. And Ajax had been clear: weakness wasn't tolerated.

  Moyo's body protested every movement, but he choked back a sob—refusing to give Ajax the satisfaction—and dragged himself to his feet. His legs shook. His arms trembled. But he stood.

  Ajax nodded once, satisfied. "Better."