“Personal fabrication licenses require quarterly safety audits, material sourcing documentation, and proof of approved design patterns. Unlicensed fabrication carries penalties up to ￠1,000,000 and equipment confiscation.

  Corporate fabrication facilities operating under Sol Alliance charter are exempt from the above.”

  — Tago Manufacturing Compliance Code, Section 7.4b

  I lifted the pants off the integration frame, feeling the weight. Heavier than normal pants, definitely, but the combat fiber distributed it well. The impact foam added bulk at the knees and hips without making me look like I was wearing medieval plate armor.

  The conductive threading was invisible under the outer shell, thank god. All that careful routing, all those pathways feeding the shield projectors and micro-cameras... completely hidden. Professional-looking.

  Time to see if professional-looking actually meant professional.

  I focused on the pants, really examining them with intent the way I’d done with the figurine.

  [Item Analysis: Tactical Pants (Prototype)]

  Name: [None]

  Item Quality: D- (Low-End)

  Integrity: 100%

  Manufacturer: Dash Kallum*

  Comparative Analysis (Tago Region): Within the category of integrated tactical wear, this item ranks in the 20-35th percentile. Construction quality exceeds mass-market offerings but falls short of licensed professional equipment.

  I stared at the window for a long moment.

  D-.

  Low-End.

  20-35th percentile.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I said aloud to the empty workshop.

  The pants had cost me thousands of credits in materials. Combat fiber. Military-grade shield projectors. Precision micro-cameras designed for IC officer equipment. I’d spent hours calibrating the ACCIW, programming the fabrication sequence, hand-stitching the final assembly...

  And the system called it Low-End.

  I looked down at the pants in my hands. They didn’t look low-end. They looked better than anything I’d ever owned, better than most of the gear I’d seen in shops.

  But apparently “better than mining school trash” still put me firmly in the bottom third of Tago’s equipment ecosystem.

  The realization hit like cold water.

  This was what I was competing against. Not other broke students cobbling together gear from salvage. Not people like me working in basements.

  I was competing against corporations with industrial fabrication facilities. Against military suppliers with government contracts and proprietary materials I couldn’t even buy. Against IC equipment manufacturers, who’d been perfecting their designs for decades.

  And my best effort barely cracked D-.

  I set the pants down on the TABLO surface, suddenly not wanting to hold them anymore.

  “Right,” I muttered. “Lesson learned. Being able to build something doesn’t mean being able to build something good.”

  The Echo of Excellence skill had done exactly what it promised. It had shown me the objective truth about my work.

  And the truth sucked.

  I slumped into my chair, staring at the system window still floating in my vision. The asterisk next to my name caught my attention.

  Manufacturer: Dash Kallum*.

  I focused on the asterisk.

  [Manufacturer Note] Self-fabricated equipment. Creator-owned design rights. No commercial licensing.

  “Well, at least I own the design,” I said, though the words felt hollow. What good were design rights to D- tier?

  I dismissed the window with a mental swipe and sat there for a while, just... processing.

  The workshop suddenly felt different. All this equipment, all these crates of materials, the ACCIW and the Orbital and the TABLO... they weren’t magic solutions. They were just tools.

  And tools were only as good as the person using them.

  I looked at the pants again. Really looked, this time not through the system’s analytical lens but through my own eyes. They were well-made. The seams were perfect. The embedded components were positioned exactly where I’d planned them. The conductive threading followed the paths I’d designed.

  The construction was solid.

  But solid construction apparently didn’t matter if the underlying design was fundamentally limited. If the materials were good but not great. If the fabrication precision was adequate but not optimal.

  D- didn’t mean I’d done the work wrong, it meant my best wasn’t good enough yet. The thought should have been crushing. Instead, it was almost... clarifying.

  I pulled up the skill description again, reading it carefully.

  [Hoqalo: Echo of Excellence]

  Description:

  When examining an object created by your own hand, this skill reveals the item’s effective rarity within an unlocked appraisal area (Tago). The revealed rarity is determined by comparing the object’s overall performance, durability, and function against similar objects of the same category recognized by the System.

  This evaluation reflects relative quality rather than absolute value and may change as the standards of comparison expand.

  May change.

  That was the key phrase; the quality wasn’t fixed. It was comparative, based on what existed in Tago, based on what the system knew about.

  Which meant it could improve.

  And I had another skill specifically designed for improvement.

  I stood up, walking over to the pants. Picked them up again, feeling the weight, the texture of the fibers, the slight stiffness from the embedded impact foam.

  I took a breath, placed my right hand flat against the fabric, and whispered:

  “Hoqalo.”

  The effect was instant and overwhelming.

  Warmth flooded through my hand, spreading up like liquid fire that didn’t burn. The sensation hit my chest and yanked, a thing deep inside me responding to the activation word. It wasn’t like with mana. No, it was… different, almost like…

  My soul, the system had called it.

  The warmth turned to pressure, building like heat in a heat-pipe that wanted out. The pants below my hand glowed, soft golden light bleeding through the combat fiber, highlighting the conductive threading I’d so carefully routed.

  Every pathway lit up.

  Every projector mounting point. The entire distributed power network became visible as luminous tracery, and I could feel each connection, each component, each decision I’d made during the design process.

  The pants weren’t just an object anymore, but a record of my hopes and choices made into physical form.

  And now those choices were being... absorbed. Integrated. The golden light pulsed brighter, and the pressure in my chest increased, becoming almost painful.

  A new window appeared, overlaying my vision.

  [Soulwright’s Engraving: ACTIVE]

  The light flared once, brilliant enough that I had to close my eyes against it. The pressure peaked, threatening to crush something vital inside my chest—

  And then it was released.

  The warmth faded, and the light dimmed and disappeared, leaving behind only a faint ache deep in my core.

  I opened my eyes.

  The pants looked the same. No visible changes, no glowing runes carved into the fabric, nothing to show what system fuckery had just happened, but they felt different in my hands.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  I focused on them again, examining with intent.

  [Item Analysis: Tactical Pants (Prototype)]

  Name: [None]

  Item Quality: C- (Mass-Produced)

  Integrity: 100%

  Soul-Bound: Yes [Dash Kallum]

  Manufacturer: Dash Kallum

  Comparative Analysis (Tago Region): Within the category of integrated tactical wear, this item ranks in the 35-55th percentile. Construction quality meets professional minimum standards. Soul-binding provides personalized performance enhancement.

  C-.

  The quality had jumped an entire tier. From Low-End to... Mass-Produced.

  I stared at the descriptor.

  Mass-Produced.

  My jaw clenched. “Are you serious right now?”

  I’d just bound these pants to my soul. Put unique personal enchantments on them that worked only for me. Made them literally one-of-a-kind in the entire solar system.

  And the system called them mass-produced.

  “These aren’t mass-produced,” I said through gritted teeth. “They’re custom-fabricated. Hand-assembled and soul-bound. They’re the opposite of mass-produced. Change the descriptor.”

  The window flickered.

  Item Quality: C- (Common)

  My vision went red. “Common?!“

  The window flickered again, almost seeming... apologetic?

  Item Quality: C- (Mass-Produced)

  I let out a long breath, feeling my heart rate slowly return to normal. The pants hung from my hand, innocent and unaware of the existential crisis they’d just caused.

  C-.

  Mass-Produced.

  35-55th percentile.

  Still not great. Still middle-of-the-pack. But a significant improvement from D-.

  I dismissed the system window and held the pants up to the light, examining them with normal vision. They still looked exactly the same.

  But now they were C- tier instead of D-.

  Mass-produced instead of low-end.

  “Progress,” I muttered. “Slow, grinding, soul-damaging progress. But progress.” I glanced at the book and the figurine. “Let’s get this over with before I go to sleep.”

  I grabbed the figurine, feeling the dense, reinforced wood against my palm. The golden rune mark pulsed softly on the base. “One more attempt,” I muttered, settling back into my chair at the TABLO. I wanted sleep desperately, but I rocked my head. “Come on, Dash. You can do math for a while.”

  After I undid the previous rune, I sprinkled fresh mana dust over the figurine, watching it cling with that familiar magnetic pull. The particles settled into place, glittering under the workshop lights.

  Deep breath.

  I placed my hand on the wood and let my vision unfocus, and the Rune of Durability appeared in my mind.

  I channeled the mana carefully, following the paths I’d mapped through previous attempts. Along the grain of the wood. Reinforcing structural points. Avoiding the delicate carved details of hair and armor.

  The equation simplified as I worked, variables falling into place. The solution was close now, so close I could almost touch it until… my control fading, concentration slipping because of the tired mind.

  Not yet. Just a little more.

  I pushed harder, drawing on the last reserves of warmth beneath my skin. The equation demanded math, and I gave it everything I had left.

  The figurine changed beneath my hand as my mana control slipped completely, leaving me hollow and gasping.

  A notification appeared.

  [Rune of Durability - LEARNING COMPLETE]

  Rune of Durability (Level 1)

  Proficiency Rating: D+

  You may now inscribe the Rune of Durability on objects of your choosing. Efficiency and effectiveness will improve with practice.

  I stared at the notification through half-closed eyes, breathing hard.

  D+.

  After hours of practice and wrestling with alien mathematics that made my brain hurt.

  D fucking plus.

  “Are you serious?” I wheezed at the system. “I just learned an entire magical discipline from scratch. In one evening and with zero prior experience. And you give me a D+?”

  The notification flickered.

  Proficiency Rating: D

  My jaw dropped. “No! No, that’s worse! Give me back the plus!”

  The notification didn’t change.

  I slumped forward on the TABLO, head resting on my arms, too exhausted to even properly rage at the system’s trolling.

  “What about magic?” I muttered.

  A new window appeared.

  Mana Subsystem: Equation Mana Subsystem

  Level: 1

  Known Runes: 1

  Known Spells: None

  I stared at it.

  “…kind of underwhelming?”

  Another line appeared at the bottom of the window.

  [You can unlock more runes in: 47 hours]

  I glanced at the book sitting on the workbench, its pages still stubbornly locked despite my completion of the first rune.

  “This sucks.”

  Later, I stumbled up the basement stairs, legs shaky from normal exhaustion, mana exhaustion and soul exhaustion. The hollow feeling in my chest pulsed with every step.

  I made it to my room and collapsed face-first onto the bed. For a moment, I just lay there, breathing into the pillow, feeling all three exhaustions radiating through every muscle.

  My holoband buzzed against my wrist.

  I groaned, lifting my arm just enough to check the notification.

  [Erika: Nice pants!]

  Why was everyone insomniac like I was? I typed back with one hand, still face-down on the bed.

  [Me: Thanks. I’ll send more pics tomorrow.]

  [Erika: Perfect! It’s almost morning, don’t work too hard!]

  Too late for that.

  I dismissed the message and stared at my Pulse home screen. The interface glowed softly in the dim light of my room…recent contacts, message threads. The notification counter showed 127 unread messages, most of them probably from public channels I’d joined and forgotten about.

  I pulled up the app, scrolling through the mess. Mining school group chats. Equipment trading channels. The usual spam from corpo advertisers who’d somehow gotten past the filters.

  And my contact list, woefully short.

  Omar, Erika, Mom, comma. Eddy’s shop line along with a few people from prep. That was it. About twenty contacts in a social network with billions of users.

  I scrolled through the list again, and something clicked in my brain.

  Alice.

  The holographic business card she’d slipped into my hand on Floor 72. The one with the animated flames dancing around the edges and her Pulse handle written in elegant script.

  She was in Aurelia Academy, right? They had access to the best healers, and I needed healing… How was her Pulse name?

  [Pulse: AliceOnFire_real]

  I’d completely forgotten to add her.

  “Shit,” I muttered, pushing myself upright. My body protested as I sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling up Pulse’s search function.

  ALICE ??

  Aurelia T Academy | Fire Enthusiast | Twin #1

  Status: Online

  Followers: 8,247

  Following: 342

  “Preem vibes only! ??????”

  Her profile picture showed her mid-laugh, flames dancing around her hands in a controlled spiral. The photo quality suggested professional equipment, or at least expensive consumer-grade cameras with post-processing.

  Eight thousand followers.

  I had thirty-seven.

  [Friend request sent to AliceOnFire_real]

  It somehow sent a request to her sister. I didn’t know it was possible… maybe only for rich people. The notification appeared at the top of my screen, and I set my holoband down on the nightstand and sleep—

  My holoband buzzed.

  Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.

  I grabbed it, put it back on, confused.

  [AliceOnFire_real accepted your friend request!]

  [CeciTheSamurai accepted your friend request!]

  [AliceOnFire_real is calling...]

  The holographic projection materialized above my wrist before I could even process what was happening.

  Alice’s face appeared, grinning wide, her silver hair slightly disheveled like she’d been moving around. One blue eye, one red eye, both sparkling with that manic energy I remembered from Floor 72.

  “DASH!” she practically shouted, loud enough that I flinched. “Finally! I’ve been waiting like forever for you to add me! What took you so long? Did you lose my card? Did you forget about us? Were you too busy being mysteriously brooding and cool?”

  I stared at her holographic face, my exhausted brain struggling to catch up.

  “Uh,” I said eloquently. “Hi?”

  “Hi yourself!” She leaned closer to her camera, her face filling most of the projection. “It’s half-past three, but who cares? We gamed all night with Ceci! Right?” She waited for a response, glancing to the side, but Cecilia was silent. “Did you fight anything preem? Any cool loot? Did you fight a boss? Tell me everything!”

  Behind her, I could see what looked like a dorm room. Expensive dorm room. Floor-to-ceiling windows showing Tago’s skyline, furniture with probably unlisted price, ambient lighting that adjusted automatically to her movements.

  “I... fought an incursion,” I managed. “And got some credits. Nothing special.”

  “Nothing special,” she repeated, deadpan. Then she grinned. “Dash, you’re the worst at bragging. Ceci! CECI! He finally added us!”

  Another face appeared in the projection, Cecilia, looking significantly less excited and super tired, but offering a small smile. Her red eye was on the other side, I remembered. Mirror image of her sister.

  “Hi, Dash,” she said, quieter. “Good to see you’re alive.”

  “Barely,” I admitted, slumping back against my headboard.

  Alice’s eyes widened. “Woah you look like goonk! The hell have you been doing?”

  “Workshop stuff,” I said, too tired to elaborate. “Got some new equipment. Been... testing it.”

  “Workshop?” Alice’s grin somehow got wider. “You have a workshop? Like, an actual workshop? Can we see it? Can we come over? Wait, no, that’s weird, we just met. But seriously, can we?”

  Cecilia’s voice came from off-screen. “Alice, you’re being intense again.”

  “I’m being interested!” Alice protested. “There’s a difference!”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe someday. It’s... kind of a mess right now.”

  “Preem! I love messes!” Alice bounced slightly in her seat. “Oh! Oh! Do you want to go somewhere now? It’s night, but we can sneak—”

  “Alice,” Cecilia interrupted gently. “He looks exhausted.”

  Alice paused, really looked at me this time. Her grin softened… not gone, just dialed down a notch. “Okay,” she said, slower. “Yeah. You look like you got pancaked by a rogue tram. No offense.”

  “None taken,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “Long day.”

  “Mm.” She nodded, suddenly serious in that way that felt more dangerous than her hype. “Alright. No late-night shenanigans. You crash. You recharge. You don’t touch anything that explodes.”

  “Eh? What?”

  “But,” she ignored me, finger lifting like she was filing a motion with the universe, “tomorrow’s locked. Non-negotiable.”

  I blinked. “Locked?”

  “Yep. Hard-locked. System-confirmed.” She grinned again, energy flooding back in. “We’re taking you out.”

  “Out where?” I asked cautiously.

  Alice leaned closer to the camera, eyes glinting. “Arcades.”

  That got my attention.

  “Not the kiddie holo-rooms,” she clarified quickly. “I’m talking first class, the best money can buy experiences!”

  Cecilia’s voice chimed in, amused. “She means places that still bruise your ego if you mess up.”

  “Exactly!” Alice snapped her fingers. “Central? No, maybe east? If the power hasn’t brownout’d again. Real crowd and noise. No bodyguards breathing down our necks. Well, ours… ugh.” She tilted her head, studying me. “You look like someone who needs to blow off steam without something trying to eat him.”

  I hesitated. My brain immediately started listing reasons not to go—

  Alice steamrolled right over it.

  “Look,” she said, softer but firm. “Tomorrow’s not about performance, just games, bad food, and making Ceci swear when she loses sword-fight.”

  “I do not swear,” Cecilia protested weakly.

  “You absolutely do,” Alice shot back. Then she turned to me again. “Come on, Dash.”

  I snorted. “That sounds… suspiciously safe?”

  “Exactly,” Alice said, pointing at me like I’d solved a puzzle. “Suspiciously. Plus—” she leaned back, smug, “—I’m very good at convincing people to have fun.”

  “That sounded like a threat,” I said.

  “Promise,” she replied brightly.

  I never truly socialized before, thinking I could just… build things in a quiet place. Movie nights where I watched a movie and went home. Maybe this was a good thing? Having an extrovert adopt me wasn’t such a bad thing, right? Besides, I could ask about the healer in person.

  I exhaled, letting my head rest. “…Tomorrow,” I said. “Arcades.”

  “Nova!” Alice punched the air in victory. “Knew it. Okay, sleep now. We’ll ping you. Wear something comfy and don’t bring weapons bigger than your ego.”

  Cecilia waved from the background. “Rest well, Dash.”

  The call winked out, and I stared at my holoband for a moment, then let it fall onto the mattress beside me.

  Arcades with two Aurelia Academy twins.

  In Tago.

  “What is my life right now,” I muttered.

  My holoband buzzed again.

  [AliceOnFire_real: Tomorrow’s gonna slap. Trust me]

  [CeciTheSamurai: She already mapped three routes. You can’t escape.]

  …Yeah. I figured.

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