Hope held the bloody strip of worm meat in his hand, fingers still slick from peeling off the outer membrane.

  He focused. Let the Heat Magika swirl around him, calling in the red sparks like little fireflies. They came quick—dozens of them—drawn to his intent. He felt them converging on the meat, all punching straight into the center like they were eager to show off.

  The sizzle came fast. Smoke followed, rising in greasy little curls. He grinned. It was working—cooking, actually cooking. No fire, no burners, nothin’. Just will and Magka.

  But a few seconds later, his nose wrinkled. Something smelled off.

  The outside still looked pale, barely warmed, while the center bulged and cracked with black char. One bite confirmed it—burned through the middle, half-raw at the edges, chewy and bitter like roasted shit.

  Dammit.

  He crouched down, grabbed another cut of meat, and gave it another go.

  This time, he didn’t focus all the heat in one spot. Instead, he spread it thin—guided the sparks to skim the edges, let them dance in a ring around the outside, flickering slow and even. He kept turning the meat too, steady like a spit, not just holding it in place like before.

  It took longer. His arm got tired. But when he bit into it—

  Soft inside, crisp on the outside.

  He blinked, surprised. Then grinned as he took another bite.

  “Now we’re fuckin’ talking.”

  He also got two bonuses for the effort.

  ??Heat Handling (Level 3?4)

  You’ve begun to feel the weight of heat in the air—and how to shift it.

  ? 20% reduction in mental strain when manipulating Heat Magika.

  ? +4% to Magia while in the presence of Heat Magika (only the highest applicable Magika Handling effect applies at once).

  ??Cooking (Level 1?2)

  You’ve made fire and fed the flame. The body remembers warmth.

  ? Food you cook manually restores +20% more stamina.

  Nice!

  “Hey, Eve, wanna try?”

  She didn’t answer right away—just stared for a second, like she wasn’t sure if he was serious. Then, slowly, she nodded.

  “Oh… really?” Hope’s eyes widened. “O-kay, here you go.”

  He handed over the half-finished one he’d been munching on and started working on another. She took it weird—like she was picking up a dead rat with her bare hands—and hesitated before biting off a tiny corner.

  He squinted at her. What’s wrong with this girl? It’s tasty and well-cooked worm meat, what more could you ask for?

  Eve’s face twitched. She turned a little paler, chewing slowly like every second was a battle. But she swallowed it down.

  “You ok?”

  “I… yes, I’m fine. Thanks,” she said, eyes a little glassy.

  “Oh… well.” He shrugged and focused back on the meat.

  Magika flowed smoother now—no question. He could feel it. Like the whole world had loosened up a bit. But even then, there was a huge gap.

  He could twist Air Magika like it was part of him—fluid, light, natural. Heat, though… Heat was a bitch.

  And yeah, the headache was creeping in again, but screw it. Nothing worth doing ever came easy.

  “So, Eve,” he said, turning the meat slowly over the heat, “what was all that drama with the Discovered Active Skill and stuff? Why’d it give so many stats?”

  “Well… maybe I should start with what Active Skills are,” she said, wiping the slick oil from her lips with the back of her hand.

  Oh boy. Long one incoming. But still—he was curious.

  “There are three categories of Active Skills,” she began, her voice settling into that soft, teacher-ish tone she used when trying to explain something. “Although, for the most part, you could say there are only two. The first one is the most common—it's called the Learned state.”

  Hope squinted. “Learned? Like you read it in a book?”

  “In a way, yes. If someone teaches you, if you study it, even if someone gives you heavy hints on how to perform it… that puts it into the Learned category,” she said. “But the more help you get, the higher the mastery threshold the System demands before it recognizes the skill.”

  “So… you Citizen folk just read manuals and grind it up slowly, huh?”

  “Most do, yes. But don’t think it’s easy,” she said. “Even Tier 1 Actives can take weeks or even months depending on your talent. The System makes sure you don’t just stack your Active slots without real effort.”

  Hope let that settle as he turned the meat again. It was cooking better this time, browning nice and even across the edges.

  Eve continued.

  “Now, the second category is what you’ve got—Discovered. This one’s special. It only happens when you gain something completely on your own. No advice, no guidance. Maybe you saw someone use it once or twice, but that’s it. Everything else comes from your own imagination, creativity, maybe trial and error… or just”—she paused, eyes lingering on Hope—“sudden enlightenment.”

  Hope let out a low whistle. “So I’m one of those, huh?”

  She nodded. “Discovered skills are extremely valuable. Not just because they show real originality—but because the System rewards that. You get really good flat stats for your Tier… and more importantly, reduced strain when using them. That means less drain on your stamina or mind when the skill’s active. And yes, that means you can fly longer.”

  His grin widened. “Hell yeah!”

  “And then there’s a big reward for the first one,” Eve added. “The feat.”

  “The Discoverer one, right? The one with the fancy percentages?”

  “Yes. And Hope, listen—anything that gives percentage-based bonuses in the System is extremely rare. Most bonuses are flat. But percentage boosts? Those scale. The more power you get, the more they multiply. That’s why feats like Discoverer are so sought after. It doesn’t matter if you’re Tier 1 or Tier 6—you’ll always benefit.”

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  Hope gave the meat one final flip, then tossed her a look.

  “So… basically… it’s rad stuff.”

  Eve gave him the faintest smile. “In a way, yes.”

  “I see… so what’s the last category?”

  Eve blinked, a bit surprised he was still following. “Well… the third category is called Created. It’s when you’re the first entity in the entire System to come up with a skill. As in, truly create it. You’re not just learning or discovering—you’re expanding the System itself. But as you can imagine, after all the time that’s passed and all the entities that have come and gone since the System’s origin, Creators are more of a legend than reality these days.”

  “Never done before?” Hope’s eyes widened a little. “Interesting.”

  Eve chuckled. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Funny, that’s my name, Eve,” Hope said with a blink, finishing the last bite of worm meat.

  She smiled, a slight blush creeping onto her face as she shook it off.

  “Alright. Time to see what that new red light’s all ‘bout—and what kinda challenge those fuckers cooked up for me this time,” Hope muttered, standing up and eyeing the red beam in the distance.

  And without delay, he set forth.

  His pace now—what passed for a casual jog—was faster than his all-out sprint from just a few days ago. He tore across the dunes like they weren’t even there, each step covering meters, kicking up dust that barely had time to settle before he was gone.

  A few of the Sandmaws tried to stir beneath, but he was long past them before they could even emerge.

  The red beam stretched out ahead. As he moved north, it grew clearer. So did something else.

  “Hotter?” Hope muttered, pausing to sniff the air.

  He blinked, then focused—yeah, it wasn’t just in his head. The Heat Magika was growing denser.

  Soon, the terrain began to shift.

  The soft, golden dunes gave way to something darker. First came the patches—rougher grains, black and coarse like crushed coal. Then the ground hardened underfoot, packed ash and jagged rock scraping under his boots. The air tasted different too—drier and bitter, like burnt metal.

  Mountains began to rise in the distance, not sharp like spears but hunched and cracked, with veins of orange glow pulsing through their sides. Thin streams of smoke rose from craters scattered across the ground, some steady, others twitching like they were breathing.

  Hope stepped over a narrow split in the earth that belched smoke every few seconds. He squinted up at the red beam, watching it pulse in place like a heartbeat in the sky.

  Then—just like that—it flickered once and vanished.

  He blinked.

  No shit...

  Something stood at the center of where the light had hit.

  Not some grand altar or treasure chest like he half-expected, no monstrous fuck ready to throw hands either.

  Just… a heap.

  Hope slowed his steps.

  It looked like a shack. Maybe. Hard to tell. A twisted mess of rusted scrap and broken planks, barely held together with melted rods and whatever the hell passed for nails in this place. No walls matched. No corner sat straight. A cloth banner flapped weakly above the frame—painted, but smudged beyond recognition.

  It leaned to the left, like it had given up on standing properly long ago. Thin smoke dribbled from a bent pipe stuck on the roof, and on the ground nearby were rows of tiny glass bottles—some upright, others toppled—filled with glowing fluids in reds, greens, even violet.

  What the fuck…

  Hope took a few slow steps closer. His hand inched toward his spear.

  Something moved.

  His gaze shot to the side. That’s when he saw it.

  A figure.

  Small. Hunched. Sitting on a pile of crates like it owned the world.

  Bare feet dangled off the edge. Long arms folded across its lap. Its skin—dry, cracked, and grey like old stone—made it blend into the rock behind. But the eyes…

  Those yellow eyes gleamed sharp beneath a ragged hood stitched together from who-knows-what.

  Hope tensed.

  The thing was watching him. Grinning.

  Big teeth. Way too many.

  Creepy little bastard.

  But it didn’t move. In fact… he felt no hostility from it at all. No bloodlust. No killing intent. Just curiosity and… amusement?

  Hope eased up, just a bit.

  Still watching the figure, he glanced around. Then at the shack again.

  What the hell even was this?

  He stared at the crooked shelves. The glass bottles. The—

  “Well lad, don’t just stare like that, come on, I don’t bite. I’m sure I have a thing or two you might be interested in,” the figure said with a grin, sharp little teeth glistening in the faint light.

  “Huh? Buying? Wait… you have to be kiddin’ me?”

  “Well, kiddo, name’s Gob. Welcome to my humble bazaar—now working for you and you alone,” he chuckled, arms spreading as if to present the mess like it was a royal palace.

  Hope blinked.

  “…Bazaar?”

  “Indeed! Travelin’ shop, rare wares, unbeatable prices, all that jazz.” Gob scratched behind one of his long ears. “And now exclusively… all for you, lad!”

  “So like… those fuckers sent you here?” Hope frowned, jabbing a thumb up toward the sky.

  “Well… yes, yes, that they did,” Gob said with a crooked smile. “But don’t give it much thought, eh? You like good stuff, right? Got some coin on you, I’m sure. So how ‘bout you check the offers instead of pokin’ holes in the sky?”

  Hope shook his head slowly. What species even was this guy? He’d never seen a creature so damn ugly—and somehow weirdly smug about it. And this stash… wait, how the hell was he even supposed to pay?

  Oh.

  He reached into his bag and pulled out the shiny coin.

  “Aha! Smart lad, very good.” Gob clapped his bony hands together. “That’s how you pay. Right now, you got four hundred and ninety-five credits jinglin’ around in there. So… what do you fancy, eh?”

  Hope just shook his head and rolled with it.

  “What do you got?” he asked, stepping closer, flipping the coin between his fingers.

  Gob’s grin widened.

  “All you could need, young Crawler. Got armor—light, heavy, strange-lookin’—grades from F to a solid D. A few accessories too, enchanted and otherwise. Trinkets to boost yer breathin’, sharpen yer hearing, steady yer aim. Weapons, of course—blades, clubs, a funny hook-thing I still don’t know how to use.”

  He opened his arms theatrically.

  “Potions too! Red ones, blue ones, green ones. Heal ya, boost ya, make you see stars or stop seein’ pain—depends how bad things are. Got a few… rarities as well, if yer eyes are sharp and yer coin steady.”

  Hope glanced past him at the shelves and cluttered crates.

  He then turned to Eve and muttered, “Any suggestions?”

  She narrowed her eyes in thought. “Well… gear from Grades G, F, and E usually give only one extra skill level. Grades D, C, and B give two. So I’d say go for a Grade D spear for the best boost. Or maybe another Grade D accessory that strengthens your Air Magika—that’d be even better.”

  “Oh… I see. And what’s the price range? You know… don’t wanna get scammed by this little bastard.”

  Eve shrugged. “No clue. Especially since that coin you’ve got doesn’t match any standard currency I know. I’m guessing it’s something made just for the show.”

  “Fuck,” Hope muttered. So he had no idea what anything was worth. No real bargaining power.

  Well… whatever. He’d dealt with worse hands.

  He turned back toward Gob and cleared his throat.

  “You mentioned a Grade D spear,” Hope said, flicking the coin between his fingers. “Got one of those?”

  Gob’s yellow eyes gleamed. “Oh-ho! A lad with taste. One moment.”

  The old figure hopped off his crate with surprising energy, shuffled behind a stack of cloth rolls, and began rummaging through a mess of bundled rags, scrap metal, and half-open crates.

  After a bit of grunting and muttering, he pulled out a long, cloth-wrapped item and returned to the front.

  “Here she is.”

  With a showy flick of his wrist, Gob unwrapped the cloth—revealing a sleek, black-shafted spear with faint red veins running through the wood. The tip was jagged, almost organic-looking, like the fang of some twisted beast.

  Hope’s eyes widened slightly. Damn…

  A small translucent screen flickered to life beside it.

  Ash Piercer

  Rank 1 Weapon (Grade: D, Type: Spear)

  Requirements: Spear Handling (Level 5), Physis 2400

  Effect: +300 Physis, +2 Spear Handling

  “And… uh, how much is it?”

  “Well, since it’s you, lad, I’ll go at basically production cost—eh, one-in-a-lifetime bargain. Let’s just say… 3000 credits would do it,” Gob said with a toothy smile.

  “Three… three thousand!?”