Ajax tapped his foot repeatedly, the rhythm erratic and unconscious, biting his nails with nervous energy that would have surprised anyone who knew him. His glowing grey eyes pierced through the dungeon's oppressive night with supernatural clarity, fixed on Moyo's prone form sprawled among the dead Razorbacks.

  The boy was reckless. No, worse than reckless. He was idiotic, Ajax decided with a mixture of exasperation and something dangerously close to pride. What in the Archailect's name had given him the notion that taking on two Level 60-plus aberrants at the same time was a good idea?

  Ajax shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching despite his frustration. It wasn't just the sheer stupidity of the act that bothered him, it was the fact that Moyo had actually won. Through a combination of tactics, brutality, and sheer refusal to die, the boy had killed creatures that should have been far beyond his capabilities.

  He's going to get himself killed doing things like this. But damn if it isn't impressive watching him survive.

  The thought swelled Ajax with conflicting emotions. Pride at his student's progress, fear at his student's recklessness, and beneath both, something more disturbing.

  Something strange was happening with this child. His growth was not merely rapid, it was unnatural by any standard Ajax knew. And Ajax had trained promising ascenders across dozens of worlds, had seen prodigies that made veteran cultivators weep with envy.

  None of them had advanced like this.

  Ajax's gaze flicked to Moyo's HUD through their bond, his brow furrowing as he reviewed the changes for what must have been the twentieth time. It had been only a day, perhaps a day and a half at most, and the differences were staggering. His stats had skyrocketed beyond what should be possible. His skills had advanced through levels that normally took weeks or months to achieve.

  And there was that word again, woven through every new ability, every title, every system message.

  Titan.

  It lingered in Ajax's mind like an ominous whisper, its implications just out of reach, teasing at knowledge he couldn't quite grasp.

  What does it mean? Why does the system keep using it? Is it a Path? A destiny? A classification I've never heard of?

  "What are you?" Ajax muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible even to himself.

  Running scenarios through his mind, Ajax considered calling his contacts. The shadowy figures who'd hired him, who'd placed such importance on this backwater world and this one specific child. The idea of sharing what he'd witnessed gnawed at him like an itch he couldn't scratch.

  The boy wasn't just unusual; he was impossible by conventional understanding.

  Skill fusion, for instance. It wasn't supposed to happen organically, not without external aids. You needed Primal Shards, rare items that cost fortunes and could only be found in high-tier dungeons. Or you needed specialized rituals performed by Master-rank cultivators with specific skill-fusion techniques. Or you needed to be naturally blessed by the system, a one-in-a-billion occurrence.

  Yet Moyo had slammed two skills together through nothing but will and desperation, and somehow created a Rare-grade ability. And not just once. Twice. Titan's Edge, then Titan's Vitality. Both Rare-ranked fusions that should have required resources this world didn't possess.

  Rare skills, costing at least a hundred thousand credits apiece in the open market, were appearing in this boy's arsenal as if by whim. As if the system itself was rewriting the rules specifically for him.

  And then there was that word threading through everything. Titan.

  The implications made Ajax's skin prickle with unease.

  Ajax ran a hand through his silver-grey hair, the motion unconscious, a nervous habit from his youth that he'd never quite broken. His thoughts strayed to his network of contacts, the various factions and individuals he could theoretically reach out to for information.

  Perhaps one of them would know what this all meant. Perhaps someone, somewhere in the vast Archailect, had seen something like this before and could explain it.

  If they even bothered to answer my calls.

  His reputation across the systems was, to put it mildly, complicated. A lifetime of making powerful enemies had consequences.

  On one side, there were those who pitied him, who tolerated his presence for reasons of debt or obligation. Former students, old allies, people who owed him favors they could never fully repay.

  And then there were those who wanted him dead. Who'd hired assassins, posted bounties, sworn blood oaths to end his existence.

  Unfortunately, the latter group vastly outnumbered the former. By a significant margin.

  The price of success. The more you accomplish, the more enemies you make. Tale as old as cultivation itself.

  He crossed his arms, leaning back against the cavern wall where he'd been observing from, his posture casual despite his internal turmoil. His contractors had made it clear what they expected of this arrangement, the bare minimum Moyo needed to achieve for the plan to work.

  But Ajax couldn't help but think the boy would reach, and possibly surpass, the required level far sooner than any of them had anticipated. That was good news for the planet, Ajax supposed. For Earth, this backwater Tier 1 world that had drawn such unexpected attention.

  If nothing else, it meant Ajax wouldn't be stuck here for too long. He could complete his contract, collect his payment, and disappear before anyone important realized he'd been here.

  Assuming no one's already noticed. Assuming my presence hasn't triggered alerts across multiple systems.

  "Nothing I can do about the system's decisions," he muttered to himself, watching as Moyo finally managed to stand on shaky legs. "The boy's marked now. For better or worse."

  And yet, the prospect of Moyo's ability to fuse skills continued to gnaw at him like an infected wound. If word of this reached the greater Archailect, if the wrong people learned what this child could do, he would become a target of the highest priority.

  The inter-system bounty hunters would descend like vultures, hired by the empires, the great families, the hidden factions that thrived in the Archailect's shadows. They'd enslave the boy, force him into service for as long as he drew breath, strip away what little freedom he had left.

  They'd turn him into a tool, a weapon, a resource to be exploited until there was nothing left but a broken shell.

  Ajax's eyes narrowed dangerously at the thought, his hand unconsciously moving to his blade.

  No. That can't happen. Not while I'm contracted to protect him. Not while he's still my responsibility.

  If it did happen, if someone managed to bypass Ajax's protection, Moyo would need to be ready. Strong enough to defend himself. Or better yet, strong enough to make his enemies regret their decision to target him in the first place.

  "A good defense is always a stronger offense," Ajax muttered, the corner of his mouth lifting into a wry grin.

  It was an old saying among blade ascenders, one that had served him well over the centuries.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He watched as Moyo, battered but alive, slowly dragged himself fully upright. Despite the pain and exhaustion etched across his face, despite the blood and ichor coating his clothes, his eyes gleamed with raw determination.

  The boy refused to quit. Refused to break. No matter what the dungeon threw at him, he stood back up.

  That's the kind of stubborn bastard who either dies young or becomes legendary. No middle ground.

  Ajax sighed, uncrossing his arms, his expression softening slightly.

  The boy was a walking disaster, reckless to a fault, prone to making decisions that should get him killed. But perhaps that recklessness was exactly the fire he'd need to survive what was coming. Perhaps the conventional path, the safe path, would have broken him.

  Or perhaps I'm just rationalizing why I haven't intervened more. Why I let him nearly die twice now.

  Reconsidering his initial plan to harshly scold Moyo when next they met, Ajax allowed himself a small smirk.

  "Maybe just a gentler approach this time," he mused aloud, his voice echoing softly in the empty cavern.

  Then, after a moment of thought, his smirk widened into something more familiar. More Ajax.

  "...Or maybe a few more beatdowns for good measure. Can't let him get cocky."

  *****

  Moyo allocated his 78 points with careful deliberation that would have made Ajax proud. Every close call with death, every moment of nearly dying to something he should have been able to handle, was a stark reminder of his fragility despite his growing power.

  Twenty points went into Strength. His offensive capability was solid, but more was always better when facing creatures with reinforced armor.

  Twenty points into Vitality. His new Titan's Vitality skill would benefit from the higher base attribute, making the healing even more efficient. The healed bite mark on his shoulder throbbed faintly at the memory, though the wound itself had vanished entirely, not even a scar remaining.

  With 38 points remaining, he split them evenly, adding 19 each to Endurance and Dexterity. His stats now reflected a much sturdier foundation, most attributes surpassing 70. Dexterity trailed slightly behind but was still formidable compared to where he'd started.

  The system had also granted him 10 refined aether shards for the warrior kills, a rare and welcome boon that made him whistle softly. That was serious wealth, even by ascender standards.

  Grudgingly grateful to the system for once, Moyo crushed one in his palm immediately, letting the swirling blue energy refill his core to the brim. The sensation was like drinking cold water after days in the desert, refreshing and revitalizing.

  He brought up his HUD once again, glancing over his stats for what felt like the tenth time. A soft smile flickered across his lips, brief but genuine, a moment of pride at how far he'd come before he trudged toward the gaping maw of the hive entrance ahead.

  STATS

  Name: Moyosore

  Race: Human

  Rank: Initiate

  Core: Intent [Dim]

  Level: 55

  Weapon: Blade (Imbued) Ida

  Skills: ? Blood Absorption [?] ? Endure Agony [U] 25 ? Blade Storm [U] 1 ? Titan's Edge [R] 10 ? Titan's Vitality [R] 1

  Attributes: ? STR: 79 ? DEX: 65 ? END: 72 ? VIT: 70

  Titles: ? Dungeon Pioneer [+1 point to every level gained within dungeons.] ? Emberkin [Resistance to flame +10%.] ? Slayer [+50% damage to dungeon creatures below Level 50.]

  Items: ? Ethereal Credits: 100,600 ? Shards (Refined): 9

  Level 55. From Level 1 to 55 in, what, two days? Three? Time's hard to track in here.

  The progression was absurd by any reasonable standard. He'd gone from terrified student to someone who could kill Level 65 creatures in direct combat. The gulf between who he'd been and who he was now felt unbridgeable.

  He sighed as he crossed the threshold of the cavern, weapon drawn, senses alert. "Another underground adventure," he muttered under his breath, the prospect weighing heavily on him despite his improved capabilities.

  At least I can see better now. That's something.

  ****

  The tunnel walls were lined with sticky, poisonous webs, their glistening strands coated with a thick, mucus-like substance that seeped into the floor in viscous pools. Moyo bit back his revulsion, carefully stepping around the worst of it as he descended deeper into the oppressive darkness.

  The smell was overwhelming, a mixture of rot and ammonia and something else, something biological that his brain interpreted as wrong. His stomach churned, but he forced it down, breathing through his mouth to minimize the stench.

  The further he went, the more his evolved senses proved their worth. His eyes had grown sharper through constant use in low-light conditions, adapting to the dungeon's environment. He could see the faint glimmers of aether shards embedded in the walls, their glow just enough to reveal the path ahead without needing a torch.

  That's new. Could I always see aether, or is this another change?

  As he approached the edge of a large chamber, the tunnel suddenly opening into a vast space, and he paused. Crouching low to avoid being seen, he pressed himself against the sticky wall, ignoring the discomfort as his knees brushed against the mucus coating the floor.

  Disgusting. But necessary.

  Forcing himself to move closer despite every instinct screaming to retreat, he peeked out from behind a jagged outcrop of stone.

  His eyes widened at the sight before him.

  The cavern was enormous, easily the size of a football stadium, its vast expanse filled with hundreds of white-shelled eggs. They were scattered haphazardly across the floor, embedded in layers of mucus that pulsed faintly with life, almost like the entire chamber was one massive organism.

  Each egg was roughly the size of a person, their surfaces glistening under the faint bioluminescent light emanating from phosphorescent fungi growing on the walls. They were beautiful in a horrifying sort of way, perfect geometric shapes that represented hundreds of future Razorbacks.

  This is their nursery. Their breeding ground.

  Dozens of regular Razorbacks scurried between the clusters, moving with clear purpose. They dragged the corpses of smaller aberrants toward the eggs, creatures Moyo recognized from the forest above. The workers tore the bodies apart methodically, stuffing the flesh and organs around the shells as food for the soon-to-hatch brood.

  They're feeding them. Preparing them. How intelligent are these things?

  Moyo's gaze swept the room, cataloging threats. The regular Razorbacks wouldn't be a problem anymore, not with his current stats and Slayer title. He could probably kill dozens before they became a real threat.

  But his stomach twisted as his eyes locked onto the more serious dangers.

  Ten Warrior Razorbacks, each showing levels in their 70s in his vision, circled a raised platform at the center of the chamber. They moved with practiced precision, their blade-like limbs gleaming under the dim light, their postures alert. Not just guards, elite guards. Personal protectors.

  Atop the platform stood something that made Moyo's breath catch.

  A humanoid Razorback.

  It was taller than the others, perhaps seven feet, its body structure more upright, more evolved. Its insectoid wings stretched out like a grotesque mockery of divinity, transparent membranes catching the light in rainbow patterns. The creature's stillness was unnerving, its presence radiating an oppressive aura that felt almost physical, like pressure against his skin.

  [Razorback King, Level 95]

  King. Not warrior. Not elite. King.

  Moyo's hands began to sweat despite his improved control. The King was unlike anything he'd faced, a creature that had transcended the normal evolutionary path of its species. Its chitinous body shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, covered in patterns that might have been natural camouflage or might have been something more mystical. Its blade-like appendages, four of them arranged around its torso, promised death with surgical precision.

  And yet, even this monstrosity, this apex predator made manifest, paled in comparison to the other presence in the room.

  Near the back of the chamber, partially obscured by layers of eggs and mucus, a massive, pulsing form dominated the space. Mucus-covered chitin wrapped its enormous bulk in protective layers; the creature's body coiled twice around the chamber like some grotesque god resting in its temple.

  The sheer size of it defied comprehension. Each segment of its body was larger than Moyo's entire form. If it moved, if it uncoiled, it could probably fill the entire chamber.

  Then its head shifted, a motion so large it took seconds to complete. Glowing eyes the size of boulders, multifaceted and ancient, turned toward nothing in particular yet somehow seemed aware of everything.

  [Razorback Queen, Level 100]

  Moyo clenched Ida tighter, his knuckles whitening as he stared down at the scene. His heart raced, adrenaline surging through his system in amounts that should have been debilitating but instead sharpened his focus to a razor's edge.

  Ten Level 70-plus Warriors. A Level 95 King. A Level 100 Queen. Plus dozens of regular Razorbacks who could swarm him if given the chance.

  The odds were insurmountable by any rational calculation. This wasn't a challenge; it was suicide. Even with all his growth, all his new skills, all his determination, he was looking at death wearing chitin and wielding blades.

  I should retreat. Plan better. Come back stronger. This is madness.

  And yet, as Moyo stared at the Queen, at this pinnacle of the hive's power, he felt something stirring in his chest. Not fear, though that was certainly present. Not desperation, though he'd become familiar with that too.

  No, what he felt was hunger. The same hunger that had driven him to attack the Level 50 warrior despite the risks. The same hunger that made him refuse to run from challenges, even when survival demanded it.

  The hunger to overcome. To prove that the system couldn't contain him. To become something more than prey.

  "Well," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible even in the relative quiet, "this is going to be fun."

  The words rang hollow even to his own ears. But saying them helped. Made the impossible seem merely improbable. Made suicide seem like a calculated risk.

  Ajax would call me an idiot. He'd be right. But he's not here.

  And I've come too far to turn back now.

  Moyo began to plan, his tactical mind racing through scenarios, probabilities, desperate strategies that might, might, give him a chance of surviving the next hour.

  The hive stretched before him like an invitation to his own funeral.

  He gripped Ida tighter and smiled grimly.

  Let's make it a funeral they remember.