Misaki woke without screaming.
The realization came slowly, like surfacing from deep water. He'd opened his eyes to the familiar gaps in his dwelling's roof, the morning light of Ulth'rk filtering through, and for the first time in three days, the echoes of The Maw weren't the first thing he heard.
The silence in his mind was almost unsettling in its absence.
He sat up carefully, testing his wounded leg. The pain was manageable now, a dull ache rather than the sharp agony of recent days. His ear still throbbed where the hole had been torn through it, but even that felt distant, as if his body had decided overnight that survival meant learning to function despite injury.
Work. He needed work. Normalcy. The rhythm of ordinary life to prove that The Maw hadn't claimed him after all.
The farm fields were already active when he arrived, other workers moving through the rows of starc and redcooil pepper with practiced efficiency. Millia spotted him limping toward her and raised an eyebrow.
"You're early," she observed. "Thought you'd take the full three days."
"Couldn't sleep," Misaki said, which was both true and a lie. He'd slept, but the idea of lying in his dwelling with nothing to occupy his mind except memories seemed worse than the physical pain of farm work.
"Fair enough. Take the northern section—it's flatter, easier on that leg." She handed him a basket and gloves. "And Misaki? Don't push yourself so hard you tear those wounds open. I need you functional, not bleeding out in my starc fields."
The work was meditative in its simplicity. Dig, feel, pull. The starc came up cleanly with his practiced technique, the redcooil peppers twisted free without stabbing his fingers. Each successful harvest was a small victory, proof that his hands still worked, that his body still obeyed, that he was more than the sum of his trauma.
After two hours, he'd filled four baskets—slower than his usual pace, but Millia nodded approval when she inspected them.
"When are the merchants arriving?" Misaki asked as she counted out his copper.
"Today, actually. Earlier than usual." Millia gestured toward the village square where preparations were already underway. "Word spread about the dungeon opening early. Merchants from three kingdoms are converging—they know the expeditions will have premium goods to sell. Smart money says they'll be set up by the tenth hour."
Misaki pocketed his wages and headed back toward his dwelling, planning to clean up before the merchants arrived. That's when he noticed something odd.
The psychological pressure that had been crushing him since The Maw—the constant weight of trauma, the intrusive memories, the feeling of drowning in horror—had diminished significantly. Not gone, but reduced to manageable levels, as if someone had turned down the volume on his worst thoughts.
He pulled up his interface, curious.
[Psychological Status: Moderate Trauma → Minor Trauma]
[Jack Class Passive Activated: Adaptive Recovery]
[Mental resilience increases based on diverse experiences]
[Trauma processing: Enhanced by 150%]
[Note: This does not erase memories, but allows faster integration and coping]
Another hidden benefit of the Jack class. The same versatility that made him learn skills slower also made him recover from psychological damage faster. His mind adapted, categorized the horror, and filed it away where it couldn't paralyze him. The memories remained—he'd never forget the screams—but they no longer defined every waking moment.
It wasn't healing. It was survival. And for now, that was enough.
The temple called to him next, a familiar refuge. He found his usual spot on the outer meditation ring and settled into the cross-legged position that had become second nature over months of practice.
But when he focused inward, something unexpected happened.
The Manipura chakra—his fire, fully awakened and stable—pulsed in his solar plexus as always. But beneath it, deeper, at the base of his spine, he felt something new stirring. A different warmth, heavier and more grounded. The sensation of stone and earth, solid and unyielding.
[Muladhara Chakra: Stirring (3%)]
[Earth element detected]
[Secondary chakra development initiated]
Misaki's eyes snapped open, and he immediately sought out the high priest. The ancient man was tending the incense burners, moving with the careful deliberation of someone who'd performed the same ritual for centuries.
"Honored priest," Misaki said, bowing respectfully. "I have a question about chakra development."
The old man turned, his glowing eyes focusing on Misaki with patient interest. "Ask, young sky-faller."
"I was taught that each person awakens one chakra based on their planetary alignment at birth. But I'm feeling a second chakra beginning to stir—Muladhara, the earth element. I thought this was impossible."
A gentle smile crossed the priest's weathered face. "A common misconception. Everyone is born with potential access to all seven chakras. The planetary alignment at conception and birth determines which chakra awakens most easily—your primary affinity. But the others are not locked forever."
He gestured for Misaki to sit, settling down across from him with surprising grace for his age.
"Think of it like this," the priest continued. "Your first chakra—Manipura in your case—opened naturally because the cosmic forces aligned to make that path accessible. It took you months of meditation and practice, but the channel was already partially open from birth. A second chakra has no such advantage. You must forge that path entirely through discipline and training."
"How long does it take?"
"Years, typically. Three to five years of dedicated practice to awaken a second chakra to even basic functionality. Ten or more years to master it to the level of your primary." The priest's expression grew thoughtful. "Though everyone in M'lod who survives to adulthood has at least two awakened chakras. Survival on the frontier demands versatility."
"Everyone has multiple chakras?" Misaki repeated, surprised.
"Of course. Chief Shy'yao has four fully awakened—earth, fire, light, and air. Lyria has three—air for her healing, water for flexibility, and a touch of light for diagnosis. Even young Riyeak is developing his second chakra alongside his primary earth affinity." The priest chuckled. "We simply focus on our strongest because mastery of one element is more valuable than mediocrity in several. But the potential exists in all of us."
Misaki absorbed this information, his engineer's mind already calculating implications. If he could develop earth manipulation alongside his fire control, the tactical advantages would be significant. But years of training...
"Thank you, honored priest. This clarifies much."
By the time Misaki reached the village square, the merchant caravans had arrived in force. Three separate groups had set up elaborate display tents—one from Ul'varh'mir's capital, one from the neutral nation of Rez'ax'tu, and surprisingly, one from Vel'koda'mir itself. The irony of selling to merchants from the same kingdom whose mages had hunted them wasn't lost on Misaki.
Vellin, Riyeak, and Deylos were already negotiating, their dungeon findings laid out on cloth for inspection. Vyrak pelts, crystalline bone shards, Earthbreaker hide—all the materials M'lod had prioritized. The merchants examined each item with professional scrutiny, offering prices that seemed insultingly low until the veterans countered with practiced efficiency.
Misaki approached with the chalice wrapped carefully in cloth. When he unveiled it, the effect was instantaneous.
Every merchant within sight froze. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the veterans stopped their negotiations to stare.
"Is that—" one merchant breathed, moving closer.
"Predecessor artifact," another confirmed, his voice awed. "Ceremonial chalice, pre-fourth age based on the pattern work. Fully intact. By the seven chakras, I haven't seen one this pristine in fifteen years."
The merchants began talking over each other, voices rising in excitement and desperation.
"I'll give you twenty-five gold!"
"Thirty! I'll pay thirty gold right now!"
"Don't listen to them—forty gold and I'll throw in a set of blessed weapons!"
Misaki raised his hands for silence, an idea forming. "Gentlemen, I propose something different. An auction."
Blank stares met this pronouncement.
"An... auction?" the Rez'ax'tu merchant repeated slowly.
"A competitive bidding system," Misaki explained, his engineering mind appreciating the elegant simplicity of the concept. "Everyone interested declares a price. If someone else wants it more, they declare a higher price. We continue until no one is willing to go higher. The last person standing wins the item."
Understanding dawned across multiple faces simultaneously.
"That's brilliant," the Ul'varh'mir merchant said. "It ensures the item goes to whoever values it most while maximizing the seller's profit. Why haven't we been doing this?"
"We are now," Misaki said with a slight smile. "Shall we begin? Starting bid is one hundred copper."
"Five gold!" someone shouted immediately.
"Ten gold!"
"Fifteen!"
The bidding escalated with shocking speed. Merchants who'd seemed friendly moments before became fierce competitors, their professional facades cracking to reveal raw desire for the artifact. The chalice represented more than monetary value—it was prestige, historical significance, a prize to display to wealthy patrons.
"Twenty-five gold!" the Vel'koda'mir merchant declared.
"Thirty!"
"Thirty-five!"
Misaki watched the numbers climb, each bid representing more wealth than he'd conceived of possessing. His debt had been five gold. The original estimate had been twenty. They'd already doubled that.
"Forty gold!" the Rez'ax'tu merchant shouted.
A pause. Other merchants conferred with their assistants, calculating, weighing desire against available funds.
"Forty-five," the Ul'varh'mir merchant said, his voice strained.
Another pause, longer this time.
"Fifty gold," the Vel'koda'mir merchant said quietly, and something in his tone suggested finality. "My absolute limit. I cannot and will not go higher."
Silence stretched as the other merchants looked at each other, at their ledgers, at the chalice gleaming in the sunlight. One by one, they shook their heads, acknowledging defeat.
"Sold," Misaki said, his voice remarkably steady despite his racing heart, "to the Vel'koda'mir representative for fifty gold."
The merchant produced a strongbox, counted out fifty gold coins with meticulous care, and placed them in a leather pouch that he handed to Misaki with something approaching reverence. The weight was substantial—each gold coin roughly twice the mass of a copper piece.
Fifty gold.
Ten times his debt. More money than most villagers earned in their entire lives. Enough to buy land, build a proper home, establish a business. Enough to change everything.
Misaki looked at the pouch in his hands, then at his teammates who'd helped him survive The Maw, then at the village that had taken him in when he'd crashed half-dead in their fields.
He was rich.
And for the first time since arriving on Vulcan, he had the freedom to decide what that meant.
[Quest Update: Debts and Consequences]
[Debt: Fully Repayable (50 gold > 5 gold required)]
[Status: Financial Security Achieved]
[New Quest Available: Purpose and Prosperity]