Date: 4th Frostweave, 2026 GEC – Morning
Jack woke to the system's gentle chime and the harsh neon dawn filtering through his single window. The projection from last night still hung in his vision: 90 days to D-Rank. 67% survival probability.
He dismissed it with a thought. Statistics were for people who could afford to plan. He had today.
School was a study in quiet humiliation. The whispers started at the gate.
"That's him. The F-Rank."
"Crafting Affinity? Might as well have failed."
"Heard Katie dumped him right after. Can't blame her."
Jack kept his head down, the Echoing Void Locket not yet crafted, his true signature exposed. He felt naked. In homeroom, Katie's seat was empty. A notice on the board explained: K. Marqeues - Accepted to Polles BioTech Advanced Development Program. Remote studies effective immediately. She'd vanished from his world in under 48 hours.
Rick intercepted him at his locker, his broad face creased with worry. "You okay? Alfred's been running his mouth all morning."
"I'm fine," Jack said, which was the required lie. "How was the early dungeon prep?"
Rick's expression soured. "Weird. The military guys running it were… intense. Lots of scans. Emily froze a whole pack of shadow-jackals, though. She's terrifying." He lowered his voice. "They offered me a 'follow-up assessment' at their facility. Good money."
A cold trickle of dread ran down Jack's spine. The memory of Dr. Aris's file flashed in his mind. "Don't go, Rick."
"My dad's a dock foreman, Jack. The bonus alone is six months of his salary." Rick's helpless shrug said everything about the choices poverty enforced. "Just… be careful, yeah? Alfred's looking for you."
---
Date: 5th Frostweave
The grind began in earnest. After school, a classmate from Practical Tech, a mousy girl named Lina, approached him. Her personal data-pad had a cracked screen and a flickering mana-conductive layer.
"I heard you can… fix things?" she asked hesitantly. "I can't afford a shop. I'll give you fifty sigils?"
It was more money than he'd made in a month. "I can try."
For three hours in his apartment, Jack tried. His affinity guided his hands, showing him the fracture points in the delicate crystal display. But his tools were too crude, his mana control too unrefined. A slip of the microscopic soldering tip, a surge of misdirected energy trying to stabilize the mana layer, and the pad died with a final, sickening pop. The screen went permanently dark.
Lina cried when he returned it, a dead weight in her hands. She didn't ask for her fifty sigils back. Jack gave them to her anyway, along with twenty more from his dwindling stash. His balance dropped to 4,447. The failure tasted like ash. The system' projection mocked him: *Affinity: 3.2/1000.*
---
Date: 6th Frostweave
Desperation bred innovation. That evening, boiling water for another bland nutrient-bar stew, he felt his affinity stir. Not for the metal pot, but for the process. On a whim, he focused on the act of cooking itself, pouring a trickle of mana into the water, into the crumbling bar, imagining nutrition and warmth.
The result was… different. The stew had a richer smell. Eating it filled him with a steady, gentle energy.
A spark. He cooked three more portions. The effect was replicable. It was a product.
He took bowls to Mrs. Genni next door, whose chronic joint pain kept her up at night, and to Old Man Karr, who coughed constantly from a lifetime breathing factory fumes. He didn't ask for money. They insisted, pressing worn ten-sigil notes into his hand. "Better than the clinic's tonic," Mrs. Genni whispered, tears in her eyes.
Thirty sigils. A pittance. A lifeline. And illegal as hell—unlicensed awakener services were a fine or worse. But the slums ran on such silent economies. *Affinity: 4.1/1000.*
---
Date: 7th Frostweave
The Compliance Officer came in the afternoon. A woman in a crisp gray ATB jacket with a scanner wand, doing "random community wellness checks." Jack's heart hammered as she scanned his apartment, her wand pausing near his workbench.
"Significant mana residue. Excessive crafting attempts for your registered rank, Mr. Milstrom." Her voice was bored. "You are aware unlicensed commercial enchanting is a Tier 2 violation?"
"Just homework," Jack said, the lie sticking in his throat. He subtly nudged the Cinder-1 pistol further under a rag with his foot.
The scanner pinged over his cooler. "Residual food enchantment. Explain."
"Cooking practice. My talent… it leaks." He forced a sheepish smile. "F-Rank control issues. My instructor said to practice on anything."
She stared at him, then at her scanner log showing the pathetic, chaotic mana signature of a true F-Rank struggle. She sighed, the sound of bureaucratic disappointment. "Keep it contained. We'll re-evaluate at your monthly review." She left without another word.
Jack sank onto his pallet, trembling. The system had masked nothing. His failure was his camouflage. Affinity: 5.8/1000.
---
Date: 8th Frostweave
Rick showed up at his door that evening, a grimy sack in hand. "Got you something. They call it 'dungeon sweepings.' The crap nobody wants."
He dumped the contents on the workbench: a chunk of bone with a greenish tint and a hairline fracture, a strip of leathery hide that seemed to drink the light, and a small, cloudy mana crystal veined with black.
The moment Jack touched the bone, his affinity *sang*. It wasn't like the inert scrap metal. This material held potential, a faint echo of the life and magic it once contained.
He spent the night experimenting. Grinding the bone into dust with painstaking care, he mixed it with a resin adhesive and applied it along the spine of his crude utility knife. His affinity guided the mixture, helping it bond not just physically, but conceptually, with the idea of "cutting" and "enduring."
The jump was massive. A single project with dungeon materials had advanced him nearly half as much as the previous five days of grind. Affinity: 8.1/1000.
The revelation was exhilarating and cruel. Growth required resources he couldn't legally access. The cracked crystal held unstable mana; the hide resisted his attempts to work it without proper tanning agents. They sat on his bench, taunting him with potential.
---
Date: 9th Frostweave
Alfred found him after the last bell, blocking the alley shortcut to the transit station. His two lackeys, Derek and Ben, flanked him. Alfred's B-Rank Steel Defense wasn't active, but his posture promised it could be in an instant.
"Four-Eyes. Hear you've been tinkering in your little hovel." Alfred's smile was all teeth. "My father's company, Veridian Steelworks, has an opening. Tool-maintenance apprentice. You'll clean machines, calibrate cutters, basic crap. Minimum wage. No benefits."
It was an offer wrapped in a threat. Jack knew about Veridian. Military subcontractor. Rumors of safety waivers, mandatory overtime, and "attrition" among low-rank awakener staff.
"I'm focusing on school," Jack said, keeping his voice level.
Alfred stepped closer. "See, that's the thing. You don't have a focus. You have an F-Rank. This is charity. You take it, you get a wage. You don't…" He glanced at Jack's hands. "Let's just say crafting's hard with broken fingers. Think about it. You have 'til tomorrow."
They shoved past him. Jack stood in the alley, the taste of copper in his mouth. He checked his terminal. Rent, 800 sigils, was due in six days. His balance: 4,260. Affinity: 8.7/1000.
That night, he researched Veridian Steelworks. Government contracts for magi-forged armor plating. Three OSHA investigations closed due to "national security concerns." A forum post from a year ago, user-deleted: "They work you until your talent burns out, then replace you."
---
Date: 11th Frostweave
The system chime was different this time—not a notification, but a soft, rising tone of achievement.
A new, golden tab appeared in his interface.
```
[DAILY QUEST: FOUNDATION BUILDER]
Craft 5 items of Unranked+ quality or better.
Progress: 0/5
Reward: 50 Crafting Points, Basic Material Cache
Time Limit: 24 hours
```
Crafting Points. A new currency. And a cache. Hope, sharp and desperate, cut through his exhaustion. He had 4,120 sigils left. He spent 300 on the cheapest, most basic materials he could find: low-grade leather scraps, copper wire, cheap glass lenses, common herbs, and binding glue.
The night became a blur of focused creation. His affinity was stronger now, his hands steadier. He wasn't just making things; he was solving problems with each item.
1. Reinforced Leather Patch: For Rick's worn backpack strap. Hide + adhesive + a focus on durability.
2. Mana-Conductive Wire: Salvaging the good bits from the cheap coil, aligning the crystalline structure with painstaking mana infusion.
3. Low-Light Vision Goggles: Salvaged optics from a broken street camera, cleaned, aligned, with crude runes for light-gathering etched with a heated needle.
4. Stamina-Boosting Nutrient Bars: His cooking craft, refined. Oats, honey substitute, a pinch of energizing herbs, mana infused for sustenance.
5. Repaired & Reinforced School Bag: Rick's bag, the torn side meticulously stitched with the leather patch and the remaining troll hide, made whole and tough.
As he set the finished bag down, the system chimed triumphantly.
A shimmer appeared on his workbench, resolving into a small, weathered crate. Inside:
- 1 kg of Glimmerstone Ore: A rough, blue-speckled rock that hummed with low-grade earth mana.
- 500 ml vial of Essence of Firmness: A viscous silver liquid.
- Data-chip: "Basic Warding Rune: Sanctified Ground" Schematic.
Jack slumped into his chair, physically spent but mentally alight. He checked his status.
He had new resources. A new path. But as he stared at the Glimmerstone, a final, system-blue notification scrolled across his vision, devoid of all warmth.
<7 days until assessment.>
The notification hung there, a digital sword over his neck. Seven days. He had to demonstrate "progress" to the same bureaucracy that deemed him worthless. He had to decide on Alfred's exploitative offer by tomorrow. His rent was due in four days.
Jack looked from the system's hopeful new tools to the Empire's cold ultimatum. The grind had just become a race.
Date: 11th Frostweave, 2026 GEC – 03:14 AM
Next: Chapter 4 - "The Bureaucrat's Gaze"