Kaelen's order hung in the dawn air like a verdict. But before Ali could move toward the looming woodpile, a final, crucial argument erupted in his mind. The System's clinical humility was suddenly infuriating. It was missing the point. Its point.
Hold on. Hey, my oh-so-average and mediocre System. Did you forget your other functions?
He stood in the shed opening, facing Kaelen's impatient stare, but his full attention was inward, a frantic, focused shout at the interface.
*You said we're just 'un-wasting.' Fine. But let's be clear. 'Leveling up' is just getting better at using the same tool with the same potential. An 'Upgrade'—moving from Tier 0 to Tier 1—that's like reforging the tool with better steel. It's the same axe, but sharper, harder. It increases the potential of the skill itself.*
Kaelen took a step forward, his brow furrowing at Ali's frozen, distant expression. "Boy. Are you listening?"
Ali held up a finger—a stupid, automatic gesture from his old world. He saw Kaelen's eyes narrow dangerously. Shit. But the thought-train couldn't be stopped.
But EVOLUTION! Ali screamed internally. When a skill evolves—into a variant or a straight-up improved version—that's not refining. That's not reforging. That's turning the axe into a fucking CHAINSAW. The potential doesn't increase linearly. It goes EXPONENTIAL. A [Sprint] that evolves into a [Phased Sprint] or whatever isn't just faster; it breaks different rules!
"Last chance," Kaelen growled, his hand flexing near his belt where a short cudgel hung.
And that, Ali thought, the final piece snapping into place with terrifying clarity, is what's unique. Or mostly unique. Maybe there are freaks here born with that kind of potential in one thing. A once-in-a-generation genius. But for them, it's innate. They start with the chainsaw. For us… for ME…
He finally met Kaelen's gaze, but his eyes were lit from within by the realization.
I can take ANYTHING. Any miserable, pathetic, lesser-tier skill, and through leveling, upgrading, and evolution… I can make it transcend. I can turn [Hiking] into something that lets me walk on clouds. I can turn [Stone-Knapping] into [Geokinetic Synthesis]. THAT'S your function. You're not just a chisel for marble. You're a factory that can turn sandstone into diamonds, and then into neutronium. The potential ceiling isn't just high. It might not even exist.
The System's response was instantaneous, and for the first time, it felt less like a correction and more like an unveiling.
[User Deduction: Logically Sound. Model Adjusted.]
Core Principle Re-Confirmed: The System formalizes what exists. It cannot create ex nihilo.
Critical Clarification on Evolution:
Exponential Potential Shift: Correct. Evolution represents a fundamental ontological shift in a skill's framework. A [Lesser Fire Starting] skill that evolves into [Ember-Weaving] does not just make better sparks. It allows for the conceptualization of fire as a malleable entity. The growth curve post-evolution operates on a different, steeper axis.
Not Guaranteed: Evolution is a rare, context-dependent breakthrough. It requires: a) A skill nearing the peak of its current Tier's potential. b) A profound insight, extreme necessity, or exposure to a higher-grade concept that forces a paradigm shift in the user's understanding. c) The user's body/mind being able to survive the recalibration. It is not an automatic reward.
Uniqueness Assessment: You are partially correct.
Natives of this world can possess innate high-tier skills or bloodline traits ([Permafrost Bloodline], [Sky-Tongue: Lightning Affinity]). These are their 'chainsaws,' granted at birth. They may level and upgrade them, but evolution for them is likely as rare and difficult as it is for you, if not more so, as their paradigm is fixed.
Your [Meta-Talent] is unique in its generality and conscious application. You can theoretically apply the process (Level → Upgrade → Potential Evolution) to any action pattern you develop, no matter how trivial. You are not born with a chainsaw. You are born with the schematic, forge, and refinery to build a chainsaw out of anything, given enough raw material (experience) and a catalyst (insight/necessity).
Conclusion: Your potential is not in starting strength. It is in adaptive transcendence. You are a generalist with a machinery for specialization. This is your advantage. This is also what would make you a target of immense interest or terror to any being that understands what you represent: a entity whose upper limits are unknown and fundamentally mutable.
The explanation hung in his mind, vast and terrifying. He wasn't a hero. He was a walking, talking anomaly engine.
Kaelen had seen enough of the vacant stare. He closed the distance in two strides, his calloused hand shooting out to grip Ali's shoulder. "Enough. You're either simple, touched by the grey, or playing games. None serve you here."
The grip was like iron. The [Threat Assessment: Extreme] tag flashed in Ali's vision, but it was drowned out by the new understanding.
"I'm listening," Ali said, his voice clearer than it had been since he arrived. He didn't shrug off the grip—he knew he couldn't—but he met Kaelen's eyes. "Woodpile. With Bryn. Watch, listen, do as he says. Don't slow him down."
He was parroting the instructions back, but the tone had changed. There was no fear in it now. There was calculation. The woodpile wasn't just a punishment or a test of strength. It was his first raw material. His first quarry for the refinery.
Kaelen searched his face, suspicion deepening at the sudden shift. He saw no defiance, but the cowed fear from minutes before was gone, replaced by a focus that didn't fit the starving wretch he'd let in. He gave Ali a slight shake, not to hurt, but to test. "See that you do. Bryn!"
The younger man jumped down from the platform, landing lightly. He shot a dismissive look at Ali. "He'll just be in the way."
"Then put him where he's not. On the wedge-and-sled. He hauls. You split. If he can't even pull, he's gone by noon." Kaelen released Ali's shoulder with a shove toward the woodpile. "Work."
Ali stumbled but kept his feet. He looked at the massive pile of uncut logs, then at the heavy wooden sled and the iron wedges. It was brute labor. The kind that broke backs and spirits.
But he didn't see just toil. He saw a skill to be born. [Log Hauling]. [Labor: Forestry].
It was Tier 0, Rank F-, Lesser. It was nothing.
But it was something. And because of the System, because of his [Meta-Talent: Fledgling], it was a seed. A terrible, painful, back-breaking seed that could, through sheer relentless iteration and the desperate need to not die in this place, one day grow into something else.
He walked toward the sled, his body already dreading the pain. But his mind, for the first time, was not afraid of the work. It was analyzing it.
This was the grind. This was the foundation. And he finally understood what he was building toward.
[Skill Opportunity Detected: Manual Labor - Log Transport.]
[Initial Optimization Available: Grip distribution, center-of-mass utilization, leg drive vs. back strain.]
[Objective: Survive the morning. Formalize the skill. Do not get discarded.]
Ali's hands, still stained with purple berry juice and earth, gripped the rough rope of the sled. Bryn snorted, hefted his splitting maul, and brought it down on a log with a crack that split the morning air.
The work began. Not as a hero's training. Not as a prisoner's sentence. But as an alchemist's first, clumsy attempt to turn lead into something, anything, more.