For three days, Ali did little but sleep, eat the thin stew Elara brought him, and feel the hollow ache where his mana should be. The pain behind his eyes faded to a dull, persistent throb, and the System's notifications slowly shifted from warnings to assessments.
[Status Update]
Mana Core: 0.00001 / 100 (Passive Regeneration: Active)
Physical Condition: Recovering. Neural strain receding. Retinal stress healed. Nutrient deficit noted.
Traits:
Hyper-Vigilance: 55% (Heightened by recent threat).
Frontier Laborer's Resilience: 30%.
Skills:
Mana Manipulation - Internal Channeling: Level 2. Efficiency improved to 15%. Control: Poor+.
Mana Manipulation - Ocular Enhancement: Level 2. Duration/Control slightly increased.
Observation - Threat/Resource: Level 4.
Knife Handling (Basic): Level 1 – unlocked through latent memory and recent practical fear.
Achievement: [First Blood (Indirect)] – Effects applied.
It was a paltry list, but the growth was real. The vertical line had inched upward, paid for in terror and pain.
On the fourth morning, the weakness left his limbs. He emerged from the shed into a cold, clear dawn. Bryn was at the woodpile, his movements efficient as always. He saw Ali and gave a curt nod, no more dismissive than before, but with a new watchfulness in his eyes.
Ali returned the nod and went to the well to draw water. The familiar labor grounded him. As he worked, his mind turned inwards.
System. You searched my memory. 'Solo Leveling.' What is your analysis?
[Memory Pattern 'Solo Leveling' accessed. Analysis: Parallels and Divergences.]
The referenced narrative features an external, game-like System that grants the user a unique 'class'—initially a combat-focused 'Player' class, later evolving into a 'Shadow Monarch' with authority over the dead. Key mechanics include instant skill acquisition via system prompts, a personal 'inventory,' and most pertinently, the ability to command and summon shadows of slain foes.
Feasibility Assessment:
System-Based Progression: Parallel exists. Your progression is System-optimized, bypassing traditional plateaus. This is a core similarity.
Unique Class/Archetype: Your [Core Mutability] is your 'class.' It is not a prescriptive path like 'Necromancer' or 'Summoner,' but a foundational potential to develop along any path. The System does not grant fixed classes; it facilitates optimization based on your actions, choices, and acquired knowledge.
Skill: 'Arise' / Summoning: This is a specific, high-order application of necromantic, spiritual, or contractual magic. Currently, you possess zero foundational knowledge in these domains.
Pathway Possibility: Is it theoretically possible for you to develop such abilities? Yes. Your mutable core could be shaped towards spiritual attunement, death-aspected mana manipulation, or beast-taming bonds. However, this is not a matter of the System 'granting' the skill. You must first learn the underlying principles. You must understand a soul's structure to command it. You must understand a beast's spirit to tame it. The System can then optimize that knowledge into a skill.
So we need a foundation. We can't just will a shadow army into existence. We need… books? A teacher?
[Affirmative.] For any complex magical discipline—elemental shaping, enchantment, spiritual arts, summoning—you require informational input. Your intuitive use of mana for internal channeling and ocular enhancement is the most basic form of manipulation: directing raw energy within your own vessel. Creating fire, shaping earth, compelling a spirit, or forming a contract with a beast are complex applications involving external mana interaction, specific resonant frequencies, and often symbolic or linguistic components. You lack this data.
Conclusion: Your current priority for magical growth is not more mana. It is knowledge. One must understand the laws of physics to build an engine. You must understand the laws of magic to build a spell.
The answer was frustratingly obvious. He was stuck. He could grind his core and his basic channeling skill in secret, but without new information, his growth would hit a conceptual wall. The steading had no books. Kaelen and Bryn were warriors and hunters, not mages. Lyra was sick. The traders from Millers' Crossing were his only glimpse of the wider world, and they were gone.
He finished his chores, the weight of his ignorance as tangible as the water bucket in his hand. At midday, Kaelen approached. He held a worn, wooden practice sword.
"Your body has recovered," Kaelen stated. "Bryn says you have eyes that see trouble, and the sense not to freeze entirely. Eyes are good. But if you cannot act, they are just windows for your fear. Bryn cannot always be there to pull you from the fire."
He tossed the practice sword at Ali's feet. It was a simple, heavy length of shaped oak, worn smooth by generations of hands.
"You will learn the basics. Not to be a warrior. To be less of a burden. To hold a line for five breaths instead of one. To make a predator think twice." Kaelen's pale eyes were intent. "This is not magic. This is flesh and bone and will. This is something you can learn here. Do you understand?"
Ali picked up the practice sword. It was heavier than it looked. This was a different kind of offer. Not just tolerance, but active investment in his utility—and his survival. It was also a tacit acknowledgment that his "sight" had value, and they wanted the vessel of that sight to be more durable.
"I understand," Ali said, hefting the wood.
"Good. We start now. Stance first. Your feet are a mess."
The next hour was a procession of humbling corrections. His stance was too narrow, too wide, too heavy on his heels. His grip was wrong. His shoulders were tense. Kaelen was a relentless, patient drillmaster, using his own sword to tap Ali's ankles, knees, and elbows into something resembling a guard position.
[New Skill Unlocked: Swordsmanship - Foundation (Novice).]
Progress is slow. Muscle memory is lacking. Instructor quality: High (Practical).
It was exhausting, purely physical work. But as he sweated under the grey sky, a strange clarity emerged. This was a problem he could see. A correction he could feel in his burning muscles. It was immediate and tangible, unlike the abstract, hungry mystery of mana.
Later, as he gulped water from a dipper, Bryn sidled up. He watched Ali massage his sore forearm.
"Kaelen's showing you the wall," Bryn said, his voice low.
"The wall?"
"Aye. When you can't run, when there's nothing clever to do, you become a wall. You plant your feet, you make your piece of ground expensive to take. It's not about winning. It's about making the other bastard lose more than he wants to pay." Bryn spat. "Magic… your seeing… that's the clever thing. Lets you avoid the fight. But sometimes…" He glanced towards the forest, his eyes distant. "Sometimes the wall is all you have. Learn it."
It was the most Bryn had ever said to him at once. Ali nodded. "Thank you."
Bryn grunted and walked away.
That night, sore in every muscle, Ali lay in the shed. His core had regenerated a minuscule amount, a faint hum once more. The System's analysis played in his head. You require informational input.
He had no books. But he had people. He had a man teaching him to be a wall. He had a hunter who understood the value of unseen threats. He had a sick girl whose condition was a puzzle written in a language of cold and void. And he had a System that could optimize data.
System. New objective. Learn everything Kaelen and Bryn are willing to teach about combat, survival, and the land. Log all physical techniques for optimization. Observe Lyra's condition discreetly. Catalog every mention of magic, nobles, or strange events from them or any future visitors. Build a local knowledge base.
[Objective Logged: Foundational Knowledge Acquisition (Local).]
Methods: Direct instruction (Combat/Physical), passive observation (Social/Environmental), active inquiry (Cautious).
Risks: Over-inquiry may raise suspicion.
Reward: Expansion of [Knowledge] variable in Combat Power Differential. Unlocking of new Skill Branches (e.g., [Combat - Foundation], [Local Lore]). Potential clues to wider magical theory.
He wasn't just a seed anymore. He was a seed that had put down a tiny, tough root into the hard soil of Blackridge. The vertical line to infinity needed a base. He would build it here, not from stolen magic, but from earned trust, learned skill, and scavenged fragments of understanding.
He closed his eyes, not to feel mana, but to feel the deep ache of worked muscles—the satisfying pain of a foundation being laid, one brutal, unmagical blow at a time.