It was not just a room anymore, but a temple in my honor. The space had expanded, becoming vast and imposing. I could swear it felt and looked more... real. The marble was cold, the pillars massive. Questions surfaced briefly—How can I open portals? How long did I actually spend painting this place?—but I pushed them aside. I had to focus on the development of my control system.
First, I identified the main attributes that defined my existence. I realized that Essence was what sustained me; it was the fuel that restored my Vitality.
I visualized my condition as a set of rules. Vitality at 100% implied I was perfectly fine. In this state, my mind was clearer, and my Reason was at its peak, allowing me to perform the complicated calculations needed to build things like this temple. But according to my memories of the fight, I saw a brutal pattern: the lower my Vitality dropped, the higher the Violence rose.
With that Violence came physical strength, resistance, and speed. It made sense from a survivalist point of view—a fail-safe that turned a dying man into an apex predator. But I didn't like that beast. I didn't like losing control.
"I need to upgrade," I murmured. "I cannot remain weak."
Using the beast I had devoured as a template for what a body should withstand, I began to work. I funneled the dormant Essence into my physical structure, increasing my base density. I was picky; I had no desire for scales or grotesque plating. My Reason demanded beauty. I wanted skin that was smooth and soft to the touch, yet as unyielding as marble—deceptively human.
Next, I focused on my organs. They were human in shape, but not meant for environments of poison and static. I realized that if I ever found a world similar to Earth, using these organs would allow me to breathe and eat normally, saving my Essence from being my only source of life.
"Hmm..." I frowned. I didn't have enough Essence to finish all the upgrades. I had to choose.
Haunted by the memory of my leg being crushed, I decided to prioritize my skeleton. I redirected all the Essence I could into it, hardening my bones into something far denser than calcium.
I regretted it instantly.
The moment the process finished, I tried to move and felt a sickening strain. My muscles were still "human"—too weak to pull against the incredible weight of my new frame. I was a prisoner in a heavy, rigid cage.
Efficiency, not just power, I reminded myself.
I pulled the Essence back and tried again, splitting the upgrades into phases. I wove strength into my bones and muscles in direct proportion, ensuring the pulley system of my body could handle its own foundation. This worked nicely. A silent power began to thrum beneath my skin.
With the meager scraps of Essence left—not enough to upgrade my skin's resistance—I wondered what else to improve. I thought of the beast. In the void, there is no light, so perception is a necessity. But what is perception? Where is the organ that allowed me to see myself from a third-person perspective?
I poured that final bit of Essence not into my body, but into my "self"—the field of awareness that encompassed me. The sensation was immediate. It felt like warm water enveloping me, like the womb must feel. It was so pleasant I nearly lost myself in it.
When the warmth faded, I checked my status. The screen flickered into existence, quantifying my existence for the first time:
[ SUBJECT STATUS: LEVEL 2 ]
Essence: 10
Vitality: 100/100
Reason: 94/100
Will: 94/100
Strength: 6/100
Violence: 6/100
Dexterity: 7/100
Speed: 7/100
I stared at the numbers. Reaching 10/100 in Strength or Dexterity would make me comparable to an Olympic champion. But the Reason and Will... they were almost maxed out.
How? Then I understood. Those stats were fluid, but the centuries I had spent in the darkness hadn't been a waste. While my body was still weak, my mind had already reached its pinnacle. I had the soul of a god in the body of a fledgling.
It was interesting, and a little mocking, to see my life compared to a video game. But I had to keep it controlled. Not just because it was useful, but because my Reason demanded it.
"Hmm..." I mumbled again, staring at the screen. "Where is my perception? Wait..."
I gasped. A few minutes ago, by mere instinct, I had concluded this world was an empty wasteland—a dead rock where life couldn't exist. But where had that knowledge come from?
The moment I had wanted to know about this place, my consciousness had expanded, grasping at the entirety of my surroundings. It had been a wave of recognition, extremely detailed and overwhelming, but my human brain—the "filter"—had condensed it down to a single, simple thought: It's just an empty world. I had omitted a literal universe of information because I wasn't ready to process it.
I focused on that invisible sense, searching for its value. The text on the pillar of light shifted, revealing a new line that sat apart from the others:
[ PERCEPTION: 10 / 1,000 ]
I chuckled, a cold, dry sound echoing through the marble temple. I had been impressed by my "94" in Will, but the magnitude of growth available in my senses was staggering. I was effectively blind, even with my 360-degree awareness. I was only seeing the "low-resolution" version of existence.
Perception: 11 / 1,000.
The number ticked up instantly, responding to my mere acknowledgment of it. The "filter" in my mind thinned just a fraction.
"Interesting," I whispered.
I stood up, feeling the new, balanced weight of my Level 2 muscles and the dense, reinforced cage of my ribs. I was a work in progress—an architect who had finally found the right tools.
I took a deep breath of the imaginary, clean air of my temple and stepped out. It was time to return to the gray dust and the poison wind. I needed to see what else I had been "filtering out" of that wasteland.
I paused, my hand resting on the smooth marble of the temple's exit.
The memory of the beast played back in my mind—not as a traumatic event, but as a data set. I hadn't defeated it through superior strength or martial skill. It had been defeated by its own momentum and the cruel, sudden gravity of this planet. It was a massive engine of hunger that didn't know how to handle a change in physics.
Why fight them at all? I thought.
If I was an architect, I didn't need to be a gladiator. I just needed to design a trap.
My strategy formed instantly: I needed a precipice. A ledge high enough that even an Abyssal horror couldn't survive the impact. I could open a portal to the void, using myself as live bait. The beasts would sense my essence, lunge through the rift with the reckless hunger of the void, and find nothing but empty air and a terminal velocity they weren't built for.
With my new Speed (7/100) and Perception (11/1000), dodging a blind lunge would be a simple calculation. I would let the world do the killing for me, then descend to the bottom to collect the "harvest."
A faint, predatory smile touched my lips—one that felt less like the "Human" me and more like the "Sovereign."
"Efficiency," I whispered.
I stepped through the threshold of my mind and felt the weight of the graveyard world return.
I executed my plan.
It took longer than expected; the void is an immensity, and these beasts, though numerous, are not always within reach of a rift. As I searched, my Perception ticked up to 13/1000, my senses slowly unravelling the static of this dead world.
Finally, I felt it—a ripple in the darkness. I stood at the edge of a jagged obsidian precipice, the abyss of the canyon floor miles below. I opened the rift. I prepared to dodge.
My plan failed instantly.
I had calculated the beast's momentum, but I had underestimated its predatory grace. This one was faster than the first. It didn't lunge blindly; it erupted. Before my 7/100 Speed could carry me clear, it was on me.
It didn't rip me apart—not yet—but its teeth pierced my reinforced skin like needles through silk. It pinned me to the cold rock, holding me with the effortless cruelty of a cat with a mouse. Its lower legs began the butchering, raking across my chest.
Pain, white and blinding, shattered my cold logic. I felt my Reason plummeting as the Violence surged to fill the void. I was bleeding Essence, the very gold of my life spilling onto the gray dust.
I fought. I clawed at its face, digging my fingers into its cluster of wet, oily eyes. A memory flickered in the back of my failing mind—a technique, a "move" I knew I possessed, but I couldn't grasp the concept. It was right there, an inch away from my understanding.
The Rift, my instinct screamed. Don't open it in front of you. Open it THROUGH it.
Just as the beast's jaws unhinged to crush my skull, I Willed it.
I didn't open a door; I forced a tear in reality exactly where the beast's torso occupied space. The sound was like thunder muffled by wet meat. The beast was instantly split into two jagged, bloody halves.
The weight vanished. The silence returned, broken only by the sound of my own ragged, non-existent breath.
I didn't climb back to my feet. I didn't return to the Temple. The "Architect" was gone, buried under a landslide of predatory instinct. I crawled toward the twitching remains, my hands trembling with a hunger that surpassed anything I had felt before.
I began to devour the halves, my laughter—a jagged, madman's chuckle—echoing off the canyon walls.
I was learning. The hard way.
Final Stats Check (Post-Fight):
Vitality: 42/100 (Rapidly rising as he eats)
Reason: 30/100 (Deep in the "Beast" state)
Violence: 70/100 (Intoxicated by the kill)
Perception: 13/1000