The system's voice shimmered in my head.
[You have already spent forty minutes, Host. Only twenty minutes remain. Your time is running out. You have to hurry and choose a skill.]
"…?!"
Forty minutes? I froze for a split second, my eyes widening. Crap. I hadn't even chosen a single skill yet—hell, I hadn't even found the right section. The Treasury was too damn big. I was wasting time staring at books I couldn't even use.
I turned away from the shelf containing the Foundation Breathing Art and started running toward the right side of the vault. My boots thudded against the stone floor, the sound echoing upward into the foggy ceiling.
At least the elder wasn't lying about that. Right side for skills. Left side for breathing techniques. One thing that old grump got right.
Soon, I spotted it—a massive board hanging from the rafters with "SKILLS" written in glowing, bold letters.
Yes. This is it.
I didn't waste another second. I sprinted toward the rows. Unlike the breathing section, which felt like an old library, the skill section looked like a high-end tech lab mixed with a wizard's cave. Instead of books, there were crystals and orbs—thousands of them. Each one was embedded in the walls or floating within translucent barriers, pulsing with light.
They were divided into categories: Combat, Defensive, Support, and Miscellaneous.
Honestly? I wasn't looking for a "Legendary" or flashy skill.
I didn't need the kind of move that would announce me as the "Chosen One" while a choir sang in the background. In games, those "neglected" S-rank skills hidden in a corner only exist for protagonists with insane luck.
I knew my luck—I was the guy who got transmigrated into a "scum" character right before a death trial.
I just wanted to survive. Since I was from Earth and didn't know how to throw a punch without probably breaking my own thumb, I needed a combat sense skill. I needed something to enhance my senses or at least give me a fighting chance.
Pathetic?
Maybe. But I'd prefer a working pair of eyes and fast reflexes over a flashy fireball that I'd probably miss with anyway.
I passed row after row, scanning the plaques beneath the glowing orbs.
Stone Skin
Rank: C-Rank
Requires: None. Temporarily hardens skin.
Too slow. I don't want to be a punching bag.
Mana Shield
Rank: D-Rank
Requires: None. Creates a basic barrier.
Too weak. One good hit from Sylvia and that thing would shatter.
Iron Bones
Rank: C-Rank
Requires: None. Strengthens skeletal structure.
Great, so my corpse will have a very sturdy skeleton. No thanks.
I kept moving, my breathing getting heavy. The mana density in the room was starting to feel like a physical weight on my chest. My lungs worked harder with each step, like I was running underwater. Spots danced at the edge of my vision.
[Only five minutes remain, Host. You have to hurry.] The System chimed in, sounding almost bored by my panic.
Fuck. I'm working on it! I snapped back mentally.
Then I saw it.
A small crystal, tucked in the corner of a lower shelf. It had a faint glow, hidden behind a bigger orb. Almost like someone had shoved it there and forgotten about it.
I crouched down to read the plaque.
Flash Instinct
Rank: C-Rank (Evolvable)
Requires: Lightning Affinity (reduces mana cost)
Description: A sensory-combat skill that enhances natural awareness.
Passive effect: Keeps senses sharp—hearing, peripheral vision, touch, and instinct.
Active effect: Sends lightning mana to the brain and spine for short bursts, increasing thinking speed and triggering instinctive movement. Body dodges, blocks, counters before conscious thought.
Flaw: Overuse causes neural damage—migraines, memory gaps, seizures. Use in short bursts only.
I stared at it, my heart doing a little flip. Evolvable?
I knew what that meant—or at least, I remembered from the game. Evolvable skills were rare. Like, really rare. Most skills were frozen at whatever rank you found them. You found a "Fireball" skill, and it stayed a "Fireball."
But evolvable ones?
They grew with you. Got stronger as you got stronger. In the game, players would kill for these. And here one was, stuffed in a corner like forgotten laundry.
"I'll be damned," I whispered.
This was perfect. It was a combat-sensory skill. The passive effect would fix my lack of experience by keeping me sharp, and the active effect would literally do the fighting for me when I panicked. Not to mention, it was cheaper to use because of my lightning affinity. It was like the world was finally giving me a break.
Or it's trying to fry my brain, I thought, remembering the flaw. But hey, I'll take a migraine over a sword through the gut any day.
I reached through the flickering barrier and grabbed the crystal.
Zzzzt!
It was freezing cold. The moment my fingers closed around it, a jolt of static electricity shot up my arm, making my teeth chatter. Then, the cold vanished, replaced by a steady, pulsing warmth. The crystal went dark, turning into a dull stone in my palm.
I tucked it into my pocket next to the Foundation Breathing Art manual.
I stood up, taking a long, shaky breath. The mana pressure was really digging in now, making my head spin. I had the book. I had the skill. I had what I needed to at least start not being a loser.
I looked around the vault one last time. All these legendary artifacts, all this world-ending power, just sitting here waiting for someone strong enough to take them.
One day, I thought, a weirdly ambitious fire lighting up in my chest. One day I'll come back for the rest of this stuff. And I won't be running out of time when I do.
But for today, I'd had enough.
I turned and walked back toward the massive doors.
The gates started to groan open before I even reached them. The Elder was standing there, his sharp, grumpy eyes scanning me immediately as I stepped into the cooler air of the hallway.
"Young Master, your time is up," he said, his voice sounding like gravel rubbing together. "I hope you found something... interesting."
I looked at him and gave a small, tired nod. "Well, yeah. I found something. Thanks for worrying about me, Elder."
His smile twitched—just barely—but he nodded. Then his gaze went to the book in my hand, then to the slight bulge in my pocket.
"Young Master." His voice was cautious now. "Is this really what you chose?"
There was something in his tone. Not mocking. Not quite surprised either. Curious, maybe? Like he actually wanted to know why I'd picked those items instead of something flashier.
"Yeah." I walked past him, out of the vault.
Clang!
The doors slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing through the restricted wing.
Lyra was there, standing exactly where I'd left her, like a loyal statue. Her eyes darted to the book, then to my face, then toward Han, who was leaning against a nearby pillar.
I looked at Han. "We done here?"
Han studied me for a long moment. He didn't look at the book; he looked at my eyes.
"Yes, Young Master," Han said, pushing off the pillar and bowing slightly. "The items are yours. Please... use them well."
"I'll try my best," I said with a slight, crooked smile.
Han turned and started walking away, his job done. I turned the other way, Lyra falling into step beside me as we headed back toward the main manor.
The weight of the book under my arm felt heavy—real. This wasn't a game anymore. I had the tools. Now I just had to figure out how to use them without killing myself in the process.
_
We walked in silence for a bit. My mind was still spinning—forty minutes felt like nothing in that vault. Like time itself moved differently in there.
Lyra glanced at me. Then at the book. Then at my pocket.
"Young Master." She whispered in a low voice.
"Yeah?"
"You're grinning like a fool."
I blinked. Touched my face.
…Huh. I was.
"Just… glad I found what I needed," I muttered with a smile.
She looked at the book again. Her eyes lingered on the plain cover. "Foundation Breathing Art?"
I nodded.
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "That's... a choice."
"Good choice or bad choice?" I asked.
A pause. "An interesting choice."
I snorted. "You sound like the Elder."
She didn't confirm or deny.
She didn't say anything else. But I saw it—that small, almost invisible smile on her lips. The one she gets when she's pleased about something. We kept walking.
[Host.] Suddenly the system spoke in my head.
Yeah?
[You cut it very close. Five minutes.]
I know.
[If you wasted more time, the vault would have locked you inside until morning.]
I stopped walking.
…What?
[The elder would have opened it tomorrow. You would have slept on the floor.]
I stared at nothing for a second.
Why didn't you tell me that?!
[You didn't ask.]
You—
[Also, it was funny to watch you panic.]
I clenched my fist.
I will uninstall you.
[You cannot uninstall me. I am integrated into your soul.]
I'll find a way.
[I look forward to seeing you try, Host.]
Lyra's voice came from beside me. "Young Master? Is something wrong?"
I realized I'd stopped walking. My face probably looked like I was arguing with myself. Which I was.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just… thinking."
She gave me a look. The kind that said she didn't believe me but wasn't going to push. We started walking again. By the time we reached my room, the sun had shifted. Afternoon now.
I'd been in that vault longer than I thought.
Lyra stopped at my door. "Shall I prepare lunch, Young Master?"
I shook my head. "Not yet. I need to… process this first."
She nodded. "I'll be nearby if you need anything."
"Thanks, Lyra."
She bowed and left. I pushed open my door, stepped inside, and closed it behind me. Then I leaned against the wood and let out a long breath.
I finally made it.
I pulled the book out from under my arm. Then the crystal from my pocket. Set them both on my desk. Two items. One hour. And a whole lot of pressure.
Foundation Breathing Art.
Flash Instinct.
I stared at them.
[Host.]
What now?
[You did well.]
I waited for the punchline. The insult. The snarky comment.
Nothing came.
…Thanks.
[Do not get used to it. I am simply stating facts.]
I clicked my tongue. There it was. Yeah, sure.
I pulled the chair out and sat down. Reached for the book first. Might as well start with the breathing technique—less likely to fry my brain.
But as my fingers touched the cover, I hesitated.
What if I mess this up?
[Then you die.]
…Not helping.
At least say something good, bastard.
[I am here to state facts.]
I sighed.
Yeah. I know.