Oz was still wary that this was a trap, even as the door sprang open. The puzzle hadn’t felt very “puzzley” to him. The locker at the back stood out, as next to it was a notice. The paper had the same printing as before, the text in the middle of the page, all cramped together.
"Don’t forget to store your clothes before doing alchemy, if your uniform gets soaked in acid you’ll have to buy a new one!
If you forgot the code just remember our studies on biology!
One, eight, two, four."
The only thing that stood out was that each number was in a weird font. The second one was particularly out there, looking like someone had asked themselves how can I make letters out of spiderwebs. It’d taken thirty seconds to psych himself up and try the numbers.
He ignored the Other, who felt insufferably smug about something—what exactly, Oz couldn’t tell.
He was a little surprised to find himself staring at a heavy coat—black, naturally—with the academy crest on the lapels. It looked tailored to his size, which frankly made it even more suspicious. Oz was about as square as people got, not a shape you found in stores. Then again, wasn’t that just a dungeon thing. You always found exactly what you needed, and that was the unsettling part.
This could still be a trap. The paper had screamed “puzzle” but it had turned out to be nothing. Had he missed something. Was touching the coat going to kill him. The cowardly part of the Other, ever helpful, screamed trap as it so often did. Grumbling, Oz drew his axe and poked the coat. He wasn’t a coward, just not keen on discovering the coat and the mimic chest shared the same dentist.
After a few prods, he finally knocked it off its hanger. It collapsed into a heap on the floor.
Nope. Just a heavy-duty coat. Long enough to reach his knees, and when he tried it on, it fit like a glove. Speaking of which, there were gloves in the pockets. And a cravat. He could practically feel Hoodlum hiss at the cravat, so he shoved it away for emergencies. Bandages, maybe. Then he shrugged on the rest.
[Hoodlum conductivity is middling with Reinforced Great Coat]
[Hoodlum conductivity is low with Standard Issue gloves]
Less than ideal. He still hadn’t really nailed the delinquent look. Still, he couldn’t deny the practicality—his clothes hadn’t been burned off, or torn to shreds. That had to count for something.
Was wearing the coat a mistake. It was reinforced, maybe that balanced things out. The gloves definitely didn’t feel right. Something was off about them. But at least he had something to protect his hands now, especially with his traditional dwarven clanwraps having been confiscated.
Before he could pocket the gloves, the Other nudged him. Oz glanced up to spot Chops skulking nearby, attempting—rather poorly—to innocently nuzzle the mutant’s chest and its crystal.
He sighed and dealt with it, much to Chops’ frustration.
Looking around, blood and gore still slick on his hands, he spotted salvation. Sinks.
He was getting filthier by the minute, not to mention increasingly parched. As he cleaned up and drank, he took a better look around the room.
It was strange how wildly the dungeon’s aesthetic shifted. This one felt more like a set than an actual room, like a stage designed to look like a ransacked laboratory.
A crowbar rested against a few crates. The cabinets’ locks had clearly been forced open. Crumbling paper littered the floor. The walls were plastered with shredded posters, probably safety warnings. It all felt... more real than the previous rooms. Why was that. The others had contained puzzles, or what passed for puzzles. Maybe that was the difference.
He rifled through the lockers, most of which were filled with moulding junk. Claw marks on the doors suggested the Jackals had already raided the place. He was about to move on when the Other dragged his attention back to three lockers that were slightly shallower than the others. He jumped back, worried about a trap.
Suspicious.
After checking in carefully, Oz pulled the flimsy wood off the wall. His enhanced strength meant he casually pulled the nails up, revealing a hidden door. The hidden door was grimy and had no handle. It didn’t look like the Jackals’ work, it seemed more like the lockers had been built over it. Oz removed the shelves and tore down the panel entirely, revealing a simple, narrow doorway. No lock. Just nailed shut.
He searched the room again and retrieved the crowbar he’d seen earlier. The moment he touched it, his power thrummed through the metal—same as when he’d picked up the chain.
Hoodlum loved it.
[Hoodlum conductivity is at maximum with Crowbar]
"You’re kidding me. Why. Screw it—at least it’ll make opening the door easier."
Oz made short work of the nails. Within seconds, he’d pried open the entrance to a narrow, dust-covered hallway. Nothing fancy. Given the untouched coating of grime, it didn’t look like a trap. Chops trotted up beside him, peering down the corridor.
"Alright, boy. It’s this hallway, or the big, definitely trapped doors back in the room where we slaughtered those Jackals. Only two left now, plus the boss. What do you think?"
Chops, pleased to have his attention, licked his hand in response.
"Yeah, I’m with you. Shame the corridor’s so narrow, I’m not getting the door down there." Oz briefly considered the buckler he’d seen earlier on the weapons rack, but Hoodlum hadn’t liked it. Besides, in a space this tight, barely wider than his shoulders, it would just get in the way.
He paused. Based on the number of Jackals depicted on the mural, he figured he was nearing the end of the dungeon. Time to make some decisions, and some preparations. The Champion, or “Boss” as the Other liked to call it, would be something else entirely. Stronger, nastier, more dangerous than anything he’d fought so far.
That was just basic knowledge. Why they got paid that extra essence.
He decided to pause and check his weave. Earlier he’d got a message about having reached a threshold, which meant in theory he had something new to spend his essence on if his soul let him.
Up until now, his soul had been too messed up to handle essence properly. But hitting a threshold, that meant he might finally be able to use it, to actually apply essence and expand what his class could do.
The Other buzzed at him, impatient. Oz sighed and explained again.
Experience and essence weren’t the same thing.
Essence was raw magic, the lifeblood of the Republic’s people and the systems that governed them. It pushed you forward. But experience, that was what unlocked the deeper potential of a class. Without it, essence was just energy without structure.
At the Other’s continued prodding, he went over what he remembered. Experience was… nebulous. And not just because he hadn’t paid attention in class. Even the best minds in the Republic had at some point collectively thrown up their hands and given up trying to quantify it.
Sure, some had tried. They’d built models, thrown numbers around, tried to map out the maths of thresholds and levels. But it was always sketchy at best. The only thing they’d agreed on was this, the weave understood your challenges.
It wasn’t as simple as “kill monster, get XP”. Tests showed the weave could tell the difference, whether you’d taken down a crippled creature or overcome it solo, and rewarded you accordingly.
You could feel the difference if you paid attention. Just like he was learning to sense the pull of absorbing essence, he could sometimes feel the flow of experience too. The last two small Jackals, for example, he’d barely felt anything from them. Weaker than before. Probably because he hadn’t truly earned those kills. Technically, the unsafe work environment had done most of the job.
As Oz dipped into his soul space, he noticed the change.
The fractured, half-formed chamber, the one that had felt like two rooms mashed together, had smoothed out. The cracks were gone. It still had the same basic layout, but now the whole thing felt intentional. Like someone had sent in an artist to make it look deliberate.
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A promising start.
And, in a rare stroke of luck, things actually continued to go right, a whole list of new options unfolded before him.
Ozren Grimbrow
Class: Delinquent of Noxarcer
Grade: E
Current Essence: 30 essence points (EP)
Class Enhancement Skills:
Mental: [Locked]
Armament: [Hoodlum] - upgrade locked
Environmental: [Locked]
Cohort: [Locked]
Aura: [Aura of Menace] - upgrade locked
Unique: [The Mutt] - upgrade locked
Racial abilities – Begin racial evolution for 15 EP
[Dwarven heritage]
[Dwarven stubbornness]
[Dwarven constitution]
[Troll heritage [Volcanic variant]]
[Frightful glare]
[Trollish regeneration [Ice Vulnerability]]
Class Skills
[Twice for flinching]
([Locked]) - Unlock signature skill for 10 EP
([Locked])
(Empty)
(Empty)
Personal Skills
[Runic empowerment]
(Empty)
(Empty)
Attributes
[Physique]: E3 - upgrade for 12 EP
[Deftness]: E5 - upgrade for 10 EP
[Vitality]: E4 - upgrade for 11 EP
[Awareness]: F0 - upgrade for 5 EP
[Processing]: F2 - upgrade for 5 EP
[Will]: E5 - upgrade for 10 EP
[Presence]: F2 - upgrade for 5 EP
[Authority]: E5 - upgrade for 10 EP
Legend
[Blessing of -&#@%-]
That was a lot of essence.
Like most people in Greywater could work for a year and not get that much. It almost didn’t feel real. He shook his head. Don’t think. Do.
Get stronger, get out of the dungeon, punch whoever poisoned him in the face.
Oz relaxed a touch. That goal was so much easier now that whatever had happened to his soul had calmed enough that he could invest his essence points. The skill upgrades were mostly locked, which made sense, he’d barely started to get used to them. He could of course invest in his attributes. That didn’t take experience, though it had its own challenges. He was surprised to see he could unlock a new signature skil.
He blinked at the points total, and after following some guidance from the Other, he managed to find a different view on the screen which provided more information on all his notifications. There were things called tabs at the bottom, one of which included a “detailed report”.
Checking through them showed the mutant Jackals had provided 2 EP each, a reflection of their increased power, while the small ones only gave 1 point. The rest of the essence must’ve come from the Ambrosia.
Oz knew he’d have to spend EP to move forward, but he still resisted. He intrinsically disliked the ability to pay to upgrade himself. It felt cheap, unearned. Unlocking his skills made sense. That was some magical nonsense that he couldn’t access otherwise. However, upgrading his physique, that felt intrinsically wrong on some level.
He also struggled to imagine what upgrading something like his Processing would do for him. How would it change him. These were questions that’d always bothered him in class, but that he’d never dared speak about, and with his dad’s advice always suspect he’d not had anyone to ask at home.
The worst of them was Presence, which was basically a reflection of how others paid attention to you. Some called it charisma, but others saw it as more an aura, a measure of your natural ability to radiate either fame or infamy.
Oz had no doubt his Presence leant towards the infamous.
Would upgrading it make people pay more attention to him. Would it change how he thought. His education said no, but there was always a “but” waiting behind it.
He’d dealt with these existential questions by ignoring them and doing some extra reps.
Now though, with the Other wittering on and the choice in front of him, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. No matter how much he tried.
The old version of himself would’ve ignored this philosophy. This was thinking nonsense, and he’d rather be doing. Classic Oz would’ve just left, pushing his festering worries down till he paved over them with new worries. That Oz would’ve ploughed ahead underpowered, but with certainty that he was at least moving forward.
That past Oz, as the Other was keen to point out, was a complete moron.
The Other had a thousand and one reasons to use every opportunity to get stronger. Not least the blunt reminder his soul was still janky. The voice in his head pointed to itself as the key piece of evidence of just how screwed up Oz still was.
Oz couldn’t afford to be weak, was about to go up against the Champion, having never fought anything like it before. Then there was the fact that even if he got out of here there were people who were trying to kill him, the ones who were to blame for the aforementioned soul jankiness.
Oz couldn’t ignore it, but he could reason with it. The Other wanted him to maximise his stats, while Oz argued to unlock the other signature skill. The ten points spent there would give him more combat options, and the skill would better inform him of where to spend.
Also [Twice for flinching], no matter the name, had been key to his success so far. Grumbling, the Other admitted defeat.
[Spend 10 EP on unlocking Signature Skill?]
Oz accepted the prompt and felt something churn inside him. The pain in his soul that had so overwhelmed him when he woke up had long since settled to a dull ache, eased off further. Oz hoped that was a good sign. Less soul pain seemed good. Especially given the very real chance that he might end up getting respawned if he messed up things with this Champion.
[Signature Skill Vandal unlocked]
The skill formed and Oz grimaced at another dig from the weave.
[Vandal]
Your next attack or skill does additional magical damage to non-living material. Manufactured goods you damage gain the debuff “Vandalized”, making it harder to repair and making malfunctions more likely if the attack hits magical or technological systems. If the vandalised items are equipped, their owners gain a stack of fear or rage based on their disposition towards you. The amount of additional damage and the strength of the debuff is a reflection of your Authority. Continued use is required to understand the skill in more detail.
The power wasn’t what he was hoping for. Something defensive would’ve been better. He really wished he had the skills in his jacket right now. His dad had a defensive stance skill that would’ve been perfect for this situation, not to mention the healing skill. Still, at least the power wasn’t useless.
Something that could potentially break magical gear was very useful. If he was reading it right, it would’ve been of immense help when he was breaking the wards.
It also worked nicely with Aura of Menace.
It also revealed that Authority, an attribute he was most familiar with police having, was core to his class skills. It factored into both his signature skills, and into Aura of Menace, and Hoodlum. With that, his next upgrade was decided.
As far as he could tell, gaining Authority hadn’t changed him. So having more of it didn’t come with the same identity concerns that shifting the mental stats conjured within him.
He still felt a little uncomfortable spending points from the mixture that’d nearly killed him, and he couldn’t deny a worry that upgrading his Authority would have some kind of real impact on him.
Given his class was Delinquent, would upgrading its core stat make him more of a thug.
He ignored those worried voices. It was only a single step up. He reached out with his mind and selected the upgrade.
[Spend 10 EP on upgrading Authority Attribute?]
[Authority is now E4]
A warmth spread in his chest, but otherwise the change in his attributes was completely underwhelming. Maybe the difference would become obvious when he used his abilities.
The Other prodded him to spend his remaining points, suggesting he unlock two of the five point upgrades. When he checked his stats again he felt its horror.
[Physique]: E3 upgrade for 13 EP
[Deftness]: E5 upgrade for 11 EP
[Vitality]: E4 upgrade for 12 EP
[Awareness]: F0 upgrade for 6 EP
[Processing]: F2 upgrade for 6 EP
[Will]: E5 upgrade for 11 EP
[Presence]: F2 upgrade for 6 EP
Special –
[Authority]: E4 upgrade for 12 EP
Oz chuckled at the outrage from the Other. It was his fault partially. He’d not thought much on the universally hated aspect of essence upgrading. Every time anyone upgraded their attributes, the cost for all future attribute upgrades would increase by a small amount.
It’d been explained to him as part of the cost of maintaining a body that was more packed with essence. That at each step forward a body required more essence to change it. It was also why most specialised in a few attributes, as upgrading all of them would make this essence tax crippling. The Other perked up when Oz remembered you could bring the costs down, but went back to its tantrum when he explained that took training in the specific area to reduce the cost.
Oz was excited, as it meant he had even more reasons to work out.
Sure, you could go out and just farm essence and pay to upgrade your physique, but it soothed his irritation at the whole process to know that it would reward those who dedicated themselves to a pursuit. He vowed in that moment not to take the Physique upgrade till he’d gotten the EP cost back down to 12.
It somewhat ruined the Other’s suggestion, which had been to grab upgrades to Awareness and Processing. Oz didn’t mind that though. Awareness as an upgrade made sense in the coming fight. Given it was at F0, trying to train it down right now was a lost cause. Maybe the academy would have exercises to help him bring the cost down?
Right now though, being more perceptive and aware of his surroundings could only help. Deciding to act before he could second-guess himself, or the Other could chime in with fresh plans, he reached out and selected the upgrade.
[Awareness is now E5]
Keen to get on with it, Oz pushed himself out of his soul space. It was on the return journey, as the magical structure of the soul faded away, that Oz remembered something critical. The jump from F to E marked the jump from the mundane to the magical.
Worse. He’d started meditating in a magical laboratory that was in only a marginally better condition than his soul.
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