Once again, Richter was stirred from sleep as the morning sun lit up the cave. He felt the weight of a hangover—only worse, despite not having touched a drop of alcohol.

  "What was that?" Richter murmured to himself. "What is this?" he added, lifting the scroll with cautious curiosity. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, the distant echo of a flock surged through his mind—familiar, yet altered. This time, the birds weren’t just wild or mindless. They resonated with something deeper. They were his flock now. And more than that—there was emotion woven into the sound: sorrow, loyalty, memory. Jason. Richter had felt it before, that echo of grief and connection. The flock wasn’t just instinct anymore. It was becoming something more.

  Something inside the scroll was straining to be free. Richter understood it instinctively. This scroll wasn’t like the blade. The blade was part of him—bonded, summonable, an extension of his will. The scroll, though, couldn’t be summoned. It wasn’t merely a weapon. It was knowledge—etched and preserved, yet bound to him all the same. It was forged with blood and knowledge. He felt an itch to see what it could do—to see if this knowledge, bound in blood and memory, truly had teeth.

  All it took was a trickle of mana. The red glyphs etched into the parchment flared to life. But they hungered. The thread of mana he offered shifted subtly, tinged with red as a sliver of his health bled away. The glyphs pulsed brighter, brighter still, until they blazed like crimson fire.

  A red orb, grim and glowing—grimson, he thought—rose from the page. Black veins of shadow swirled within its heart. The moment it detached from the scroll, the sound returned: the flock, not as noise, but as a summons. They needed him. They needed purpose.

  As the orb completed its formation, the page dimmed, returning to its inert state. Then, without warning, the orb cracked and shattered into three jagged mana lances, each the color of blood-dark wine. They weren’t birds, not fully—but they carried the suggestion: the silhouette of wings, the whisper of feathers in flight.

  The lances soared, weaving around Richter in graceful spirals, trailing long ribbons of crimson light behind them. He turned toward a young aspen tree by the pond—and without a word, the lances responded. They darted forward in unison.

  They were beautiful. Not just for their design, but the way they moved—playful, elegant, coordinated. Like dancers. Or siblings.

  The white tree exploded, bark and mana scattering like ash in a gale. The lances didn’t just hit—they unmade. Raw power, perfectly synchronized. Destructive. Controlled.

  Once the spell had dissipated, Richter felt a faint hollowness settle over him. Had the magic touched more than just his mana pool? Had it stirred something deeper? He wondered if the flock had reached into his emotions, influenced him just as he had shaped them. The spell hadn’t drawn only mana—it had taken from his health. The flock hadn’t just served him. They had fed on him.

  Richter knew he shouldn't tempt fate—but the power was intoxicating. In a world where survival hinged on strength, turning this down felt foolish. If wielding it meant living another day, then he would use it—no matter the cost.

  Something else had emerged from the scroll’s creation—something he’d glimpsed just before fainting. The memory flickered back, sharp and sudden. He summoned the notification with a thought.

  [Level Up: Blood Scribe Level 2 Achieved]

  [Level up: Human Level 2 Achieved]

  [Level Up: Blood Scribe Level 3 Achieved]

  Stats allocated

  A new line pulsed softly at the edge of his vision—an invitation. A choice, not a command.

  [Profession Skill Available: Choose Now? Y/N]

  That one scroll had pushed him up two levels—a surge of power he couldn’t ignore. The stat gains alone were impressive, but he hadn’t even touched his free points yet. That could wait. Right now, something more tempting called to him: new skills. The academic in Richter—the data-junkie, the system-breaker—was practically vibrating with curiosity. What had the System deemed worthy to offer him?

  Skill available

  [Archivist's Eyes (Common)]: This skill allows the user to more easily decipher magical texts, glyphs, and runes. Skill scales with Wisdom and Perception.

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  [Improved Quillshaper (Common)]: Channel a small amount of mana to shape organic material (feathers, bone, wood) into improved writing instruments. Quality scales with Wisdom.

  [Grimoire Binding (Common)]: Combine and bind scrolls into a cohesive grimoire using refined organic beast materials. Bound grimoires can store multiple spells or rituals and gain enhanced durability and magical resonance based on the quality of materials used. Quality scales with Wisdom and Intellect.

  Three options. All common tier—but solid. Not bad, though part of him itched to see what a rare-tier skill might look like. Just a glimpse. Still, he wasn't about to complain. In a world like this, any edge was worth taking. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth—not when survival might hinge on it. Now to choose, which one?

  Archivist’s Eyes caught his attention. It sounded useful—too useful, maybe. Would it simply feed him translations? Offer instant understanding without effort? The idea tugged at his curiosity, but something resisted. He liked the challenge. Solving the puzzle that led to the inkwell had been thrilling—a test of wit, not just stats. Taking this skill felt like skipping steps in a process he wanted to master himself. He didn’t want answers handed to him. He wanted to earn them—with his own intelligence.

  Improved Quillshaper—interesting, and a good sign that the System allowed for growth in existing abilities. But the quills he’d crafted so far had served him well, more than well. They were precise, durable, and personal. He had a hunch he could refine that skill on his own, through effort and experimentation, without spending a valuable skill choice. This one could wait.

  Grimoire Binding—that was the one. His scroll was already potent, but this skill promised more: the ability to preserve and amplify it within something greater. A grimoire wasn’t just storage—it was legacy, structure, potential. He didn’t just want to cast spells. He wanted to craft them, collect them, and eventually build something enduring. This skill wasn’t just the right choice. It was the beginning of a library. His library.

  The skill locked in—and Richter felt... nothing. No surge of insight, no sudden clarity. Just silence. He had expected a flash of understanding, maybe even a whisper of ancient knowledge, but there was nothing. With a small sigh, he sat back down in the cave’s quiet. There were still his stats to deal with—numbers to tweak, choices to make. One mystery at a time.

  Current Stats:

  Strength:  11

  Agility:  11

  Intellect: 24

  Wisdom:  24

  Vitality:  24

  Endurance: 9

  Toughness: 7

  Perception: 23

  Free Points: 12

  His Intellect, Wisdom, Vitality, and Perception had skyrocketed—tripled from where he started. They were no longer just strengths; they were the foundation of who he was becoming. The other stats, though? Still lagging. Steady, but unimpressive. He tapped his fingers against his leg. Should he double down on what was working, or patch up the weak spots? The decision wasn’t just about numbers—it was about survival.

  His skills leaned heavily on Intellect, Wisdom, and Perception. Should he reinforce those advantages further, pushing his abilities into mastery? Or hedge his bets? The new scroll had drained his health, his health pool seemed tied to Vitality—but Vitality alone hadn’t protected him. He remembered the scavenger’s attack—just a glancing blow, yet it had carved through him like paper. Maybe the smarter move was to bolster his lowest stat. Toughness. Raw resilience. It might not help him cast better, but it could help him survive the price of power.

  Richter had never been one to obsess over min-maxing in games—he preferred flexibility over formulas. But looking at his stat spread now, even he had to admit: it was chaotic. Powerful in places, underwhelming in others. Time for a plan.

  He started with what scared him most: fragility. +3 Toughness brought him closer to surviving another blow like the scavenger's.

  Next, he added +1 Endurance—just enough to help with stamina and spell fatigue. It wasn’t flashy, but it was practical.

  Then came +4 Strength and +4 Agility. Not his core stats, but necessary. If he had to run, climb, fight, or simply move, he didn’t want to be dead weight. Brains could win battles—but only if the body kept up.

  It wasn’t a perfect build. But it was balanced. Functional. Alive.

  Updated Stats:

  Strength:  15

  Agility:  15

  Intellect: 24

  Wisdom:  24

  Vitality:  24

  Endurance: 10

  Toughness: 10

  Perception: 23

  Free Points: 0

  Almost as if the System had been holding its breath, the moment he confirmed his allocation, a new notification shimmered into view—immediate, inevitable.

  [Tutorial Event- Guarded Spoils]

  Time Until Start: 1 Hour

  Event Description: Loot chests will be distributed throughout the tutorial zone [The Great Forest]. These chests will appear at random locations and emit a visible magical beacon to aid in discovery. Each chest contains a system-generated, soulbound item tailored to the individual who opens it, they will also be awarded points based on chest rarity.

  The magical beacon will also attract nearby creatures. These creatures may be empowered, transformed, and become territorial toward the chest. Access is restricted until the guardian creature is defeated.

  Difficulty: Variable

  Duration: 1 week

  Bonus Reward: Gain a reward at the end of the event based on points.

  Richter read the notification twice, then a third time. Not because he didn’t understand it—on the contrary, it was alarmingly clear. Chests, beacons, soulbound loot, and guardian creatures. Classic bait.

  The System was testing something. Not just strength, but risk appetite. Would they sprint toward glowing treasure without thinking? Would they fight through monsters for shiny, personalized scraps? Would they survive the greed?

  But Richter had a scroll to test—and if that test led to treasure, all the better. Two birds, one spell.