"How does the core decide that these specific skills should be given out at each level?" Alex asked Hakon, who was sitting cross-legged beside the still-recovering Reina.
"It entirely depends on the hardships you face," Hakon explained, keeping his eyes on Reina's regenerating arm. "For instance, you were under a constant adrenaline rush from the second you dropped into this warped space until you reached the tree. That gave you your adrenaline skill. You pushed your muscles to their absolute structural limits, so you unlocked the muscle skill. The core reads your struggles."
Alex tilted his head. "So, if I have trouble surviving fire during a fight, the next time I level up, I get a fire skill?"
"Exactly," Hakon nodded.
Franklin walked over, dropping heavily onto the jade-like surface of the leaf to join them. "When you face an elemental obstacle or a specific threat—let's stick with fire—your core registers that your current soul structure had a problem processing it. Your soul essentially goes into a state of forced re-understanding. By the time you level up, whether it happens fast or slow, a skill will manifest to patch that weakness. Now, that's for a neutral core like yours. For cores with fixed elements like me, Hakon, or Reina, we get a skill tailored to negate, absorb, or counter that specific threat using our own element."
Alex's eyes gleamed with a sudden, calculating light. "So, if I let Hakon hit me with his weakest fireball right now, I could farm a fire skill for my next level?"
"No," Hakon barked, shutting the idea down instantly. "It works on the same subconscious principles as soul damage—you cannot cheat it with intent. If we were in a genuine sparring match where both of us were going absolutely all-out, then yes, your core would register the threat. But if I just toss a casual fireball and you stand there waiting to get singed? It won't do a damn shit."
"What if I go through an entire level without facing any real problems?" Alex pushed. "What happens then?"
"Then the core rolls a lucky draw," Hakon sighed. "If fortune favors you, you get something useful. If not, congratulations, you've just permanently wasted one of your 175 total skill slots on garbage. Believe me, Alex, almost every high-ranking adventurer has useless, low-tier skills sitting in the double digits. It's a common tragedy. We either spend a fortune to purge them or just let them sit there dormant, never using them at all."
Franklin leaned forward, studying Alex's current physical state. "If I had to guess, I think your next levels will manifest a blood skill, a bone skill, or perhaps a mana skill. Those grasshoppers were actively coating their claws in mana to increase their sharpness and handling; your core definitely noted that defensive deficit."
"Mana and bone make sense," Alex muttered, rubbing his ribs, "but why blood?"
"Because you painted half the leaf with it before your skills kicked in," Hakon pointed out dryly. "And bone because your skeleton was far too easy to slice open for the tier of foes you're fighting now. Your core is panicking to keep you put together."
Alex frowned, looking down at his hands. "So the leveling system is basically just a cosmic cheat code for survival?"
"Not quite," Franklin clarified. "A newly manifested skill needs time, practice, and mana to adapt. By the time you master it, you might not even be fighting the same type of enemy anymore—you can't just hunt the same venomous monkey tribe forever. It doesn't make you instantly overpowered; it just ensures you survive long enough to grow. Every time a soul core reaches the Divine Rank, it receives a magnificent gift from the world itself. Because of that, the core is hardwired to strive for that apex. You need a flawless balance of magical and martial prowess to truly conquer this world, but a solid defensive set of magic skills ensures you live to see tomorrow."
Hakon shifted his weight, crossing his arms. "Speaking of shortcuts, do you possess any skill stones? You can only safely consume six in your entire lifetime. We only managed to reach the Noble Rank because we chose ours with extreme care."
"I have one," Alex said, navigating his mental interface. "I got it at the exact same time I acquired my core."
"What's the nomenclature on it?" Hakon asked, his interest piqued.
"The Skill Stone of the World," Alex replied, reading the item description directly from his inventory screen.
The two Noble Rankers went entirely rigid.
"That's…" Hakon exhaled slowly, his face tightening with genuine disturbance. "Alex, I think you really are a walking cheat code."
"For once, I am in complete agreement," Franklin murmured, his voice laced with profound envy.
"What do you mean?" Alex asked, genuinely bewildered by their reactions. "Is it that rare?"
"Alex, look at yourself," Hakon listed, ticking the points off on his fingers. "You possess an Omniarch physiology—a body fundamentally devoid of exhaustion, mortal pain, and the physical degradation that plagues every normal living being. You utilize the Core of Hegemony, which is a conceptual core tied directly to one of the Big Three conceptual entities of existence. And to top it off, you wield Emperor's Will, a one-of-a-kind conceptual artifact rumored to have been wielded by that very entity during the ancient War of the Between Lands."
Alex went quiet for a moment, looking out over the endless canopy of the giant tree. "I don't know what to tell you. In my original world, I committed suicide. The next thing I knew, I woke up inside a massive summoning circle deep within the forest surrounding Daro. There was an item waiting for me called the Gift of the World. I didn't know what else to do, so I just sat there for three days. When nothing happened, I used it. It shattered and gave me six distinct items."
"You received the absolute Sovereign treatment, then," Hakon said, awe coloring his tone. "The anomaly you call the Gift of the World is an intervention granted only to entities the world finds profoundly interesting or crucial to its balance. Recorded history states it has only manifested a handful of times across eras. A few of those instances triggered world wars that completely erased entire species from existence; others were covered up and secretly sold to ancient royalties or the ultra-rich."
Franklin nodded in agreement. "Victor Soulheart, the Phantom Sage, once noted in his research that for a Gift of the World to manifest, it requires the explicit, unanimous approval of at least four major conceptual beings. Furthermore, those beings can actively sponsor individual items within the six gifts provided. You clearly had four divine sponsors. The Book of the World is the basic foundational template, and since you just confirmed you have the Skill Stone of the World, the remaining four items must have been directly deposited by those conceptual entities."
Alex looked down at his inventory screen. "So... should I use the stone?"
"I won't tell you not to use it," Hakon advised carefully. "But if you ask for my professional opinion? You currently know dangerously little about the martial arts, skill structures, and historical lineages of Eternia. Once we clear this warped space and return to civilization, your first priority should be purchasing an information tablet from the archives of either the Magic Society or the Motsari Corporation. Heck, Ketovan might even be able to pull some strings and get you a high-tier library pass."
"About that," Alex said sheepishly, lifting his left hand to display the sleek, dark metallic band resting on his finger.
Franklin stared at it, his eyes narrowing with a flash of pure jealousy. "Is that... is that actually a Motsari Corporation personal information device?"
"Yeah, I think so," Alex murmured. "It functions almost identically to my lost skill, Voice of the World, except I can manually toggle this one on and off."
Franklin stared at him, utterly exasperated. "If you have a hyper-advanced corporate database strapped to your finger, why in the gods' names have you been asking us all these fucking basic questions?"
"I wanted to hear a real person explain it," Alex muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's easier for me to remember things when it's a conversation."
The two Noble Rankers squinted at him, their expressions heavy with deep suspicion.
Alex let out a dry, defeated chuckle, finally admitting the truth. "And... I might have entirely forgotten I was wearing it."
***