After dinner, Eryndra cleared the table with efficient movements. Astraxion returned to her study, but this time, she didn't close the door. Xylon lingered in the sitting area, unsure of his next move.
Eryndra approached him, her hands empty, her posture straight. "The storage room has a spare set of exercise clothes. Simple trousers and a shirt. They are in the chest. Wear them tomorrow at dawn. Meet Sergeant Vance at the southern training ground. He will know you are from the Commander's unit."
"Okay."
She studied him for a long moment. The chain on her neck gleamed in the lamplight. "You spoke to her during dinner. You did not overstep. That is… acceptable."
It was a small validation. Xylon felt a thread of connection form. "I only want to help."
"Help," Eryndra repeated, the word still laden with skepticism. "Help by surviving the training. Help by not becoming a burden. Help by…" She trailed off, her blue eyes flicking towards the study door. "By reminding her to rest. When I cannot."
There it was. The admission. The crack in her armored devotion. She couldn' be everywhere. She had duties, constraints. The collar around her neck was a physical limit, too—it marked her as a servant, restricting her access to certain areas of the fort, especially those with high Aether concentration. She couldn't follow Astraxion into every meeting, every briefing.
Xylon understood. "I'll do that."
Eryndra's gaze hardened again. "Do not mistake this for trust. It is… tactical allocation of resources."
Xylon almost smiled. The yandere maid, calculating even in her vulnerability. "Understood."
She turned and walked away, heading upstairs, presumably to her room.
Xylon remained in the sitting area, the quiet of the house settling around him. He opened his System Interface mentally. The blue overlay appeared.
Achievement Points: 10
Stats:
- Level: Dormant
- Strength: 5
- Agility: 4
- Endurance: 3
- Aether Affinity: 0
Shop: Locked
Achievements: Saved by a Beauty (Completed).
Ten points. What could he do? He focused on the Stats section. A sub-menu appeared: Point Allocation. He could invest points to increase a stat by 1 point per 5 Achievement Points. It was expensive. But he needed a foundation.
He considered. Strength? Agility? Endurance was crucial for training. He selected Endurance. A confirmation prompt glowed. Invest 5 Achievement Points to increase Endurance by 1?
He confirmed.
A warm sensation flowed through his body, subtle but real. It wasn't a surge of power, but a settling, a slight reinforcement of his muscle fibers, his cardiovascular capacity. His Endurance stat ticked up to 4. His points dropped to 5.
He felt… slightly more robust. Not transformed, but improved. It was a start.
He then looked at the Achievements list. There was a new entry, unlocked after the first.
Visible Achievement: First Step
Description: Join a military training drill.
Reward: 5 Achievement Points.
That was tomorrow's goal. Five more points. He could then potentially increase another stat, or save them.
He closed the interface and stood. He went upstairs to the storage room. The chest held the exercise clothes—simple gray trousers and a loose white shirt. He changed out of his Earthly jeans and jacket, feeling oddly vulnerable in the unfamiliar garments. They fit well, though.
He lay on the bed, the thin mattress firm beneath him. The window showed a slice of the fort's night sky, now a deep indigo with streaks of green—the residual Aether glow from the central reactor. He could hear distant sounds: the hum of generators, the occasional shout of a patrol change.
His mind wandered. Kael. The soldier who would die tomorrow. In the game, his death was a minor tragedy, a reminder of the unit's fragility. Xylon had never interacted with him much in gameplay, but he knew the name. Kael was an illegitimate son of a minor noble, sent to the Stromveil unit as a punishment. He was young, eager to prove himself, and he died in a Crawler swarm, protecting a fellow soldier.
Could Xylon save him? He had no power. He was Dormant. He would be in training, not on the deployment. But… knowledge was a weapon. He knew the Crawler nest location from the game maps. He knew the specific ridge where the swarm would erupt. He knew the tactical error the unit would make—they'd split into two groups, and the left flank would be overwhelmed.
If he could warn Astraxion… but how? He was an unknown. His knowledge would seem suspicious, impossible. He couldn't reveal his game lore.
Maybe… through observation? He could suggest a different strategy based on… on what? He had no military experience.
The problem gnawed at him. He was here to change the story, but the story was already moving, and he was a leaf in the stream.
He slept fitfully, dreams interlaced with game visuals and the real, palpable fear of Eryndra's dagger.
Dawn came with a sharp, mechanical buzzer from somewhere in the fort. Xylon woke, dressed in the exercise clothes, and descended. The house was quiet. Astraxion's door was closed—she must have left earlier for pre-deployment briefings. Eryndra's door was also closed.
He went to the kitchen, found a simple breakfast prepared—a bowl of grain porridge and a cup of water. Eryndra had left it for him, another silent provision.
He ate quickly, then left the house, following the directions to the southern training ground. The fort was alive with morning activity. Skiffs—small, agile aerial vehicles with twin Aether engines—were being loaded on a launch pad. Soldiers in full combat gear moved with purpose. Xylon saw Astraxion among them, her uniform crisp, her captain's hat back on her head. She was speaking to a group of soldiers, her posture commanding, her purple eyes focused. She looked different—the sleepy kindness was buried under a layer of operational intensity.
He didn't approach. He walked to the training ground, a large, dusty area marked with obstacle courses, weight stations, and running tracks. A group of about twenty people, men and women in similar exercise clothes, stood in a loose formation. They looked like auxiliaries—non-combat support, or trainees.
A man with a stern face, broad shoulders, and a sergeant's insignia on his shirt stood before them. Sergeant Vance. His eyes scanned the group, missing nothing.
"New face," Vance said as Xylon approached. "You. Name."
"Xylon."
"From?"
"Commander Stromveil's unit. Temporary residence."
Vance's eyes narrowed slightly. "The Commander's charity case. Fine. You join the drill. You keep up. You fall behind, you're out. This is not a playground."
Xylon nodded, joining the group.
The drill began. It was brutal. Running laps around the track, then obstacle courses—climbing walls, crawling under nets, hauling weighted sacks. Xylon's body, even with his Endurance slightly boosted, screamed in protest. His muscles burned, his lungs gasped for air. He pushed himself, driven by the fear of failure, of disappointing Eryndra's tactical allocation, of losing Astraxion's tentative offer.
He kept up. Not at the front, but in the middle of the pack. He saw others falter, drop out, vomit from exhaustion. He pushed through.
After an hour, Vance called a break. Xylon collapsed onto the dusty ground, his body trembling. He opened his System Interface. A notification glowed.
Achievement: First Step – Completed.
Reward: 5 Achievement Points.
He had ten points again. He could boost another stat. Agility might help with the obstacle courses. He invested 5 points into Agility, raising it from 4 to 5.
Another subtle wave of reinforcement. His joints felt looser, his movements slightly more fluid. It wasn't a miracle, but it was a cumulative edge.
The drill resumed—weight training. Hauling heavy bars, doing push-ups, carrying partners. Xylon struggled, but he endured. His new stats gave him just enough to stay in the game.
Throughout, he watched the main deployment area. The skiffs lifted off, rising into the morning sky with a low hum. Astraxion's unit was gone, heading to the eastern ridges. The Crawler nest. Kael's fate.
The training ended two hours later. Vance dismissed the group, his expression unchanged. "Tomorrow, same time. Those who survived today, come back. Those who didn't, find other work."
Xylon walked back to the house, his body aching but his mind clearer. He had passed the second test. He was still in the game.
The house was empty when he returned. He cleaned himself with a basin of water in the storage room, changed back into his Earthly clothes for now, and waited.
He waited for hours. The silence was oppressive. He thought of the deployment, of the swarm, of Kael. He opened his System Interface again, looking for anything useful. The Shop was still locked. Achievements list had no new visible entries. He was stuck.
Late in the afternoon, the sound of skiffs returning echoed through the fort. He went to the window. He saw them landing, but the mood was… tense. Soldiers disembarked, some limping, some being carried. There were casualties.
He left the storage room, descending to the first floor. He heard the front door open.