In their spare time, Apollyon decided to visit the Contribution center within the camp with Willard in tow. The boy obviously excited upon Apollyon's invitation; clearly, he was equally excited about garnering contribution points for his menial dream. However, Apollyon on the other hand had a much different attitude for he knew well of what was to come.
His steps echoed with a resigned heaviness as he entered the bleak building Alfredo had mentioned beforehand, a place where recruits faced tasks in exchange for contribution points. The atmosphere as Apollyon noticed was devoid of camaraderie, a stark contrast to the sense of unity he saw elsewhere in the camp. Soldiers be it Tiros or experienced guardsmen, they all moved with a dogged determination, their actions driven by a raw and selfish desire for survival.
'This is the reality they won't tell you about,' Apollyon's thoughts echoed bitterly. 'No camaraderie, no noble cause—just survival.' He recognised this scene before on his many tiresome job huntings.
The entrance hall bore symbols of authoritarian control, a constant reminder of the unforgiving reality they inhabited. Arrayed before him were cold, utilitarian terminals, each a stark reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. He approached one hesitantly, his fingers brushing the surface as it lit up with a dim glow showcasing a holographic projection that casted a pall over his subdued commitment.
The transparent screen displayed tasks that mirrored the drudgery of their existence: Assisting in city construction projects, performing thorough patrol duties, engaging in manual labor, and more. Each task underscored the relentless nature of their survival, an unfeeling demand for individual contributions.
'Here it is; the harsh truth they never shared,' Apollyon's internal monologue continued, a sharp contrast to the idealistic narratives he'd heard. 'We're not building a brighter future nor are we prestigious defenders of 'legacy'. We're merely scraping by, clawing at whatever semblance of existence we can muster.'
With a weary sigh, Apollyon tapped the screen, unveiling descriptions that emphasized the starkness of the challenges. His attention was drawn to a mission focused on city construction—a role that intensified his disdain for manual labor. 'More like slave labor.'
Apollyon looked around at the otherwise excited Tiros interacting with the cold terminals as if their lives depended on the tasks listed within, of course there was some truth to that sense, but it ran deeper than one would think.
'Just look at us—all cogs in a cruel machine', Apollyon's thoughts darkened further as he observed the other recruits. 'We're not forging bonds; we're just competing to survive, to prove we're worth a place in this ruthless world.'
Among them was Willard, a young and naive peasant boy who had chosen to follow Apollyon's lead. Willard's eyes sparkled with youthful enthusiasm; his demeanor untouched by the harshness of reality. He may have glanced upon the hardships of life but he was too young, too inexperienced to look at life under a different perspective.
'Willard, poor kid', Apollyon couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between their outlooks. 'He's still clinging to the idea that there's something noble in all of this—a chance for growth, maybe even a brighter future'.
"Apollyon, can you believe this?" Willard's voice carried a genuine excitement, a stark contrast to Apollyon's cynicism. "They say these tasks will build us into better soldiers. I mean, look around, there's a sense of purpose here."
Apollyon's eyes flickered with a mixture of pity and frustration as he regarded Willard. "Purpose, huh? These tasks aren't about growth, Willard. They're about survival, plain and simple. It's every recruit for themselves" he said with genuine honesty.
Willard's face lit up with an earnest smile. "Brother, but isn't that good? It's a chance to prove ourselves, look at these contribution points—we can use them to improve our status, get better opportunities."
Apollyon's response was a silent nod. However, his thoughts were laden with a heavy dose of skepticism. 'Contribution points won't change the fact that we're living in a harsh world. They're just a way to keep us in line, to make us believe there's something to strive for.'
As the chamber enveloped them with an air of grim practicality, a decurion's voice resonated, recounting stories of relentless effort, individual progress, and the grim satisfaction that came from eking out survival.
'They talk about satisfaction, about personal growth', Apollyon's internal monologue continued to contrast. 'But I can see through it. This isn't growth; it's adaptation to a reality that doesn't care about anyone's potential.'
Apollyon's thoughts about the contribution system and its rewards were laced with a mix of understanding and resignation. As he went through the motions of tasks and accumulated contribution points, his perspective on the system's underlying function became increasingly clear to him.
'This contribution system,' he mused bitterly, 'it's a way to keep us tethered to their demands, to make us believe that we have some control over our fate. But it's just another layer of control, another way for them to manipulate us.'
The accumulation of contribution points held a certain allure, a promise of better opportunities, improved status, and perhaps a chance to escape some of the harshest tasks. Yet, Apollyon saw it for what it was: a mechanism to keep the recruits engaged, to give them a fleeting taste of progress while still ensnared within the confines of the military's grasp.
'Contribution points are just breadcrumbs they toss at us', he thought with a touch of bitterness. 'They want us to focus on these rewards so that we don't see the bigger picture it's the fact that we're nothing more than expendable pawns in their game'.
Apollyon's cynicism was further fueled by his observations of how recruits like Willard embraced the contribution system with hopeful enthusiasm. He saw the way Willard's eyes lit up at the thought of accumulating more points, his eagerness to earn them shining through his youthful naivety.
'Willard sees contribution points as a way to prove himself', Apollyon reflected. 'He believes in the system, believes that if he works hard enough, he'll rise above this grim reality. But I know better. I know that no matter how many points he earns, the system won't change—the cruelty will remain.'
He understood that the rewards were carefully designed incentives, meant to dangle just out of reach, urging the recruits to keep striving, keep competing, keep sacrificing their individuality for a fleeting taste of progress.
Apollyon thought with a bitter twist to his lips. 'I won't be blinded by their false promises. I'll play their game, earn my contribution points, but I won't let it cloud my judgment. The rewards they offer are just a distraction from the harsh reality we're trapped in.'
After scrolling needlessly, Apollyon chanced upon a section titled "Immunes", it was under the never-ending tasks revolving around manual labor. This section unlike the rest had a more practical purpose rather than pure muscle consumption; it listed tasks specific to various skilled roles including woodwork, smithing, herbalism, medical services, engineering, logistics and technical supports. Additionally, the contribution rewards were a lot higher in comparison to the former.
In particular, he inspected the tasks under the medical services section due to his acquaintance with Seraphina. These tasks included various degrees of medical ordeals ranging from field dressings to emergency surgeries. However, he chose to overlook these for now since he has not been in contact with Seraphina; he made sure to ask her about these the next time they met.
The only other craft he was vaguely familiar with was smithing; he had just about the basics learnt off by heart thanks to Regis' 'kind' efforts. The rest of the crafts and skills he blatantly ignored such as the likes of engineering, his puny brain could only take a couple more skills before he felt it would burst.
Apollyon observed Willard beside him silently, he was similarly looking at his own terminal, noting that he had already chosen a construction task. Willard's youthful enthusiasm was evident in the way he eagerly accepted the task, seemingly undaunted by the weight of the challenges it held.
As Apollyon watched, a conflict arose within him. He debated whether to approach Willard and suggest an alternative task, one that might offer more tangible rewards or a chance to explore skills that could be more valuable in the long run. A part of him wanted to shield Willard from the harshness of reality, to spare him the disillusionment that Apollyon himself had experienced.
But then another thought prevailed, a belief that exposing Willard to the reality of their circumstances might be more valuable in the long run. Apollyon himself had already gone through the process of awakening to the harsh truths of the world in his previous life, and he recognized that this experience had shaped him in ways he couldn't have anticipated.
And so, Apollyon chose not to intervene. He let Willard navigate the challenges and labor of the construction task on his own. He believed that firsthand experience would be a more effective teacher than any words of caution or advice he could offer.
The young boy beamed at him, "Hey, Brother!,", his voice carrying an eagerness that was almost infectious. "Guess what? I picked the construction task! I figured it's a chance to get hands-on and really contribute to the town. You know, make a difference."
Apollyon studied Willard's expression, a mixture of emotions playing across his own features. He saw the determination in Willard's eyes, the belief that he was embarking on a meaningful path.
"That's... a solid choice, Willard," Apollyon replied, his tone carrying a touch of solemnity.
"So, dear brother," Willard began with an inquisitive smile, "what task are you thinking of picking? I mean, there are so many options here. Are you leaning towards something specific?"
Apollyon met Willard's gaze, his thoughts momentarily pausing as he considered his response. He knew that his choice could influence Willard's own perspective, and he wanted to be honest while also subtly opening Willard's eyes to other options.
"I'm still deciding," Apollyon replied, his tone measured. "There are a few tasks that caught my attention, especially the tasks under the immunes section" he deliberated, "but I haven't made a final decision yet."
Willard's enthusiasm was undiminished as he leaned in, his curiosity evident. "Immunes…?" Willard recalled knowingly. "I looked at that section earlier but unfortunately, I don't have any experience with any of the tasks listed down there" he said dejectedly whilst looking at the disproportionate contribution rewards listed. He knew the rewards for Immunes tasks were double the amount of the basic tasks.
"Father never taught me anything along those lines" he added bitterly.
Apollyon could only offer a nod of condolence as an act of pity for Willard, truthfully, he wasn't sure if he should help him out after all, he thought of the boy as nothing more than a naïve little soul with an unusually determined heart. Quite frankly, Willard wasn't high on his list of important people.
All this talk about 'Sworn-brothers' didn't even register in his mind; he was a realist and he understood what that truly meant. It certainly wasn't forged in a single day!
Apollyon stood before the terminal, his gaze fixed on the array of tasks displayed on the holographic screen before him. Each option seemed like a stepping stone into a world of laborious challenges. The dim glow of the screen still casting a shadow over his contemplative expression as he deliberated his choice.
Under the smithing section, he saw hundreds of similar tasks revolving around the production of various equipment and tools as well as the refinement of metal ores. Luckily, he was familiar with most of the tasks listed here.
As his fingers hovered over the options, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. He knew that regardless of the task he chose, it wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Apollyon's eyes settled on one task in particular: "Smelting Assistance."
With a reluctant expression, Apollyon selected the task by placing his personal stamp against the terminals stamp port causing the holographic projection to generate the sentence 'Task accepted'.
However, before he could react to the holographic prompt, he heard a distinct sound within his mental world. He instinctively examined his internal system with feelings of trepidation and slight anticipation.
And then he saw it.
Ding!
Hovering inside his mental space, as if projected onto thin air, was a translucent interface similar to the other screens he was familiar with. It glowed with soft hues of blue and gold, the colors swirling and melding like liquid magic. At the top of this new screen was a single, radiant word crystallized: "Quests". The word seemed to pulse with a rhythmic resonance, as if it were the very heartbeat of the contribution hall itself. He felt a connection to it, as though the concept of quests had been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged. Below it, words began to materialize, forming a string of words that seemed to be addressed to him.
"Report to the nearby Smithy workshop (Chain)", it read out; further down from this text was another piece of information,
"Rewards: +50 experience points".
Apollyon's breath constricted as he comprehended the significance of this moment. He had always believed he had a comprehensive understanding of his 'simple' system. He felt that he had already discovered everything that his offered to him, in fact he feared it would be so and in that case he wouldn't spare a chance to curse his luck for being bestowed a rather 'useless' system that paled in comparison to the stories he once read.
In spite of that, this new revelation defeated all his previous thoughts about his system and he couldn't help but feel extremely elated for he knew that there could be possibilities of new functions becoming available to him in the future.
Apollyon traced the bottom part of the task bestowed onto him at the 'Rewards' section, his thoughts churning in a whirlwind of contemplation. The revelation that completing quests would earn him experience points triggered a cascade of reflections within him, each thought intertwining with the next, shaping his understanding of this new aspect.
'This changes everything!' he mused.
For years, he had long wondered how to increase his level 1 status; he had many theories but no concrete method to increase his progress in this regard. But now, he was definitely sure that completing quests would indirectly progress his 'Level' through the acquisition of 'experience points'.
He was well aware of this leveling system since it was the basic method for 'leveling up' in the games he had played back on Earth; the only other way he was familiar with was through the action of killing enemies who drop 'experience points' as a reward for vanquishing their existences. However, Apollyon himself, has not tested this theory yet for he hasn't had the chance to encounter any organism that deemed itself 'an enemy', this was a theory he would have to test in the future.
Next, he looked back at the instructions given by the systems new function, 'Report to the nearby smithy?!' he pondered deeply, 'Such vague words.'
'Logically speaking, this should be prompted as a consequence of accepting the smelting task; but why structure the mission in this way if the original task clearly states otherwise. Shouldn't it follow the original tasks instructions? Furthermore, what does the 'Chain' description imply?'
Apollyon ruminated for a while interpreting the instructions with different perspectives before coming up with a sound theory, 'A chain mission would imply a series of tasks which aim to complete the overall quest' he thought unknowingly. 'But wouldn't that mean multiple rewards? That can't be! There must be a catch somewhere'. He knew too well about the intricacies of his personal system, there would always be a flaw or at least an inconvenience.
He recalled the fact that his Encyclopaedia function was more of a knowledge bank filled with information that he has been exposed to, however, he was required to memorize them off by heart if he wanted to retain the information otherwise it would remain collecting dust within the chasms of his brain until future browsing; it was truly inefficient. There were also the restrictions revolving around his inventory function.
Therefore, Apollo could only expect the bare minimum when it came to his personal system and its handicapped functions.
'Such is the life of poor little me…' he lamented in deep sighs.
"Bro-Brother, are you alright?" Willard said aloud, his voice containing a mix of concern and confusion.
Snapping out of his illusory thoughts, Apollyon jolted with a surprise before glancing back at his acquaintance, "Yeah, I'm alright, was just thinking about stuff" he reassured.
"…"
"Sure…" muttered Willard as he cocked his head to the side, "You became unresponsive all of a sudden for quite some time; it was weird" he trailed unsure of what he had witnessed.
"Don't worry about it man. Here look I accepted this task" he pointed towards the holographic projection displayed by the terminal.
"Smelting? What is that?"
"Its when you-…..nevermind, just about rocks and stuff" Apollyon replied uncaringly, "Alright lets go, these contribution points cant be obtained just by standing around".
"I guess so….Alright!" remarked the naïve boy before parting ways to their respective destinations.