The cave was nestled behind a waterfall—a hidden place of mist and solitude that only revealed its secrets to those willing to brave its cold, relentless spray. Outside, the cascading waters hid it well, making the cave seem smaller than it was. But within, the chamber stretched wide, with walls of glistening stone and a ceiling veined with intricate cracks that seemed to hint at a story buried deep within the mountain itself.
I stood in the center, fists clenched and ready, breathing in the damp, mineral-rich air. A year had passed since Marina and I had gone our separate ways. Time—a strange, inconsistent force. If I didn't know better, I'd think it an illusion altogether. Yet, within that illusion, I'd gained knowledge, refined my techniques, and learned the subtle language of water.
My fist sliced through the air in a practiced motion, and with it, water sprang up from the pool at my feet, transforming into a spear in my hand within the blink of an eye. With a flick of my wrist, the spear reshaped, transitioning from offense to defense, gliding around me in a liquid spiral, an endless loop of form and substance.
In a world that often bent or shattered the laws of logic, water remained an anchor—a fluid constant in its transience. Ice was merely another form, solid yet still yielding to the same principles. Why others saw water and ice as separate elements was beyond me; it was only the perception that shifted, not the essence. Perhaps the world's constant need to compartmentalize everything—water, ice, life, death—was a way to avoid facing the uncomfortable truth that all things were bound in an endless, fluid cycle.
Nibbles, my golden-furred companion, chomped away on a small red core a few meters away, his tiny eyes glinting with amusement as he watched my every movement. His company was oddly comforting, not just for the companionship but for his absurd loyalty—a loyalty I wasn't sure I had earned. I spared him a glance as I ended my drill, and he looked up, cocking his head as though to ask, "Finished already?"
"Status," I murmured, letting the familiar screen blink into view.
{True name: Chains of Liberation}
{Current name: Alypos Ilias (????th reincarnation)}
{Age: 13}
{Rank: F- -> F+/E-}
{Affinities: Water (100%), Life (100%), Death (70%), Ice (100%), Lightning (85%), Pain (100%), Soul (80%)}
{Attributes: [Child of Water], [Fated], ???}
{Aspect: Evolution, ???, ???}
{Race: Human (Max: E-)}
{Strength: 6.4 -> 9/10 (F+)}
{Agility: 6.7 -> 9.2/10 (F+)}
{Constitution: 6.2 -> 9/10 (F+)}
{Dexterity: 7 -> 9.6/10 (F+)}
{Charm: 8 -> 8.8/10 (F)}
{Mana: 7.7 -> 9.7/10 (F+)}
{Luck: 2.1 -> 4.8/10 (G+)}
{Skills: Water Manipulation Stage 1 (D+), Aqua Healing (E+), Hell viewing (E)}
{Combat: Flowing Style Level 5 (Quasi-master)}
A few improvements here and there, a slight increase in strength and agility… Nothing too surprising. Growth, slow and steady, but growth nonetheless. Still, I was ready to see if the limits set by the Karmic System were real boundaries or mere lines drawn in the sand. I harbored a suspicion that it was less omniscient than it claimed to be—a guide, perhaps, but no god.
Over the past six months, I'd kept to a rigorous schedule. The cave had become my refuge, offering a stable environment and the perfect cover from the prying eyes of the creatures that roamed this forest's inner circle. After that brutal battle with the E-rank gorilla—a fight I'd only barely survived by plunging into the waterfall—I'd discovered this sanctuary. My former goblin den had been useful, but this cave was far superior. It offered a sense of security, a place to refine my techniques without interruption, and the tactical advantage of water all around me.
Nibbles, of course, had been thrilled. I wasn't sure if it was the new home or the bounty of red cores I fed him as part of my experiments, but he'd shown visible improvements too. I suspected he'd unlocked a light affinity, likely due to his perpetual cheer and his unnervingly pure heart. I almost pitied him; if he ever realized just how cruel the world could be, he'd find the disillusionment unbearable.
The core experiments were… enlightening. Goblin cores from lower ranks had no effect on me anymore, but they seemed to fuel Nibbles's growth effectively. If it helped him stay by my side a little longer, then I didn't mind the cost.
It was hard to say if I trusted him—trust was, after all, a currency too easily spent and rarely returned. But if he had one skill above all, it was resilience. Perhaps that's why he fit in with me, for I too was here to test my limits, to see if the Karmic System would bind me or bend beneath my will.
As for evolving my race, I had five E-rank cores in reserve. I had three reasons for holding back. First, I wanted to push my stats to their maximum before evolution. Second, I didn't know what form the evolution would take or how long it would leave me vulnerable, and I needed a safe location before undergoing such a drastic change. This cave, while secluded, was not entirely secure; it would only be a temporary refuge if something went wrong.
And finally, my third reason, and perhaps the most compelling one: I wanted to see if I could break past the race limits set by the Karmic System itself. I wanted to know if its dictates were absolute or simply a set of guiding principles crafted by beings with more knowledge than I, but not necessarily a greater understanding of power's true nature.
Power… An elusive and intoxicating thing. Most mortals wore their lust for it on their faces, masking it in polite words and false kindness. Society was a web of power—status, class, reputation—so many layers, each thicker and darker than the last. If I wanted to, I could carve out a place there, perhaps even bend it to my will. But the question I kept returning to was whether I should.
Society would demand that I don a mask, perhaps several masks, to blend in, to manipulate, to control. Yet, would I find anything of value behind those layers? Perhaps only more masks, each more fragile and hollow than the last. Here, in the wilderness, there were no facades, no pretense. My enemies showed their fangs; the jungle was, if nothing else, honest. There was clarity in its brutality—a purity I had come to respect, even crave.
Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed Nibbles scampering over, clutching another core. He nudged my leg, chittering in what sounded suspiciously like a reprimand. I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Don't tell me you're growing impatient. You, the one who gorges on cores like they're acorns?"
Nibbles looked up at me with a huff, as if to say, 'A real warrior doesn't waste time brooding, Alypos.'
I let a small, rare smile slip. "Patience, Nibbles. We'll see what's beyond the limit soon enough."
He chittered again, his bright eyes watching me as if expecting more. It struck me how odd it was to have him here, a creature with no complex motives or hidden agendas. If society was the spider's web, Nibbles was the thread—simple, unbroken, weaving through the complexities without ever becoming entangled. I couldn't decide if I envied him or pitied him for it.
"Perhaps you're right," I said softly, a hint of mirth in my voice. "Maybe all this contemplation is just stalling."
In the silence that followed, I resumed my stance, conjuring the water around me once again, shaping it, commanding it, and letting it obey my will. My Flowing Style, now at the quasi-master level, was sharper, more precise—a blade hidden within a stream. With each movement, I was reminded that even the softest element, under control, could slice through stone.
Control, discipline, clarity. These things were within reach. I was not bound by the limitations others imposed on themselves nor by those imposed upon me by a system that thought itself all-knowing. It was time to prove my theory, to push through the so-called "limit" of my race, to make a choice beyond the confines of either society or nature.
Perhaps I could carve my own path, a third way that required no masks and no chains.
"Come, Nibbles," I said, glancing at my companion. "Let's see just how far we can go."