Kivas stirred with a soft groan, her eyelids fluttering as the weight of dream faded and the warmth of the waking world pressed gently into her cheek.
Her head rested atop something both warm and soft—pliant yet unmoving. She blinked once, then twice. The filtered light of morning bled through the dense canopy in threads.
It was the second day of Kivas' life in Fathomi.
➤ 『Attributes』
💪 Strength (STR): 26
🧠 Intelligence Quotient (IQ): 28
🙏 Piety (PIE): 32
🛡️ Vitality (VIT): 35
💨 Speed (SPD): 28
🎯 Dexterity (DEX): 10
🍀 Luck (LUK): 25
➤ 『END OF THE WELL』
She had also defeated the Nightmare that she had just acquired, gaining +12 STR, +5 IQ, +1 PIE, +15 VIT, +9 SPD, +9 LUK for her attributes.
It was quite an easy fight too since it was basically the very same fight, and that her soul-equipped items and consumables won't use the actual on in real world.
"How long was I asleep?" Her voice was scratchy, soft as if afraid of breaking something fragile in the moment.
"Not long," Samael said above her. Her tone was quiet, the kind of gentleness reserved for things neither fully owned nor completely understood.
Fingers combed through Kivas' white strands, parting them with idle curiosity.
Kivas squinted upward, finding Samael's gaze fixed on her face. Something lingered in those eyes—a quiet pause, a restraint barely hiding longing. Kivas didn't comment on it. Her stomach growled before her mouth could.
"I need food," she muttered with lazy eyes, pushing herself upright. "A real meal. Something that doesn't blink at me from the dirt."
Samael chuckled and rose to her feet. "Then let's find something palatable."
The forest of Vaingall stood still in its dissonant silence, branches gnarled as if sculpted from scorched bone and bark. Yet, the trees bore no fruit.
The shrubs grow no bulbs. Consumable vegetation existed, but so rare it bordered on myth. If not, it tasted horrible or poisonous.
Because of that, finding anything edible or palatables in this place was quite the hassle.
As they descended from the ledge of their resting grove and entered the deeper paths of the forest, Kivas roused those questions from her mind.
And as usual, Samael began her casual exposition with the ease of someone dragging old memories from the edges of permanence.
"Vaingall was a battlefield," she said. "Long before I arrived here."
Kivas didn't know the correlation of fruitless forestry with a former battlefield that might have happened eons ago, but she was interested in the topic and took a mental note.
Kivas adjusted the straps on her gear, securing the Staring Pearl tighter to her side. "Let me guess. You caused it."
"Tempting story," Samael replied, glancing sidelong. "But no. I came after most of the ground had already been salted by death. It was... calmer when I arrived, or to be exat, properly settling in."
Kivas snorted. "What kind of calm are we talking about here?"
"Calm enough for me to survive."
Kivas stopped short. "You? Having a hard time to survive? That's a red flag."
Samael gestured ahead with a small flick of her hand, continuing the slow walk. "The forces that converged here weren't just dangerous. They were foundational. Warring constructs of world-shaping magnitude. Beings who command entire philosophies. Time fractals. Recursive fate loops. Bio-theological sovereigns."
Kivas stepped around a bent trunk, eyes scanning the bramble-drenched floor. "So you're saying you were the underdog? I remembered that you're a very powerful being, or was that just my imagination?"
Samael smiled faintly. "I was one of many powerful beings. Not the most. Certainly not the weakest. But no one walks out of Vaingall unchanged."
Kivas looked ahead again, thoughtful. "Funny. Hard to picture you having a hard time. You always seem two steps ahead."
"The fact I'm here, as a powerless Exo Human, proves I wasn't."
Kivas gave a small nod. "Fair. Though for someone who calls herself powerless, you still terrify me."
"As you should." Samael's grin returned briefly before it faded again. "But the truth is simpler. Even the most absurdly powerful entities aren't invincible in Fathomi. Power scales with risk. The more variables you draw into your life, the more possibilities one can destroy you. You're proof enough of that."
Kivas gave her a sharp look. "Was that a compliment or an insult?"
"A fact," Samael replied with a shrug. "A newborn Fateling ended up dragging a Voidling to ground level alongside the other ants."
Kivas laughed, arms folding. "This so-called ground-level Exo Human can still kill a pack of beasts by flexing."
"Reduced or not, I remain efficient," Samael agreed. "But so does unpredictability. That's why experience matters more than brute stats."
The development of this conversation didn't answer why there wasn't any food easily available in Vaingall, but Samael acted quite cute as of late, so Kivas ignored that.
A shimmer caught their attention near a break in the tree line. The unmistakable glint of a Curio shimmered beneath a twisted tree, its form half-buried in thorny roots. The air shimmered faintly around it.
Kivas' face lit up. "Treasure box!"
Samael nodded, arms folded. "Go ahead. You need the trap experience."
"Heh, just say that you're feeling lazy."
"I want to see my helpless and fumbling girlfriend grow into someone dependable."
"Aww, that's so sweet of you. But I thought you're the one who takes that position…"
Kivas approached the Curio with no hesitation. As her fingers brushed the metallic edge of the artifact, a spike of sensation pierced through her soul. Her vision blurred. Laughter echoed—not aloud, but within her bones.
Then the puzzle began.
Gears emerged within her mind's eye—interlocked, meshed, a sprawling mechanism of endless complexity. Some turned on instinct, others only moved when their siblings aligned.
Kivas could feel the pull, the anchoring of Fate Weaver threading through her consciousness. Her hands remained still in reality, but her soul began to interact. But most importantly, her Fate Weaver skill intreacts as well.
She began turning the primary gear.
The sensation deepened. She didn't hear voices, but she felt will, an echo guiding her to the right rotation, the perfect sequence of motion. She shifted another gear. The web of gears flexed, a piece clicked.
The trap unwound.
Her body relaxed as her mind returned.
The Curio creaked open.
Inside lay a half-mask made of bleached bone, carved with intricate veins of silver and red glyph. It covered only the upper half of a face, the edges notched like ancient tribal regalia.
Samael's voice purred near her ear. "You're getting rather comfortable using your Fate Weaver skill."
Kivas lifted the mask, fingers brushing along its edge. "Ever since that apotheosis attempt, I've felt it more clearly. Like I can feel when fate's twisting. Even before it pulls." She chuckled. "It helps me confirm whether the skill activates or not."
Samael accepted the mask as it was handed to her. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she examined the glyphwork, fingers trailing the etchings like a scholar deciphering ancient scripture.
"Noble-tier," she said. "Trait is, Efficiency Wrought. Reduces the Mana Psyche consumption of your skills."
Kivas whooped once and raised both fists. "Finally! A decent loot that'll stop my shotgun from sucking my mana dry!"
Samael gave a small nod. "Useful at your level. The effect diminishes the higher your total soul level, but right now, it's extremely efficient. Especially with the Remington. It'll extend your burst window."
"I'll take it. I don't care if it loses value later. I burn through Psyche like a cursed battery."
Before they could celebrate further, the world began to shimmer. A low pulse of distortion rippled across the forest. The trees stretched, the roots curled, and the very air around them rearranged with subtle finality.
Fathomi's terrain reshaped.
The canopy above opened in places it hadn't moments before. The sun rose unnaturally fast, casting long rays across areas that had been midnight-black just moments before.
Kivas stiffened, scanning the light, her hands twitching toward her weapon.
"Is this normal?" she asked.
Samael calmly turned toward the new paths being revealed. "Yes."
"Can we still find our way back to the shelter?"
"I marked it. It moves with the distortion, but I tagged it metaphysically."
Before Kivas could ask how that worked, something new reached their senses.
A smell.
Faint, savory, tinged with cooked oils and warm spice. Somewhere between grilled marrow and sun-baked grain.
Kivas sniffed. "Is that... food?"
Samael turned, expression shifting into intrigue. "A civilization, to be exact."