That barely visible spark of emerald light turned out to be a microscopic beast the system identified as a level four tardigrade. Never heard of it. Weird little eight-leg alien. When you kill it leaves a speck of a core whose primary quality is vitality. Why this little thing is so high in vitality I have no idea.
Emerald green is the color of vitality essence. Good to know.
The tiny core needed to be duplicated until my box was half full with what looked like green glittering sand. After merging vitality into an empty core, upgrading that with titanic, duplicating the result, and merging it back into a living tardigrade, I got a greater tardigrade.
Using the upgraded core to produce a new elixir resulted in:
Elixir of Aion
Permanent +2 to Vitality.
I drank three of these over the course of an hour. Vitality climbed from 11 to 17. My health pool expanded proportionally—2,184 maximum now, according to the interface. Body didn't change. No added muscle mass. No visible difference.
I could test my health by stabbing myself, but I think I’ll just accept that I’m harder to kill.
If these elixirs all work for every new level like the lesser Aether one did, I’ve solved my stat problem.
Still need perception and intelligence cores.
Rem stood at the lee side of a rock outcrop, studying the wind.
It came down from the mountain, steady and cold, but when it hit the stone it broke. The air spilled over the top and tumbled down the far side, creating a pocket where the pressure dropped and the gusts lost their bite. Birds would use a space like this. If there were birds.
There weren't. Not yet.
–This looks like a match.
“Does it?” Rem frowned.
He had scoured miles of land around the lake looking for the perfect zone based on the descriptions provided by those in the “intelligence working group”. That’s what they called themselves. It was getting a bit ridiculous the names all the others were coming up with. A group for this, a committee for that – he wondered if this was what going mad felt like.
He had a literal checklist of things he was supposed to be looking for as though he knew anything about what he was doing.
That irritated him. He could deal with voices. He’d been dealing with them his whole life. But something had changed since that dream and he didn’t like it. Now there were more–more and pushy and irritating.
He spent another hour searching around the outcropping for deadwood, going nearly to the treeline to find what he needed.
He dragged the first log into position, a dead pine stripped of bark and branches. The wood was heavy and awkward, but his arms didn't tire. He angled it against the stone, bracing the base with smaller rocks, then stepped back to check the lean.
–It’s good.
“Just shut up,” Rem said. “I already agreed to the plan, I don’t need to be managed like I’m a drone.”
The next log went parallel to the first, offset by half a meter. Then another, and another, building a lattice that climbed toward the overhang. Each piece had to be positioned deliberately—too tight and the structure would be rigid, vulnerable to wind stress. Too loose and it wouldn't hold.
They had made that much clear, the other hims that somehow knew more about things than he did. How did that work? He was sure he didn’t know ravens lived in communal roosts, let alone how to build one, but the others knew.
How was that possible?
He interlocked the branches, letting limbs catch and brace against one another. Some of the dead wood was brittle, cracking under pressure. He discarded those pieces and selected denser timber. The work was methodical. Lift. Position. Test. Adjust.
—Efficient. Purposeful.
He ignored the voice and kept working.
His hands moved without hesitation. Grip strength that would have strained him months ago now felt effortless. The logs were heavy—thirty, forty kilograms each—but his arms didn't tire. His breathing stayed even. No burn in his shoulders. No ache in his lower back.
The strength and vitality gains were real, even if his body looked the same.
Stone went at the base to lock the angles. He wedged smaller rocks between the logs, adjusting the density toward the windward side. The structure needed to break the wind without collapsing under it. He left the exits open toward the lake—multiple escape routes so they would feel safe.
When the frame was tall enough, he climbed partway up to test stability. The wood creaked but held. He shifted his weight from one side to the other, listening to how the structure settled. One of the upper logs had too much play. He climbed down, repositioned it, and tested again.
Better.
The roost was done.
It was built for ravens. His best hypothesis for which species might exemplify intelligence, of the ones he could actually bring here. It wasn’t a hunch. That’s what the science-others said.
Either way, the work was finished. He’d bring them in and release them here. That was all he could do. Then let fate decide if they lived or died.
He looked at it once more—dark wood against gray stone, angled to catch the lee—then turned back towards his cabin.
Saturday, Challenge Four, Day 5, 2.289
Today I stood on the outcropping just outside the cave, near the control spheres, and let my essence perception spread as wide as I could. The entire ecosystem resolved into a single, coherent system. Water essence flowed through the lake in slow, deliberate currents. The moss clung to the rocks, bright green signatures pulsing with life. Below the surface, the grooves I cleared months ago remain clear, the essence flows from the larger spheres regulating the timestreams.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Microscopic life was everywhere. Predators hunted. Prey evaded. The cycle continued without intervention.
From there I could sense it all. The roost sat on the outcrop, a dark lattice against the gray sky. The cabin I built stood at the forest's edge, weathered but intact. The training glade was visible through the trees—scorched earth and shattered stumps marking where I practiced my wand work.
Everything I built I could sense from there. Everything I changed. And I realized that none of it needed me anymore.
The lake has depth now. Not just water, but layers. Surface currents carrying oxygen down. Thermal gradients creating circulation. The moss anchoring the first tier of the food web. Microscopic grazers feeding on it. Predators feeding on them. Energy flowing upward through the system.
It's stable. Self-regulating. I could leave today and it would persist.
The others say it’s a stable complete ecosystem, ready for the next phase.
They've been more helpful over the past few weeks. Or maybe I’ve just been easing up on them.
Tried ignoring them. Doesn’t work. Tried yelling at them and getting them to shut up, but that just makes me feel alone and like an ass. Before I could pretend they were all me, just broken pieces, holdover fragments left from the failed trial.
It’s becoming harder and harder to hold onto that idea.
I’ve decided to use them like I use any other small advantage I have. I’ve already spent nearly two years inside this challenge and the list of experiments I want to run just keeps getting longer. The more I learn the more I realize how much is still left to learn.
Now being able to see the essence of all these plants, and microbes. I’ve got to get back to my alchemy experiments. I thought I would do weapons next but that will have to wait. I’ve got the science group working on an entire protocol for maximizing alchemy growth.
Alchemy. Tailoring. Then scouting the limits of this challenge area. That’s up next.
Rem sat on the outcropping, his feet dangling over the lake. An alpha direwolf parka hung over his normal clothes. He had another cut into a crude hood, keeping the cold wind off his face.
Wind whipped by cold and sharp as he summoned the customized progress display.
The standard view showed absolute values—useful for reference, but not for understanding growth. He needed a delta view. A summary of changes since the start of this challenge run.
He adjusted the parameters. The interface flickered, then resolved into a clean comparison.
Attributes:
- Strength: 11 → 17 (+6)
- Agility: 13 → 19 (+6)
- Vitality: 11 → 17 (+6)
- Intelligence: 10 → 12 (+2)
- Perception: 10 → 12 (+2)
- Essence Control: 13 → 19 (+6)
- Wisdom (Unlocked): 3
Pools:
- Health: 1392 → 2184
- Energy: 146 → 242
Skills:
- Swimming (Level 7)
- Freediving (Level 5)
- Wilderness Survival (Level 6)
- Primitive Toolcraft (Level 4)
- Primitive Construction (Level 6)
- Ecology (Level 2)
- Aquatic Biology (Level 2)
- Arcane Reverse Engineering (Level 5)
- Arcane Construction (Level 5)
- Field Research (Level 8)
- Writing (Level 5)
- Arcane Attunement (Level 6)
- Essence Perception (Level 7)
- Mental Endurance (Level 5)
- Emotional Regulation (Level 2)
- Micro-Ecosystem Architect (Level 1)
- Systems Insight (Level 1)
Professions:
- Sage (Journeyman)
- Homesteader (Apprentice)
- Survivalist (Novice)
- Wandwright (Apprentice)
- Author (Novice)
Titles Acquired:
- Chronophile
- The Hermit
- Cabinwright
- Firekeeper
- Wandbreaker
- Wandmender
- Field Scribe
- Solo Archivist
- Seedbearer
- No Stranger to Pain
- Iron Will
- Strategic Planner
- Skillseeker
Traits Acquired:
- Augmented
- Self-determined
Tolerances Unlocked:
- Pain: 6
- Burning: 6
Notable Works:
- Greater Mana Battery
- Greater Ranged Array
- Wand of Emberfilament (Epic, Level 4)
- Lake Domain Ecosystem (Self-sustaining)
- Forest Cabin (Hermitage)
- Roost
He reviewed the numbers methodically. Three hundred sixty-seven days compressed into what would register externally as three and a half hours. Nearly a full year of isolated work, distilled into attribute gains and skill progressions.
The vitality gains were permanent. The skills were internalized. The ecosystem would persist overnight. Grow. Evolve.
He closed the interface and got up, turning away from the control spheres and the glyphs carved into the rock, and walked into the cave. The lake fell behind him. The roost. The cabin. The training glade. All of it built, tested, and left to stand on its own.
He walked to the back of the cave, his essence sight guiding him better than any light could. Hand on the glyph he stepped down into his storage locker.
The challenge-worn gear came off in silence. Rough-spun tunic. Leather boots. The wands went onto the shelf—Emberfilament, the various prototypes. Then he reviewed his curated cluster of goods. That’s where his upgraded attribute cores were, along with his high-level duplication cores.
He expanded the accessible area, adding width and height, then changed back into his old clothes. Clean shirt. Standard trousers. The kind of clothes that wouldn't seem out of place.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “What’s the schedule?”
He waited.
“Slow down. Just the highlights.”
A pause. His head tilted slightly, as if listening.
“Right. Skip the long-term. What do I have to do tonight?”
Another pause. He nodded once.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll head over there and take care of that first. Then what?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Good. I promised that, didn't I? You don’t have to twist my arm.”
Silence.
He exhaled through his nose.
“Right. I’ll leave that for the gap tomorrow.”
He rubbed his thumb against the seam of his trousers, eyes tracking nothing.
“I know weapons matter. They will have to wait.”
Longer pause this time.
“…No,” he said. “That’s not a decision. That’s noise.”
He nodded again, slower.
“Good. Then we agree.”
Rem took a step and placed his hand on the glyph. He emerged from the arch, the smell of Oldetown crashing around him as he took a deep breath.
He stepped from the arch to the lockers. After retrieving his tech from storage he let his senses feel out the space around him. Oldetown came alive with the color of essence–not as bright as challenge four, but easy enough to navigate as long as he kept his range small.
“Do we have a candidate for scouting yet?”
A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. It didn’t last.
He stopped walking.
“Okay. Anything else I need to know?”
He listened.
“Mm.”
A beat.
“Yeah. I figured.”
He reached up and slipped his spectacles on before pulling up the hood on his coat, sealing himself in.
“Alright,” Rem said. “That’s enough. I’ve got it from here.”
He stood amidst the chaos of Oldetown for a second longer.
Then he moved.