Kenji practically tumbled out of his room, nearly colliding with Foreman Grum's imposing figure. The man was built like a barrel, with thick arms, a perpetually flushed face, and a scowl etched deep into his features.
"There you are!" Grum bellowed, his voice echoing in the narrow corridor. "Sun's been up for an hour, slacker! Think you can just sleep in whenever you fancy? Think the floors scrub themselves?"
"N-no, Foreman," Kenji stammered, adopting the subservient posture the original boy seemed to favor. "I... I wasn't feeling well last night."
Grum snorted, unconvinced. "Not feeling well? Or out causing trouble again? Don't think I didn't hear about you being late back last night."
Kenji's face fell again. He did not expect that news to reach Grum's ears so fast.
"Since you're so full of energy you can stay out past curfew and sleep in, you can take on extra duties today. You'll sweep the Outer Sect courtyard – all of it – dust the statues in the main hall, and clean the latrines for the east wing dormitories. Maybe a hard day's work will remind you when to report!"
Kenji's stomach sank. That was easily double the usual workload. "Yes, Foreman," he mumbled, keeping his eyes fixed on the grimy floor.
"Get to it then! And don't let me catch you slacking!" Grum gave him a rough shove towards the supply closet before stomping off, already yelling at another unfortunate servant.
The day was grueling. Kenji's body, still recovering despite the restful sleep, protested every movement. Sweeping the vast courtyard under the increasingly hot sun left him drenched in sweat. Dusting the towering, ornate statues in the main hall required precarious climbing on rickety ladders, and the sheer amount of dust made him cough relentlessly. The latrines... well, the less said about cleaning those, the better. Every task was menial, exhausting, and soul-crushing, reinforcing his position at the absolute bottom of the Academy's hierarchy.
By midday, he was famished and aching all over. He trudged wearily towards the servants' mess hall, a noisy, crowded room filled with the smell of stale sweat and cheap stew. He joined the queue, receiving the standard ration: a bowl of thin, watery gruel with a few unidentifiable vegetables floating in it, and a chunk of hard, dark bread.
He found an empty spot at a rough wooden table and began to eat, the bland food tasting like ash in his mouth. Around him, other servants wolfed down their meager portions. He noticed a few furtively exchanging small coins with the cooks for an extra piece of bread or a slightly thicker ladle of stew.
This world's currency, he recalled from the boy's memories, was based on copper, silver, and gold. One hundred copper coins equalled one silver coin, and one hundred silver coins made one gold coin.
An errand boy like him might earn perhaps thirty or forty copper coins a week if they were diligent and lucky enough not to incur fines from Grum.
That extra piece of bread cost five coppers – a significant expense. Buying a slightly better meal, maybe with a scrap of meat, could cost fifteen or twenty coppers, a luxury most could only afford once or twice a month.
"Should I take out some money from my ring?" Kenji thought.
However, he quickly dismissed that thought.
A memory surfaced – the original boy, carefully saving a few copper coins, only to have them snatched away by larger, stronger servant bullies who patrolled the mess hall like sharks demanding protection fees
The boy hadn't even dared to fight back, but still was beaten up for hesitating to give the money quickly.
"Hmph, what protection? In reality, they were just taking money from the weak." Kenji mused angrily.
But for now, revealing even a single silver coin, let alone gold, would be suicide. Where would a penniless errand boy get such money? He'd be accused of theft, likely beaten, and possibly expelled or worse. The wealth was useless if he couldn't access it safely.
"Strength, I need strength first."
Kenji forced down the last of the tasteless gruel, and left quickly, determined to finish his work as soon as possible so that he could get back to exploring the codex that he had gotten earlier.
The afternoon brought more back-breaking labor, but time ticked by.
Finally, as dusk settled, Grum dismissed the servants. Kenji, ignoring the aches and pains, practically sprinted back to the relative safety of his tiny room. He barred the flimsy door, his heart pounding not from exertion, but anticipation.
Now was the time. Time to try Malakor's legacy – the Codex of Souls.
He sat cross-legged on the lumpy mattress, closing his eyes and focusing inward. Slowly, the Codex of Souls appeared in his mind. Only the first page was clear, the others shrouded in mist.
The first page detailed the foundational technique: Shadow Connection. It described how to sense and gently draw upon the ambient 'dark' or 'death' energy that permeated the world, a subtle counterpart to the vibrant 'life' energy he'd seen as colorful motes. It involved specific breathing patterns, mental visualizations, and guiding this faint energy into his own body to nourish his soul and establish a connection to the necromantic path.
He followed the instructions meticulously.
"Breathe in slowly, visualize the world fading to shades of grey, reach out with my senses...Hai Ah!"
He felt... He felt... nothing.
Just the usual thrum of life magic, the colorful motes dancing behind his eyelids. No grey energy, no subtle pull of the shadow's power.
"What is happening?"
He tried again. And again. He focused harder, visualized more intently, held the breathing pattern until his lungs burned. Still nothing. The motes of life energy occasionally flickered in response to his concentration, but the specific 'dark' energy the Codex described remained utterly elusive. It was like trying to tune a radio to a station that didn't exist.
Soon, hours passed by.
"Damn it! I can't sense anything. Is this codex fake?"
Kenji tried to search for explanations, but soon shook his head.
"The riches and wealth are real. The map is real. There is no way the Codex is fake. That means..." Kenji muttered, tears welling in his eyes.
"That means.... that it is I who is still trash!"