Consciousness returned like a Windows 95 computer trying to load a modern video game, slowly, with concerning noises, and with the distinct possibility that something important had crashed in the process. The first thing I noticed was light. Not the harsh fluorescent buzz of my streaming setup, but warm, golden illumination that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
I cracked open my eyes and immediately regretted every life choice that had led me to this moment.
"Oh, come on," I groaned, staring up at a domed ceiling that belonged in a cathedral designed by someone with both unlimited budget and severe psychological issues. "Why does everything here scream 'final boss room'? Where's the exit sign? The gift shop? At least a vending machine?"
The space around me was massive, and I mean massive in the way that makes you question the structural engineering capabilities of whatever civilization built it. Stone columns the size of skyscrapers stretched toward the ceiling, carved with enough detail to make Michelangelo weep with inadequacy. But it was the statues that really caught my attention.
Colossi. Dozens of them, arranged in concentric circles around what appeared to be an altar at the center of the chamber. Each one stood at least thirty feet tall, arms crossed in poses of either eternal vigilance or cosmic constipation. Their faces were twisted into expressions that managed to be both grotesque and somehow... reverent? Like they were contemplating the universe's greatest joke while simultaneously being horrified by the punchline.
I pushed myself to my feet, brushing off what I hoped was just dust and not the cremated remains of previous trial participants. The floor beneath me was made of polished obsidian inlaid with golden runes that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. Very dramatic. Very ominous. Very much the kind of place where protagonists either gained ultimate power or died horribly.
"This isn't the throne room," I muttered, turning in a slow circle to take in the full scope of my new prison. It felt familiar, like a distorted echo of the place I'd just escaped, but larger. Older. More... holy? "It's like someone took the throne room and fed it nothing but protein powder and existential dread for a few millennia."
That's when I noticed something that made my blood run cold. The air here felt different. Not just the temperature or humidity, but the very quality of existence seemed off. Like reality was running on deprecated software and hadn't been updated in several cosmic ages.
As if summoned by my growing unease, a cheerful voice invaded my mind with all the subtlety of a telemarketer calling during dinner:
["Congratulations! You have completed the Trial. Designation: Magicsmith Master, Level 1 achieved."]
A system screen materialized in front of me, and I immediately wished it hadn't. The interface looked like it had been designed by a committee of drunk programmers and then run through a blender. Corrupted textures flickered at the edges, text scrolled in languages that hurt to look at, and the whole thing pulsed with an energy that made my teeth ache.
["Warning: Crucible not unlocked. Requirements unfulfilled."]
"Of course they are," I sighed. "Because why would anything be simple in this cosmic joke of an existence?"
["Accessing dormant skill paths... Appraisal Affinity unlocked."]
Before I could process what that meant, knowledge flooded my mind like someone had opened a fire hose directly into my consciousness. Six distinct skill sets burned themselves into my neural pathways with all the gentleness of a branding iron:
Flame Synthesis (Lv1) – The ability to create magical fire-based alloys. Because apparently normal metallurgy wasn't complicated enough.
Arcane Shaping (Lv1) – Manipulating metal structure with mana. Finally, something that sounded useful.
Spectral Forge (Lv1) – Conjuring a temporary spiritual anvil. For when you need to do blacksmithing but don't have the budget for actual equipment.
Essence Threading (Lv1) – Infusing weapon frames with affinity essence. This one came with mental images of threading needles, but with concepts instead of thread and weapons instead of fabric.
Mana Compression Array (Lv1) – Condensing magic into a singular explosive point. The description came with a mental warning label that essentially read "Do Not Point At Face."
Eyes of Arcum (Lv1) – Appraises items, beings, and materials in the realm. This one activated immediately, and I felt my pupils change, shifting like mechanical iris adjustments behind glass.
["Target class and tier can now be identified. Be warned: level difference may cause system lag or error."]
I blinked experimentally, and suddenly the world became a lot more... informative. Data overlays appeared over everything I looked at, providing details about material composition, structural integrity, and magical resonance. It was like having a HUD in a video game, except this was apparently my life now.
"Well," I said, testing my new vision by examining one of the colossal statues. The overlay informed me it was carved from Eternal Granite (Rank: SSS) and imbued with Preservation Magic (Rank: Unknown). "At least I can finally understand what's trying to kill me."
My moment of satisfaction was, tragically, short-lived. I confidently reached out to access my inventory, a grin tugging at my lips as I recalled the mountain of divine scrolls, glittering relics, and ungodly rare ores I'd hoarded back in the throne room. Riches beyond imagination, all mine.
I could already hear the clink of gold and the crackle of forbidden enchantments calling to me. But instead of the sweet embrace of loot, what I got was... pain. Literal, retina-searing pain.
A glitchy crimson screen flashed before me, distorted like it had been chewed on by a corrupted dungeon core and coded by a demon with a vendetta.
["Inventory Sync Failed: Core Crucible not active."]
I blinked. Once. Twice. Was this some kind of twisted joke? A cruel prank by the gods of UI design? My smug smile twitched. "Ah," I muttered, voice flat. "So that's how it's going to be..."
"Fuck!"
"Are you kidding me?" I stared at the glitching interface in disbelief. "I spend a billion attempts forging a divine hammer, collect enough treasure to buy several small countries, and now you're telling me I can't access any of it?"
The system, in its infinite wisdom and poor timing, chose that moment to present me with a new quest log. The window that appeared was so dramatically over-the-top that I suspected it was compensating for something:
✦ System Quest: "Divine Commission: In the Glory of War, Steel, and Lust" ✦
Objective:Seek a worthy female vessel, one whose soul resonates with your destined path.Bind through sacred union. Transmit Essence of Convergence.Ignite the dormant Crucible Core.Catalyze the evolution of the World's Fractal Firmament.
I stared at the quest description for a long moment, my brain refusing to process what I was reading. Then I read it again. Then a third time, hoping that repetition would somehow make it less completely insane.
"WHAT kind of perverted bastard wrote this?" I shouted at the ceiling, my voice echoing off the stone with enough force to disturb dust from the carved details. "Did some cosmic incel design this system? 'Seek a worthy female vessel'? What am I, a dating app for dimensional entities?"
The memory of the shadowy figure on the throne surfaced in my mind, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature of the crypt. Had that been watching me struggle for eons just to set up this cosmic joke? Was my entire trial just elaborate foreplay for some divine being's twisted sense of humor?
"If I ever meet whoever's responsible for this," I muttered, "I'm going to forge a very special hammer specifically for the purpose of therapeutic skull adjustment."