Contribution points were the closest thing the new world had to a universal language.
They were currency, influence, proof of existence, and judgment rendered by a system that neither celebrated nor mourned. Kill monsters. Protect settlements. Seal rifts. Survive long enough to matter. Contribution points accumulated whether a person hoarded them or spent them immediately. The system only remembered what had been earned.
For most people, contribution points meant sustenance. Food packs that did not spoil. Clean water. Batteries, ammunition, first aid kits, and basic survival tools. These were priced reasonably, accessible even to low ranking survivors. Anything beyond survival was deliberately expensive.
Magical equipment. Rare techniques. Items tied to growth rather than survival.
Those were reserved for the strong.
Aldwin stood at the edge of the town square as the last of the bodies were laid to rest. The survivors had done what they could to give the dead dignity. Torn clothing was cleaned. Blood was washed away. Names were written on scraps of metal and wood when gravestones were not available.
His uncle lay among them.
His sister lay beside him.
Aldwin did not cry.
He had already emptied himself of tears in the quiet hours before dawn. What remained was something heavier, a pressure that sat behind his ribs and refused to move.
The townspeople gathered in silence.
There were no prayers. No invocations of gods who had allowed rifts to tear open reality. Instead, names were spoken. Each followed by a pause, a moment of stillness in which the living acknowledged the dead.
Flambe lowered his massive head, coils resting against the cracked pavement. Hatch stood with his axe planted into the ground, posture rigid. Corvus watched from above, wings tucked tight, black eyes scanning the horizon.
The demons did not understand funerals, but they understood finality.
When the pyres were lit, Aldwin turned away.
Smoke rose into the air, carrying grief with it.
The system waited until it was over.
[Contribution Points Updated]
[Total Contribution Points: 77,981]
The number settled into Aldwin's awareness, followed immediately by another notification.
[Global Ranking Updated]
Rank 92. Aldwin Everett
Gift: Past Life Embodiment
Below his name, two others appeared.
Rank 91. Norman Wheeler
Gift: Beast Master
Total Contribution Points: 78,043
Rank 93. Daigo Taguchi
Gift: S Tier Necromancy
Total Contribution Points: 75,721
Aldwin stared at the list longer than he expected.
Ninety two.
Not impressive in isolation. Terrifying in context.
Someone had noticed him.
That realization carried weight.
A survivor approached him shortly after. A man with soot stained clothes and a healing bandage wrapped around his arm.
"The system terminal is active," he said. "People are waiting."
Aldwin nodded and followed.
The terminal manifested near the town hall, a translucent interface hovering above fractured marble. Survivors gathered nearby, watching quietly as Aldwin stepped forward.
He opened the contribution menu.
He spent points immediately.
Food crates. Water purification units. Medical kits. Portable generators. Batteries. Ammunition. Repair tools.
Each purchase caused items to materialize neatly, stacked as though the system understood logistics better than humanity ever had.
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"This will keep us alive," someone whispered.
Aldwin continued.
He invested in reinforced barricades, early warning mana sensors, and automated defense platforms rated for low tier monsters. The town would not be helpless again.
When he was finished, his remaining points had dropped significantly.
His rank did not change.
The system remembered what he had earned.
Not what he kept.
As the final purchase completed, three new notifications appeared.
[Milestone Rewards Unlocked]
[10,000 Contribution Points Achieved]
[30,000 Contribution Points Achieved]
[50,000 Contribution Points Achieved]
Aldwin opened the first.
[Reward Granted: Mana Condensation Tome]
Knowledge flowed into his mind. A technique designed for those without Mana Hearts. Slow. Inefficient. Painful. It taught how to compress ambient mana, forcing it to circulate more efficiently through the body.
A foundation.
He opened the second.
[Reward Granted: Artificial Mana Heart]
The sensation hit him like a sledgehammer.
A pressure formed in his chest, burning and tightening as mana rushed inward. Aldwin dropped to one knee, teeth clenched as something new took shape within him. Not a natural Mana Heart, but a stabilized construct grown from his own energy.
When the pain faded, he felt it.
A steady pulse.
Mana no longer leaked away.
It stayed.
He opened the final reward with shaking hands.
[Reward Granted: Tidecaller's Staff]
The staff materialized before him, hovering briefly before settling into his grasp. Its shaft was pale blue crystal reinforced with silver channels, runes etched along its length that resonated with water mana. At its head rested a sapphire core that pulsed in time with his Mana Heart.
The moment he held it, his spells felt clearer. More stable. Less wasteful.
The rewards were not luxuries.
They were steps.
Tools meant to let him grow without breaking himself.
That night, Aldwin sat on the roof of his childhood home. The building was damaged, but intact. Below him, lights flickered back on across the town, powered by generators he had summoned.
His demons waited nearby.
Hatch leaned against the chimney. Flambe coiled protectively along the roof's edge. Corvus stood at Aldwin's side, silent as a shadow.
"You do not have to stay," Aldwin said quietly.
Flambe snorted softly.
Hatch shook his head once.
Corvus spoke, voice calm and sharp. "You have begun to walk a king's path. Whether you accept the title or not."
Aldwin looked out over the town.
This was not where his journey ended.
It was where responsibility began.