Kenji stared at the first page of Grima's Journal, then at the Aethelgard language guide.
His brow furrowed.
"Okay, so this symbol means 'elder' and this one means 'beast.' So 'Elder Beast'?" He scrawled it down.
"This is going to take a while. I should have paid more attention in ancient history class. Though, to be fair, 'ancient history' then was like the invention of electricity. Not dragons."
He chuckled, a dry, tired sound. His muscles still ached from the previous day's attempts at Dark Slash precision.
He had managed to avoid further property damage, mostly, but his arm felt like he'd spent ten hours chopping wood.
"Alright, Grima," he mumbled, turning back to the journal.
"Let's see what kind of secrets you've got hidden in here. Hopefully, something more useful than 'Don't stick your hand in the glowing portal like that."
Days bled into weeks in the dim, cool confines of the basement.
Kenji established a grueling routine. Mornings were for study. He carefully translated Grima's Journal.
His fingers often got smudged with ink from the cheap pen and the worn pages of the language guide.
It was a slow, challenging process; each unfamiliar symbol was a puzzle.
He learned of Aethelgard's factions: the noble Lumina, the chaotic Umbra, and the wild Sylvans.
He learned of legendary beasts and forgotten heroes.
He began to piece together a fragmented image of Shadowbane, not just as a player, but as a person.
"Shadowbane cares little for the praise of the Ascended, only for the task at hand."
Kenji read aloud from a translated passage. He paused, a strange connection forming.
"Sounds about right. Loudmouths always get the attention anyway."
Afternoons were for training. He started small. Instead of wide, destructive swings of Dark Slash.
He focused on precise, controlled movements. He set up empty paint cans as targets.
He practiced focusing the dark energy into his fist. Then, he sent out smaller, focused bursts.
"Concentrate, Kenji, concentrate,"
He'd pant, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. He tried to mimic the focused intensity of the Enforcers he'd seen on the street.
"Just a little burst… not a blast. Don't blow up the can, just… dent it."
Sizzle!
A tiny flicker of purple energy and a faint scorch mark on the can.
"Yes!" he'd shout, a triumphant fist pump. "Nice! Only took me a hundred tries, though!"
Shadow Step was next.
He practiced teleporting to certain shadows. These were found under the old workbench, behind the furnace, and in the small, dark corner by the stairs.
His initial clumsy lurches gave way to smoother, more controlled shifts. He still occasionally bumped his head, but less often.
"Okay, furnace to workbench," he'd instruct himself.
"Three feet. Aim for the shadow, not the light."
Whoosh!
He'd appear, knees bent, a bit wobbly, but exactly where he intended.
"Nailed it!" he'd cheer, a genuine laugh bubbling up.
He rarely laughed. It felt good.
He also started a rigorous physical conditioning routine.
He'd drag old tires he found in the alley, push rusty cars, and run laps around the small, overgrown yard. He noticed his body adapting faster than he thought possible.
The STR and VIT stats weren't just numbers; they were subtly enhancing his actual muscles.
He could feel it, a simmering power beneath his skin, aching to be unleashed.
"This isn't just exercise," he said one evening, dropping a heavy old engine block he had lifted easily.
"This is… levelling up my real body. My norm body."
He looked at his hands, calloused but undeniably stronger.
He also ventured out occasionally, his Aethelgard guide tucked into his backpack.
He still took odd jobs – cleaning, deliveries – using them as opportunities to observe. He kept his head down, avoided eye contact, and listened.
He watched a game born "fire summoner" heat up street food with a flick of his wrist.
He saw an "Aether Mage" effortlessly lift heavy construction materials with a shimmering blue field.
He overheard conversations in cafes.
"Did you hear about the Awakener raid on the Old Docks? Some kind of monster nest."
"Yeah, but the Guild said it was trapped by a Game Born team. The Ascended always have to clean up after the newbies."
Kenji bristled at the casual arrogance.
Ascended.
They really think they're superior just because they logged in earlier._
He felt the stirrings of a new emotion, not just resentment, but a quiet, simmering anger.
He had power, power far beyond theirs, yet he was still the "norm."
It was a secret, a weapon he was carefully sharpening.
He noticed the pervasive influence of Game Borns.
They held the most lucrative jobs, the positions of power. They guided the security forces, expert builders, and the best restaurants that offered tasty food.
The Awakeners began at Level 1. They struggled to find their place and often landed in risky, low-paying jobs.
And the Norms… they were simply pushed to the margins, like himself.
One afternoon, he was working as a delivery boy for a local restaurant. He found himself in a busy market. A sudden gust of wind, a minor skill from an impatient "Aeromancer" Game Born, sent a fruit stall toppling.
Fruits like oranges, apples, and exotic varieties lay scattered on the cobblestones. The old vendor cried out in distress.
Kenji's heart clenched. Without thinking, his perception heightened. He saw the trajectory of a rolling mango, the path of a bouncing apple.
His hand shot out, not with a flashy skill, but with the subtle, precise speed that came from his high DEX stat.
He grabbed the mango from the air before it hit a child's head. Then, he smoothly caught a falling apple with his other hand. It looked like a lucky reflex.
"Whoa, nice catch, kid!" someone shouted, amused.
Kenji just nodded. His face was blank as he quickly put the fruits back on the vendor's tipped-over stall.
He felt a jolt of satisfaction, a quiet pride.
He hadn't used a flashy skill, but he had used his enhanced abilities. And no one had noticed. Control. That's key.
He resumed his training in the basement with renewed vigor. He learned about stat allocation from the guide.
While Shadowbane's stats were set, he understood the principles.
He saw that a Dark Knight's strength came from mixing brute force with dark magic.
His low LUC (Luck) stat also shed light on the "unlucky" tales about his house.
Grima often wrote about "the corruption." It was a creeping force that threatened Aethelgard from within.
it talked about Shadowbane's strong commitment to stopping it. it also mentioned a grand final quest that was still unfinished.
"Shadowbane sought the Heart of the Eclipse. "Only its darkness can truly banish the spreading blight," Kenji read softly from the translated page.
He looked at the Quests tab in his system, scrolling through entries. There it was:
[Quest: Seek the Heart of the Eclipse (Incomplete)]
A shiver went down his spine. The old man at the antique shop had called his house "unlucky."
Perhaps it wasn't bad luck. Perhaps it was a residue of Shadowbane's final, unfinished mission.
He closed the journal, his mind buzzing. He wasn't just a powerless boy anymore. He was inheriting a legacy, a dangerous, incomplete mission.
He had the power, but he lacked the understanding, the training, the experience. And he was alone.
"The Heart of the Eclipse," he muttered, staring at the darkened basement wall.
"A spreading blight." He looked at his reflection in the ancient, dusty mirror hanging precariously on a wall.
His eyes, usually tired and resigned, now held a glint of steel.
"This isn't just about proving them wrong anymore. This is… bigger."
He clenched his fist.
"They say the game ended. They say the war was won. But something tells me, Grima, that Shadowbane knew something else. Something dark is still out there, something waiting. And I'm going to find out what."
He looked at the empty spaces in his inventory, the unexplored skills.