Everyone Has A System But Me!

There was a desk in front of us with letters written above it—letters I still couldn't read. Honestly, I was just thankful I could speak the language here. Small victories, right?

Before I could squint at the incomprehensible script any longer, Thea grabbed my arm. "Come on, we can sign up for matches later. Let's check out the bookstores."

And just like that, I was being dragged through the bustling market stalls. Merchants shouted over each other, their wares stacked high on makeshift counters. Bottles of glowing potions rattled against each other, herbs tied into bundles swung in the air, and the metallic glint of weapons peeked out from wooden crates.

The smell hit me next. Oh, the smell. Warm, savory, cooked food drifted toward me like a divine messenger. My stomach let out a growl so loud I was surprised no one turned to look.

"Thea?" I croaked out, my voice trembling with the weight of hunger.

"Yeah?" she replied without slowing down.

"Food," I gasped, trying not to let my mouth flood with drool. "Let's check it out first."

She paused mid-step, sniffed the air, and her stern expression softened. "Yeah, okay. But we're just looking. Who knows how many points it'll cost?"

We followed the scent into what I could only describe as a medieval canteen carved into the stone wall. Long wooden tables stretched across the dimly lit space, packed with teenagers laughing and eating with loud abandon. Skewers of sizzling meat filled the air with smoke and spice, and mugs overflowed with frothy liquid, leaking onto stained tablecloths.

Honestly, it smelled like paradise.

At the front, behind a rough wooden counter slick with liquid of some sort, stood an older man. His scraggly gray hair framed a face lined with age, but his bright, sharp eyes carried a lively glint. He didn't look like a recruit. No, this was someone who had worked here for years, serving hungry trainees day in and day out.

Before we reached the counter, a sudden thought struck me. I stopped Thea with a hand on her shoulder.

"Thea… if we're conscripted into the military, how long do we have to serve?"

She didn't glance back, her answer coming quick and sharp. "Three years. After that, we're citizens. Free to go off on our own."

Three years. Somehow, that number felt both short and impossibly long.

We stepped up to the counter, and Thea leaned on it with an air of casual confidence that I could never hope to replicate. "How much for your cheapest meal?"

The old man looked up, his grin wide and toothy beneath his tangled hair. "Just ten points for a skewer of Carapace Hound Meat!"

The words sunk in slowly. Carapace Hound. My mind flashed to that armored six-legged nightmare from the forest with enough teeth to stock a dentist's office.

But… I was hungry. Too hungry to care.

I turned to Thea, activating my deadliest technique: Puppy Eyes Level 10.

Her face twisted like she'd swallowed something sour. "Ugh, stop looking at me like that."

But a smile twitched at the corner of her lips, and she sighed. "Alright. One skewer."

We both held up our glowing point orbs. The old man plucked a larger skewer from behind the counter, our orbs flashed, and our bright green numbers flickered—100 dropping down to 95.

"Here you are, enjoy!" he said cheerfully, passing over the skewer.

Thea handed it to me with an amused smirk. "Here. You take the first bite."

Six cubes of grilled meat glistened on the skewer, each one slightly charred around the edges. I didn't hesitate. I popped the first piece into my mouth and… oh.

Oh.

The meat was tough, stringy, and clearly from a creature built more for survival than culinary delight. But to me? It was perfection. Savory, smoky, and real food. I let out an involuntary groan of pleasure.

Thea's eyebrow twitched upward, and without warning, she snatched the skewer back and bit into a cube herself. Her expression went through at least five stages of emotion—suspicion, surprise, joy, regret, and finally… something close to bliss.

We shuffled over to an empty spot near the wall and slumped down, passing the skewer back and forth until every last bite was gone.

When the final cube disappeared, we just sat there, backs against the cool stone wall, staring at each other with matching wide-eyed expressions.

And then we broke into laughter. Loud, unrestrained, ridiculous laughter that echoed through the canteen.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the bizarre reality of eating grilled alien dog meat in a medieval cafeteria. Or maybe it was just the simple joy of having something—anything—to eat.

Whatever it was, for that brief moment, everything felt… okay.

And honestly? That skewer of Carapace Hound Meat might as well have been a feast fit for kings.

"Alright, thanks. Now we can head to a bookstore and look for cultivation information," I said, pushing myself up and dusting off my pants.

Thea nodded, and we started walking at a more casual pace this time—no more weaving through crowds like caffeinated squirrels. The chaos of the Hall of Heroes buzzed around us, but we stayed focused, navigating through narrow alleys and past noisy vendors until we reached a store tucked beneath a carved stone archway.

The sign above the door was written in the same swirling script I still couldn't read, but the rows of books visible through the wide glass windows made it clear enough: bookstore. And not a tiny one either. Shelves packed with leather-bound tomes and stacks of paperback books stretched up to the ceiling. Hundreds of them.

Honestly, the sheer volume of knowledge here made the world feel a little less medieval and a little more… well, modern. Or at least functional.

Thea walked in first, her boots clicking softly against the wooden floor as she approached the counter. Behind it sat an attendant—probably in her late twenties—with her nose buried in a thick book. Her messy black hair partially covered her face, and her bored expression said she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Are there any books about cultivation?" Thea asked, her tone sharp and businesslike. "Core formation and the basics?"

The attendant didn't even glance up from her reading. "Sure, but no one in any store is gonna let you browse, including this one."

Her voice was flat, her tone drenched in the kind of boredom usually reserved for teenagers forced to work weekends.

I stepped up beside Thea, irritation seeping into my voice despite my best efforts. "Alright, how much then?"

"Fifty points for the basics, eighty for the core formation book," she said bluntly, still not looking up.

I clenched my jaw but managed to keep my voice even. "Right."

I turned to Thea, lowering my voice so the attendant couldn't hear. "The basics might have some information other than what we know, but it might just be stuff we've already seen in the training room book. If we're spending points, we should make it count."

Thea frowned, her brows pulling together as she mulled over the options. She didn't like wasting resources any more than I did, and with only 100 points per month and beast fights capped at four per month, every choice felt like a gamble.

Before she could speak, I raised a hand. "Let's get one. We need information if we're going to refine our new methods. We can't afford to stumble blindly."

She gave me a small, thoughtful smile—the kind that said she'd been thinking the same thing but just needed to hear it out loud. "Yeah, okay. Then let's go with Core Formation. Back home, I never saw much past gathering enough inner strength to form a core in the basics. I really do think we're already on our own path here."

I nodded. She was right. Whatever weird system (or lack thereof) I was working with, we needed as much information as possible to keep moving forward.

Together, we held up our glowing point orbs. The attendant finally—finally—looked up long enough to pluck a heavy, leather-bound book from behind the counter and hand it to Thea. The faint green numbers in our orbs flickered and dropped from 95 to 55.

Thea hugged the book close to her chest like it was a sacred artifact. I couldn't blame her—80 points was no joke.

"Thanks," I said dryly to the attendant.

"Mmhm," she replied, already back to reading her own book.

We turned and walked out of the shop, the heavy tome in Thea's arms and the weight of our diminishing points sitting heavy in my gut.

"Well," I said with a weak grin, "let's hope this thing has the answers we need. Otherwise, we just bought the world's most expensive doorstop."

Thea snorted, hugging the book tighter. "Then let's make sure it's worth every point."

We began walking again, weaving through the bustling chaos of the Hall of Heroes. At one point, we passed what looked like a makeshift clinic. Rows of thin sheets were laid out on the stone floor, each one occupied by someone injured—bruises, bandages, and pale faces everywhere. A group of teenagers, most wearing light robes with faintly glowing runes stitched into the fabric, moved between the patients, hands glowing softly as they worked.

Healers, I guessed.

It struck me then—this was probably how they earned points. Not through fights, not through beast hunts, but through healing.

"Maybe there are other ways we can earn points, Thea," I said, watching one healer press a glowing hand against a nasty-looking wound.

Thea glanced up briefly from the heavy tome in her arms before looking back down, her attention clearly split. She stepped closer to me, using me as an impromptu shield against colliding with the crowd. "What could we possibly have to offer that people would want?"

"Cultivation lessons?" I suggested, completely serious.

She stopped in her tracks and stared at me like I'd just suggested starting a circus with trained squirrels.

"Hear me out!" I continued. "If we actually succeed in developing Spiritual Reservoir Formation—then progress to a body refining technique that gives a permanent boost to stats—wouldn't people be interested? It could make cultivation more appealing. More accessible."

Thea's brow furrowed as she considered it. Cultivation, as she'd explained before, was common at the start but became exponentially harder to maintain. It required an intense focus and a constant supply of resources. I now knew firsthand that while it was one thing to circulate energy calmly during meditation, it was something entirely different to maintain that circulation in the chaos of combat. And once you stopped focusing, the energy simply drifted back to its gathering point, doing absolutely nothing until you focused again.

"I mean, Spiritual Reservoir Formation already seems like a huge step forward," I continued. "It makes energy way more accessible. I'm not constantly having to will it to my hands and feet—it's already closer, like it's waiting for me to call on it."

Thea raised a hand, stopping me mid-ramble. "I get it. And you're not wrong. But let's make sure we actually have something first. It's already going to be hard enough convincing people to focus on cultivation instead of just relying on their systems. If all we have are theories…" She trailed off, letting the weight of that hang in the air.

She was right. I was getting ahead of myself, letting my imagination leapfrog over the realities in front of me. The clinic, the rows of injured people, the looming threat of fights—all of it had wormed its way into my head. But still… I had no choice. We had no choice. If we wanted to survive, I had to get stronger—together with Thea.

"Maybe we can rent a training room for cheap," I said after a pause. "Just somewhere quiet where we can cultivate without distractions."

She nodded thoughtfully, but I wasn't finished.

"Oh! Also—I noticed something when I was forming my reservoir earlier," I said, excitement bubbling into my voice. "I was able to use world energy, not just my own inner strength. It let me cultivate for way longer without feeling like I was about to, you know, explode. First, I gathered enough energy in my focus point, and then I transferred the overflow into the reservoir."

Thea's storm-gray eyes lit up, her face breaking into a wide smile. "I can't believe I didn't think of that!"

I chuckled softly at her enthusiasm. "Well, you've got way more inner strength than me. You're close to core formation, and you've been focused on refining your own energy this whole time. You weren't as focused on gathering world energy as I was."

She rolled her eyes but didn't lose her grin. "Yeah, yeah. Fair point."

We continued walking, the tension between us easing into something lighter. For all the uncertainty, all the looming challenges ahead, moments like these reminded me why we made such a good team.

We weren't just trying to survive anymore.

We were trying to thrive.

We found ourselves back in a familiar hallway lined with training rooms. Through glass windows, we could see people firing spells at stationary dummies and swinging weapons in controlled arcs. The faint hum of magic and muffled shouts seeped through the walls.

At the front desk sat an attendant—mid-to-late twenties, maybe—wearing the same tired expression as everyone else who worked in this place.

I stepped forward, clearing my throat. "Can we get a practice room?"

For once, someone actually responded without an air of complete disinterest. The attendant straightened slightly and spoke with something close to professionalism. "What type? We've got basic, intermediate, and advanced. And how long?"

"Um…" I stammered, caught off guard by the sudden barrage of options.

Thea stepped in smoothly. "Which one is quiet? And what's the cost per hour?"

"They're all quiet," he replied flatly. "But the basic rooms have no practice dummies, clear windows, and no system assistance. That means no damage numbers, no feedback on technique—just a quiet space for training. Ten points per hour… plus five more if you're sharing."

It made sense. If everyone could share rooms endlessly, resource management would fall apart, and privacy during training would become nonexistent. Plus, I could only imagine how competitive people here were about their stats and techniques.

Thea nodded, taking over again. "Alright. One hour. Two people. Basic room."

We held up our orbs, and the numbers ticked down—Thea's glowing 50 and mine glowing 45. The attendant handed us an old brass key, his tired eyes narrowing slightly.

He gave us a key, "No fooling around you two, remember, there's a window," he called out as we walked away.

"Weirdo," I muttered as we walked away, earning an agreeable nod from Thea.

"Room forty-two… here we are," Thea said as we stopped in front of a glass-paneled door.

Inside, the room was… well, plain. Just four stone walls, a smooth floor, and a faintly glowing rune in each corner. But when the door closed behind us, the silence was absolute. It was almost unnerving how well the room was soundproofed.

"For the sake of every mage's eardrums, I hope they sell earplugs around here," I muttered. "Because one magical fireball in this confined space and someone's going deaf."

Thea snorted but didn't reply as she carefully set our heavy cultivation book on the floor and sat cross-legged. "Alright, let's continue with the Spiritual Reservoir Formation method," she said, her voice carrying a mix of pride and excitement, like she was savoring every word of a technique she could finally call her own.

I mirrored her position and nodded. "We could try making multiple at once, but I still need to solidify my first one."

Thea frowned slightly, considering. "We could, but spreading our focus might weaken the foundation. If we form them all poorly, it'll hold us back later. It's better to focus on one, make it as solid as possible, then move on."

She was right.

"Yeah, solid foundation first," I agreed. "The thicker we can make the reservoir veins, the more energy will be readily available. And if we can pull it off… the better we'll be at refining our bodies overall."

With a mutual nod of understanding, we both closed our eyes, sinking into silence and focusing inward.

I felt the faint hum of energy around me—the world's essence brushing against my skin like a faint breeze. I drew it inward, focusing on my core, letting it pool in that familiar gathering point above my stomach. The sensation was warm, but as it grew heavier, nausea crept in.

Carefully, I channeled the excess energy upward into the reservoir in my chest.

The web-like threads began to expand, branching out toward my shoulders and collarbone, glowing faintly in my mind's eye. The reservoir felt fragile at first—like a glass sculpture under pressure—but as I concentrated, something clicked.

The energy stabilized. The web locked into place.

The excess world energy no longer leaked away; instead, it traveled back down into my focus point, ready to circulate again. And even better—a portion of my inner strength stayed in the reservoir, ready to be called upon at a moment's notice.

When I opened my eyes, Thea was already staring at me with the wildest grin I'd ever seen on her face. Her excitement lit up the room.

I braced myself.

"Spar?"

I let out a groan as I pushed myself to my feet. "I think I succeeded. Something's… different. Like it clicked into place. The reservoir feels complete—or as complete as I can make it right now."

Thea practically exploded with energy, her smile infectious. "I know! Same! I think we actually did it. Our own method. And once we get our systems, we'll be stronger than everyone else!"

I couldn't help but smile too, though there was a pang of bittersweetness in my chest. She'd get her system. I wouldn't.

But that was a problem for another day.

Thea took a fighting stance, her grin turning sharp. "Alright. Now we refine it. I think we should stick with the same path—make sure there aren't any issues before branching out."

She lunged at me, her energy moving smoothly through her body, faster than before. I was thrown down so fast my head spun.

"Ugh. Yep," I groaned, pulling myself upright. "I agree. The next question is: where do we form the next reservoir? Around our core focus point to make diffusion easier? Or do we focus on the arms or head for battle prowess?"

I lunged toward her in an attempt to tackle, but Thea sidestepped with frustrating ease, her hand swiping out to grab me. This time, though, I actually managed to dodge.

Her eyes widened slightly, impressed.

"I think," she panted, dodging another clumsy tackle, "we should focus on battle prowess. We need to win fights for points."

"Arms it is," I replied, grinning as we both paused to catch our breath.

Eventually, we collapsed onto the cold stone floor, panting heavily, sweat dripping from our brows.

"You're getting much better, Peter," Thea gasped, wiping her forehead.

"Only thanks to Grandmaster Thea," I replied with mock reverence, earning a breathless laugh from her.

"Don't you forget it."

Her laughter echoed warmly through the quiet room, cutting through the exhaustion hanging heavy in the air.

And as we sat back and began circulating our energy, consolidating the reservoirs we'd worked so hard to form, one thought settled firmly in my mind:

We were actually doing it.

Step by step, reservoir by reservoir, we were carving our own path forward.

And nothing—not systems, not beasts, not arbitrary point systems—was going to stop us.