I had five stat points—just enough to vert into an ability point. My eyes darted over the s, hope blooming in my chest with every lihe endless Spells and Skills lists, white on gray, pulsed with a promise, words bleeding into each other as desperation blurred my vision. Each line was a lifeline, a slim ce that I might be able t her back or a way to at least tact her. My heart pounded, and my cmmy hands rubbed my jeans as I skimmed through the descriptions, words blurred as I rushed to find anything that might work.

  With each item, disappoi grew heavier. Every category of spells and skills was just another dead end. There were no spells t her back or a secret path to reach her. My shoulders slumped as hope dimmed with each line. And then, I reached the Death Magieancy se.

  The titles alo a prickle of revulsion crawling over my skin. Shadows almost coiled from the s like the letters held a hidden malevolence, blood spreading like tendrils across water. Each word was an invitation no one should answer. My fiensed, and an instinctive shiver ran down my spine, urgio look away, even as my eyes stayed glued to the s.

  NEANCY

  el the are arts to wield the power of neand and the forces of death.

  ? Raise Undead: Summoal warriors or spectral guardians to serve you. The number and strength of undead raised depends on your skill level and mana expenditure.Cost: 3 Ability Points.

  ? Drain Life: Siphon vitality from living beings, replenishing your owh. The potency of this drain increases with the level of mastery.Cost: 3 Ability Points.

  ? Dark Influence: Infuse nearby shadows with iergy, cloaking yourself and your allies from dete. The radius and duration of this cealment expand with skill levels.Cost: 3 Ability Points.

  ? Raise the Dead: and the deceased to rise and do your bidding. The number of risen dead increases with the level of mastery. Cost: 3 Ability Points.

  ? Mold Flesh: Use the flesh of the fallen to create creatures based on your he number of created and trolled creatures increases with mastery. Cost: 3 Ability Points.

  Mana Cost: Varies based on the plexity and power of the neantic spell.

  With a shudder, I recoiled a out a breath, exhaling. The hope that had felt s just a short while ago was gone, leaviaring at the s in silence, my chest hollow and ag. Tears streamed down my face, and my spirit plummeted lower than it was before I discovered the Gate.

  I sank into the armchair by the window, the leather cold and stiff. Outside, streetlights spilled over the cobbled streets in a faint glow, each light pooling into puddles that deepehe shadows giweeones. My coffee sat cold oable, abahe weight of the disappoi felt as unyielding as the leather pushing back as I imagined myself beyond this hollow existehoughts about other worlds swirled in my mind.

  Do I want to cross the Gate and leave?

  A surge of excitement washed over me, like a jolt to the system, sharp aric. I almost felt it in my chest—a ce to ehe unknown. A life most people couldn’t even imagine, full of worlds and possibilities that made my pulse race. I could go po one oh ked, pick up skills to make me look like something out of a ic book, and be more than just some guy wandering around, adrift between memories. The thrill was almost impossible to ignore—finally, a shot at living, at doing something that might make me feel alive again.

  But doubt seeped in, and the excitement faded, repced by something darker and more challenging to shake. What if it’s too much? What if I get out there and I’m just lost? The thought of being alone in some strange pce, surrounded by people who didn’t speak my nguage and didn’t share my world, made my stomach twist. Out there, I’d be on my own. No backup, no safety , just me and whatever skills I picked up. If things went south, I’d have no oo lean on or help if things went sideways. And I knew better than most just how quickly things could g.

  And then there was the guilt, a stant presence haunting me, no matter what I thought about. Sophie should have been here for this. She would have been the first oo dive in, dragging me along and pointing out all the reasons this was a great idea. But she wasn’t here. Her grave was. Just like my mom’s. Every time I thought about leaving, guilt hit me like a punch to the gut, coating my toh acid. Was holding on a way of h them? Was my staying keeping them close somehow? But what was I really holding onto here?

  I thought it through, really thought it through. It was almost bitterly funny that I could distill everythiherio this world to two silent plots of Earth marked by cold stone and memories. My mom’s grave, Sophie’s grave—mounds of loss that painted my life in gray and bck. That was it. They weren’t here anymore, not really. Their lives, their voices—all of it had left this pce long before I ever thought about leaving. I g to memories, hoping they would keep me grounded. But all those memories had only kept me stuck, cirg back to the same pces and routines. I was stu a repetitive cyemories and routines I couldn’t escape.

  The emptiness washed through me like a gust through an abandoned house, fillih memories that only amplified the loneliness. I’d been grasping at shadows, pinning my hopes ments that vanished when I reached for them. What did I even have left here? No job—that was gohanks to Sophie’s father, who’d ehat. And friends? Not really. We had a few couples we’d go out with, grab dinner, or catch a movie, but they were Sophie’s friends more than mine. Real friends, people who’d be there for me? I couldn’t think of a single one.

  Family? That was a joke. My mom’s parents had tossed her out the sed she gnant with me, and when she died, they didn’t waher. I bounced around foster homes until I was old enough to care for myself. No one who felt like home, no one who’d miss me.

  And there it was—the bluy I’d tried to ignore. I had nothing here. Not really. In the bay mind, I ighe possibility the Gates offered. Ig based on the belief I was staying for something, holding on out of loyalty to a life that had moved on without me. But all I’d been doing inning in circles, ging to memories that couldn’t ge anything.

  A deep breath loosehe tension, whooshing out of me. Eahale seemed to clear out a bit more of the weight I hadn’t even known I was carrying. The air tasted fresher, er, as if I’d exhaled stagna. I want to leave and go explore the os. For ohe decision wasn’t a risk. It felt like the first choice I’d made in a long time, something I wahe future was unknown, but I k had to be better than the miserable existence I was trapped in.

  Calm washed over me as I stood up and stretched. I didn’t have a pn and didn’t know what y ahead oher side, but for the first time, that didn’t worry me. Maybe stepping into the unknown was exactly what I needed. A life that was finally mio shape, without all the shadows of the past trailing after me. I was ready to find out what might be waiting.

  I turned my attention to the abilities list. If I was going to travel, uanding different nguages would be essential. The thought of pig up nguages on the fly and blending in without barriers felt like the first real, tangible step forward. I used my free stat points to gain ara ability point, then unlocked the Local Adaptation-Spoken Language ability. The thought of speaking without barriers in strange nds, of slipping into new worlds like water flowiween rocks, seement through me. For the first time, it felt like stepping forward wouldn’t be the same dreary existence, only in a new pce. Ohiled, I thought, feeling a steadying sense of purpose.

  Curious, I tried verting another 5 stat points from my Vitality, hoping to gain an additional ability point. Nothing happened. I frowned, squinting at the s, w if I’d missed something. Maybe it was because those points were already part of me, and the system only allowed versions with free points, something I’d have to look into. There was a lot to learn, and I needed every advantage I could get.

  I shifted my focus to the Archive, eager to dig through anything useful. The world informatioion showed oh for now, but there was a general knowledge se—aire library of notes and tips, like breadcrumbs left by others who’d traveled before me. I dove in, reading every line, every detail, pieg together what it might mean to navigate this life.

  I kept scrolling, pig up bits and pieces, until I noticed a small circle in the upper left er of the s that sparked a flicker of hope: It was beled “Tips & Tricks.” This wasn’t just casual advice; it felt like practical wisdom from those who’d been through it all, leaving behind hints for the raveler. I could almost picture their voices woven into the words, each tip a trace of their journey. My pulse quied as I read the first lines, and found the perfect tip. I didn’t have to leap into the unknht away; I could simply stand by the Gate, toue of the portal stones, ahe world’s information. No blind leaps, no sudden plunges. A sigh slipped out, the tension easing a bit. Whoever left that tip got it. I could almost imagihem saying, “You’re not alone in this. We’ve been here, too.” This small tidbit was a lifeline, a way to start out safe—just what I hadn’t known I was looking for.

  Maybe I sounded overly cautious, even to myself, but walking blindly into some world full of gods-know-what wasly appealing. This, though? This was a relief—a way to feel the terrain before diving in. It was like having a safety , something I didn’t realize I’d desperately hoped for.

  As I kept reading, I uncovered more s of wisdom. Oip bordered on genius: if I learned a skill the hard way—through real sweat and experience—I could vert it to an ability point ter. I’d keep the knowledge but lose the ability to level it up. There was a warning that I’d never be able to learn it as a Skill again, but the sneakiness made me grin. I loved it. The idea of squeezing out every drop of advantage, bending the system a bit, made this whole adventure seem less daunting.

  Then there was the trading advice—a mastercss in gaming the worlds for profit. The suggestion was to buy cheap, mass-produced items from tech worlds—knives, sturdy pots, bright fabrics, even wooden toys—ahem for a fortune in undeveloped or mana worlds where everything’s handmade. Apparently, cookware and colorful fabrics were worth their weight in gold in those pces. It worked both ways: buy handmade swords, bows, or other “rustic” gear in a no-tech world, then sell it as “Traditional” or “Artisan Work” in a tee. I ughed, picturing some fancy collector’s face as they handed over a small fortune for a basic sword beled ‘traditional craftsmanship.’ The idea of flipping worlds for a profit? Yeah, I could get behind that.

  There ractical advice, too—the kind of stuff that’d save me a lot of trouble ter. Things like always having transport options for different terrains, gear to survive in the wild, and a range of clothes for aher. Oh, and apparently, tech didn’t work in mana worlds, so I’d o pn around that. These tips were like having a seasoraveler teag me, nudgioward survival instead of rookie mistakes. I soaked it all in. No AI assistant, but this was good, too.

  There about carrying funds across worlds. No surprise, cash didn’t transfer betweeies, but jewelry did—rings, s, pendants, preferably in silver and gold. And s, too, but the advice was th them up and make them look worn so they’d pass as “fn” currency. Otherwise, the uniform cast would make them stand out and draw suspi. In tech-worlds, the advice was to stick to jewelry, selling at small pawn shops to avoid any red fgs. There was something thrillingly subversive about mastering multiversal finances, each trick a minor rebellion against the boundaries of worlds, each loophole a whispered secret betweeravelers.

  Different Travelers kept cirg back to the same advice: learn how to fight. Apparently, it wasn’t optional. I o get skilled with at least one on, learn some basid-to-hand bat, and, if I was smart, i points in a defensive spell, a ratack, and a healing spell. I couldn’t help but smile. They’d practically written out the starter pae.

  I started rag my brain feneral skill I could sacrifid vert to an ability point. The problem was that I didn’t have many skills I wao part with. The only thing that came to mind was tennis. It wasn’t like I’d picked up a racket in years, and I didly pn on wowing interdimensional aliens with my bad. After several calls, I booked a lesson at a tennis ter two days ter. Not the heroic training montage I’d pictured—there was no wind whipping through my hair, no epic soundtrack—but a point oint. And if swinging a racket could set me up for the unknown, I’d take it.

  To “farm” ability points, I looked for private courses or workshops that could teach me specific skills and abilities. And, of course, I gave myself a mental pat on the shoulder for using the correct jargon.

  Making handmade pasta — I would like to learn this for myself; I love cooking.Ceramic workshop — a strong tender.Pencil sketg workshop — one more in the bag.Macramé workshop for jewelry making — I will never his skill.How to make beer workshop — this I might need on my travels, worth cheg out.Painting on vinyl records workshop — one more point.Flower weaving workshop — and another point.Iron wire sculpture workshop — definitely another point.

  Lining up all the options was oddly satisfying. I nning my interdimensional future, one Macrame workshop at a time. A grin tugged at my lips as I looked over my list: some skills I might use, others I’d ouch again. I made the calls and filled up my schedule for the week and a half. A sense of pride filled me—I was taking steps to make it happen.

  On my way to the tennis lesson the day, I tried out the Identify skill ohing I passed—people, signs, anything that caught my eye. The results were, to say the least, underwhelming. Everyone appeared as “ued human male” or “ued human female.” ly groundbreaking. Objects fared little better. “Door,” “Stairs,” and “Street Sign.” Useful in a magical world? Maybe. Here? Just noise.

  When I finally stepped onto the tennis court, it was a different kind of challenge. Fifteen minutes in, I scored my first point against the instructor. As soon as I did, the red light started blinking.

  You have learhe Skill [Pying Tennis]

  Immediately, I clicked it with my mind, with the iion of giving it up.

  Are you sure you want to vert the Skill [Pying Tennis] into an Ability Point?Y/N

  Yes, please and thank you.

  You have 1 new Ability Point.

  Yes! It worked! Bless you, anonymous Traveler.

  In the following days, I attended all the workshops and learhe Skills. The css description wasn’t kidding; learning skills was easy. I kept the pasta, beer, and pencil sketg since I liked them, but verted the rest.

  With six more Ability points in the bag, I first purchased the skill [One of the Crowd].

  Thinking about prote, I purchased the spells [Mana Dart] and [Mana Shield]. At first, I wao get the fireball spell but eventually realized that avoiding any potential fire hazards might be prudent.

  MANA DART

  This offensive spell jures a dart of magical energy. Often used by battle mages and sorcerers, it delivers precise attacks, with the number and potency of darts increasing when the level of the spell rises.Cost: 1 Ability Point.

  MANA SHIELD

  This protective spell surrounds the caster with a barrier of magical energy, prote that starts weak but strengthens with use. Favored by wizards and sorcerers, the shield absorbs ining damage, allowing the caster to endure more with each level.Cost: 1 Ability Point.

  In addition, I ied another ability point into my Ste. Based ohing I read in the Archive and the books, I would he spaow, I had 512 cubic meters.

  Many Travelers in the Archive reended buying a healing spell. As I scrolled through healing magic options, that advice stuck with me. Minor Heal stood out—a quick fix for injuries and on illnesses. It was what I needed, an actual safety .

  Minor Heal

  A staple for adventurers. For 50 mana, Minor Heal mends broken bones, cuts, scrapes, and on ailments like colds. It provides quick relief for minor injuries and ailments but won't heal severe wounds or plex diseases. Its effectiveness improves slightly with each level.Cost: 1 Ability Point.

  Something in me rebelled. I paused, staring at the spell description, and all my years of medical training fshed through my mind. The all-nighters, the crammed study sessions, feeling tired all the time between studies and work. The knowledge that art of me. My white coat wasn’t just clothing but proof of everything I’d worked for. Using a spell to heal would feel like invalidating all that, like throwing away years of hardship. Ahe pull was strong. I thought about the dangers and risks medical knowledge couldn’t fully prepare me for. A quick heal would make an enormous difference.

  Mends broken bones, cuts, scrapes, and on ailments like colds.

  Finally, I sighed and bought it. Yes, my mind rebelled against the idea, and it felt like I was betraying all the hard work to bee a doctor. But oher hand, being injured and helpless in a strange pce sounded worse.