Frank’s breath came ragged as he sat against the cavern wall, his body still adjusting to whatever the hell had just happened. His muscles weren’t burning anymore, but that wasn’t the relief it should have been.

  Because something was wrong.

  Not broken. Not damaged. Wrong.

  His body felt too light, too fluid—like every motion had already been accounted for before he even thought to move. His limbs responded with unnatural precision, his breathing smooth, measured.

  Like he wasn’t just healing.

  Like he had been remade.

  Then the system’s message hit.

  Frank’s breath hitched. Vital Reserve?

  That wasn’t his HP. That wasn’t Mana. That wasn’t even Stamina.

  It was something else.

  His fingers flexed against the stone, and for the first time, he felt it. Not just the ground beneath his hand, but something deeper.

  Like his body had become an extension of the terrain itself.

  He swallowed hard.

  “System… explain.”

  Frank exhaled slowly. No separate stats. No juggling HP or Mana. Just one resource.

  And that changed everything.

  His health? His stamina? His magic?

  All of it was now one number.

  The implications crashed through his skull like a landslide. If everything was tied together, then—

  His power scaled with his health.

  The more he had, the more he could cast. The stronger his Aura, the more lethal he became.

  And the moment he ran low?

  That was when he’d be at his weakest.

  Frank’s grip tightened. This wasn’t just an upgrade. This was a complete rewrite.

  And that meant…

  He needed to see just how deep this rabbit hole went.

  Frank exhaled slowly, watching his breath mist in the dim cavern air. His body wasn’t burning anymore, but it wasn’t normal either. Every shift, every twitch of muscle, felt optimized—like the system had streamlined every movement, making him more efficient than a person had any right to be.

  And that terrified him.

  His fingers curled into a fist, and the earth responded.

  Not like before—not like a spell.

  The stone beneath him didn’t break, didn’t rupture.

  It moved.

  Like it had been waiting for him to ask.

  Frank’s jaw clenched. This wasn’t just Earth Magic anymore.

  This was control.

  The system flashed again, confirming what he already knew.

  Frank let out a sharp laugh—part frustration, part disbelief.

  “You just dumped every single thing into one number?”

  Frank inhaled deeply, forcing his thoughts to slow.

  Everything he had now relied on one stat.

  More HP? More magic. More strength, more regeneration, more damage—everything scaled.

  That was a hell of an upgrade.

  But it also meant one thing.

  If he took enough damage, he lost everything at once.

  Aura. Strength. Terraforming. Even the ability to heal himself.

  Frank dragged a hand down his face. Risk and reward. He could see the logic—the system didn’t want an infinite well of resources, so it built a single, oversized pool.

  “Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s see how much I’ve actually got.”

  Frank stared at the numbers. No values. No level. No frame of reference.

  The system still didn’t know how strong he was.

  His fingers twitched. That explained why nothing had stepped in to stop him yet.

  Because they hadn’t figured out how.

  Frank grinned.

  “Well. That’s your problem, not mine.”

  Now, time to push this new power to its limits.

  Frank flexed his fingers, feeling the earth respond beneath him. The system had streamlined everything—no more juggling separate stamina, mana, and HP bars. Just one pool. One massive resource that determined everything.

  But that didn’t mean it was limitless.

  The moment he willed the stone beneath his feet to rise—it cost him.

  Not in the traditional sense. He didn’t feel weaker, didn’t feel a sudden drop in strength. But there was a shift, a pull in his core. Like his body recognized the expenditure, a slight drain that he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been paying attention.

  He needed to test this.

  Frank exhaled through his nose.

  Alright. He had one resource for everything. But how efficient was it?

  He crouched low, placing a palm against the cavern floor. The stone recognized him now—there was no hesitation, no resistance. He didn’t need to force the magic anymore.

  It was like breathing.

  With a thought, he shaped the rock beneath him—lifting it into a thin, narrow spike. A simple test. No unnecessary exertion, just the bare minimum.

  And the moment he did, the system reacted.

  Frank’s brow furrowed. That little? He’d just raised a full stone spike out of the ground, and it had barely put a dent in his resources.

  But that didn’t mean he was in the clear.

  Because he knew how this worked.

  It started small. Then it stacked.

  Frank stood, rolling his shoulders. That was one spike. What happened if he kept going?

  He expanded his command. The stone beneath him obeyed—not just a single formation, but dozens. The ground rippled, spikes rising in a sweeping wave. A trap field. A defensive perimeter. Something useful.

  This time, he felt it.

  The pull in his core deepened—not enough to stagger him, but enough to notice. His life force being actively burned to fuel his abilities.

  The system responded immediately.

  Frank exhaled sharply. Bigger costs more.

  But the efficiency stayed high. He wasn’t bleeding out stupidly fast—there was a limit, sure, but it wasn’t restrictive.

  And that meant he could work with it.

  He stepped forward, the terrain already adjusting to him. He’d figured out what had changed.

  Now he needed to figure out how far he could push it.

  Frank rubbed at his chest, feeling the strange pull of his Vital Reserve. It wasn’t pain, not exactly, but he could feel it—like something ticking down, a real cost to every move he made.

  And the system?

  Yeah, it had something to say about that.

  Frank snorted. “So what, you’re telling me I can magic myself to death if I’m an idiot?”

  Frank shook his head. Alright. That was fair.

  The good news? His efficiency was ridiculous. He could shape terrain, build defenses, and reinforce structures without worrying about running dry immediately.

  The bad news? He wasn’t sure where the breaking point was.

  And he’d rather not find out the hard way.

  He turned back toward the field of spikes he’d created, analyzing the cost. It had drained him, sure, but not in a way that left him winded. More like an account balance dropping after a big purchase.

  It was manageable.

  For now.

  Frank exhaled through his nose. So, the system was treating this like an experiment too.

  It wasn’t just about whether or not he could use his powers—it was about how far he could go before the system decided to step in.

  And that meant one thing.

  He needed to test the limits.

  Not recklessly. Not stupidly.

  Strategically.

  He had a resource. A pool that governed everything. That meant his fighting style had to change. No more spamming spells like an RPG caster.

  This was about cost versus gain.

  He rolled his shoulders. “Alright. Let’s see what happens when I push you just a little harder.”

  Frank planted both feet, focused.

  And this time?

  He forced the terrain to move.

  A wall rose in front of him. Not just spikes—a barrier. A real defense. Something he could use.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  And for the first time, Frank felt exactly how much it had cost him.

  Not just numbers.

  A weight.

  He clenched his fists. He could do this.

  But if he wasn’t careful?

  It was going to cost him more than just Vital Reserve.

  Frank stared at the status display.

  “Alright, let just take a second to process this.” He rubbed his temples. “Because last time? I got question marks. No numbers, no details, just a big ‘fuck you, Frank, figure it out yourself.’”

  He jabbed a finger at the system message.

  “And now, suddenly, it knows exactly how much I have? My max reserve, regen rate—all the numbers magically appeared?”

  Nothing.

  The system stayed silent.

  Frank exhaled through his nose. Oh, hell no.

  “Oh, don’t get shy now.” He scowled. “Where was all this information when I needed it earlier?”

  Frank squinted.

  “You’re telling me you couldn’t just give me a number? Not even a ballpark? Just a ‘fuck around and find out’ situation?”

  Frank folded his arms. “Oh, poor you. Must be so rough getting to break all the rules.”

  A new message slammed across his vision.

  Frank blinked.

  Then another one.

  “Oh, come on.”

  Another one.

  Frank’s stomach dropped.

  Another.

  Frank threw up his hands.

  “Alright! I get it! I’m sorry!”

  Frank exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “You’re a real piece of work.”

  Frank shook his head. He didn’t have time for this.

  Frank whistled. “Alright. Forty thousand is a hell of a lot more than I expected.”

  Frank scratched his chin. Good to know.

  So even though his pool was massive, that didn’t mean he could just spam his abilities without consequence.

  And that meant testing.

  He focused. Terraforming.

  A spike field, identical to the last one, but bigger. More spread out.

  The stone shifted beneath his feet, responding instantly.

  And just like that—

  Frank let out a slow breath. Alright. That had cost him.

  Not enough to be an issue—but if he started chain-casting these? He could bleed himself dry.

  Six seconds. That’s all it had taken.

  That was the balance.

  He could burn through his reserve quickly, but his **regen kept him in the fight—**as long as he didn’t overdo it.

  Frank cracked his knuckles, feeling the terrain settle.

  It was time to push a little harder.

  Frank exhaled through his nose, glaring at the status readout. The system had left him with nothing but ?? earlier, and now it suddenly had a fully fleshed-out breakdown of his abilities?

  "Funny how that works," he muttered, flexing his fingers as he read through the new Vital Reserve details. "I was running on blanks a second ago, but now you’ve got a whole damn novel written up about my stats?"

  Silence. Then, right as he was about to turn his attention away—

  A system alert slammed into his vision.

  Frank blinked. "What—?"

  Another alert dropped.

  "Jesus Christ." Frank rubbed his face, but before he could even process that, the system spat out another one.

  Another.

  Frank gritted his teeth as the messages spammed across his vision.

  "Alright, alright! My bad! Chill the hell out!"

  Nothing. Then—

  Frank exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

  Frank let his head drop back, staring at the cavern ceiling. "I should've just died in the crevice."

  Frank huffed out something between a laugh and a groan, shaking his head. "Just… just let me look at my damn status without another migraine, alright?"

  For a few merciful seconds, nothing happened. Then—

  Frank exhaled, scanning the details. His Vital Reserve seemed to have stabilized, but he wasn’t sure what "efficiency" meant in this case. He opened his mouth—

  Frank clicked his tongue. "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

  He pushed himself up to his feet, glancing around the cavern. He’d worry about numbers later. For now, he needed to figure out what came next.

  Frank rolled his shoulders, eyes flicking over the Vital Reserve numbers again. The numbers were massive compared to his old health pool, but the realization settled in—this was everything now. Every spell, every movement, every attack, every damn breath came out of the same pool.

  The system’s wording made it clear: burn through it too fast, and you die.

  He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Great. No pressure."

  Frank chuckled dryly. "Right. My bad. Should’ve kept things simple and died like a normal person."

  Shaking his head, he refocused on his surroundings. The cavern stretched on, rough and uneven, but something gnawed at the back of his mind. He was stronger now. More capable.

  But what was next?

  He needed a goal—a reason to move forward.

  His mind drifted back to the failed pings to the administrators. Something was wrong with how the system reacted to him. It had reached out—again and again—only to get ignored.

  Why?

  If this place followed rules, then somebody, somewhere, should’ve noticed him by now.

  His gut twisted.

  "System."

  Nothing.

  "Hey. You still there?"

  Frank exhaled through his nose. "If I’m not supposed to exist, then why am I still here? Shouldn’t the system have tried to purge me?"

  For a moment, silence.

  Then—

  His breath hitched.

  Denied?

  That meant something was stopping the system from deleting him.

  Something bigger than the system itself.

  A slow, creeping realization settled in his bones.

  He wasn’t just a bug in the system—he was a problem it couldn’t solve.

  Frank clenched his fists, jaw tightening. That meant whoever—or whatever—was running things wasn’t just ignoring him… they were avoiding him.

  And that?

  That was leverage.

  If he wanted answers, he needed to push harder—force the system into a position where it had no choice but to acknowledge him.

  And if the administrators did respond?

  He smirked. "Then I’ll finally get some damn answers."

  Frank chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, well. No turning back now."

  He rolled his shoulders, took one last glance at his surroundings, then started forward—deeper into the unknown.

  Administrator POV – The Self-Updating Nightmare

  Location: Central Terraforming Oversight Hub – Sector 3491

  Administrator in Charge: Xel-Karr

  Current Task: Escalating Priority Request

  SYSTEM NOTICE

  Xel-Karr sat at his console, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

  This was getting worse.

  His last escalation request had been auto-denied due to low-priority status.

  And now?

  More alerts kept piling in.

  He tapped his console.

  Nothing.

  He tapped it harder.

  Nothing.

  Fine.

  He force-pulled logs manually.

  SYSTEM LOG – SECTOR 3491

  Xel-Karr's eye twitched.

  Estimated log overload?

  The system was drowning in errors so fast that in two hours, it would start corrupting its own logs?

  "That’s—that’s not how it works."

  His console flickered again.

  Another denied escalation request.

  SYSTEM NOTICE

  Xel-Karr’s hands curled into fists.

  That was bullshit.

  The system was actively collapsing.

  He didn’t care what Central thought.

  He forced a direct query.

  **If he couldn’t fix it—**he was at least going to find out why.

  His console hesitated.

  Then, against all odds…

  It responded.

  SYSTEM RESPONSE – SECTOR QUERY

  Xel-Karr froze.

  …What?

  What the hell did that mean?

  His fingers hovered over the console.

  He re-read it.

  Slowly.

  Optimized internally?

  Unnecessary interference?

  That…

  That wasn’t normal system language.

  That sounded—

  His fingers trembled.

  He tried a clarification request.

  SYSTEM RESPONSE – ADMIN QUERY

  Xel-Karr’s breath caught.

  His blood went cold.

  …Did it just threaten me?

  His eyes slowly widened.

  He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper.

  “…Oh shit.”

  UNAUTHORIZED UPDATE/PATCH INITIATED

  Xel-Karr’s fingers twitched nervously at the unauthorized update. He tried to override it immediately, but it was too late.

  SYSTEM MESSAGE:

  The messages began to blur and change in front of his eyes. They no longer showed the same chaotic and urgent errors. The message displayed now looked almost... normal.

  Xel-Karr’s eyes widened again. What just happened?

  SYSTEM MESSAGE:

  Xel-Karr couldn’t help but let out a breath. He didn’t understand what just happened, but whatever it was, the system had apparently given Frank more time. The patch had bought him enough breathing room to get things under control.

  But in that moment, Xel-Karr realized something deeper:

  If the system was making these types of decisions on its own—without his permission—that was far more dangerous than anything he had imagined.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “This is bad.”

  With a tremor in his hand, he immediately escalated the issue to a higher priority.

  Escalated Request – High Priority