Chapter 14: New Weapon

  Inside the training hall of PRG HQ, Sym stood still, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Evin, the golden boy of the PRG, his cape draped, smugness curled at the edges of his lips.

  Evin looked him up and down like a man inspecting a stray dog.

  “Lucky for you, Thirty Three,” Evin sneered, “I’m in a good mood today. No bruises on the menu. Not from me, anyway.”

  He turned to a side rack, pulling free a rge object wrapped in canvas. With a single tug, he unveiled a thick, heavy longsword, its bde a dull silver-gray, its hilt wrapped in dark leather.

  Sym reached for it and immediately felt the weight.

  It was unwieldy and dense. Every inch of it was resistance.

  But he didn’t drop it.

  He held it, arms straining slightly, until Sage spoke quietly in his mind.

  “New entry detected. Item Identified”

  …

  [Iron-Root Longsword]

  Grade: Gray.

  Description: Forged from the remains of a mutated metallic creature, whose limbs were tough enough to cut through boulders.

  Effect: Minimal, but present. Imbued with strength.”

  …

  “Can I even swing this?” Sym asked silently. Although his body had gone through a transformation since his awakening, the sword simply felt a bit too heavy.

  “You will need to increase physical attributes, but yes. With [Boost] active, it will be manageable.”

  Sym nodded and looked up just as Evin handed him a pin bck harness, a strap for sheathing the bde along his back.

  “Keep it hidden,” Evin said. “Especially from the Order. If they see it, they’ll take it. Either by confiscation or force.”

  Sym frowned. “Why?”

  Evin tilted his head like a man talking to a child.

  “Because it’s a Gray Item, dumbass. Even if you’re too green to get it, they know what it means.”

  Sym slipped the bde into the harness on his back, the weight pressing down on his spine like a promise.

  “What’s a Gray Item?” he asked.

  Evin’s smirk widened.

  “Items like that are either forged from beasts or dropped by them. When they hit the ground, through some strangeness, the item from the creature will usually manifest above it. You’ll know it when you see it. Means it’s connected to the System, not just metal and fabric.”

  He tapped the handle of one of his own twin axes, polished and engraved with strange etchings.

  “These?” he said proudly. “These are Green-grade, although a tier above Gray; it's rare as hell. You? You’re Faux. You’ll probably never see one other than this. So keep sucking on that Gray steel and consider yourself blessed.”

  Sym’s jaw tightened.

  Sym spent the night reviewing his emotional state with Sage. He had noticed instability in his reactions, especially since arriving in this world.

  Sage confirmed that the intensity of recent shifts likely resulted from the abrupt transition and ck of preparation. In his previous life, Sym had lived primarily through exploration.

  But this lifestyle might be beneficial to his current situation.

  His lifestyle involved transient contact with traders, mercenaries, and clients. He had no long-term companions or familial obligations. Sage and the ship’s systems constituted the closest approximation to a social structure he recognized.

  He did not form attachments to specific individuals. As a result, his sense of loss focused on abstract or material elements: familiar foods, entertainment systems, travel freedom, and the navigational patterns of space.

  People were not central to his grief.

  If Sym had maintained close bonds in his previous life, the psychological consequences of being transported into this reality could have been more severe.

  Sym accepted the reasoning. However, he requested that Sage continue to monitor his emotional fluctuations and intervene when necessary to prevent impulsive or irrational decision-making caused by stress or emotional bias.

  Sage acknowledged the directive and adjusted monitoring protocols accordingly.

  “Sage,” he thought, “track everything about these item tiers. If weapons are system-coded, there’s got to be a hierarchy. We’ll need to understand it.”

  “Already compiling. Gray, Green, and higher cssifications likely exist. Potential link to creature strength, corruption, or System influence.”

  Sym adjusted the sword against his back. The weight felt a little less unbearable now.

  Evin turned away, muttering to himself as he strode toward the armory racks, as if the very act of being generous had drained him.

  Sym didn’t say a word.

  But his mind was alive.

  Because today, they gave him a weapon.

  Evin leaned against a rack of training weapons, arms crossed, expression somewhere between irritation and amusement.

  “You’re going to need muscle,” he said, voice ft. “And discipline. That thing’s not just for show. Hit the HQ gym daily. If you want to survive out there, that’s your first step.”

  Sym nodded, strapping the thick longsword to his back again, the metal pulling at his spine like a coiled beast.

  “Go on,” Evin said. “Use your skill. Let’s see if that hunk of metal turns you into something worth watching.”

  Sym inhaled. Then reached back, gripping the hilt.

  It was difficult; his arms ached with strain, but he pulled it free.

  And then.

  “Activate Boost.”

  The world seemed to pulse as the faint blue aura wrapped around him. Muscles surged with reinforced density. Joints locked into alignment.

  He felt it immediately.

  The sword no longer dragged him down; it moved with him, responding like an extension of thought.

  He swung it once, carefully.

  Then again, faster.

  The difference was astounding. It was like holding a training bde.

  But the weight was real. The steel is still deadly.

  He knew the goal: one day, he would swing it without Boost.

  For now, he'd sharpen both.

  “Sloppy,” Evin said, stepping forward.

  He pulled a short staff from a nearby rack and pointed with it. “Strike me. Go ahead. I won’t hit back.”

  Sym hesitated, then nodded.

  He advanced and swung, firm enough to test control.

  Swish!

  Evin sidestepped easily, letting the sword pass through the air.

  “Too wide. You’re wasting momentum.”

  Sym adjusted. Another swing. Slightly better.

  Swish!

  Evin circled him, occasionally knocking the bde aside with his axe, offering bits of critique with each step.

  “Use the length, fool. Keep distance.”

  “Don’t overcommit. The weight’s on your side, make them pay to get in close, idiot.”

  “Out there, they won’t hesitate. Every movement’s survival.”

  Time began to blur. They moved from swings to patterns, footwork to spacing.

  By the time the assistant returned to the room, the lights had dimmed slightly overhead. The air was thick with sweat and steam.

  “That’s enough,” the assistant said. “We’re done for today.”

  Sym sheathed the bde, the metal sliding into pce behind his back with a soft click.

  As he turned to leave, the assistant held something out to him.

  A bck device, compact, matte-finished, with a soft blue glow on the edge.

  “A watch?” Sym asked.

  “More than that,” she replied, her always-too-sweet smile unchanged. “It’s your faction ID. Your access pass. Certification. It confirms you’re PRG-aligned and officially listed as Awakened. You’ll need it if you want to eat, train, or cross checkpoints without complications.”

  Sym stared at the small device for a moment, then slipped it onto his wrist.

  It clicked into pce.

  His name blinked on the dispy: “THIRTY-THREE | FAUX-AWAKENED | PRG-VALIDATED.”

  He turned toward the exit.

  But before he could step away, the assistant spoke again, her tone light, but ced with something colder underneath.

  “Oh—and one more thing. A directive from the Order was issued st night.”

  Sym paused.

  Her voice didn’t shift, but her eyes sharpened just enough.

  “No one from within the settlement, Awakened or not, is to enter or investigate any underground structures. It’s considered a red-zone perimeter. Outside of authorized patrol zones.”

  She smiled again, too wide, too pstic.

  “Entering unauthorized zones, especially beneath the city, would be considered a breach of protocol. If that happened… it might put the entire faction at risk. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  Sym nodded once.

  “Understood.”

  “Sage?”

  “Order logged. Fgged for potential threat suppression. Surveilnce likely increased.”

  Sym said nothing more.

  He stepped out into the corridor, sword on his back, ID on his wrist, and a new set of boundaries etched in ice around him.

  But all that warning did was confirm something he already suspected.

  There was something underground they didn’t want him to find.

  And now?

  He knew for certain… he was going to find it.