Duty Update: Acquire Adjutants via Penal Conscription

  You have selected prisoner number(s) 7003 to serve as an Auxiliary – You have granted 7003 a Letter of Fright. Your Insignia is now embedded in their spirit at their left hand, allowing you to ping their location at any time.

  You have selected prisoner number(s) 0010 to serve as your Adjutant. This assignment has also appointed Warden V, License #4573, as their designated Warden under your service.

  Duty Complete: The following item has been added to your account -

  Shattered Dream

  Rarity: Unique

  Aspects: Crystal, Dream, Venom

  Effect: You are able to create an illusory venom of mercury. Once it enters a target, their nightmares manifest into reality, hunting them down relentlessly. Once a nightmare is slain, this ability cannot be used on the same target for 24 hours. You are resistant to Dream-based effects.

  What?

  I stared at the notification, reading it over again.

  I turned to Cordelia, flicking the display toward her. She scanned it quickly, her expression usually unreadable—but this time, there was the faintest flicker of something beneath her usual cold detachment. Surprise.

  “That’s a perfect match,” she muttered, tilting the display toward herself again as if she hadn’t read it correctly the first time. “Wasn’t the reward listed as a Skillcube for Fractal?”

  I nodded. “Yes. And these—” I pointed at the listed aspects. “Crystal. Dream. Venom. Those are three of her mana aspects. That’s the reason our bond was even possible. We both share Crystal mana, just anchored in different parts of our souls.”

  Cordelia folded her arms, exhaling sharply. “A perfect synergy Skillcube… That’s deliberate. They don’t just get handed out. Normally, skillcubes only partially align with the user, which is why Walkers struggle to find ones that suit them. But this?” She gestured toward the notification again. “This was engineered for her.”

  I scowled. “We already know who ‘they’ are. This was the Walkers’ Association.”

  Cordelia nodded. “Right. The Association assigns rewards, but skillcubes themselves still form naturally from the energy of completed duties. That means they rigged the probability in her favor. They didn’t just want to give her a Skillcube—they wanted her to have this one.”

  I tightened my grip on the Gloss notification, considering the implications.

  Fractal wasn’t just my Spirit Beast. She was an asset—one the Association clearly had their eyes on. And now, by giving her Shattered Dream, they had just made sure she had an ability that perfectly suited her.

  It wasn’t just a reward. It was a directive.

  They were investing in her.

  And that meant they expected something in return.

  "Doesn’t this influence her future a bit too much? What if she doesn’t want to be a Magus type?"

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a reward—it was a push, a subtle hand guiding Fractal toward a specific path.

  Cordelia sighed, shaking her head as if I had asked something naive. “You’re overthinking it. A Walker’s first shell doesn’t define them nearly as much as their third. You could have ten skillcubes now, and it still wouldn’t cement your role the way your third shell will.”

  I frowned. “And why is that?”

  She gave me a pointed look. “Because the third shell is when your soul stops experimenting and starts committing. That’s when you lock in your true path, whether you realize it or not. You can take all the varied skillcubes you want now—Wind, Metal, Poison, Healing—but by the third shell? That’s when your abilities start converging into a singular purpose. By then, your own nature starts rejecting what doesn’t fit."

  I exhaled, still uneasy. "So basically, the Association giving her a perfectly harmonized cube is just… an early nudge?"

  Cordelia nodded. “It strongly suggests a direction, but it doesn’t dictate it. If she decides later that she wants to be a full combatant instead of a Magus type, she can. She just has to make sure her next few skillcubes don’t lean too hard into one category.”

  I mulled over her words, still feeling the weight of the decision looming over me.

  Cordelia, sensing my hesitation, gave me a smirk. “Besides, you don’t seem too worried about locking yourself into one path.”

  I scoffed. “That’s because my Arte already makes my future a damn mess.”

  She let out a short, amused exhale. “Fair enough. Still, I’d explain all of this in better detail, but we aren’t anywhere near your third shell yet. You’ve barely filled half your first.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That’s an excuse. The real reason is that you just don’t want to bother explaining the complexities of Soul Realm theory.”

  Cordelia gave an exaggerated shrug. “That too. Besides, I’d be a hypocrite.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  She clicked her tongue, almost irritated. “I’m still searching for those two Death cubes that won’t turn me into an actual monster.” She folded her arms, looking away as if the very topic annoyed her.

  That made me pause. Death-aspected skillcubes were notoriously dangerous—most of them required soul sacrifices, blood rituals, or worse.

  “…Yeah,” I muttered, deciding not to push further. “I can see why that’d be a pain.”

  Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.”

  I turned my focus inward, searching for my abilities. My inner self was shifting, solidifying into something tangible.

  What was once a vast asteroid field, chaotic and fragmented, was now slowly coalescing into a proto-planet, its shattered remains beginning to take form around the paper white dwarf that was my core.

  The closest proto-planet—no, the foundation of my first shell—had four moons orbiting it. Each moon shimmered with power, their very presence dictating my growth. [Sugared Maw]—and in that instant, I felt it fully awaken, no longer a dormant skillcube but something active, hungry. [Gluttony of the Golden Hydra]—its influence weighed on me, an insatiable hunger always gnawing at the edges of my being. [The Millennium Halls]—a gateway, an anchor, a means to step through space itself. [Atlas’s Manifest]—a connection to the land, allowing me to move unimpeded by its natural obstacles.

  I observed my Crystal Mana, once dormant, now gleaming like a field of gemstones embedded in the proto-planet’s forming crust. It pulsed, awake, fully active, feeding into the structure of my inner world. A thrill shot through me—this was progress. My Soul Realm was no longer just scattered debris, it was building itself into something greater.

  A flicker of satisfaction crossed my mind—right before I realized I had still been walking while meditating.

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  My foot caught on a loose cobblestone, and in an instant, all my grand contemplations shattered as I tripped, barely managing to catch myself before eating dirt.

  Cordelia sighed. “Are you seriously trying to achieve enlightenment while walking?”

  I groaned. “Multitasking.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Right. Well, maybe next time don’t trip over reality while searching for divinity.”

  ***

  By the time we all gathered in my barracks—my team’s barracks—the moons had long since settled into its vigil overhead. The room’s soft glow from enchanted sconces cast flickering shadows across the absurd opulence we had been given.

  V was frozen in place, his cigarette dangling from his lips before gravity finally claimed it, sending it tumbling to the marble floor. His expression was one of sheer stunned disbelief, his usual casual demeanor utterly shattered as he took in the sheer luxury afforded to him simply by being part of my team.

  Ten, meanwhile, looked terrified.

  Her small frame tensed, eyes darting around as if expecting this to be a trap. Her entire stance screamed fear, like a stray animal being offered food for the first time—skeptical, distrusting, waiting for the catch. I doubted she had been in a room this large, this extravagant in years. Maybe ever.

  V was the first to break the silence, rubbing the bridge of his nose and exhaling slowly. “Okay, Boss. How in the hells did you afford this? Your dossier said you were bankrupt. Hell, I read that you eat money.”

  I sighed. I knew he’d find out eventually—either through his insufferable curiosity, his contacts, or simply staying around me long enough.

  Might as well rip the bandage off now.

  “I can make skillcubes with my Arte.”

  V blinked.

  Once.

  Twice.

  His mouth opened slightly—then closed. His jaw clenched, working through the implications of what I had just said. He stared at me, his lips pressing into a thin line before he finally exhaled sharply.

  V inhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his temple as if physically trying to massage the revelation into his skull. His fingers drummed against the side of his head before he exhaled—slow, measured, disbelieving.

  "You… can…?" His voice trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air like an unfinished curse. He blinked, then scoffed. “Oh. I see. Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

  He didn’t believe me. Not yet.

  Before I could say anything, Cordelia cut in.

  "He means it."

  Her voice was calm, absolute, the kind of unwavering certainty that shattered any room for doubt. “It’s the reason we are listed as an International Asset of the highest priority.”

  V’s brows shot up at that.

  Cordelia didn’t stop. “It’s also why we’re assembling a full team for him as fast as possible. Normally, Walkers are sanctioned to have four Adjutants—only four. That number is standard, expected. But…” Her violet eyes flickered to me. “I was given orders to find five.”

  I felt Ten shift beside me. She was still too stiff, her shoulders locked tight, her eyes flickering between Cordelia and me. She wasn’t used to being included in anything, much less something this monumental.

  V whistled, long and low. "Five, huh? That’s... excessive.”

  “It’s necessary.” Cordelia countered. “With you, Ten, and myself, we have three. That means we still need two more.”

  V let out a low whistle, clearly impressed as he glanced around the lavish space. His eyes flicked over the polished floors, the extravagant furnishings, and the sheer unreal opulence that made this suite feel more like a high-ranking noble’s estate than a Walker’s barracks.

  Stretching his arms behind his head, he rocked back on his heels, exhaling sharply. "Well, hell. Guess I should start looking for a bunk."

  I didn’t even look up from where I was absently flipping through my Gloss. “You mean room.”

  V blinked. “Come again?”

  I gestured vaguely around us. “We have a seven-bedroom, four-bathroom suite, equipped with a full kitchen, round-the-clock service, priority delivery, and—according to my Gloss—room service.” I turned back to my display, scrolling idly. “So, unless you’re really set on sleeping on a cot in the hallway, you should pick a room. Apparently, the beds are customized to preference.”

  V’s mouth opened, then closed. He rubbed his face with both hands. “You are a child. A bankrupt child. How in all the hells are you living better than half the damn nobility?”

  Cordelia, who had been quietly steeping tea in the corner, spoke without looking up. “Because he’s worth more than half the damn nobility.”

  V let out a short, sharp laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Shit. I should've tried harder in school."

  I smirked. "If it helps, I wouldn’t trade this for a normal childhood."

  Ten, who had been stiff and silent up until now, finally shifted where she sat, eyeing the room like it might vanish if she blinked too hard. Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her borrowed clothes—Walker-issued, clean, comfortable. It probably felt wrong to her.

  "This is… too much."

  Her voice was small, nearly swallowed by the vastness of the suite.

  I exhaled, rubbing my temple before looking toward Ten. "I imagine this is a lot to take in. A bit of a culture shock, to say the least. But on the bright side…" I swiped through the dining options on my Gloss, scrolling past the usual selections until I found something more… fitting. Sure enough, on Ten’s personalized menu, there it was—dragon steak. "If it helps, you can have dragon steak every day for waning bronzes on the waxing silver. Cheap, too."

  V, who had been lounging against the doorframe, suddenly stiffened. His cigarette nearly slipped from his fingers. "Wait. What? They’re actually offering her dragon meat? Why? That’s—That’s ridiculously dumb! It’d make her—"

  I turned to him sharply, my voice dropping to a dangerous cold. "Are you unaware she ate a dragon in E-block?"

  The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

  V’s mouth opened, then shut. He blinked once, twice, and then let out a slow exhale. His usual lazy smirk was gone, replaced with something more serious. "Ah. Yeah. That explains a lot."

  My grip tightened around my Gloss. It explained more than a lot. It explained everything.

  Ten stared at the menu for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Her fingers brushed the edge of the screen, hesitating for a moment before she finally spoke, her voice quieter than before, almost tentative.

  “Dragon meat… every day?” she murmured, her eyes flicking back to the list of options on the screen as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Her fingers hovered over the list, but she didn’t select anything yet. “That... that would’ve been a dream. When I was hunting. When I had to... kill.”

  She leaned back, her shoulders sagging as the weight of that thought settled in. “All that effort, all that hunting, all the dangers... and now I could just...” She trailed off, clearly processing the shift in reality, in her world. “Just have it whenever I want?”

  Her voice carried a tone of disbelief, as if the idea of having food—real food—so easily available was foreign to her. She was so used to surviving, scavenging, and fighting for every scrap. To have it so effortlessly provided, at such a small cost, seemed unreal.

  “I don’t need to fight anymore... don’t need to hunt... to eat..." She shook her head slowly, as though coming to terms with a completely new concept. “I could just... live, like everyone else. No more running, no more starving. No more…” She faltered, looking down at her hands, which were now clasped tightly in her lap.

  “For the first time... I don’t need to fight just to survive.” Her voice cracked, just barely, as if the realization was a weight too heavy to hold back. “I could... just eat. And live. And... be a part of something.”

  Her shoulders relaxed for the first time since I had met her. There was something fragile, something wistful in her expression, as if she had never thought she’d be allowed the luxury of simply existing without the constant burden of survival.

  She looked at me, her eyes softer now, almost vulnerable, and for the first time since our meeting, she didn’t seem like a cornered animal. “I could just… live, couldn’t I? Without always being afraid of what comes next.”

  I placed my hand on her head, and at first, she flinched. A sharp, instinctive movement, as if expecting a blow, as if she had learned long ago to brace for pain. Her body tensed, her eyes widened slightly, and she pulled back as if the touch might turn into something harsher.

  But then... her posture relaxed, just a little. Slowly, she stopped pulling away, and her breath steadied. She didn’t resist. She let the touch remain, as if testing whether the world really had changed, whether this was the same brutal reality she had always known or something different.

  I kept my hand there, gentle and steady, not pushing, not demanding anything. Just there. Just a reminder that there was no harm meant in the gesture.

  When she finally relaxed into it, I smiled—just a little. It wasn’t a grand, overpowering smile, but something small and real, the kind of smile that could mean hope, the kind that said, you’re safe for now. I let my fingers brush the top of her head in a soft, soothing motion, waiting for her to understand that the touch wasn’t to hurt, but to give comfort.

  For a brief, fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes. Something uncertain, but soft—something like trust.

  And for the first time, Ten didn't pull away.

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