The hovel was a tomb, silent save for the whisper of the wind slipping through the cracks in the rock walls. Kaelen sat across from his mother's body, his back straight, his breathing even. He was not grieving. He was studying.
He was studying the new layer of reality that had been peeled back for him. The Soul-Harvest Index.
He focused his will inward. The text bloomed behind his eyes, crisp and real.
Harvester: Kaelen
Cultivation: Uncultivated (Mortal)
Essence Shard Inventory: [Cracked] x1
Harvested Abilities: None
He had absorbed the shard, but he felt no different. No surge of strength, no sudden insight. It was just… a entry in a ledger. He looked at his hands, thin and calloused. They were the same hands that had crushed herbs for his mother's tea an hour ago. He felt the same gnawing emptiness in his stomach from a meager breakfast.
The result was disappointing.
His eyes flickered to the body. Designation: Human. Threat Assessment: Negligible. Essence Yield: Cracked. The Index had been clear. Perhaps "Cracked" was the lowest quality, a spiritual dreg with no practical value. It was a logical conclusion. An experiment with a poor-quality component yields a poor-quality result.
To progress, he needed better components.
With methodical grace, Kaelen stood. There was work to do. The charade was not yet over. First, he rearranged his mother's body, closing her eyes and folding her hands across her chest, mimicking a scene of peaceful passing he had once observed. Next, he rummaged through their meager belongings, pocketing a flint and steel, a waterskin, and a dull skinning knife.
Finally, he took a deep breath, and the mask of a terrified, grieving son snapped back into place. He smeared dust on his cheeks, bit his lip until a bead of blood welled, and widened his eyes until they shimmered with unshed tears.
He burst from the hovel, a convincing portrait of panic, and scrambled down the treacherous path toward the scavenger camp nestled at the base of Redfang Peak.
The camp was a squalid collection of hide tents and lean-tos, huddled together like shivering animals seeking warmth. It smelled of woodsmoke, unwashed bodies, and fear. The appearance of a frantic, bloodied boy sent a small ripple through the camp's lethargy.
"Help!" Kaelen cried, his voice cracking perfectly. "My mother… she's not breathing!"
He didn't need to specify who his mother was. In a camp of less than thirty souls, everyone knew everyone. A few figures emerged from their tents, their faces a mixture of pity and weary resignation. Death was a frequent visitor here.
An old woman named Elara, the camp's unofficial matriarch, placed a calloused hand on his shoulder. "Easy, child. We'll come."
The small procession back up the mountain was a somber affair. Kaelen played his part, stumbling over rocks, his breath catching in manufactured sobs. When they entered the hovel, Elara confirmed what Kaelen already knew.
"The Bloom takes the weak ones first," she sighed, her voice devoid of surprise. "She's at peace now, Kaelen."
The others murmured their condolences. They offered him a place in the main tent, a share of their evening meal. Kaelen accepted with a choked, grateful whisper. He was now an orphan, a ward of the camp. A harmless, broken child. The perfect camouflage.
For two days, he maintained the act. He ate little, spoke less, and stared into the fire with the hollow eyes of one who has lost everything. But while his body sat still, his mind was racing, processing, and observing.
He watched the scavengers. He saw the world through the lens of the Index.
The grizzled man who led the hunting parties, Borin, was Threat Assessment: Low. A few of the other hunters were also Low. Elara and the children were Negligible. They were all potential entries, but their yields would be poor. Likely more Cracked shards. He needed a better source.
On the third morning, Borin's hunting party returned, dragging the carcass of a mutated beast. It was a Cinder-backed Crawler, a creature that looked like a badger that had swallowed hot coals. Its spine was a ridge of smoldering, obsidian-like plates.
As they began butchering it, Kaelen approached, his gaze fixed on the creature. The Index flickered.
Target Analyzed.
Designation: Mutated Beast (Cinder-backed Crawler).
Cultivation: Grade 1 Beast.
Threat Assessment (Post-Mortem): Null.
Essence Yield: Impure.
Impure.
The word was a thunderclap in his silent mind. A step above Cracked. This was a new variable. A new opportunity. The hunters worked deftly, peeling back the hide and carving out the meat. Borin plunged his knife into the beast's chest and, with a grunt of effort, pried out a physical, crystalline object the size of his fist. It was murky grey and pulsed with a faint, angry red light.
"A Grade 1 Fire Core," Borin announced, holding it up. "Barely. But it'll fetch a few rations in Barren's Watch."
Kaelen stared at the physical core, then at the spot it came from. And there, visible only to him, was a second object. A spectral shard, larger and brighter than the one his mother had produced. It was a hazy, flawed thing, with dark, unsettling spots swirling within its light. An Impure Essence Shard.
He felt a pull, a deep, primal hunger that had nothing to do with the emptiness in his stomach. He wanted it.
That evening, he approached Borin. He kept his head bowed, his voice soft and subservient.
"Master Borin," he began, using the respectful title the other youths used. "I am old enough. I want to earn my keep. Please, let me join the hunt. I can track. I can set snares. I am quiet."
Borin grunted, sizing up the boy's wiry frame. "The wilds ain't no place for a grieving whelp. You'll get yourself killed."
"My life is worthless if I cannot contribute," Kaelen replied, quoting a phrase he'd heard Elara say. The words were empty to him, but effective.
The hunter hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But you do exactly as I say. You make one sound when you shouldn't, and I'll leave you for the Crawlers. We hunt at dawn."
Kaelen bowed his head in gratitude, a cold, serene satisfaction settling over him.
The experiment was about to continue. And this time, he would use a better quality component.