Day three in the abyss—or what Kura assumed was day three, since time had lost all meaning in the perpetual twilight of the deep labyrinth.
He'd killed six more crawlers, two shadow wraiths that could phase through solid matter, and something that looked like a bear made of living stone. Each fight was a lesson in desperation. Each victory bought him a few more hours of life.
He was level 4 now. His stats had climbed to 35 across the board. Not impressive by hero standards, but a massive improvement over the helpless level 1 he'd been when he fell.
But improvement came with a cost.
Kura sat in his makeshift camp—one of the ancient guard quarters attached to the sealed chamber—and stared at the crawler meat he'd carved from his latest kill. The chitin was useful for armor. The ichor had alchemical properties. The mandibles made decent weapons.
But the meat...
His stomach growled. He'd eaten the last of his rations yesterday. The fungi helped, but they weren't enough. His body was burning through calories at an unsustainable rate—constant fighting, constant stress, constant fear.
He needed protein. Real food.
The crawler meat sat on a flat stone, pale and glistening. It smelled wrong—acidic and bitter. His Material Analysis had confirmed it wasn't poisonous, technically edible, high in nutrients.
But it was monster meat.
Kura's hands shook as he picked up a piece. This was insane. This was—
This was survival.
He'd already killed. Had already embraced violence. What was one more line to cross?
Kura closed his eyes and bit down.
The taste was indescribable—bitter, acidic, with a texture like rotten gelatin. His stomach immediately rebelled, trying to reject it. He forced himself to chew, to swallow, fighting down the urge to vomit.
It settled in his stomach like lead.
And then—
Pain.
Searing, overwhelming pain that felt like his insides were being torn apart and rebuilt. Kura doubled over, gasping, his vision going white. Every nerve screamed. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably.
A notification appeared through the agony:
New Skill Acquired: ORGANIC TRANSMUTATION
Ability: Consume monster essence to absorb traits and enhance physical capabilities. Warning: Process is extremely painful and may fail with incompatible materials.
The pain slowly faded, leaving him gasping on the stone floor. But something had changed. He could feel it—his body had processed the monster meat not just as food, but as raw material. His Synergist class had transmuted it, integrated it, made it part of him.
Kura stood on shaking legs and examined himself. His hands looked slightly different—the skin tougher, more resilient. When he flexed his fingers, he could feel increased strength.
He'd absorbed traits from the crawler. Not much—just a slight enhancement to durability and strength. But it was there.
And if he could do this with crawler meat...
What else could he absorb?
* * *
The ancient guard quarters became Kura's base of operations. The room was surprisingly intact—stone furniture that had survived millennia, storage chests that had been sealed against time, and most valuable of all, a collection of books and journals.
The texts were written in a language Kura didn't recognize, but his Synergist abilities seemed to help. When he focused on the words, meaning filtered through—not perfect translation, but enough to understand.
These were the records of the seal's guardians. People who'd served during the Age of Gods, tasked with maintaining the prison and ensuring the Sleeping Princess never woke.
One journal in particular caught his attention—a thick tome bound in strange leather, filled with dense technical writing. The author identified himself as Guardian-Smith Aldric, a master Synergist assigned to maintain the seal's physical components.
Kura read it obsessively:
"Day 1,247 of my vigil. I have completed the third reinforcement layer using Adamantine-Orichalcum composite. The Princess continues to sleep, her power contained by the combined efforts of our magical and material barriers.
"The younger guards don't understand the true nature of our duty. They see Synergists as mere crafters, supporters for 'real' warriors. Fools. They don't know our history.
"In the Age of Gods, we were not called Synergists. We were CREATORS. We didn't merely enhance materials—we shaped reality itself. Matter, energy, the fundamental forces of existence—all were clay in our hands.
"The modern age has forgotten this. The great cataclysm that ended the Age of Gods broke the knowledge chains. Those who call themselves Synergists today use perhaps one-tenth of one percent of their true potential. They are shadows of shadows.
"But the old techniques remain, written in these texts for any who have the courage to learn them..."
Kura's hands trembled as he turned the pages. The journal detailed techniques, theories, practical applications. It was a masterwork—centuries of accumulated knowledge about the true nature of Synergist abilities.
Modern Synergists could transmute materials, enhance properties, craft items.
Ancient Creators could manipulate matter at the molecular level. Could transmute energy itself. Could reshape reality through understanding and will.
The gap between them was like comparing a child's crayon drawing to a Renaissance masterpiece.
And Kura was holding the instruction manual.
He spent hours reading, absorbing, testing small techniques. His Transmutation ability began to evolve—becoming more precise, more powerful, more versatile.
He learned to sense material structure on a deeper level. To identify weak points and stress fractures invisible to normal perception. To manipulate not just the surface properties but the fundamental composition.
One passage in particular stood out:
"The true secret of Creation is understanding that everything is transmutable. Flesh, stone, metal, magic—all are simply different arrangements of fundamental essence. A master Creator doesn't see a rock and a sword as different things. They see two temporary forms that can be reshaped at will.
"This extends even to living matter. One's own body is merely another material to be enhanced, transmuted, perfected. The ancient Creators could reshape themselves, adapting to any environment, any challenge.
"But be warned: this path changes you. To see everything as mere material to be reshaped is to lose something essential. Many Creators of old became inhuman in their pursuit of perfection, viewing even other people as just another resource to be utilized..."
Kura closed the journal, disturbed by that last passage.
Was that what he was becoming? Every day he spent down here, every monster he killed and ate, every technique he learned—was he losing his humanity piece by piece?
He looked down at his hands. They were rougher now, scarred from fighting. The nails had become slightly thicker, harder. Subtle changes from the monster meat he'd consumed.
He was changing. Evolving. Becoming something other than the invisible student who'd fallen into this abyss.
But was that so bad?
That student had been weak. Had been helpless. Had been murdered and thrown away like garbage.
Kura didn't want to be that person anymore.
* * *
The sealed chamber itself became his workshop.
Kura had initially avoided working too close to the platform where the crystal coffin rested, some instinct warning him to keep his distance. But as days passed and his need for materials grew, he found himself drawn closer.
The seal was made of incredible materials. Adamantine, Orichalcum, Divine Crystals—substances he'd only read about in textbooks. And they were just... sitting there. Thousands of pounds of the rarest materials in existence, formed into rings and barriers and protective layers.
Surely taking a small sample from the outermost ring wouldn't hurt anything?
Kura approached the platform carefully, his Material Analysis active. The seal was complex—dozens of interlocking magical and physical barriers, each one reinforcing the others. But the outermost layer was purely physical. A ring of Adamantine alloy about six feet in diameter, embedded in the floor.
Just a small piece. Just enough to craft a better weapon.
He activated his Transmutation, focusing on a section of the ring. The technique he'd learned from Aldric's journal allowed him to work at the molecular level—instead of crudely breaking off a chunk, he could carefully separate a thin layer, harvesting material without damaging the overall structure.
The Adamantine came away cleanly—a sheet about the size of his palm, no thicker than paper.
Kura examined it with satisfaction. This was enough to reinforce his knife, make it strong enough to cut through the deeper monsters' armor.
He didn't notice the hairline crack that appeared in the seal's surface.
Didn't notice the faint pulse of light from within the crystal coffin.
Didn't notice that inside the coffin, silver eyes flickered slightly beneath closed lids.
* * *
That night, Kura dreamed.
He was standing in a vast throne room, pillars of white stone reaching toward a ceiling of stars. Everything was white and silver and beautiful, untouched by time or decay.
And at the far end of the hall, sitting on a throne, was a girl.
Silver hair. Pale skin. Delicate features. The same face he'd seen in the crystal coffin, but alive, vibrant, real.
She was looking at him.
"Finally," she said, and her voice was like music. "Someone who can hear me."
"Who are you?" Kura asked.
She smiled—sad and ancient and tired. "A prisoner. Like you."
"I'm not—"
"Aren't you? Trapped in the depths, cut off from the world above, fighting to survive each day." Her eyes were knowing. "We're both caged, hero from another world. Both waiting for freedom."
"How do you know about me?"
"I've been dreaming for ten thousand years. You think I can't sense when someone enters my prison? When someone with power walks these halls for the first time in millennia?" She stood from the throne, gliding toward him. "You're different from the others who've fallen here. You have potential. Power sleeping inside you."
"I'm just a Synergist."
"Just?" She laughed. "Is that what they told you? That you're merely a crafter, a support class, something less than the warriors?"
"I can't fight like them. Can't—"
"You're fighting now. Surviving now. Growing stronger now." She stopped a few feet away, studying him with those silver eyes. "And every day you work near the seal, you come closer to freeing me."
Kura's breath caught. "The seal. I'm damaging it?"
"Weakening it. Slowly. With every Transmutation you perform nearby." She didn't seem upset about it—if anything, she looked pleased. "Don't stop. Please don't stop. I've been asleep so long. I want to wake up. I want to see the world again."
"But... why were you sealed? What did you do?"
Her expression became guarded. "What they feared I might do. What I represented. The gods and their followers sealed many things during the Age of Gods—not always because they were evil, but because they were too powerful to control." She reached toward him, her hand passing through his like mist. "Keep working, Kura Tomohiro. Keep getting stronger. And when the seal finally breaks..."
She smiled.
"We'll both be free."
Kura woke with a gasp, back in the cold stone room.
It was just a dream. Had to be just a dream.
But when he looked at his palm, he could still feel the phantom touch of her hand.
And in the sealed chamber, the crystal coffin pulsed with soft light.
The Sleeping Princess was starting to wake.