The air in the birthing chamber was heavy, thick with the scent of burning sandalwood and the metallic tang of fresh blood. But beneath the expensive incense lay something colder—a suffocating pressure that made the wooden beams of the ceiling groan.
Aris lay swaddled in silk that felt too rough against his newborn skin. Above him, the silver needle descended. It wasn't just a medical tool; it was a Spirit Artifact. The tip hummed with a cold, pale light, vibrating with a frequency that made Aris's teeth—or the gums where his teeth would be—ache.
He looked up at Elder Matron Thorne. To a normal infant, she would have just been a terrifying, wrinkled face. But to Aris, whose mind retained the sharp, cynical edge of a thirty-year-old corporate survivor, she looked like an executioner in fine robes. Her eyes were devoid of warmth. There was no grandmotherly affection here, only the cold calculation of an auditor checking a ledger.
She wasn't just testing him. Aris could feel the Killing Intent radiating from her pores like frost. She was hoping he would fail. She wanted an excuse to prune the "family tree" of its weakest branch before it could even sprout.
She's going to kill me, Aris realized, his heart hammering against his tiny ribs. If the result isn't perfect, I'm dead. If the result is too perfect—if the System reveals my Abyssal nature—I'm also dead.
Panic flared, hot and sharp. He tried to move his arm, but his motor control was non-existent. He was trapped in a prison of soft flesh and weak bones.
System! Aris screamed in the silence of his mind, projecting his will with desperate force. Open the Shop! Now!
[System Response: Acknowledged.]
[Opening Abyssal Shop: Starter Wing...]
Time seemed to slow down. The descending needle froze in mid-air, caught in the dilation of his mental interface. A translucent blue screen flickered into existence behind his eyelids, hovering over the terrifying visage of the Matron.
[Current Balance: 0 AP (Loan Available)]
Aris scanned the rows of items frantically. Because he was only a few minutes old, the vast majority of the shop was locked behind greyed-out icons. He saw silhouettes of terrifying weapons—swords that could cut reality, pills that could grant immortality—but they were all tauntingly out of reach.
Only the "Starter" tab was illuminated. Three items glowed with a faint, inviting light.
| Item | Cost | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Shadow-Veil Essence | 20 AP | Temporarily cloaks the host's Qi, making "Gold" talent look like "Grey" trash. |
| The Glitched Pill | 50 AP | Forces a temporary "system error" in any spiritual tool (like the needle). |
| Infant's Malice | 100 AP | A psychic spike that causes a 1-second distraction to anyone Level 50 or below. |
Aris's mind raced, processing the options with the speed of a veteran gamer.
The Glitched Pill? No. If the needle malfunctioned, the Matron would just get another one. It would only buy him seconds, and it might make her suspicious.
Infant's Malice? A distraction? Against a Level 42 cultivator? That was a suicide run. Even if he distracted her, what then? Crawl away? He couldn't even lift his head.
His eyes locked onto the first option. Shadow-Veil Essence.
It was the only play. In the corporate world, if you couldn't be the CEO, you wanted to be the invisible employee—the one nobody noticed, the one who survived the layoffs because they weren't worth the paperwork to fire. He needed to be worthless. He needed to be trash.
I need to buy it, Aris thought. But I have zero points.
As if reading his desperation, the System flashed a new prompt, pulsating with a dark, crimson warning light.
[System Warning: Insufficient Funds.]
[Offer: The Dying God is amused by your predicament.]
[Taking a Loan will bind your soul further to the Abyss. Interest rates are calculated in Karma. Do you accept a 50 AP Loan?]
Aris mentally scoffed. I'm already dead once. I've signed employment contracts with worse terms than this.
Accept! He commanded. Buy the Shadow-Veil Essence!
[Transaction Complete.]
[Remaining Balance: -50 AP (Debt).]
[Shadow-Veil Essence Activated.]
The sensation was immediate. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured directly into his soul. The burning, violet energy that had been simmering in his blood—the "God-Tier" legacy of the Abyssal Nexus—was suddenly smothered. It wasn't gone, but it was cloaked, wrapped in layers of metaphysical fog.
Time snapped back to normal speed.
The Matron's hand moved. She grabbed Aris's tiny ankle with a grip that felt like iron pliers. There was no gentleness in her touch; she treated him like a piece of livestock being branded.
"Let's see the filth you're made of," she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.
She plunged the Spirit Silver needle into his heel.
Pain.
It wasn't just the physical sting of steel piercing skin. The needle was designed to draw out Qi Essence. It felt like a hook was being dragged through his veins, trying to yank his soul out through his foot.
Normally, the needle would have reacted to Aris's Abyssal Heart instantly. It should have glowed a blinding, forbidden violet—a color that didn't exist in the natural cultivation spectrum. That color would have signaled his execution on the spot as a "Demon Seed" or a "Heretic."
But the Shadow-Veil was doing its job.
Inside his microscopic veins, a war was waging. The Abyssal Qi roared, wanting to devour the foreign metal, but the Shadow-Veil suppressed it, muddying the signal, diluting the power until it was unrecognizable.
The Matron withdrew the needle. A single drop of blood clung to the silver tip.
She held it over the basin of Heavenly Spring Water—a rare liquid that cost more than a commoner's life earnings, used solely to judge the potential of the Thorne bloodline.
Drip.
The drop hit the surface of the crystal-clear water.
The entire room held its breath.
If it turned Gold, he was a Prodigy.
If it turned Crimson, he had the War-General's blood.
If it turned Green, he had an affinity for alchemy.
The blood swirled. The water rippled.
It didn't turn Gold. It didn't turn Crimson.
Slowly, agonizingly, the pristine water clouded over. It turned a murky, pathetic, sewage-like brown.
Silence stretched across the room, heavy and absolute. Even the flickering candlelight seemed to dim in embarrassment.
Then, the Matron burst into a cold, mocking laugh. It was a harsh, cawing sound that scraped against Aris's ears.
"Brown?" She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. She pulled the needle back with a flick of her wrist, wiping it on a silk cloth as if the blood itself was infectious.
"Not even the red of a commoner," she sneered, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "This brat's blood is as stagnant as a swamp. I have checked thousands of infants in this city, and I have never seen waste this pure."
She turned her gaze toward the corner of the room.
There, huddled on a simple wooden stool, was Aris's mother, Elena. She was young, her beauty marred by exhaustion and fear. She wore the plain dress of a former maid, her hands trembling as she clutched a handkerchief to her mouth. She had committed the only sin the Thorne family recognized: being a low-born woman who caught the General's eye and bore him a son.
"Take your trash, Elena," the Matron spat, gesturing to the cradle with a wave of dismissal. "He is an insult to the General's name. I will not have resources wasted on a stain like this."
The Matron's aura flared—a crushing Level 42 pressure that made the air shimmer. Aris felt his tiny lungs compress. It was a show of dominance, a reminder of who held the power of life and death.
"You are moved to the Shattered Pagoda at the western edge of the estate," the Matron decreed, her tone final. "No servants. No pills. No monthly stipend. You will live on scraps."
She paused at the heavy oak door, looking back one last time with a gaze full of malice.
"If the boy lives to see five," she added, a cruel smile touching her lips, "he can work the coal pits. At least there, his filth will blend in."
With a swirl of expensive robes, the Matron swept out of the room. The heavy doors slammed shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
[Quest Completed: The First Deception.]
[Reward: 100 Abyssal Points (AP), Low-Grade Bone Refinement Pill.]
[System Note: Debt Repayment Initiated.]
[Debt Deducted: -55 AP (50 Principal + 10% Predatory Interest).]
[New Balance: 45 AP.]
The crushing pressure vanished with the Matron. Immediately, Elena rushed forward. She didn't care about the brown water. She didn't care about the insults or the poverty that awaited them. She scooped Aris up, cradling him against her thin, worn dress, her tears soaking the swaddling cloth.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, rocking him gently. "I'm so sorry, my little Aris. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a better bloodline."
Aris didn't cry. He lay still against his mother's chest, listening to the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. He felt a strange warmth—not from the System, but from this woman who had just lost everything for him.
He opened his eyes, the violet glint hidden deep within the iris, and looked at the closed door where the Matron had exited.
He activated his Abyssal Eye.
The world turned into a grid of wireframes and data. Through the wood of the door, he could see the fading heat signature of the Matron. But more importantly, he saw a glowing red line—a "Karma Thread"—connecting the Matron's hand to a hidden pocket in her sleeve.
Inside that sleeve was a small, lead-lined bottle.
[Item Identified: 'Breath of the Viper' Poison.]
She had it ready, Aris realized, a cold fury settling in his gut. If the water had turned Red or Gold... if I had shown even a sliver of potential to threaten her legitimate grandchildren... she would have poured that down my throat and called it a 'sudden illness'.
The brown water hadn't just humiliated him. It had saved his life.
You think you won, old hag? Aris thought, closing his infant eyes and letting the darkness of the Void comfort him. You think you've discarded me?
You just gave me the one thing a true villain needs most: Anonymity.
No one looks at the trash. No one fears the disappointment. While you look at the stars, I will be in the mud, sharpening the knife.
A soft chime resonated in his skull, sweet and clear.
[Level Up!]
[Host is now Level 1.]
[New Feature Unlocked: The Map of Thorne Estate (Fog of War).
]
Aris let out a soft gurgle that might have been a laugh. The game had officially begun.