[You have awoken the ability: Gluttony of the Golden Hydra.]

  Rarity: Epic

  Aspects: Crystal, Hunger, Metal, Draconic, Growth

  You are able to consume treasure, wealth, and magical items. You gain effects based on the value and properties of the items consumed. You are required to consume at least your Soul Realm’s worth in waxing coppers per day or suffer from malnutrition.

  I stared.

  Then I stared harder.

  My brain needed a moment.

  My mouth opened, then closed. I turned to Cordelia, fully expecting her to tell me that my Gloss-Crystal had suffered some sort of catastrophic system error. But no—her expression was worse than before. More concern. More oh no, this poor fool has no idea what he’s just gotten into.

  That was why she had told me to leave this one for last.

  “…I’m not eaten, I think?” I said, more as a question than a statement. “Are all Skillcubes like that?”

  Cordelia’s gaze flicked toward my Gloss-Crystal, then back to me, her face unreadable. “Only those with the lingering lifeforce of a Draconic Entity.”

  There was a pause. Then, as if that wasn’t alarming enough, she added, “Your father is well known for finding monster-aspected Skillcubes. He has two full shells of them. One of which is entirely filled with Draconic Entities.”

  I blinked.

  Then I blinked again.

  Slowly—very slowly—I processed what she had just said.

  “My father?” I repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “The same father who gambles every single chance he gets?”

  “Yes.”

  “The same man who once bet an entire estate on a card game and lost?”

  “Yes.”

  “The exact same father who once spent an entire festival claiming he had developed a foolproof betting system, only to get banned from every casino in the Free City of Marr because it was just him making wild guesses?”

  Cordelia nodded again, perfectly serious.

  I buried my face in my hands.

  “Do you realize how absurd that sounds?” I mumbled, voice muffled against my palms.

  Another nod.

  I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. “So let me get this straight.” I exhaled, gesturing vaguely at the Gloss-Crystal notification still hovering in front of me. “I now have an ability that requires me to eat money. Just so I don’t starve.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I can consume treasure and magic items—as in, literally eat them—for more effects?”

  “That is what the description says, yes.”

  I let out a long, exhausted sigh before staring blankly at the sky. "Why."

  Cordelia tilted her head slightly. “That… would be a question for your father.”

  I inhaled. Held it. Exhaled. “Right. Right. No, that’s fine. Totally fine. Nothing weird about that at all.”

  Silence stretched between us.

  Then, as if my brain had finally decided to completely break, I blurted out, “Am I a dragon now?”

  Cordelia blinked. “No.”

  I squinted at her. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because, I don’t know, Cordelia—getting dropped into a vision of a giant immortal multi-headed beast and then unlocking an ability that lets me devour treasure feels like a very draconic thing to do.”

  She let out a soft sigh, as if speaking to a particularly slow child. “Are those who absorb sword-based abilities a sword?”

  I opened my mouth. Stopped. Squinted again.

  “…Touche.”

  She crossed her arms. “You are simply awakening a heritage you never had.”

  I groaned again. “That’s not better!”

  And somewhere in the back of my mind, a new and terrifying realization settled in.

  I was now required to literally consume currency just to stay alive.

  How was I supposed to explain that to a merchant?

  ***

  After allowing my body—and spirit—time to recover, we moved on to a form of training we hadn’t yet attempted.

  Machina training.

  Rodrick returned for this session, his usual eccentricity subdued beneath layers of mechanical components. Wires coiled around his arms like serpents, bits of metal and arcane circuitry clinging to his coat. Some of the objects, I couldn’t even begin to identify—things far beyond simple gears and plates, relics of a forgotten age.

  He clapped his hands together, sending a small cascade of sparks flying from the contraption strapped to his wrist. “A Machina,” he began, voice firm, instructor-like, “as you already know, is an intelligent golem. But what you may not fully grasp is the depth of what that truly means.”

  He took a step forward, his presence heavy, commanding my full attention. “Inside every Machina is a spirit—a fragment of something from an era long past. Some have remained dormant for centuries, perhaps even millennia, their consciousness sealed away, waiting for a new master. Others, however...” He gestured vaguely at the parts hanging from his belt. “...have been artificially restored, reawakened with newer servant spirits installed. A pale imitation of what they once were.”

  I listened carefully, my gaze drifting toward my own Machina, still at rest in its compact form—a simple Joker playing card. It had yet to truly awaken.

  “There are those who dedicate themselves fully to the art of controlling Machina,” Rodrick continued. “They are referred to as Djinn.” He let the name hang in the air for a moment, watching to see if I understood its weight. “Named after the wish-granting spirits of old. Because, in the end, that is what Machina were meant to be—one of humanity’s wishes made manifest.”

  His gaze darkened, the remnants of a bitter truth buried within his words.

  “We wished for a force that could turn back the tide of monsters. A weapon that could protect us. A tool to ensure our survival.” He exhaled, slow and heavy. “And in doing so, we created the very thing that became our undoing.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  A silence settled over the room.

  Rodrick’s fingers twitched at his side, as if recalling something long buried. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he continued.

  “The Machina turned on us. What we built, what we relied upon, what we trusted—it betrayed us. And humanity suffered for it. Entire civilizations crumbled beneath the weight of their rebellion. Cities were lost, histories erased. We were forced to start over.”

  He lifted a small, metallic device from his belt, the faint glow of runic etchings pulsing beneath its surface. “Now, thanks to the miasma and mana that flow through us, we are able to control Machina once more—with far less risk of another rampage.”

  He turned his gaze back to me, sharp and expectant.

  “But make no mistake, Alexander. A Machina is not a pet. It is not a tool to be used lightly.” His eyes flickered toward the Joker card in my hand. “Yours has slept for a very long time. That means one of two things—it is either waiting for the right moment to awaken... or it does not want to.”

  A shiver ran down my spine.

  “Yes, you’ve called it. You’ve activated it. Not awakened. It lacks the abilities it once had.”

  Rodrick stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You will need to wake it, eventually. But before that happens, you must ask yourself something.”

  He locked eyes with me.

  “Are you ready for what it has to say?”

  I could only nod.

  Rodrick clasped his hands together once more, arcs of energy crackling between his fingers like unpredictable lightning. “Good. While I hope my earlier lecture lingers in your mind, understand the difference between underpreparedness and cowardice.” His voice hardened. “One leads to an early retirement. The other guarantees failure.”

  He fixed me with a stare, his gaze unyielding. “Call your Machina.”

  I hesitated for a moment, then imbued a surge of mana into the Joker playing card between my fingers. The reaction was immediate: a flicker of light, followed by the surreal sound of cards reshuffling themselves, merging and twisting together.

  The Joker card cracked open, releasing a flurry of smaller cards that spun and folded with mechanical precision. Before me stood a Card Knight, its form composed entirely of playing cards, knee-high and perfectly balanced.

  It paused, taking a moment to survey its surroundings before bending into a deep, elegant bow—a motion so smooth and practiced that I almost forgot I was facing a machina and not a living knight.

  The knight stood tall again, its blank face—a simple Ace of Spades—turned toward me, scanning the room as if searching for a threat.

  It stepped forward, then stopped, giving a slight tilt of its head as if studying me with an unreadable gaze.

  The knight slowly raised its right arm, mimicking a salute—its movements exaggerated, deliberate. A flourish of cards accompanied the motion, like the gentle rustle of wind through leaves. It placed the Queen of Hearts over its chest and gave another deep bow—this time, more dramatic, more formal, as if awaiting instruction.

  I blinked. “Uh... at ease?”

  The Card Knight froze for a moment, then gently lowered its arm. It tilted its head again, looking around as if it was waiting for something more—an invitation, a command. Its movements were graceful, elegant, and exaggerated, as if every action were a carefully rehearsed performance.

  I turned to Rodrick, raising an eyebrow. “Is it supposed to do that?”

  Rodrick’s lips twitched into a half-smile. “Seems like your Machina has a flair for the dramatic. Most just stand there. Yours wants to perform.”

  The Card Knight gave another bow, lowering its body with such elegance that it seemed like a gesture reserved for the highest courts. It then looked back to me, waiting—silent, but not unspoken. Every movement conveyed an urgency, a longing to serve, as if it had been waiting centuries for its moment to act.

  “Command me,” the knight’s actions seemed to say. The flourish of its arm, the delicate placement of cards over its chest, all pointed to its desire to serve.

  I stood there, slightly dumbfounded. “What do I even do with this?”

  Rodrick’s gaze sharpened, his tone steady but filled with quiet authority. “For now, at the rank both of you are at,” he began, motioning toward me and my Machina, “you need to give it orders. Explicit instructions. That’s how you’ll begin to understand its function, its limitations, and most importantly, its obedience.”

  He took a step closer, his eyes scanning the room with practiced intensity. “Today, now that you’ve absorbed your first Skillcubes, we’ll test your ability to unlock something more.” His voice lowered, as if revealing a secret. “You need to unlock Demeterra’s Archive. It’s a gift from Dominus Demeterra herself, granted to all of us—all of us who carry the mantle of authority.”

  I nodded, the weight of those words pressing down on me. It was a gift, yes, but not one easily wielded. I knew what it meant to be granted access to the knowledge of the Dominus.

  Rodrick gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Think of Demeterra’s Archive like a system message on your Gloss-Crystal. It will open up information, like a guide, showing you new skills, abilities, and potential.” He glanced toward the Card Knight, which stood at attention beside me, silent but alert.

  “The hope,” Rodrick continued, “is that you’ll unlock Machina Operation today. This is a key component—learning how to control, command your Machina in ways beyond simple interaction.” He paused, eyes flicking to my Card Knight. “Start small. Give it simple commands. For now, you need to focus on the basics.”

  My heart raced as I stared at the Card Knight. It was standing perfectly still, its posture impeccable as it waited for my direction. I swallowed.

  “Run laps with me around the room. Yes, start running.”

  The command sounded almost absurd to me. It was just running. But I understood the importance of building that foundation. Slowly, I began to jog in place, testing the reaction from my Machina.

  The Card Knight did not hesitate. With a fluid motion, it straightened, saluting with a flourish, then began to follow me—matching my pace step for step, its elegant movements almost too perfect. Its footfalls were silent as it moved, as if the very playing cards composing it were made of something lighter than air.

  Rodrick watched closely, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "Good. Don’t just command. Connect with it. You have to understand that every movement is a reflection of your will."

  I nodded and picked up the pace, feeling the energy in the room shift as the Card Knight kept perfect time with my every stride. The room—once quiet and still—now seemed to hum with energy, each lap adding weight to the connection we were forming. It was as though every step was weaving the bond between us tighter, forming a link of unspoken understanding.

  Rodrick’s voice cut through the steady rhythm of our running. “This is your first true test, Alexander. Don’t just command the Machina. Become one with it. Every motion, every action, should feel intentional. The Machina is a reflection of your own growth. The stronger you become, the more powerful your bond will be.”

  I focused, pushing aside the discomfort, the hesitation. The Card Knight mirrored me, its precise movements a testament to the command I’d given it—no, the trust I had started to place in it. The bond between us was starting to solidify, but it wasn’t just about running laps. It was about understanding, about authority. I needed to lead, to know the steps we’d take together, to form the connection that could one day carry us through unimaginable trials.

  We completed the first lap, then the second, and soon the room was filled with the sound of our synchronized footsteps.

  Soon enough, the ache in my legs grew unbearable. My breath came in ragged gasps as I tried to keep pace with the Card Knight, its movements still so fluid and graceful despite the effort. I could feel the exhaustion creeping up on me—my muscles screamed for relief, my body begging for just a moment to rest.

  But that wasn’t the kind of training I was here for.

  Rodrick’s voice cut through the haze of fatigue, sharp and clear as always. “Do I need to bring out the collar again?”

  Please no.

  The words barely formed in my mind, but they felt like a prayer. The collar. That… device my uncle had acquired on a whim during one of his many adventures. I didn’t even want to think about it.

  It was a hellish contraption. Not just physically demanding, but psychologically tormenting. The collar shocked me into action—always pushing me harder, faster, until I could barely stand. I hated it. But, as much as I despised it, I couldn’t deny its effectiveness. It sharpened my focus, honed my skills. My accuracy with a bow had improved dramatically, but the cost—the cost was always too high.

  I shifted my gaze to the Card Knight, still dutifully running alongside me. There had to be another way. A better way. Something I could do without pushing myself to the brink of collapse.

  And then, it clicked.

  I stopped, causing the Card Knight to falter for a brief moment before it locked its gaze onto me, waiting for my command.

  “I’m going to start running laps again,” I announced, my voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on my chest. “But this time, I’m going to fire an arrow into a target. Every thirteen seconds. You’ll retrieve the arrow, and then you’ll impale it directly where I fired from. Exact placement.”

  Rodrick raised an eyebrow at my proposal, his expression unreadable. “You think that’ll be easier than running?”

  I shook my head, feeling a surge of determination despite the throbbing in my legs. “Yes. I’m going to make it a game of precision. Every shot must land within a hair’s breadth of the last one. No errors. No hesitation.”

  For a moment, there was silence. Rodrick studied me, his arms crossed, as if measuring my resolve.

  “Well then,” he finally said, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s see if you can handle that.”

  I stepped back, positioning myself in front of the target, taking a deep breath to center myself. My legs were screaming, but I pushed through it. I could do this.

  The Card Knight stood poised a few paces away, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

  I nocked an arrow, drawing the string back, and took aim.

  The first shot flew true, striking the target with a satisfying thud. Without a second to spare, the Card Knight was already in motion, darting forward with the precision of a trained soldier. It moved faster than I anticipated, reaching the target, pulling the arrow from the board, and returning it to its exact place in front of me—precisely where I had fired from.

  I didn’t let up.

  I fired again—this time, a fraction off-center, but the Card Knight didn’t miss a beat. It retrieved the arrow, returning it to its rightful place in less than a breath.

  Thirteen seconds.

  Again.

  I pushed my body further. The strain on my legs, my back, the fatigue gnawing at the edges of my focus—it all became a blur as I sank deeper into the rhythm of my task. Arrow after arrow, the Card Knight moved like clockwork, its movements smooth and efficient, its purpose clear.

  The pressure built. My heart raced. And with each shot, I felt my focus sharpen, my every fiber of will aligning with the task at hand. This wasn’t just about physical endurance anymore. It was about control. Precision. Willpower.

  I could feel Rodrick’s gaze on me, his silence both a challenge and a test.

  As the thirteenth second came and went, I fired once more—this time, my arrow landing perfectly on target, within the exact placement of the last.

  The Card Knight wasted no time. It retrieved the arrow, bringing it back with flawless precision. The cycle continued.

  And for once, despite the strain, despite the exhaustion—there was no collar, no shocking reminder of my limits. Just the rhythm of the training, the partnership between myself and the Card Knight, and the burning drive to prove myself.

  [You have obtained the Skills: Machina Operation, Archery, and Pain Resistance.]

  The large words flashed in front of my vision, overwhelming my senses, and before I could react, I crashed into a wall at full speed. Then, darkness.