Everyone Has A System But Me!

Thankfully, we both made it back in one piece. The towering figure of the commander stood near the camp's edge, his shadow stretching long under the setting sun. Honestly, the guy was starting to feel less like a man and more like some kind of divine sentinel.

"Back already," he grunted, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

I stepped forward, holding my hands behind my back in what I hoped was an appropriately respectful pose. "We got some berries, sir. Decided to focus on training instead. If that's alright with you?"

His gaze bore into me for an uncomfortable moment before he nodded once, a motion so slight it might have been mistaken for a breeze. "That's fine. But keep in mind—your survival score will suffer today. Tomorrow, you'll both be attending survival classes."

Honestly, that sounded like a win to me. A bit of structured instruction on not dying horribly in the woods sounded far better than me squinting at berry bushes and being attacked by horrifying monsters. I glanced sideways at Thea, and judging by her faint nod, she wasn't complaining either.

"Alright, both of you—stay quiet," he said, his voice low but firm. "Don't be a bother to me."

We both nodded, our heads bobbing like two perfectly synchronized puppets, before shuffling a few steps away and plopping onto the cold, hard ground. Dirt—my new favorite chair.

Thea didn't waste any time. She cracked open the borrowed survival guide like it was some sacred grimoire holding the secrets to eternal life. Meanwhile, I took a long, steady breath, trying to focus.

She broke the silence first, her voice a low murmur. "I don't think we can focus on skin or muscles for now. It seems… too advanced. Like building a house without laying the foundation. For now, it feels like all we can do is create smaller channels branching from the main one."

I nodded thoughtfully, scratching at the back of my head. "Yeah, ideally, I want to store the energy in the body itself—to strengthen it permanently. But having quicker access during fights feels like the smarter starting point."

She gave me a quick smirk—almost proud, like a teacher whose least-promising student finally answered a question correctly. "Exactly."

With that, we both fell into silence again, our focus shifting inward.

I closed my eyes and let the night air fill my lungs. The world's energy felt like faint whispers brushing against my skin—soft and fleeting, like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. I pulled it inward, letting it pool in the familiar spot above my stomach.

But then, like before, the familiar pressure started to build—an uncomfortable heat crawling up my chest, curling in my throat like bad cafeteria food making a second appearance. I hesitated, then tried something different. Instead of forcing more world energy into that single reservoir, I let it branch outward, guiding it upward to my chest. Forming a new node from world energy, rather than my own.

It was delicate work—like threading an impossibly thin needle. But eventually, the energy settled into place, spreading out like a spider web woven across my ribs. And unlike the earlier attempt at my foot, which had vanished faster than my willpower during math class, this one stayed.

Stable. Steady.

I cracked one eye open and glanced at Thea. She was still deep in concentration, her expression calm and focused, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. Good. She was fine.

Maybe… if we practice physical activity now, we can permanently anchor these reservoirs. Make them part of us, rather than fleeting lines of energy in the dark.

But one thing at a time. For now, I focused on guiding more of the world's energy into that fragile web at my chest, fusing it carefully into my main channel.

Inhale. Exhale. Steady.

When I finally opened my eyes, Thea was staring at me with an excited glint in her storm-gray eyes. It was the kind of look that said, I have a terrible idea, and you're coming along for the ride.

"Shall we spar?" she asked, her voice practically vibrating with excitement.

I groaned internally. "The instructor said to keep quiet," I muttered, glancing over my shoulder. To my absolute dread, the man himself was still nearby, looming like a storm cloud with arms crossed and an expression that suggested mild amusement.

"Don't worry," he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the air. "As long as you don't bother me, more training is never a bad thing."

Thea's smirk could have powered a small village. "See? No problem. Now get up."

With a world-weary sigh that I felt in my bones, I pushed myself to my feet. My knees cracked like dry twigs, and I couldn't help but long for those flimsy gym mats from earlier. At least they cushioned the blows slightly.

And once again, just like before, I was utterly, completely demolished.

But this time… it was different. The energy flowed easier through me, responding to my focus with far less resistance. The sharp pangs of pain didn't stack up as aggressively, and every time Thea knocked me flat on my back, I could feel the oil-like world energy fusing into my internal strength. Sure, a good chunk of it still slipped away like sand through my fingers, but more stayed than before.

When I finally collapsed onto the cold stone floor for the last time, bruised, battered, and utterly spent, Thea plopped down beside me.

"I think we're both done here. At least, I am," I said, rubbing my sore ribs and squinting at a bruise already forming on my arm.

Thea stretched her arms behind her head and sighed, her smile as smug as ever.

"You know," I said, tilting my head toward her, "we've just invented—at least as far as we know—a completely new system of cultivation. And yet, we forgot the most important part."

She quirked an eyebrow, leaning her head against her hand. "Oh? And what's that?"

I grinned, despite the dull ache in my jaw. "The name, obviously."

Thea's lips twitched, and she bumped her shoulder into mine lightly. "You have a point. Hmm…" She furrowed her brow, her expression growing serious. "What about… Spiritual Reservoir Formation? Your 'Body Refinement' sounds cool, but let's be honest—we're nowhere near that level yet."

I let out a mock gasp. "I was thinking Checkpoint Pool System! But fine, yours is… adequate, I suppose."

She gave me a pity laugh—just a single, breathy ha—and rolled her eyes. "Alright, Spiritual Reservoir Formation it is."

It felt… right. The name carried a sense of purpose, of direction. Like the first brushstroke on a blank canvas. But before I could bask in the glow of our tiny accomplishment, the sharp blare of a horn shattered the moment.

"Gather back!" the commander's voice roared from somewhere behind us.

I winced and scrambled to my feet, Thea already pulling herself up with far more grace. Slowly but surely, recruits emerged from every corner of the camp, dragging their feet and clutching whatever pitiful food hauls they'd managed to scrounge up. The sun hung directly overhead, beating down on us like it had a personal grudge.

One by one, recruits stepped forward to present their findings. Some held bundles of berries, others had small critters they'd managed to trap, and one kid had an armful of what suspiciously looked like tree bark. Anyone who had eaten their haul—like Thea and I—was assigned survival lessons the next day. Everyone else would continue their usual scavenging routine.

The instructor finally stepped forward, his voice carrying across the clearing with the weight of absolute authority.

"Now, we will head to the Hall of Heroes. There, you will be taught how to structure the rest of your day. Every morning at sunrise, you are expected to report to the tents. If you fail to do so, there will be punishment. At noon, you will proceed to the Hall."

I was already half-smiling, ready to follow along at a leisurely pace when the dreaded words reached my ears.

"Keep up!"

Oh no.

"No," I whispered under my breath, a prayer to whatever cosmic forces were listening. "Not again."

Beside me, Thea groaned softly and then clapped me on the shoulder with all the sympathy of someone watching a puppy try to climb stairs. "Come on, Peter. You're stronger now, remember? And—please—use your inner strength this time."

She was right, though. The run was easier. Only a bit—but I'd take every tiny victory I could get.

Unfortunately, "easier" didn't mean "shorter." The route dragged on just as long as before, and when we passed the familiar cube-shaped building that led into the underground tunnels, I instinctively started to slow down, assuming we were finally done.

Nope.

Thea grabbed my arm and yanked me forward with the strength of someone who clearly still had energy reserves. "Not yet, Peter. He's still moving!"

The commander, who seemed forged from iron and pure spite, didn't even glance back as he jogged past the stone structure and continued onward.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity (and roughly six internal monologues about the futility of cardio), I spotted something in the distance—a colossal circular building rising from the landscape like some ancient titan had decided to drop their crown into the middle of the camp.

It looked… familiar. Like a postcard come to life. Massive stone archways framed its circular shape, wide entrances gaping open like the jaws of some stone beast. I'd never seen the Colosseum in person, but I'd seen plenty of photos. And this? This was definitely inspired by that.

Other groups were arriving too, streaming toward the enormous entrance in messy lines—mages with faint flickers of light at their fingertips, warriors clanking in mismatched armor, and healers huddled together like a nervous flock of birds.

Our group slowed to a halt beside the healers, and I took a moment to gulp down air and clutch a stitch in my side. My stomach felt like it was tying itself into a balloon animal.

A familiar voice rang out, sharp and commanding. The knight from yesterday strode into view, his armor, replacing his training outfit, gleaming faintly in the sunlight, his presence radiating authority.

"Welcome to your real training!" he boomed, his voice reverberating off the stone walls of the structure. "Here, you will take on challenges—against beasts and each other. This place contains facilities and resources that will push you to your limits and force you to grow stronger."

I perked up slightly. Challenges? Resources? This actually sounded kind of cool. Maybe I'd misjudged the vibe here. Training coliseum, rewards, battles… this might actually be—

"However," the knight continued, his sharp gaze sweeping across the crowd, "resources are limited. Especially the best ones."

Ah, there it was. The catch. I should've known.

He reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a smooth, glowing white orb. Inside, faint green numbers shimmered—100, clear as day.

"You will purchase resources using these. Each of you will start with one hundred points. They can be earned through proof that you are worth raising."

Oh no. A caste system. Based on merit. And power. In a world where everyone else had a system. Except me.

Fantastic.

The knight continued, his voice sharp and unyielding, carrying across the gathered recruits with commanding authority. "Challenges between recruits can be issued at a cost of ten points each—the winner takes all. Outside of these personal duels, you will participate in one official battle every day. These daily battles cost no points. Win, and your ranking will rise while earning you additional points. Lose, and your ranking will fall. As for beast challenges, each attempt will cost twenty points, with twenty-five rewarded upon victory. However, you may only face a beast four times per month."

He paused, letting that sink in. Around me, murmurs rippled through the crowd. The mages exchanged knowing glances, the warriors grinned at the thought of a fight, and the healers… well, they mostly just looked stressed. Same, honestly.

"Lastly," the knight added, raising one armored finger for emphasis, "at the start of each month, every recruit will receive one hundred points. Within these walls, you will learn more about how to spend them. And as you rise through the ranks, special privileges will be granted."

The way he said special privileges carried a weight that felt just shy of ominous. What kind of privileges? Extra food rations? Private rooms? The ability to skip running day? (Please let it be that last one.)

The knight stepped back, folding his hands behind his back in a way that made his armor creak slightly. "Inside, you'll find the information you need."

The colossal archway of the Hall of Heroes loomed ahead, sunlight glinting off its ancient stone carvings. But before we could cross into that overwhelming world of noise and energy, our instructor planted himself firmly in front of the group, his sharp gaze cutting across us like a knife through butter.

"Before you enter, each of you will receive this." He reached into a pouch strapped to his side and withdrew a handful of small, smooth white orbs, each faintly glowing with a number etched inside—100.

"These are your point orbs," he said, his voice low but carrying over the murmurs of the recruits. "They are bound to you as soon as you touch them. If you lose them, you lose your points. If they break, you lose everything. Treat them as if they are your life—because here, they might as well be."

One by one, he handed out the orbs. When it was my turn, the cool surface of the smooth white sphere sent a shiver through my palm. The faint glow of the green 100 felt almost mocking.

"Points will allow you to grow here," he continued. "Spend them wisely. Hoard them if you must. Earn them, challenge others, fight beasts. Or lose them—and fall behind."

With that, he stepped aside, his broad figure no longer blocking the grand entrance. The group shuffled forward cautiously, and Thea and I followed, our orbs clutched tightly in our hands.

The second we crossed the threshold into the Hall of Heroes, the sheer scale of the place hit me like a hammer to the chest.

The air buzzed with life—shouts, cheers, the sharp ring of steel against steel, and the faint crackle of magic. Everything echoed off the towering stone walls, turning the coliseum into a massive, chaotic symphony of energy and ambition.

But before I could fully take in the chaos, something caught my eye.

To the left of the entrance stood an enormous glowing board mounted on the wall. Names—at least, I assumed they were names—were etched in brilliant gold against a dark surface, each paired with a glowing green number. The numbers pulsed faintly, as if alive.

At the very top of the list, one number practically screamed at me: 1.

Was it a ranking?

I squinted at the name beside it, trying to make sense of the swirling script. It looked vaguely familiar, like something I might've seen in the cultivation book or plant textbook.

"Do you recognize any of these names?" I asked Thea, nudging her gently with my elbow.

She tilted her head, her sharp storm-gray eyes scanning the board. "No…

The Hall of Heroes wasn't just one arena; it was an entire city packed into a massive stone coliseum. Grand archways opened into separate wings, each alive with distinct activity. Above, colorful banners fluttered from balconies, marked with symbols I couldn't read. Sunlight streamed in through high, narrow windows, casting golden beams across the polished stone floors.

To our left, market stalls lined a wide corridor. Wooden carts overflowed with weapons—gleaming swords, curved daggers, and massive war axes displayed like trophies. Shelves sagged under the weight of ancient books, their leather bindings cracked and runes faintly glowing. Potions bubbled in glass vials, and powders shimmered in small silk pouches.

Merchants barked out their deals: "Blades sharper than dragon's teeth!" "Mana potions! Stamina elixirs!" "Rare spellbooks—only ten points!"

Thea's eyes lit up as she took in the stalls. "It's like a treasure vault."

I nodded mutely, my gaze snagging on a merchant displaying enchanted orbs that sparked faintly with lightning. Behind him, racks of armor glimmered faintly, each piece marked with intricate runes.

To our right, another massive wing crackled with magic. Sparks flashed in mid-air as recruits hurled spells at dummies made of obsidian. Fire bloomed in roaring pillars, ice shards hung suspended in mid-air, and gusts of wind howled through narrow stone channels.

A mage floated a glowing orb of water above his head, reshaping it into delicate spirals. A small crowd watched in silent awe.

"Whoa," I breathed.

But nothing compared to the central arena.

Before us stretched a massive, multi-tiered amphitheater filled with dozens of battle platforms. Each was surrounded by shimmering barriers of pale light. Some hosted brutal duels between armored warriors, their swords clashing in rapid exchanges. Others had mages firing off blinding spells, their robes whipping around them like banners in a storm.

On one distant platform, a recruit squared off against a beast—a creature with claws like scythes and horns that could skewer a truck. The recruit dodged, spear flashing in their hands, while the beast roared loud enough to rattle my teeth.

Above the platforms, floating screens displayed glowing numbers and unfamiliar names—real-time updates on scores, winners, and ranks.

Maybe this place wasn't so medieval, or maybe the screens worked off magic, but it was incredible either way.

Thea let out a long, slow breath. "Peter… this place is unbelievable."

I could only nod. "It's like… like someone built a theme park for gladiators. With a side of magical chaos."

We continued walking, weaving through the packed crowd. Everywhere we turned, there was something to see—sparring recruits, intense instructors shouting corrections, merchants flaunting their wares, and even tiny restaurants tucked into archways, their chalkboard menus offering things like "Warrior's Stew" and "Mana-Boosting Tea."

"Look!" Thea said, nudging me and pointing at a training platform. Two fighters—a swordsman with a greatsword and a rogue with twin daggers—moved in perfect rhythm, their weapons flashing like silver lightning.

My stomach twisted slightly. These people weren't just strong—they were skilled. They moved with precision, confidence, and an ease that screamed experience.

I glanced down at the glowing orb in my hand. 100 points. A drop in an ocean.

"Come on," Thea said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos. "We've got a lot to figure out."

As we stepped forward, deeper into the Hall of Heroes, the noise, the light, and the sheer weight of the place pressed down on me.

But somewhere, deep in my chest—just above my energy reservoir—I felt something stir.

Excitement.