The night air is cool and crisp against my skin.
Stars chatter amongst themselves, loudly debating profoundly unimportant topics and suspiciously specific alternate use cases for microwaves.
There is no wind.
No sound.
No moons to ruin this perfectly acceptable nighttime.
…Except it is not night.
At all.
Arcana tend to have that effect.
It is, in fact, almost four in the afternoon, with about ten minutes remaining before this formerly questionable tutorial officially concludes.
Hard to be poorly designed when there is nothing left.
The smoke has mostly faded, leaving behind a hazy expanse of ash and drifting cinders that stretch out to the horizon along this poorly disguised corridor of a map.
I sit at the edge of the tallest palace spire, legs dangling idly over the side as I look out across the wasteland.
For reasons I refuse to question, this has become my favorite spot.
I blame fox instincts.
High places are simply better.
Objectively.
So naturally, I have improved it.
The top of the spire has been flattened—courtesy of my sword—and the completely unrelated incident involving a large section of rooftop architecture no longer existing in its original position.
The result is a perfectly functional living space.
Comfy futon with blankets, a cactus plushie, and an unreasonable number of pillows? Present.
A large flat rock I relocated using my vines, slowly being converted into a vaguely oven-like surface via controlled Starfire for the purpose of cooking dragon skewers? Also present.
And, of course—
A fully assembled gaming setup.
Chair. Desk. Monitors.
A computer that does not function in any capacity whatsoever.
Also present.
In my defense, I wanted to test the precision limits of my starlight constructs.
And the answer is: extremely precise, provided I focus hard enough.
Unfortunately, the process is limited by my current Perception, which means anything requiring truly fine detail—such as the internal components of modern electronics—is slightly out of reach. I can approximate most structures, but anything requiring precise micro-scale construction remains… aspirational.
For now.
Still.
Give me enough Perception, a better understanding of runes, and a questionable amount of free time, and I am reasonably confident I could assemble a fully functional computer out of nothing but starlight and misplaced determination.
Internet not included.
A minor inconvenience.
It’s the thought that counts.
I lean back slightly, idly watching the ash drift across the horizon while the stars continue their deeply important discussion on microwave ethics.
“…I’m telling you, if you rotate it halfway through—”
“That defeats the purpose of the experiment!”
I nod, observing what is clearly a deeply scholarly debate.
Then it stops.
Not gradually. Not naturally. Just… stops.
The sky goes quiet.
I blink once, then tilt my head slightly. “That’s suspicious.”
No one answers.
My ears flick in annoyance. “…You’re being weird.”
A few stars shift—not physically, but subtly, like they’re suddenly paying attention in a way they weren’t before.
Ah.
So this is important.
Unfortunate.
I sigh and sit up slightly, brushing off my sleeve despite there being absolutely nothing on it.
“Alright. Which one of you is about to ruin my excellent mood with something deeply inconvenient?”
There’s a pause.
Then Older Sister speaks.
“Darling. We need to talk.”
Figured.
I sit a little straighter, my ears angling toward her as I lock onto her position in the sky. It took some effort, but I did eventually map out where all of them actually are.
Useful.
She continues, her tone softer than usual. “Before you enter your new greater world, there are a few things we must tell you. Especially as the Sin of Pride.”
I tilt my head slightly. “What about it?”
“I will be blunt, darling. Do not grow conceited. You are not invincible. Not even close.”
I open my mouth—
—and she cuts me off.
“Star is not the strongest Aspect.”
I blink.
“You may think yourself invincible at your current level, but that is not true. You killed a dragon, but only because you are an adaptive genius, while he was not. He had a simple Aspect, likely low-rarity skills, and no meaningful manipulation techniques.”
I can feel her attention settle on me.
“Yet you almost died. If that dragon had possessed a half-decent Aspect, you would have likely lost.”
There’s a brief pause, so I nod once to indicate I am, in fact, listening.
“In truth, the only Aspect you encountered in this tutorial that could compare to your own was the Lich’s Soul Aspect. And even then, it was something you happened to counter perfectly. Pride is a good thing—but arrogance is not.”
Another pause.
“Please, just be careful, darling. Watching you get hurt is truly… unpleasant.”
…
I don’t understand.
Why would that be unpleasant?
The logic doesn’t track.
But I do understand that asking would likely make things worse, so I redirect.
“You said the Star Aspect isn’t the strongest,” I say instead. “Can you explain how Aspects actually work? The System’s explanation was… lacking.”
I receive a metaphorical nod in response.
“The easiest way to describe them is as elemental affinities,” she begins. “There are exceptions—more conceptual variations such as Force—but the vast majority fall into elemental categories. Aspects are generally divided into three classifications: Simple, Advanced, and Peak.”
A brief pause, just long enough for dramatic clarity.
“The names are largely self-explanatory. Simple Aspects include elements such as Fire or Force. Advanced Aspects represent either higher-order concepts or fusions—Storm, for example, or Severance. Peak Aspects are the highest classification, encompassing fundamental forces or constants. Soul. Time. And your own Star Aspect.”
I press a finger lightly to my cheek, processing.
“Let’s revisit something,” I say after a moment. “Fusions. I have a general idea, but I would prefer confirmation.”
“Of course, darling. Fusions are exactly what they sound like—two or more Aspects combined to produce something greater. For instance, two Simple Aspects such as Lightning and Wind may merge to form Storm, an Advanced Aspect. That same Storm could then be combined with another Advanced Aspect, such as Tide, to form Tempest—a Peak.”
She pauses briefly, then continues.
“Your Star Aspect is one of these fusions. In fact, it is the only known triple fusion—Gravity, Starlight, and Starfire combined into a single Aspect.”
I nod slowly.
That does sound appropriately excessive.
“If it’s a triple fusion,” I ask, “why isn’t it the strongest?”
“Because specialization is powerful,” she replies without hesitation. “The primary reason nothing in this tutorial posed a meaningful challenge to you is because you specialized almost entirely into speed and perception. Aspects function similarly.”
Another pause, measured this time.
“Starfire is strong, but Void would outdamage it. Starlight constructs and illusions are effective, but Dream or Creation would surpass them. Star is… versatile. It excels at not specializing. It can do nearly anything—but under normal circumstances, it cannot outperform an Aspect designed for a singular purpose.”
“…Normal circumstances?” I echo.
She hums softly in acknowledgment. “You are anything but normal, darling. With sufficient practice and refinement, even a Simple Aspect could theoretically surpass an Advanced or Peak one. Aspects can be honed. Sharpened. Refined into something far greater than their base form.”
A faint pause.
“And you have already begun doing so.”
I mutter under my breath, “Rending Starfire Line…”
“Correct. Your manipulation techniques are precisely what the Star Aspect requires. Continue developing them. Refine them. Build a technique for every situation you might encounter.”
I nod upward, then rise to my feet in one smooth motion, offering a sharply theatrical salute.
“Yes, Sergeant.”
She sighs deeply.
I have no idea why.
“Are there any Aspects I should be watching out for in particular?”
She takes a few seconds to think before answering, which is already a mildly concerning sign.
“There are several Peak Aspects you should treat with caution. Anything that can directly attack your relatively small health pool—Decay, for instance—would be dangerous. Aspects capable of producing durable defenses, such as Creation or Space, would place you at a disadvantage. And naturally destructive ones like Void, Eclipse, or Abyss are also highly threatening if you fail to evade them in time.”
I tilt my head slightly, considering that.
“In that case, wouldn’t something like Death be the worst?” I ask. “My Vitality isn’t exactly impressive, and I don’t think I can dodge… literal death.”
Silence follows.
Not a normal pause.
A long one.
She dims slightly, the usual flickering glow going still, as if she is focusing very hard on something.
Highly suspicious.
Finally, she speaks.
“I do not believe it would be. It could theoretically kill you… but not in the way you might expect.”
I narrow my eyes slightly.
“So Death can’t just snap their fingers and have someone die instantly? No dramatic HP bar deletion?”
“A sufficiently powerful user could do exactly that,” she replies calmly. “Just… not to you.”
I blink.
Then I tilt my head a bit further.
“Why not?” I ask. “Does Star have some hidden effect that blocks it? Pride didn’t mention anything about instant-death resistance.”
She pauses again.
Longer this time.
“I… do not know, darling. None of us do. You are simply… different. That is the only way we can define it. Things do not always behave as they should in your presence.”
That answer is, quite possibly, the very definition of mildly concerning.
I process it for a moment.
Then dismiss it.
Being special is obvious.
I am, after all, the most beautiful and talented prodigy in the universe.
My tail flicks with quiet satisfaction.
Still.
As appealing as that explanation is, I doubt beauty and raw talent provide reliable protection against instant-death mechanics.
Which leaves—
A mystery.
One that even the stars cannot explain.
Very interesting.
“So what you’re saying is… essentially… I am special, the Star Aspect is actually the strongest because I am a genius, and I should absolutely pick a fight with another dragon so I can obtain the full True Dragon Experience™?”
She sighs.
“Were you listening to a word I—”
“I was.”
I cut her off cleanly.
There’s a warm feeling in my chest again.
I smile up at her.
“Thank you for worrying about me. I will take your advice to heart. I promise.”
She exhales, tension easing.
Several other stars follow suit—at least a dozen of them, judging by the collective shift.
“There are one… no, two more things I need to tell you,” she continues. “First, you should be careful who you reveal your Star Aspect to. It may not be the strongest, but it is certainly the rarest. I am sure you can imagine the consequences.”
Ah.
Yes.
That sounds like a deeply efficient way to attract problems.
Makes perfect sense.
“How should I hide it, then?” I ask. “Is there a convenient alternative I can use as a cover?”
She considers for a moment.
“Prismatic Aspect. It is a high-tier Advanced Aspect—a fusion of Crystal and Light. It would account for your vines, your constructs, and most of your visible techniques. It will not explain Illusions, Gravity, or Starfire. Use Gravity sparingly, and avoid Starfire unless you are among those you trust.”
I nod sagely.
Reasonable.
So my next technique will be a Guiding Star Step.
I’ll think about that later.
“Understood,” I reply. “I am now a Prismatic-aspected vine user with a professional interest in dramatic slicing and stabbing. What was the second thing?”
“This is important,” she says, her tone sharpening slightly. “As you grow stronger, you will travel. You will see new lands, face new threats. On Asteria, there is a dwarven superpower known as Kharad Vorn. They are among the strongest empires in the world.”
A brief pause.
“Go there last. Do not approach it until you are powerful enough that nothing there could possibly defeat you.”
I stop.
Completely.
My tail goes still.
The stars fall quiet.
Something clicks.
A thought surfaces.
Uninvited.
Unwelcome.
…Five hundred years.
The pieces begin to move.
I do not let them connect.
That would be inconvenient.
For a brief moment, the air grows heavy, and Slayer’s Presence flares to life without permission.
I suppress it immediately.
I am probably wrong.
I should be wrong.
Otherwise, things might become… messy.
Before the thought can go any further, a familiar blue window overlays my vision.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Tutorial Complete.
All remaining events have concluded.
Surviving Users will now be evaluated.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Then another.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Calculating Achievements…
Processing Performance…
Processing Kill Records…
Processing Hidden Conditions…
Final Evaluation in Progress…
Rewards will be distributed accordingly.
Please remain stationary.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Ah.
A distraction.
I force myself to grin at the screen.
Perfect timing.
It’s finally time to see what kind of ridiculous rewards my obviously stellar performance has earned me.