—
[You’ve levelled up to Level 2 Human!]
[You’ve gained 0.2 stat points in Strength, Agility, and Constitution. You’ve gained 0.5 stat points in Intelligence.]
[You have gained 2 Attribute points!]
[You’ve levelled up to Level 2 Necromancer Apprentice!]
[You’ve gained 0.1 stat points in Strength and Constitution, 0.3 stat points in Agility, and 0.5 stat points in Intelligence.]
[You have gained 4 Attribute points!]
—
Michael hardly registered the notifications. It felt like he was about to die, his whole body burning as if it were engulfed in flames. A section of his left arm looked mutilated, horrifying to even glance at.
Suppressing the urge to scream, Michael took out one of the health potions he’d bought from the Supers Association store. He hadn’t imagined he’d need it less than two hours after first stepping into the Land of Origin.
Despite the warnings about not treating the Land of Origin like a game, part of him still had. It fueled his excitement, filling him with visions of levelling up like the protagonist in some cheap novel, rising to the peak of this world and beyond.
Perhaps it was his ‘teenage’ optimism that kept him hopeful, or maybe he was unconsciously slipping into the role of an 18-year-old despite already being an adult back on Earth.
With shaky hands, Michael poured half of the health potion over his injured arm and drank the rest. Gradually, the pain began to fade.
The potion worked like magic, and Michael watched in awe as new flesh formed over his wounds. A scar remained, likely due to the potion’s grade, but he didn’t care. As long as the terrible pain was gone, he could deal with the rest later.
‘I almost died,’ Michael thought. Death in the Land of Origin wasn’t permanent, but he’d undeniably come close—against one of the weakest monsters here, no less.
‘I’m pathetic. Too naive, too inexperienced, too reckless. If I’d just kept my distance from that acid slime, I wouldn’t be in this mess.’
What Michael didn’t realise was that his performance, while far from perfect, would have impressed most veteran Awakeners. He had not only succeeded in killing a monster on his first encounter but had also taken down an opponent several levels higher than him. Despite being “just” a slime, it was still superior to him.
Michael also misunderstood that, though slimes were among the weakest monsters in the Land of Origin, that reputation applied only from a certain perspective. The writer of the post calling slimes weak was already a powerful being qualified to look down on slimes. For many, especially new Awakeners, slimes were no joke, and underestimating them had been Michael’s first mistake.
Both the Michael from Earth and the one from Aurora shared a tendency to be unrelenting with themselves. Growing up as an orphan had forced him to mature quickly and shoulder responsibilities, leaving him with little patience for his own mistakes. This same trait made him feel little sense of accomplishment at defeating the slime he subconsciously disdained as “weak.”
After sitting in silence for a long while, Michael’s messy emotions finally calmed, and he began to focus on other things.
‘This scar won’t follow me to the real world, right?’ Michael glanced uncertainly at the ugly scar on his left arm.
Something remarkable about the bodies of Awakeners in the Land of Origin was how closely they mirrored those in the real world. They could be considered perfect “clones” in sync with their counterparts. This replication was so complete that even pain was experienced just as intensely here as in reality.
Recalling his recent encounter with the acid slime sent a shiver down Michael’s spine.
‘I hope I don’t develop PTSD over slimes. That would be too pathetic.’
After examining the scar a bit longer, Michael decided it was unlikely to follow him back to reality. The primary function of this body was to synchronise any strength he gained here with his real body. However, it seemed he’d have to bear the scar here until he “died.”
According to posts on the Supers Association forum, an Awakener’s body in the Land of Origin functioned much like a real one—independent from the original, requiring food and other sustenance. It wasn’t just data like in a game. This was also why “death” here only counted if the entire body or major organs were destroyed. Losing a limb wouldn’t kill him, but it would leave him crippled in this world.
To regain a fully functional body, his current one would have to be destroyed so a new one could “reconstruct” the next time his consciousness entered the Land of Origin.
To put it simply, one could reconstruct a body they didn’t like by “killing” themselves. However, aside from the fact that many were not sick enough to consider this, even seasoned Awakeners would rather be crippled than end their own lives. This was because death in this world, while not permanent, still resulted in a 10 percent permanent reduction in all stats. Not many could afford that loss.
So, even though death wasn’t truly final here, most Awakeners took their “lives” seriously.
By now, Michael had recovered from his “life-and-death” battle with the acid slime and could finally focus on something he’d been putting off.
‘I levelled up!’
Though his performance against the acid slime left much to be desired, Michael wouldn’t turn down the experience points. He had a problem with the slime, not with its generous experience reward.
‘Status’
—
[Name: Michael Norman]
[Class: Necromancer Apprentice]
[Level: 2(1^)]
[EXP: 80/250]
[Strength: 1.6(0.3^)]
[Agility: 1.9(0.5^)]
[Constitution: 1.4(0.3^)]
[Intelligence: 5.5(1.0^)]
[Attribute Points: 6]
[Skills: Undead Summoning, Undead Revival, Detect, Basic Shot(NEW!)]
[Talent: Infinite Evolution]
[Class Skill: Contract Slot{0/4}]
[Gift: Mark Of Origin]
—
Compared to how it looked when he first awakened, Michael’s status screen now appeared significantly different.
The first thing he noticed wasn’t the change in his level or stats but his skills section. Aside from the two class skills he’d had since awakening, entering the Land of Origin had granted him two more, which stood out.
Michael already knew the function of his first three skills: {Undead Summoning}, a primary skill that allowed him to summon and dismiss undead at will; {Undead Revival}, his true core skill, enabling him to create undead summons in the first place; and {Detect}, a basic scouting skill used for gathering information.
Now, there was a new addition.
[{Basic Shot} (Basic Mastery) Proficiency: 0.6%]
Fires a single, accurate shot at the target with standard damage.
‘Hmm, seems like something that belongs to the Archer class,’ Michael thought.
Michael was, in fact, correct. {Basic Shot} wasn’t just any ordinary skill for the Archer class; it was one of its core skills, akin to how {Undead Revival} was for him.
But since this was an Archer class skill, how—and why—could Michael learn it?
Class skills were called “class skills” not because only one class could learn them but because specific classes could maximise their potential.
For example, {Undead Revival} was a skill other classes could technically learn, but non-necromancers couldn’t make full use of it. Even if another Awakener learned {Undead Revival} and {Undead Summoning}, the number of undead summons they could control would be limited, unlike necromancers like Michael, who unlocked extra slots with each level up.
Interestingly, contract slots were also used to gauge talent for classes like necromancers and beast tamers. Just because two individuals awakened the same class didn’t mean they were on equal footing—especially when it came to contract slots. For instance, Michael had two starting contract slots, gaining two more with each level.
However, there were rare individuals with five starting slots, meaning that by level 10, while Michael would have 20 slots, they would have 50. This was one way classes reliant on contracts were graded.
Returning to class skills: class skills weren’t exclusive to specific classes but were optimised by them. When non-necromancer classes learned {Undead Revival}, they would start at {Basic Mastery}, and raising proficiency would be challenging. In contrast, necromancers like Michael would start at {Intermediate Mastery} for skills like {Undead Revival} or any necromancer-centric ability.
This applied to other class systems as well.
Michael successfully learned {Basic Shot}, but his mastery began at {Basic Mastery}, whereas Archers would automatically start at {Intermediate Mastery} for this skill, whether they received it at awakening or learned it later.
‘This skill should make up for my terrible shooting a bit,’ Michael thought happily. He had no intention of avoiding more monsters just because of his experience with the acid slime. Though he didn’t enjoy pain—who would?—he wasn’t a coward.
Shifting his focus away from his new skill, Michael began to examine the changes that had occurred after levelling up.