Year 336 Post-Collision – Day 8 on Surface
The morning after the rift spawn attack, Sunny woke up to find Marcus standing in the doorway of the common house, holding a sword.
Not a practice sword. A real sword.
"Get up," Marcus said. "Elena wants to see you. And bring this." He tossed the sword—still sheathed—onto Sunny's bed.
Sunny sat up, looking at the weapon. It was simple steel, nothing fancy, but well-maintained. A standard military blade.
"Why?" Sunny asked.
"Because you killed a rift spawn with your bare hands yesterday, and the village council decided that giving you an actual weapon was probably smarter than hoping you don't need one." Marcus crossed his arms. "Also because you're clearly more dangerous than you've been letting on, and we'd all prefer you be properly armed if something else comes through."
[ARCHIVE ASSESSMENT]
[TRANSLATION: "We're Scared Of You But Need You"]
[ALSO: "Please Don't Kill Us"]
[VILLAGE POLITICS: COMPLICATED]
Sunny picked up the sword, drew it partially from the sheath. The blade was clean, sharp, balanced. A real weapon for a real fight.
"Thank you," he said.
"Don't thank me yet. Elena has questions."
The Interrogation (Polite Edition)
Elena was waiting in the communal hall with Roland and Marcus. The undead Watcher was in its corner, as always, not moving but somehow present.
"Sit," Elena said, gesturing to a chair.
Sunny sat, the sword across his lap.
"Yesterday you killed a rift spawn with one punch," Elena began without preamble. "A creature that normally takes three trained fighters to bring down. You did it alone, unarmed, and made it look easy." She leaned forward. "So let's have an honest conversation about what you actually are."
Sunny considered his options. Lying completely hadn't worked. Time for a different approach.
"I told you I was claimed," he said. "I told you I had abilities. What happened yesterday was... those abilities working together. Enhanced strength, density manipulation, combat instincts. All of it at once."
"Density manipulation," Roland repeated. "That's not a common blessing. That's high-tier physics alteration. The kind of thing gods and primordials do, not children."
"I'm not just blessed," Sunny said slowly. "I'm claimed. There's a difference. A blessing is a gift. A claim is... ownership. I belong to something powerful. It protects me, enhances me, sustains me. In exchange—" He paused. "—in exchange, I'm bound to it."
"What claimed you?" Elena asked.
"Something old. Something from the deep ocean." Sunny met her eyes. "Something I can't name, because names have power and I don't have permission to use it."
That was technically true. The Leviathan had never explicitly told him he could use her name. And he definitely didn't want to.
"A primordial ocean entity," Roland said thoughtfully. "That explains the pressure. The depth to your presence. You're not just enhanced—you're tethered to something vast."
"Yes."
"And your family?" Elena pressed.
"Dead," Sunny said, which was true in a way. Rajah's family was in another world. Sunny had no family except the Leviathan. "The claiming was... not gentle. I survived. They didn't. Now I'm—" He gestured vaguely. "—this."
Silence. The adults exchanged looks.
"A claimed child," Marcus said finally. "Bound to a primordial, carrying its power, wandering alone." He shook his head. "That's either incredibly tragic or incredibly dangerous."
"Both," Sunny said. "Probably both."
Elena stood, pacing. "Here's the situation, Sunny. You're powerful. More powerful than anyone in this village except maybe Roland on his good days. You killed a spawn that should have taken a team. That makes you valuable." She stopped, fixing him with a hard look. "But it also makes you a risk. Power attracts attention. Primordial claims attract serious attention. Djinn Lords, Grail mages, Church inquisitors—they all have opinions about unsanctioned power in their territories."
"I'm not trying to attract attention," Sunny said. "I just want to survive. Learn. Get stronger. Eventually—" He hesitated. "—eventually I'll leave. But while I'm here, I'll help. I'll fight. I'll earn my keep."
"Damn right you will," Marcus said. "You owe us for that stunt yesterday. You could have warned us you had that kind of power."
"Would you have believed me?"
"...Fair point."
Elena returned to her seat. "Here's what we're going to do. You stay. You train with the militia. You help defend the village when rifts open. In exchange, we'll teach you what we know, feed you, shelter you, and—most importantly—not report you to Lord Castor or any other authority."
"Why wouldn't you report me?"
"Because we're a border village in a rift zone," Elena said bluntly. "We're ignored by the powers that be because we're not worth the effort. But if those powers knew we had a primordial-claimed child living here? They'd suddenly care a lot. They'd come. They'd take you. They'd probably destroy half the village in the process." She leaned back. "We're protecting ourselves by protecting you. Understand?"
Sunny understood perfectly. This was survival politics. The village needed his power but couldn't afford the attention it would bring.
"Understood," he said.
"Good." Elena gestured to the sword. "That's yours now. Don't break it."
Personal Analysis
After the meeting, Sunny retreated to the edge of the village with his new sword and sat under a tree. He needed to understand what he actually was now. Three years in the abyss, focused on survival and synthesis. He'd never really analyzed his own nature systematically.
Archive, he thought. Give me a full breakdown. What am I, exactly?
[INITIATING COMPREHENSIVE SELF-ANALYSIS]
[SCANNING: PHYSICAL, METAPHYSICAL, ENERGETIC COMPOSITION]
[PLEASE WAIT...]
The Archive dove deep, analyzing every aspect of Sunny's existence. His entries, his physiology, his connections, his nature.
[ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
[USER DESIGNATION: SUNNY (FALSE NAME)]
[TRUE NAME: RAJAH (SEALED)]
[CLASSIFICATION: CLAIMED DEMIGOD (ABYSSAL ASPECT)]
[PHYSICAL AGE: 3 YEARS, 3 Months]
[APPARENT AGE: 9 Years]
[ACTUAL MATURITY: 23 Years (Including Previous Life)]
[PRIMARY POWER SOURCE: LEVIATHAN CLAIM]
[SECONDARY POWER SOURCE: AETERNUM ARCHIVE]
[ENERGETIC COMPOSITION DETECTED:]
Sunny's attention sharpened. He hadn't thought about his power in terms of energy before. In the abyss, it was just... pressure and synthesis. But the surface world had systems. Frameworks. Classifications.
[MAGICULE ANALYSIS:]
[DETECTING... TRACE AMOUNTS]
[CONCENTRATION: 847 Units (Low For This World)]
[SOURCE: Absorbed From Environment]
[EXPLANATION: Your Demigod Body Passively Absorbs Ambient Magical Energy]
[COMPARED TO NATIVE INHABITANTS:]
[- Average Village Militia: 200-400 Units]
[- Elena (Healer/Mage): 2,300 Units]
[- Marcus (Enhanced Warrior): 890 Units]
[- Roland (Retired Adventurer): 4,100 Units (Declining)]
[YOUR 847 Is Above Average But Not Exceptional]
[HOWEVER: You Don't Actually Use Magicules For Most Powers]
Sunny frowned. What do I use?
[AURA ANALYSIS:]
[PRIMARY ENERGY TYPE: ABYSSAL PRESENCE]
[CLASSIFICATION: SOVEREIGNTY-CLASS PRESSURE]
[MAGNITUDE: VARIABLE (CURRENTLY SUPPRESSED)]
[BASE OUTPUT: 2,300 Units Equivalent]
[MAXIMUM OUTPUT: UNKNOWN (UNTESTED ON SURFACE)]
[DESCRIPTION: Your Power Doesn't Come From Magicules]
[IT Comes From WEIGHT, CLAIM, PRESENCE]
[You Assert Reality Rather Than Manipulate It]
[This Is Why You Feel "Heavy" To Mages]
[You're Not Using The Same System They Are]
That made sense. Sunny's powers came from the Leviathan's claim—sovereignty, pressure, the concept of existing where you shouldn't and making reality accept it. That wasn't the same as casting spells or channeling mana.
[SYNTHESIS SYSTEM ANALYSIS:]
[CURRENT ENTRIES: 6]
[1. ABYSSAL SOVEREIGNTY (UNIFIED CORE) - RANK E+]
[2. PAIN TOLERANCE (BERSERKER ASPECT) - RANK F+]
[3. PRESSURE SENSE (DANGER DETECTION) - RANK E-]
[4. RECOVERY ACCELERATION (TROLL ASPECT) - RANK F]
[5. PRESSURE BLADE (MANIFESTATION) - RANK F]
[6. IRON ECHO (BRIDGE CONCEPT) - RANK F]
[SYNTHESIS POTENTIAL: 10,241+ Concepts From Media Catalog]
[CONTINUITY DEBT: 36.6%]
[DETECTION THRESHOLD: 40% (Estimated)]
[EDITOR ATTENTION: MODERATE (MANAGEABLE WITH LEVIATHAN CONNECTION)]
[OVERALL ASSESSMENT:]
[YOU ARE: A HYBRID POWER SYSTEM]
[- Demigod Physiology (Base)]
[- Sovereignty Pressure (Primary)]
[- Synthesis Network (Unique)]
[- Minimal Traditional Magic (Supplementary)]
[COMPARED TO SURFACE INHABITANTS: WEIRD]
[POWER LEVEL: MODERATE BUT GROWING]
[THREAT CLASSIFICATION: UNKNOWN (TOO IRREGULAR TO CATEGORIZE)]
[WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT THE LEVIATHAN WANTED]
Sunny absorbed all of this. He was a walking contradiction—demigod who wasn't really divine, pressure-based power user in a world of mana systems, synthesis machine that combined impossible concepts.
No wonder Editors kept trying to delete him. He was a category error made flesh.
How do I compare to the things I've read about? Servants, Djinn Kings, Demon Lords?
[HONEST ASSESSMENT:]
[CURRENT YOU: Would Lose To All Of Those]
[SERVANTS: E-Rank At Best, Would Crush You]
[DJINN KINGS: Sovereignty Would Clash, They'd Win]
[DEMON LORDS: Too Much Raw Power Difference]
[BUT: You're Still Growing]
[AND: You Have Synthesis Potential They Don't]
[GIVEN TIME: YOU MIGHT BECOME COMPETITIVE]
[CURRENT ESTIMATE: 2-3 Years To Match Low-Tier Servants]
[5-7 Years To Match Demon Lords]
[10+ Years To Match High-Tier Entities]
[ASSUMING YOU SURVIVE THAT LONG]
Two to three years. That was... actually faster than Sunny had expected. But it made sense. His Claimed Demigod Physique grew with him, his synthesis let him shortcut development, and the Leviathan's claim meant he had a safety net.
If he could survive long enough to exploit all that.
The Dungeon in the Distance
That afternoon, Sunny climbed one of the watch towers—ostensibly to practice his Pressure Sense range, actually to get a better view of the surroundings.
From up here, he could see the village, the forest, the rift zone boundary, and—
There.
To the northwest, maybe fifteen miles away, rising out of the forest like a wound in reality.
A dungeon.
It was massive. A tower of twisted architecture that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at it. Dark stone, impossible angles, wreathed in purple-black energy that even from this distance made Sunny's Pressure Sense scream.
[ARCHIVE IDENTIFICATION]
[STRUCTURE: DJINN-STYLE DUNGEON]
[CLASSIFICATION: UNCONQUERED]
[ESTIMATED DANGER LEVEL: EXTREME]
[ESTIMATED FLOORS: 47+]
[DJINN PRESENCE: CONFIRMED (SEALED INSIDE)]
[THIS IS is What The Rift Zone Forms Around]
[THE DUNGEON IS LEAKING]
[THAT'S WHERE THE SPAWNS COME FROM]
Sunny stared at it. In the books he'd read, the anime he'd watched, dungeons were places of power. Conquer them, reach the Djinn at the bottom, win their favor, and gain sovereignty. Actual, metaphysical rulership. The right to command, to claim territory, to write laws that reality enforced.
That's what Djinn Kings had. That's what made them powerful.
And there was one right there. Fifteen miles away. Unconquered.
"Don't even think about it," Marcus's voice said from below. He was climbing up the tower to join Sunny. "That dungeon's killed every party that's tried it. Forty-seven floors of nightmare. Lord Castor himself attempted it five years ago and barely made it to floor twenty before retreating."
"I'm just looking," Sunny said.
"Good. Keep it that way." Marcus reached the top of the tower and leaned against the railing. "You're strong, kid. But you're not dungeon-strong. Not yet. Those things are designed to kill. They test everything—strength, intelligence, will, morality. And the Djinn at the bottom? They only accept the worthy. Everyone else dies."
"Have you tried it?"
"Once. Got to floor three before I turned back." Marcus's expression was grim. "Lost two friends on floor two. The dungeon showed us things. Illusions. Made us fight each other. By the time we realized what was happening—" He shook his head. "I'm not going back."
Sunny looked at the dungeon again, feeling its weight even from here. Fifteen miles. Forty-seven floors. A Djinn at the bottom.
And probably the key to becoming something more than a kid with six garbage-tier abilities.
But Marcus was right. He wasn't ready. Not yet.
Archive, add it to long-term goals. Dungeon conquest. When I have twelve entries and better synthesis success rate.
[ACKNOWLEDGED]
[GOAL ADDED: Conquer Northwest Dungeon]
[PREREQUISITES: 12+ Entries, 70%+ Synthesis Rate, Don't Die]
[ESTIMATED TIME TO READINESS: 6-18 Months]
[CURRENT STATUS: JUST LOOKING, NOT TOUCHING]
[GOOD]
"Come on," Marcus said. "Militia drill in an hour. Now that you have a real sword, we're going to teach you how to use it properly."
Sunny took one last look at the dungeon—that tower of power and danger and opportunity—then followed Marcus down.
He wasn't ready yet.
But someday.
Someday he'd climb that tower. Face whatever was inside. Reach the Djinn at the bottom.
And either gain sovereignty or die trying.
For now, though, he had drills to attend and a village to protect.
The dungeon could wait.
Day 14 – Proving Worth
Two weeks on the surface. Sunny had fallen into a routine:
Mornings: Militia drills with Marcus. Learning actual sword forms instead of just flailing with enhanced reflexes. His demigod body picked up techniques fast, but muscle memory took time.
Afternoons: Village work. Helping repair buildings, carrying supplies, whatever needed doing. Showing he was useful beyond fighting.
Evenings: Reading. Elena had given him access to the village's small library—mostly practical texts, but some history, some system explanations. Sunny devoured them.
Nights: Meditation. Diving into his Archive, exploring his Media Catalog, planning future syntheses.
The second rift alert came on day twelve.
Five spawns this time. The militia handled four. Sunny took the fifth—the one that broke through and charged the civilian shelters.
He used Abyssal Sovereignty to root himself in place, let the spawn crash into him like hitting a wall, then drove Pressure Blade through its core. Clean kill. No witnesses except the people he was protecting.
Three days later, another alert. Seven spawns. Sunny killed two, assisted on three others, and nobody even questioned it anymore.
He was useful. That was the key. Not just powerful—useful. He showed up, he fought, he didn't complain, he didn't ask for special treatment.
The village stopped looking at him like a suspicious stranger and started looking at him like a weird but reliable asset.
On day fourteen, Kord the dwarf approached him in the market square.
"Boy," the smith said gruffly. "Your sword. Let me see it."
Sunny handed it over. Kord examined it with a professional eye, grunted, and handed it back.
"It's adequate," he said. "But you're hitting things harder than it's designed for. Blade's developing stress fractures." He pulled out a whetstone and a small pot of oil. "Maintain it properly. Every night, you clean it, sharpen it, oil it. Every week, you bring it to me and I check the integrity. Understood?"
"Understood," Sunny said.
"Good." Kord started to walk away, then paused. "You fight like you've got something to prove. That's good. But don't die proving it. Village needs defenders more than it needs heroes."
He left before Sunny could respond.
That night, Sunny sat in the common house, carefully cleaning and sharpening his sword like Kord had instructed, and thought about worth.
In his first life, Rajah had never proven he was worth anything. Failed rapper, mediocre student, died over a phone.
In his second life, he'd spent three years proving to the Leviathan that he was worth claiming. Worth drowning and breaking and rebuilding.
Now he was proving to Blackshore that he was worth keeping. Worth feeding and sheltering and training.
Always proving. Always earning. Never just... existing.
[ARCHIVE OBSERVATION]
[YOU REALIZE This Is A Pattern, Right?]
[YOUR Self-Worth Is Entirely Tied To What You Can Do For Others]
[THIS IS Probably Unhealthy]
I know.
[GOOD]
[AT LEAST You're Self-Aware About Your Trauma]
[THAT'S Progress]
[NOW GET SOME SLEEP]
[TOMORROW There's ANOTHER MILITIA DRILL]
Sunny finished maintaining his sword, lay down on his bed, and looked out the window at the dark sky.
Somewhere out there, fifteen miles away, a dungeon waited.
Somewhere below, in ocean trenches, the Leviathan waited.
Somewhere in the future, a version of himself who was strong enough to stand without proving anything waited.
But tonight, he was just Sunny. Nine years old (apparently). Defender of Blackshore Village. Owner of one sword, six mediocre abilities, and a catalog of impossible dreams.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
And something was better than nothing.
[END CHAPTER 11]
[DAYS ON SURFACE: 14]
[VILLAGE STANDING: EARNED]
[RIFT SPAWN KILLS: 8]
[SWORD MAINTENANCE: LEARNED]
[DUNGEON SPOTTED: YES]
[DUNGEON ATTEMPTED: NO (NOT YET)]
[CONTINUITY DEBT: 36.6%]
[ARCHIVE ENTRIES: 6]
[MAGICULE LEVEL: 847 (LOW BUT FUNCTIONAL)]
[AURA TYPE: SOVEREIGNTY PRESSURE]
[STATUS: USEFUL, VALUED, STILL HIDING MOST OF HIS POWER]
[NEXT CHAPTER: GROWTH AND COMPLICATIONS]