Chapter 17: The Economy of Envy
The first few days back in the Sanctum were a study in the absurd. The five of them—Ryley, Liana, Jax, Maya, and Liam—existed in a bubble of hard-won competence that made them aliens among the ruins. They had not just survived the Spire; they had returned with their unit intact, a statistical miracle that drew stares like they were ghosts.
It wasn't admiration. It was a corrosive mixture of fear, resentment, and a bitter, uncomprehending jealousy. Ryley found it darkly amusing. In a world where the strong were the only possible bulwark against oblivion, the weak had chosen to scowl at their strength rather than seek its shelter. He watched a cluster of players—their gear still the pristine, unscratched leather of the first day—whisper and point as Jax limped by, the massive Barbarian now moving with a predator's gait despite his recent injury. Idiots, he thought. Your envy is a luxury you can't afford. We are the walls you should be trying to build.
But human nature, it seemed, was the one thing the Spire hadn't yet managed to corrupt. The survivors from other groups—the hardened, shattered few—understood. A silent recognition passed between them and Ryley's party in the crumbling plaza. The lone woman with the spectral shield gave a curt, almost imperceptible nod to Liana. The pair of synchronized warriors watched Jax test his healed leg with a professional assessment, not scorn. They were the new aristocracy, their currency paid in trauma and Spire-forged power. The rest were still using the worthless coin of their old lives: gossip and spite.
The rhythm of their days settled into a brutal, new normal. If they were not resting in their barricaded chamber, they were fighting for their lives. The Sanctum was no true sanctuary. The Corrupted beasts, drawn by the latent energy of so many players or perhaps by the Architect's design, pressed against the outer walls with a relentless, mindless hunger. The once-terrifying Calamity Tide was now just the worst of a constant, gnawing pressure.
It was during one of these grinding defensive actions—holding a breach in the rusted outer palisade against a wave of skittering, blade-limbed creatures—that the second great change made itself known. They had been fighting for hours, their bodies fueled by a strange, enduring energy that had replaced normal hunger. As the last creature fell, Jax, heaving for breath, stared at its twitching carcass. Not with disgust, but with a cold, clinical consideration.
"We're running out of the rations from the chest," he grunted, wiping black ichor from his axe.
Liam, who had finally begun to use his Arcane Bolts with something resembling confidence, paled. "So? We forage more of the moss."
"The moss is gone," Liana stated flatly. "Picked clean by the hundreds still too scared to climb. There is no more 'foraging'."
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the distant moan of the wind. The unthinkable became the only thought.
Ryley approached the Corrupted beast. Its flesh was a mottled grey and black, threaded with metallic fibers. It smelled of ozone and spoiled meat. Using his sword, he cut a strip of muscle from its flank. It was tough, fibrous. He held it up.
"Our needs have changed," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "The Spire is changing our biology. We're not fully human in here anymore. This…" he gestured with the foul meat, "…is probably viable fuel now."
Maya gagged, turning away. "It was a person! The Architect said…"
"The Architect said a lot of things," Ryley interrupted, not unkindly but with finality. "It also said we have to survive. This is not a person. It is biomass. And we are machines that now require biomass to continue functioning."
The revulsion was a physical wave. Liam vomited. Maya refused to look. But Jax's expression shifted from disgust to grim acceptance. Liana simply watched, her face unreadable.
Hunger, however, was a more persuasive orator than morality. Two days later, with the last of the edible fungus and tough journey-bread from their Silver Chest gone, the argument was over. Liana, using one of her daggers, expertly butchered one of the smaller, less-humanoid Corrupted that had attacked their sector. She built a small, contained fire in a shielded corner of their chamber. The meat sizzled, releasing a smell that was not pleasant, but was undeniably proteinaceous.
Jax took the first piece. He chewed slowly, his face a mask of concentration. He swallowed. "Tastes like… rusty iron and gamey venison. But it's food." A moment later, a subtle warmth spread through his limbs. His stamina bar, which had been slowly refilling, ticked up noticeably.
One by one, they ate. The act was a silent, profound severing. They were no longer survivors in a game. They were predators in an ecosystem, consuming the corrupted energy of the world itself to fuel their climb. The disgust didn't vanish, but it was compartmentalized, locked away with other useless emotions like nostalgia and unchecked fear. It became fuel, too.
In the week that followed, this became their cycle. Mornings were for brutal, physical conditioning within the relative safety of their sector. Ryley drilled with his Basic Ward, learning to activate it faster, to angle it against different types of blows. He practiced channeling magic through his sword strikes until the blade hummed with a constant, low-grade energy. He wasn't just using skills; he was training them.
« Skill Proficiency Increased: Mana-Edge »
« Basic Ward is now Apprentice Tier »
Liana's Flurry evolved from a desperate whirlwind to a controlled, lethal dance. She practiced on moving targets—rats, crumbling masonry, the air itself—until her muscles memorized the patterns.
« Flurry is now Apprentice Tier »
Jax didn't just enter his Blooded Rage; he learned to control its ebb and flow, to channel the aggressive energy into specific, devastating strikes rather than a mindless frenzy. He grappled with the Corrupted carcasses, building raw, practical strength.
« New Skill Unlocked: Sundering Blow »
« Blooded Rage is now Apprentice Tier »
Maya's Improved Mending grew more nuanced. She learned to focus the energy, closing deep wounds first, identifying and purging traces of corruption within injuries. She experimented, finding she could now produce a weak, area-of-effect pulse of cleansing light that soothed minor cuts and burns on everyone nearby.
« New Skill Unlocked: Cleansing Pulse »
Even Liam, pushed by necessity and the grim camaraderie, practiced. His Arcane Bolts grew faster, more accurate. He spent hours meditating, feeling the flow of mana within him, and stumbled upon the ability to condense it into a faint, personal shield—a pathetic version of Ryley's Ward, but a defense nonetheless.
« Arcane Bolt is now Apprentice Tier »
« New Skill Unlocked: Mana Shell »
They leveled through this relentless training and the constant skirmishes. Ryley felt the surge twice.
« Level Up: Spellsword Level 7 »
« Level Up: Spellsword Level 8 »
The others followed closely, all now solidly into Level 7 and climbing toward 8. With each level, the Aetherial Sustenance effect deepened. They could go days without eating the Corrupted meat now, though they still did for the tangible boost in recovery. The gnawing desperation for food was a story of the past, replaced by a calculated consumption of energy.
They were no longer just a group of survivors. They were a unit, an engine of progress fueled by monster flesh and honed by relentless practice. The looks from the other survivors in the plaza changed. The jealousy was still there, but it was now undercut by a dawning, fearful awe. These five were not just lucky. They were building something. And as they stood together on the eve of their return to the Spire—well-fed, stronger, bristling with upgraded skills—the divide between them and the hopeful, hungry crowd was no longer just one of experience. It was the chasm between those who had accepted the Spire's brutal terms, and those who still clung to the ghost of a world where envy mattered more than survival.