Primordial Awakening: I Breathe Skill Points!-Chapter 62: The Resonance (2)

"Indeed." Marcus deactivated the scanners with a deliberate sequence of button presses, each one accompanied by a soft beep as the various detection arrays powered down. The crystalline displays that had been projecting complex data patterns across the walls flickered and faded, returning the abandoned building to its normal state of dim abandonment. He picked up the egg carefully, his movements carrying the practiced precision of someone who’d handled countless dangerous artifacts before. He examined it with professional detachment, turning it slowly in the light streaming through the broken windows, watching how the inner patterns shifted and flowed in response to his touch.

"My analysis suggests this is what’s called a ’Soul Anchor,’" he said, his voice carrying that lecturer’s tone he sometimes adopted when explaining particularly complex magical theory. "An artifact specifically designed to stabilize soul-based transformations during extreme mana exposure. Extremely rare. Most awakened go their entire lives without seeing one, let alone owning one."

"The Soul Mark," Zeph said immediately, the connection forming in his mind even as the words left his mouth.

"Exactly." Marcus nodded approvingly, as if Zeph had just answered a particularly difficult test question correctly. "You’re going into ruins that have killed thirty B-rank awakened—experienced fighters with established builds and years of dungeon experience. Ruins that, according to preliminary reports from the initial scouting teams, are saturated with mana at concentrations that cause soul instability in normal humans. Your Soul Mark residue—already dormant and integrated into your soul structure after the crisis event—could reactivate under that level of mana exposure. The concentrated energy might trigger a response in the dormant residue."

Marcus handed the egg back to Zeph with careful deliberation, ensuring their fingers didn’t touch during the transfer—a subtle acknowledgment of the artifact’s sensitivity to soul energy.

"This artifact might prevent that reactivation. Or it might control it, channeling the transformation in a specific direction. Or..." He paused, his expression shifting to something more speculative, almost excited despite his usual professional detachment. "It might be a KEY that unlocks something inside the ruins. Something specifically designed to interact with soul-marked individuals. A security system, perhaps. Or an access protocol."

"You’re saying I need to bring this with me."

"I’m saying you’d be an idiot not to," Marcus replied bluntly, without his usual diplomatic phrasing. "Whatever the ruins are, they’re connected to this egg—the resonance frequency proves that beyond any doubt. And whatever your Soul Mark is, it’s connected to both the egg and the ruins. Three variables that shouldn’t logically be related but clearly are."

Marcus started packing up his equipment with efficient movements born of long practice, each sensor and scanner finding its designated slot in the reinforced carrying cases. His hands moved with mechanical precision even as he continued talking.

"The Sanctuary Authority doesn’t know about this connection. They’re treating the ruins as a standard extra-dimensional manifestation—dangerous but ultimately exploitable for resources and knowledge. Standard protocol: send in teams, map the interior, extract anything valuable, neutralize threats. They think it’s just another dungeon with an unusually high difficulty rating."

"But you think it’s something else." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"I think," Marcus said carefully, choosing each word with deliberate precision, "that the ruins are a FACILITY. Not a natural dungeon formation or random dimensional overlap. Built by something that understood souls at a level we don’t. Something that could manipulate soul energy the way we manipulate mana—casually, precisely, with complete understanding of the underlying principles." He paused, meeting Zeph’s eyes directly. "And I think you, specifically, are meant to be there."

The words hung in the air like a threat, heavy with implications that neither of them fully understood yet.

"Meant to be there?" Zeph repeated, his voice carrying an edge of disbelief mixed with growing unease. "By who? What? Are you suggesting something planned for me to find this egg and go to these ruins?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn’t need you to go in and find out," Marcus replied with infuriating pragmatism. He sealed his last equipment case and straightened, adjusting his jacket with a sharp tug. "I’ve used my connections to guarantee your spot in the expedition. Called in some favors with the Sanctuary Authority’s personnel division. You’re registered as participant #00847. Report to Gate 7 at 0600 hours on January 11th. Don’t be late—they leave exactly on schedule, and they won’t wait for stragglers."

"You—what? How did you—" Zeph started, caught completely off-guard by this revelation.

"I have resources you don’t," Marcus interrupted smoothly, cutting off the questions before they could fully form. "Connections built over years of research and consultation work. And an investment to protect—namely, you. You’re more valuable alive and discovering answers than dead in a normal dungeon somewhere, killed by some random monster that doesn’t matter. So I ensured you’d have access to the one place that might explain what’s happening to you. Consider it a strategic investment in future discoveries."

He walked toward the exit with measured steps, his footfalls echoing in the empty building, then paused in the doorway. The morning light behind him cast his face into shadow as he delivered his final warning.

"One more thing. The Soul Mark residue will reactivate eventually—it’s not a question of if, but when. My estimates based on the energy readings and degradation patterns say six months, maybe less. When it does reactivate, you’ll experience the same symptoms as before—power surges, transformation urges, the Whisper trying to guide you toward something. But this time, there won’t be a convenient crisis to channel it through. It’ll just be you, alone, trying to control something you don’t understand while maintaining your normal life."

"And you think the ruins have answers about how to control it."

"I think the ruins have answers about what it IS," Marcus corrected. "Control comes after understanding. You can’t manage something you don’t comprehend." He adjusted his grip on his equipment cases. "Don’t die in there, Zeph. You’re too interesting a variable to waste."

Then he was gone, disappearing down the stairs with surprising speed for someone carrying so much equipment, leaving Zeph alone in the abandoned building with an egg that pulsed in rhythm with alien ruins and a soul condition that had an expiration date on its dormancy.

Zeph stared at the empty doorway for a long moment, processing everything.

’Six months until the Soul Mark reactivates. Six months until I potentially lose control completely.’

’And this egg is somehow the key . A Soul Anchor that resonates with ruins built by something that understood souls better than we do.’

He secured the artifact back in his storage ring, feeling it disappear into that pocket dimension with a faint whisper of spatial displacement. The weight vanished from his hands but remained in his thoughts.

He headed home, his enhanced AGI allowing him to move through the early morning streets faster than normal humans could manage.

Tomorrow: skill fusion. The gamble that would either create his trump card or waste two A-rank skills.

Then: final preparation. Six days to become as strong as possible before the deadline.

Then: the ruins. The answers. The 70% casualty rate that had claimed thirty B-rank awakened already.

’At least I know WHY I’m going now,’ he thought as he navigated the familiar streets of F-District. ’Not just for money. Not just for survival.’

’For answers about what I’m becoming. For control over whatever the Soul Mark is turning me into.’

’And maybe, if I’m really lucky, for a way to prevent it from taking over completely when it reactivates in six months.’

The walk back to his apartment took twenty minutes through streets that were familiar even in the pre-dawn darkness. The city was quiet at this hour, most of F-District already asleep or engaged in activities that didn’t involve walking the streets. The occasional night-shift worker passed by, too focused on their own concerns to pay attention to another young awakened heading home.

Zeph’s mind raced through everything Marcus had revealed, turning over each new piece of information like puzzle pieces he couldn’t quite fit together yet.

Soul Anchor. Resonance frequency. The ruins calling to the egg like a beacon.

A facility built by something that understood souls at a fundamental level humanity hadn’t reached yet.

’What kind of civilization builds soul-manipulation facilities and then leaves them to be discovered thousands of years later?’ he wondered, the question nagging at him. ’And why do they resonate with MY specific soul condition?’

’Am I the only one with a Soul Mark? Or are there others out there, walking around with the same dormant residue? Is this something the ruins CREATE in people who enter them, or something they’re designed to STUDY in subjects who already have it?’

No answers materialized in his thoughts. Just more questions, each one leading to three others in an endless cascade of uncertainty.

He reached his building at 12:30 AM, the digital display in the lobby showing the time in harsh red numbers. He took the stairs two at a time with his enhanced AGI making the climb effortless, his legs carrying him upward without the burning fatigue normal humans would feel.

Reached his floor, breathing easily despite the rapid ascent.

Saw a note taped to his door.

His blood pressure spiked immediately, a familiar mixture of annoyance and resignation flooding through him.

’If that’s Sarah Chen leaving more extortion demands...’

He pulled the note off the door and unfolded it with more force than strictly necessary, the paper crinkling in his grip.

The handwriting was neat, feminine, and absolutely shameless—every letter perfectly formed as if she’d taken her time composing it:

"Hey neighbor! Hope you’re feeling better after your ’medical condition’!

Reminder: 2,000 credits for my continued silence. Payment accepted via direct transfer when your sponsorship money comes through.

Also, you should probably buy better locks. I could feel how weak that deadbolt is when I pushed your door open to check on you. Not safe !

- Sarah (Unit 843)

PS: Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone about what I saw. A deal’s a deal! Your secret is safe with me! 😇"

Zeph crumpled the note in his fist with enough force that his 150 STR nearly tore it to pieces.

’She pushed my door open. Against 150 STR—enough force to bend steel bars. Like it was NOTHING.’

’How is that even possible? She’s 4’11" and looks like she weighs maybe 90 pounds soaking wet. What kind of build does she have that gives her enough STR to overpower me? What’s her actual rank?’

He made a mental note to investigate that later. Much later. After the ruins. After his dignity recovered from being extorted by someone who barely reached his chest.

Which might take years, if he was being honest with himself.

He entered his apartment, engaged BOTH locks with deliberate clicks, added the chain for good measure, and shoved his table against the door again with a scraping sound of wood on tile.

Tomorrow was skill fusion day. The moment of truth he’d been building toward.

Tomorrow, he’d create his trump card—or fail spectacularly trying.

Tomorrow, he’d take two A-rank skills and gamble everything on creating something better through fusion.

But tonight, he’d sleep. Or try to, at least.

And try very, very hard not to think about the fact that a 4’11" extortionist somehow had more raw strength than he did despite all his stat enhancements.

That was a problem for future Zeph to worry about.

Present Zeph needed rest before the skill fusion attempt tomorrow.

He collapsed onto his bed without bothering to change clothes, the egg secure in his storage ring and his mind full of ruins, soul marks, and tiny, terrifying neighbors.