The construction site behind the mill was the same as always — half-finished, muddy, and crawling with laborers just trying to get through the day. Broken bricks lay in piles, warped wood leaned against the walls, and no one worked for pride — just for coin.
Arthur showed up early.
He grabbed a stack of bricks without waiting for instruction and started moving.
By the third trip, someone noticed.
"Oi," barked Garrel, the site foreman — a thick-armed man with a voice like gravel.
"You sprout a second spine overnight?"
Arthur didn't stop. "Just feeling better today."
Garrel squinted. "Yesterday you could barely lift a pail. Today you're moving stacks like they're feathers."
A few of the other workers glanced over.
Arthur just gave a small shrug. "Guess I'm getting used to it."
He wasn't. He was changing. The weight felt lighter. His balance was cleaner.
His steps had a rhythm now — guided, efficient. Like his body had quietly started learning how to move right.
And in the back of his mind, A.E.O.N. was watching.
His pulse was steady, breathing smooth — easier than yesterday. The system had been quiet most of the morning, but now, as if waiting for the right moment, it pulsed softly in his vision.
A new screen hovered before him, semi-transparent, glowing faintly in the air:
[A.E.O.N. SYSTEM NOTICE]
Continued observation shows high environmental awareness under physical strain. Adaptation triggered by repeated work in unstable, high-risk areas.
[A.E.O.N. SYSTEM – STATUS INTERFACE]
User: Arthur Greystone
Rank: Dormant
Level: 3
Sync Progress: 24%
[Core Attributes]
Strength: 5
Endurance: 4
Perception: 5
Intellect: 6
Resolve: 7
Adaptability: 6
[Passive Ability Unlocked]
1. Environmental Sync (Passive)
Threat and terrain awareness enhanced
Minor reflex boost in unstable surroundings
Adapts faster in familiar zones
Arthur stared at it for a second, chest still rising and falling from the work. He hadn't asked for it to open — but the system had learned his pattern by now. It always knew when he was ready to notice something new.
"You've been quiet today," he murmured.
A.E.O.N.'s voice came through like thought, calm and steady.
"You've been doing fine without me. That is a good sign."
Arthur gave a faint smirk. He didn't say it out loud, but he liked the company.
His eyes dropped back to the glowing line:
Environmental Sync.
He hadn't noticed it before, but he was moving differently now. He'd stepped over broken beams without thinking. Avoided slick patches of stone. He felt when something was off, even if he couldn't explain why.
"Is this you?" he asked quietly.
"No," A.E.O.N. replied. "It's you. I only showed you how."
....
The sun still hung in the sky when Arthur made his way back from the work site, a little dirt on his arms, but far less fatigue in his bones than before.
He had finished early again — faster than anyone else. Even Garrel, the foreman, had stopped raising eyebrows. Maybe he was tired of being confused.
Arthur adjusted the strap on his shoulder and took the familiar turn toward the alley shortcut.
The air was cooler in the narrow path between crumbling brick walls. Damp stone, broken crates, a hanging shutter that still clattered in the wind.
But no voices.
No leering grins.
No knives waiting in the dark.
The alley was... empty.
Just the sound of his boots echoing softly against the walls.
Arthur slowed his pace, eyes scanning every shadow out of habit. His fingers brushed the edge of his coat, where the old kitchen knife still sat sheathed against his ribs.
Nothing.
"No presence detected," A.E.O.N. murmured calmly in his mind.
"Movement: passive. Environment: stable."
Arthur exhaled through his nose, a flicker of tension leaving his shoulders.
'They're gone.
Or hiding. Watching, maybe.'
But not stupid enough to try again.
And he wasn't afraid anymore.
When he turned the corner near the tavern, he spotted her — Myra, waiting by the doorway, arms crossed, red hair catching the breeze like a flare in the dark.
She looked up, eyes narrowing. "Again?" she asked.
Arthur smirked. "Work's easier when your bones don't scream."
She shook her head, stepping aside to let him in. "You've been eating the bricks, haven't you?"
"Cheaper than bread," he muttered.
Inside, the tavern was dim and dusty as always. But it felt… lighter. Maybe it was him.
They sat across from each other at the table, and for the first time in days, there was no rush. No blood. No coin to count in fear.
Just silence. And warmth.
Later that evening, as the tavern filled with the smell of boiling roots and bread, Arthur stood near the door, tying his boots.
Myra looked up from the hearth, eyebrows raised. "You're going out again?"
He nodded casually. "Just getting some air. Long day."
She frowned. "It's already dark."
"I won't be long."
That wasn't a lie. Not really.
Myra didn't push him, but her eyes lingered on him for a few seconds longer than usual.
The streets of Fallowmere were quieter at night, but never empty. Lanterns flickered on crooked poles. Stray dogs wandered alleys. Voices carried from unseen windows — muffled arguments, soft music, a child crying somewhere far away.
Arthur kept his hood low and took the longer path behind the butcher's shop, past a rusted gate, and into the old courtyard ruins behind the granary.
No one came here anymore.
Too quiet. Too ruined. Too forgotten.
Perfect.
He rolled his shoulders, took a breath, and pulled the old blade from his side.
It wasn't sharp. Not really. Just a dull iron kitchen knife.
But it was enough.
He started slow — wide swings, angled cuts, low stances. Everything was stiff at first, like dragging his limbs through mud.
"You're compensating too much on your left leg," came A.E.O.N. 's calm voice.
"Shift your weight back half a step. Let gravity assist you."
Arthur grunted and adjusted. The next swing felt smoother.
The system didn't speak often. Only when needed.
And always with precision.
"Reflex calibration: improving." "Grip strength at 89% of temporary max."
"Stamina drain: minimal." "You've improved."
He trained until sweat dripped from his chin and his arms ached — but not painfully. Not like before.
Now the ache felt earned.