Light wrapped around Jericho like a cocoon, pouring over him from the open scroll.
The symbols within the parchment shimmered, shifting like living ink before breaking apart into glittering fragments that spun through the air.
And then... entered him.
The light passed through his skin, chest, and breath, not burning or painful, but deep.
Like it was sinking into his bones, carving something into his soul.
Jericho stood frozen, eyes wide, heart beating fast.
He was being forged.
The scroll, the legendary Alchemia artifact, the core of the entire game world's crafting system, was disappearing into him.
And all he could think was: This is so bad.
He closed his eyes, breathing slowly.
"Alright, it's bad. It's really bad. This is a rare item. Primordial, even. It's meant for the story. For Shin. Giving this to anyone else is like stealing the ball with a 100% catch rate from the chosen kid in that monster-catching game. Yeah. That's kind of bad. This thing isn't supposed to go to anyone but the protagonist."
He lowered his head slightly.
"But come on. Look at it another way. What are my chances?"
He remembered the looks. The stares. The words.
"You bastard. I'll kill you." Shin's voice, sharp and venomous.
"You're disgusting. Don't talk to me." Lena, her voice trembling with anger and fear.
"I knew your father was soft. Should have cut you off sooner." That was Professor Albert, the Academy's battle strategy teacher. Cool voice. Brutal mouth.
And then... Seris.
"Ugh, Jericho. Do you really think I'd stay with someone like you? Poor, pathetic, and now disgraced? Don't talk to me again. Ever."
They all hated him. And for good reason.
Because in their eyes, he was Jericho, and Jericho had done unforgivable things.
Jericho took a slow breath as the light began to fade. The scroll was gone, absorbed. His hands looked the same. His body hadn't changed. Still soaked. Still pathetic.
But...
"Isn't this... exactly what I need?"
He clenched his fists, staring into the shadows of the trees.
"I don't have a magic talent. I'm not a chosen anything. I have no plot armor, no destiny, no friends, no power. Just bad reputation, a borrowed body... and the knowledge of every secret of this world.
People hate me... and okay, maybe they have a reason. Jericho did horrible things. But that wasn't me. And sure, I could try to be noble. I could hand this thing over to the golden boy and hope he spares me. But let's be honest. Why should I give up something that powerful? Something that could change my fate?
It's not like I wanted to take it. Not really. It just made... sense. Logical. Strategic. I mean, what else am I supposed to do? Hand it over to someone who wouldn't even spit in my direction? No. I'm not doing this to be selfish. Of course not. I'm doing this to survive."
He straightened up.
"No. This is mine now. And I'll use it to survive. I'll build things. Craft potions, make weapons, cook food so I don't starve. Build a shack. Then a cabin. Then maybe even a house."
His voice rose, firmer now.
"If the world won't give me a place, I'll craft one."
He opened his system menu with a shaky breath.
Ding.
A new interface appeared in front of him, simpler than Shin's but finally full of possibility.
[Jericho Vaun Ashenwald - Alchemia System]
Core Stats:
Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 4
Stamina:3
Magic: 7
Luck: 1
Special Skills:
Crafting (Lv. 1)
Cooking (Lv. 1)
Potion Brewing (Lv. 1)
Toolmaking (Lv. 1)
Enchanting (Lv. 1)
Building (Lv. 1)
Synthesis (Lv. 1)
Stat Points Available: 5
Jericho grinned.
"Finally. Something that makes sense."
He had no weapons. No allies.
But now?
He had the tools to survive.
Jericho's eyes scanned the new interface like a predator staring down prey.
"Alright... let's break this down."
He tapped through the menu. The Alchemia System wasn't flashy, but it had depth.
Crafting. Basic item creation. Tools, weapons, gear. The bread and butter of survival.
Cooking. Self-explanatory. Cook food, maybe get buffs if you don't intoxicate yourself.
Potion Brewing. Healing potions, stamina brews, maybe even poisons later on. Big potential.
Toolmaking. Like crafting, but more specific. Traps, survival tools, maybe mining gear?
Enchanting. The good stuff. Imbuing items with magical properties. In-game, this was where the real power creep started.
Building. Structures, shelters, furniture. The luxury stat. Only mattered if you planned to live long.
Synthesis. The wildcard. Combine anything. Fuse odd things together. Risky, but creative.
He whistled.
"That's a lot of toys. But... this is the part that really matters."
His eyes flicked to the last stat.
Luck: 1
And right below it: Stat Points Available: 5
Jericho grinned.
"Everyone always threw points into Strength or Intelligence first. Made sense. Power, magic, prestige. But real nerds? The ones who tested everything? They knew the secret."
He pointed at the screen like he was revealing an ancient prophecy.
"Luck is the variable. The hidden multiplier. It affects success rate stats, and the quality of what you make. A basic item from a high-luck crafter could outperform rare gear. Potions have better effect durations. Enchants last longer. Sometimes... you even get unique traits."
He tapped the stat.
"Most players only got to control Luck through item boosts or rare events. But me? I have stat points."
He dumped all five into Luck without hesitation.
Luck: 6
"There we go. Let's test it."
He rubbed his hands together, stomach growling.
"Step one: make something useful. Something edible. Let's start with a fishing rod."
Basic Survival Craft: Fishing Rod
Stick: Needs to be strong, thin, flexible.
After tripping over three of the worst branches in the forest, Jericho finally found one that didn't snap when he shook it like a lunatic.
Line: Just flexible enough to bend without snapping.
He tried pulling thread from his coat, but ended up unraveling half a sleeve.
Plan B: stripped long grass and twisted it like old shoelaces. The line needed to be thin enough to tie around the hook, and strong enough to not disintegrate the moment a fish blinked at it.
It held together, more or less, and only cut his fingers twice.
Hook: Small enough to pierce, curved enough to hold, and strong enough not to snap the moment anything bit.
Jericho found a rusty hairpin buried in his coat pocket next to two lint colonies. He bent it using a rock and sheer spite, mumbling about tetanus the whole time.
Assembly: Finally, the last part, he used sticky tree sap that looked suspiciously like bug drool.
Held the parts together while muttering, "Please don't fall apart before I even cast it."
The result looked like something a preschooler would make in arts and crafts. But it was a rod.
Jericho raised it with both hands, triumphant.
"Is it good? No. But will it fish? Also no. But maybe. But probably not."
Just then, a soft ding echoed in his ears, and a system message appeared:
[New Item Created: Crude Wooden Fishing Rod]
Quality: Poor
Description: A makeshift fishing rod barely holding together. Likely to snap under pressure. Built with desperation and questionable decisions.
[+1 Stat Point Earned for Crafting Activity]
Jericho blinked. Then grinned like a man who had just hacked fate.
"No way... I get stat points just for making stuff?"
He pumped a fist.
"Let's go! One rod in, and I'm already leveling up. This system loves me."
He flexed his fingers, looked at the rod like it was his Excalibur, and turned toward the road to the stream with theatrical pride.
"Time to see if this piece of junk can catch me breakfast.