[Chapter 3: Character Customization]
The confirmation echoed through the void with the weight of a final, irrevocable judgnt. The pale blue light of the Dronemancer class window flared suddenly, expanding until it engulfed him completely. For a terrifying instant, he felt a searing, crystalline cold, as if liquid nitrogen had been injected directly into his non-existent veins. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was intensely, staggeringly real—a sensation of profound, fundantal change occurring at a molecular level.
Then, just as quickly as the cold had arrived, it vanished. In its wake, a flood of information poured into his mind. It wasn't presented as text or images; it was pure, distilled understanding.
He didn't just know what a drone was anymore; he understood its internal architecture, its power requirents, and the precise frequency required to channel his TP to manifest its tallic shell from the ether. The knowledge of 'Overcharge' was now as natural to him as the act of breathing; he felt the rhythmic thod for channeling TP into a drone's systems to temporarily overclock its performance. 'Salvage' beca a secondary instinct, a new sensory layer that allowed him to look at a pile of junk and instinctively know how to dismantle it into its base components. 'Summon Air Drone' was a muscle mory he didn't know he possessed—the blueprint for a simple, floating orb equipped with retractable blades and a compact energy weapon was now imprinted upon his very soul.
A new awareness blood deep within his consciousness: a faint, inner light representing his mana pool. He understood now that this energy was the fuel for his craft, converted into Tech-Points (TP) to power his chanical constructs.
As he was reeling from the ntal download, another window shimred into existence before him. Its text was crisp, clear, and seemingly more welcoming than the previous prompts.
Body Customization for Progenitor.
You may alter your physical form to better suit your chosen Class and the coming trials. This is a one-ti opportunity.
Below the text, two rotating 3D images appeared. The first was his current body—a pale, thin, muscleless figure that he recognized with a pang of self-consciousness. It was the body of a man who spent too many nights hunched over a keyboard, surviving on caffeine and salt. The second was a blank, androgynous wirefra—a perfect, glowing slate of human potential.
"I could definitely go for more hair," he thought, his ntal hand subconsciously reaching for the thinning patch on his balding head.
He paused, catching himself. `Wait, the System acts on thought and intent... so let's make sothing good. Sothing practical.`
He turned his focus toward the wirefra template. The idea of aesthetic vanity—long, flowing hair or a stylish beard—seed like a massive liability in a world filled with monsters. Anything long was just sothing for a beast to grab onto. He focused his intent, sharpening his desires into a clear, functional design.
`Short hair. Military cut. No facial hair.` he dictated ntally. `Increased muscle density—not the bulky bodybuilder type, but wiry and dense. Particularly in the forearms and shoulders... I need a stable platform for whatever weapons I end up using. Give a wider, sturdier stance. Keep the height at about 185 centiters. Nothing over the top, just... durable. Functional. I don’t want to be a model; I want to be a survivor.`
As the thoughts solidified, the wirefra shifted and began to fill in with realistic textures. The hair receded into a neat, practical buzz cut. Muscles subtly swelled and defined themselves, becoming tight and efficient. His posture shifted automatically—the shoulders squared, and the legs spread into a more stable base. It was still 'him', but a version of himself that had been honed for a singular purpose. He looked at the changed model, then back at the original.
"This is good," he whispered, feeling a surge of confidence. "I look... capable. This is the body I'll use to survive."
After finalizing the physical build, he noticed a tab on the side of the window. As he focused on it, a list of Races flooded his vision, scrolling by in a dizzying blur.
[Human], [Dark Elf], [Light Elf], [Dwarf], [Orc], [Lizardfolk]...
The list seed to go on forever. "I am no god," he complained, "I’m just a guy. No one can read that fast!"
The instant he pushed back against the overwhelming torrent of information, the system responded to his frustration. The scrolling list vanished, replaced by a single glowing query.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on .
[System Query]
'Filter by Compatibility with Progenitor's Biology and Chosen Class?'.
`Yes.` He thought. `Show sothing I’d actually be interested in.`
The new list was drastically shorter. After scrolling for just a second, he paused on one entry.
`Beast-kin...` He weighed the option. `Normally, in a ga, I’d say yes to that. But that’s in a digital world. I need to think about practicality, not optics. I don't want to deal with tail-grooming or sensitive ears in a mana-apocalypse.`
He scrolled further up and down the filtered list, his mind searching for an edge. `Is there sothing that is essentially Human but can live for a long ti? Not necessarily immortal, just... long-lived.`
The list flickered and updated. One word, greyed-out but strangely familiar, stood out among the rest: Dhampir.
`That... that could actually work. Let's see the details.`
He focused on the greyed-out text, and a new window expanded, filled with concise, brutal descriptions.
[Dhampir]: A hybrid race of human and vampiric origin. Inherits an extended lifespan, typically 3-5 tis that of a baseline human. Possesses enhanced physical attributes: strength, speed, and reflexes superior to mortal limits. Gains minor regenerative capabilities, allowing for accelerated healing from non-fatal wounds.
Weaknesses: Heightened sensitivity to direct sunlight, causing discomfort and gradual energy drain. Requires periodic intake of biological essence to maintain peak physical condition and utilize regenerative properties. This need can be sated by consuming the flesh or blood of mutated fauna, corrupted beasts, or other humanoid entities.
"Sounds like a 'Sunglasses and dium-Rare Steak' diet," he muttered. The joke felt hollow—a flimsy shield against the cold reality of the text. `Eating monsters... I suppose I was going to have to do that anyway to survive. This is just an efficiency upgrade. And the sunlight weakness? That's manageable with the right gear. Confirm Dhampir.`
[DENIED]
The single, cold word appeared in a stark, aggressive red font, refusing his choice with absolute finality. A second line of text shimred into existence below it, glowing with a faint, ominous aura.
Dhampir is an advanced race and cannot be chosen by a lower life form. (System intervention necessary. Cost: 1 Advancent Rune.)
He stared at the text, a bitter, breathless laugh escaping him. "Of course. The one thing that actually makes sense for my survival, and there's a paywall. Fine. Forget it. I'll stick with Human. I was a human before, and I survived thirty years of that. I’ll make it work."
But the System didn't close the window. Instead, a brief, intense wave of cold washed over him—far more potent than the one he’d felt during the class selection. It felt like every cell in his body was being individually frozen, shattered, and then reassembled with surgical precision. His new skin began to tingle, feeling tighter and cooler to the touch. His vision sharpened even further, the faint, sourceless light of the void resolving into distinct, vibrating particles.
He could feel the subtle, predatory thrum of the Dhampir template settling into his very marrow—a new, hungry potential coiling like a spring in his gut. The confirmation window flickered one last ti.
System intervention accepted.
Cost: 1 Advancent Rune deducted.
Race: Dhampir.
He blinked, stunned. `Not that I wouldn't have done it... but that wasn't a confirmation! I said 'Fine, I'll stick with Human!'.` He thought, feeling a deep-seated unease at how easily the system had interpreted his initial desire over his secondary hesitation. It didn't care about his second thoughts; it only cared about his strongest intent.
Another crystalline window materialized, its content stark and business-like.
Awakening Rune Allocation.
You have been granted three Awakening Runes for the purpose of creating assets for the coming era.
The window displayed three glowing, stylized runes. To his horror, all three pulsed with a dim, dying light, already marked as expended.
─ Rune 1: Used on Guide Unit 801. Status: Soul-binding in progress.
─ Rune 2: Used on Fabricated Vessel for Guide Unit 801. Status: Construction complete.
He froze, his mind racing back to the panicked choice he’d made during the Guide's transformation. He hadn't consciously realized that giving the soul a 'fabricated biological vessel' would cost a separate rune, but in his haste to create a protector, he had done exactly that. He was already down to one before the race selection even started.
─ Rune 3: Used on Race Change to Dhampir. Status: Integration complete.
The final rune flickered, its light fading into the darkness of the void. They were all gone. Every single one of them had been spent in a frantic few minutes of confusion and split-second decisions. He had no runes left to prepare allies, no assets to call upon in the real world, and no way to help anyone else. He was all-in on himself and his new, strange companion.
A new window appeared, its tone clinical and final.
Awakening Protocol Complete.
Progenitor designation confird. Your integration into the System is finished.
Prepare for materialization.
A profound, violent lurch seized him—far more aggressive than the initial pull that had ripped him from his bedroom. The void began to fracture into a million shards of impossible, shimring color. The sensation of falling returned with a sickening intensity, as if he were being sucked through a straw at the speed of sound.
He squeezed his new, sharper eyes shut, bracing for an impact he wasn't sure he could survive.
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