A singular, impossible beauty stared back from the Divination Tablet. Barnaby, or rather, the magnificent visage he now inhabited, saw his own newly crafted features reflected on the device’s crystalline surface. The transformation was so profound it bordered on the divine, a stark, breathtaking contrast to the broken, weary soul of yestermorn. His brain, accustomed to the dull ache of existence, reeled with a disorienting, exhilarating sensation. Was this a trick of the light? A fever dream born of a lifetime’s yearning? Within the tablet’s screen, a character, a perfect digital twin, mirrored his current splendor. The backdrop depicted his own humble, squalid hovel, yet the figure standing there exuded an air of effortless command. Buttons, like arcane glyphs, circled this digital avatar. He whispered, a rich baritone he barely recognized, “It truly is… me.” His customized countenance had manifested both in this spectral realm and in the very flesh he now occupied. As he regarded his doppelgänger, his gaze drifted to the inscriptions surrounding it. “A life simulation? A mystical game, perhaps?” Barnaby, a man whose every breath had been a lament, found himself chuckling. The sound was unfamiliar, a resonant warmth that vibrated through his chest. He padded to the cracked sliver of mirror he possessed, his reflection now that of an ancient god, a paragon of human form. Every contour, every line, spoke of grace and noble lineage, a face that could move mountains or melt the coldest heart. The dull ache of his previous existence was now replaced by a surging tide of euphoria. “By the Mother’s Light,” he breathed, “I am… magnificent.” The laughter deepened, a joyous peal that echoed in the tiny room. The situation was utterly absurd, defying all logic and known laws of Veritas. But what did logic matter when despair had been transmuted into such glorious possibility? The hideous monster he had been was no more. A long-dormant spark, a flame of ambition and hope, ignited within him, burning with an intensity that promised anything, everything. ‘I can command the very air,’ he thought, a delicious shiver tracing his spine. With a newfound swagger, he returned to his Divination Tablet, settling cross-legged on the threadbare rug. “First, I shall fathom this marvel.” Moments later, as he sat, his digital self remained standing, poised and regal. Above the character’s head, an ornate script materialized: -[User: Bartholomew Light / Age: 28 / Height: 182.8 cm / Desired Role: Courtier / Shards: 0] His eyes narrowed slightly. “My chosen name, my age… and these ‘Shards’?” A currency, perhaps, of this ethereal realm. No answers yet. His attention shifted to two elegant buttons positioned to the character’s left: -[Aspect Manifestation] / [Skill Refinement] He tapped ‘Aspect Manifestation’ first. The tablet’s display shimmered, revealing a series of attributes: -[Bartholomew Light’s Manifested Aspects] [Appearance (100/100) │ Oratory (2.1/100) │ Etiquette (1.7/100)] [Bladesmanship (0/100) │ Veritas Lore (4.5/100) │ Seduction (0/100) │ Diplomatic Artifice (0/100)] [Command (0/100) │ Haggling (0/100)] A plethora of stats, indeed. “So this charts my current aptitudes?” It was akin to the ledger of a skilled artisan, detailing their proficiency. Since he had specified ‘Courtier’ as his desired role, the system had generated relevant skills. His Appearance, as expected, was flawless. The rest, however, were lamentably, predictably meager. ‘Of course,’ he mused, a sardonic curl to his lip. ‘When had I, Barnaby Blight, ever needed to master diplomatic artifice or the subtle dance of blades?’ He navigated back to the main screen, then pressed the ‘Skill Refinement’ button. A fleeting message appeared in the tablet’s center: -[Insufficient Shards for Refinement.] -[Welcome, Bartholomew Light! As a boon, you are granted 50 Shards.] -[May your journey through the Aspect Simulation be illuminating.] The text vanished, replaced by a subtle shift: -[Shards: 50] His zero balance now stood at fifty. “Ah.” Barnaby, utterly enthralled, pressed ‘Skill Refinement’ once more. With Shards now available, the screen transformed. The same stats from ‘Aspect Manifestation’ reappeared, but with a crucial addition: -[……Oratory (2.1/100)↑ │ Etiquette (1.7/100)↑] An upward arrow. A familiar sight for those who engaged with strategic game-boards. He selected ‘Oratory’. A query appeared: ‘Expend 1 Shard to refine Oratory?’ He confirmed, and the change was instantaneous. -[Oratory (2.2/100)↑] One Shard, a paltry 0.1 increase. Ten Shards for a full point, a hundred for ten. A slow, arduous climb. But did it translate to reality? He cleared his throat, attempting a grand, oratorical flourish. The words emerged, reedy and unsure, the old Barnaby peeking through. He tried again, reciting a stanza from the Royal Anthem, a cacophony of off-key warbling. “No noticeable change,” he conceded, a slight shrug. “A tenth of a point is hardly a transformation.” He returned to the main screen, turning his attention to the two buttons on the character’s right: -[Daily Endeavors (Limit: 5)] / [The Grand Emporium (Sealed)] The ‘Grand Emporium’ button was inactive. ‘Sealed,’ it proclaimed, implying future access. That left ‘Daily Endeavors’. A single press brought forth a scroll of tasks: -[Available Endeavor Attempts: 0/5] -[Elicit 3 unsolicited compliments (1 Shard) │ Receive a formal invitation (1 Shard) │ Recite 3 verses of the Great Charter (1 Shard) │ Perform 30 formal bows (1 Shard) │ Haul 30 sacks of grain (1 Shard)……] The list seemed endless, scrolling beyond immediate view. Most offered a single Shard, though some promised five or even ten. “So, these are the means to acquire Shards?” Curiosity now a burning imperative, he dropped to his knees, executing a series of deep, formal bows. The ‘Perform 30 formal bows’ endeavor. Years of toil had hardened his frame; this was a triviality. He finished in swift succession. A message appeared on the tablet: -[Endeavor ‘Perform 30 formal bows’ completed! 1 Shard awarded!] His Shards returned to 50. And another update: -[Available Endeavor Attempts: 1/5] -[Perform 31 formal bows (1 Shard)] The available endeavors count increased, and the bow endeavor escalated. He grasped the system’s logic. “Five endeavors a day, then.” He returned to his character. Only one button remained, prominent at the screen’s base: -[Aspect Integration] The bold, imposing text suggested its paramount importance. He pressed it. A new message: -[Through ‘Aspect Integration’ analysis, your desired outcome can be realized. What would you wish to achieve? (Options limited to desired role: Courtier)] -[Example: I wish to perfectly articulate the nuances of courtly gossip.] ‘Aspect Integration’ analysis? Desired outcome? He stroked his chin. “I have no conception of this, but… let us try something grand.” He typed a request into the vacant field: -[Aspect Integration: I wish to master the traditional address for a Marquis of the High Council.] After confirming, a loading glyph spun briefly. Then, the response: -[Aspect Analysis in progress…… Analysis complete!] -[To achieve desired result, 30 Shards required.] -[※ Shard expenditure varies by the complexity of the outcome.] Not free, of course. Thirty Shards. “So, the cost fluctuates with difficulty?” He understood. Barnaby confirmed the expenditure. -[Expending 30 Shards.] -[Integrating…… Integration complete!] At that precise instant, a sharp, cold prickle traced its way from his spine to his fingertips, a sensation akin to an unseen thread being meticulously woven through his very being. He flinched, but it dissipated as quickly as it came. Was that all? Puzzled, he cleared his throat. He would attempt the traditional address for a Marquis, the very one he had just ‘learned’. A tremor of apprehension ran through him. A mere prickle, could it truly change him? The moment he opened his mouth, he felt it. The words, once distant and abstract, were now etched into his mind with perfect clarity, an inherent knowledge. He began the address, a flowing cascade of precise language, impeccable inflection, and an underlying current of respect and subtle authority. His voice, now Bartholomew’s, carried a depth that demanded attention. Every syllable was perfectly placed, every nuance of deference and strategic implication flawlessly conveyed. It was a performance worthy of the grandest halls of Veritas. By the time he concluded the intricate greeting, a profound realization dawned. Instead of continuing, he attempted a different formal address, one he had never focused on before. It was a clumsy, fumbling attempt, the old Barnaby struggling to recall the rote phrases, his voice cracking with uncertainty. He stopped, a short, sharp laugh escaping him. “Yes, this is more familiar.” Compared to the Marquis’s address, where he had sounded like a seasoned diplomat, this attempt was the stammering of a country bumpkin. Testing the Marquis’s address several more times yielded the same high-level performance. The conclusion was undeniable. ‘I truly only mastered that one specific address.’ ‘Aspect Integration’ was a powerful, accelerated path. He could painstakingly refine each skill, or he could gather ample Shards and instantly acquire mastery. Either way, the result was a meteoric rise. A grin, sharp and predatory, spread across Bartholomew Light’s face. “This is a revelation beyond compare.” He had grasped the fundamental mechanisms of the Aspect Simulation. It was less convoluted than the whispers of ancient magic might suggest. “For now, five endeavors daily. No other means of acquiring Shards are apparent.” Aspect Integration, the most potent feature, demanded a substantial investment. Stockpiling Shards was paramount. “The five and ten Shard endeavors seem beyond my immediate reach. I shall focus on the single-Shard tasks. Five endeavors a day, five Shards.” A modest sum, but a foundation. Perhaps other boons awaited, like the welcome gift. Bartholomew adjusted his posture. Time to begin his ascent. -[Haul 30 sacks of grain (1 Shard)] He completed it swiftly, his new frame moving with surprising grace. Another familiar message, another Shard added. His balance: 21 Shards. “Next, let us see… recite 3 verses, execute a formal waltz for five minutes.” He had recited the national anthem earlier; it likely wouldn’t count. He selected three obscure verses from a forgotten epic, delivering them with a newfound, theatrical flair. The endeavor was completed. Then, a five-minute waltz, alone in his hovel, spinning and bowing with an improvised elegance. The system accepted it, and a Shard was rewarded. His balance: 23 Shards. Now, only one endeavor remained. And it was the one that sparked the most intrigue. -[Elicit 3 unsolicited compliments (1 Shard)]

Chapter 3: The Aspect's Awakening