Jari blinked. The shimmering, organic cavern walls dissolved into the familiar rough-hewn stone of his dorm room. The rhythmic thrum of the beast’s heart was replaced by the distant clang of the Spire’s central forge. He sat upright, a phantom ache in his stomach and a residual taste of raw mineral on his tongue. The hunger was a gnawing beast, a hollow echo in his core that eclipsed all else. It demanded, insisted. He stumbled out of bed, grabbing the first things he saw: a stack of nutrient-dense energy buns provided by the academy. He tore into them, the sweet, fibrous dough barely touching his tongue before it vanished. One, two, five. Each disappeared in a gulp, the [System of Gluttonous Ascension] flashing discreet messages of minor energy recovery and negligible core saturation. His soul-core, now a roaring furnace, still felt like a bottomless pit. Later, in the diagnostic hall, Jari tried to appear bored, even a little sleepy, as he placed his hand on a shimmering Azurite globe. The instructor, Master Lorien, a stout man with a meticulous beard, watched the crystal's glow. It pulsed, then flared, a brilliant sapphire light that threatened to overwhelm the hall’s ward-lights. Master Lorien’s brow furrowed. He tapped the glass casing. It flared again, brighter. A soft hum of alarm emanated from the crystal. “Apparatus malfunction,” Master Lorien declared, pulling Jari’s hand away. “Again.” He glanced at Jari, a flicker of exasperation in his eyes. “Virtus, you’ve managed to short out two testers this week. Perhaps your spiritual signature is… unusually turbulent.” He offered a sympathetic, if slightly condescending, smile. Jari just nodded, feigning bewilderment. He didn’t mention the eight other devices that had registered his soul-core as a burgeoning star before cracking. The ‘faulty sphere’ explanation was convenient. The real test came during Master Kaelan’s Advanced Forging Practical. The central training hall buzzed with the clatter of tools and the hiss of controlled forge-heat. Students worked at individual anvils, crafting their assigned artifacts. Today’s challenge: a basic offensive tool, a ‘Spark-Striker’ dagger, or a ‘Flare-Lance’ for the more ambitious. Jari, assigned a station near the imposing figure of Eino Rautio, pretended to fumble with his tongs. Eino, a scion of the powerful Rautio Clan, was already meticulously arranging his components: glimmering Ignis-weave steel, a concentrated Ember-crystal, and a rare, volatile flask of liquid alchemical fuel. His movements were precise, arrogant. Eino caught Jari’s gaze, a sneer twisting his lips. “Look at the bottom-feeder, still trying to sort his slag from his ore.” He gestured with a dismissive hand. “Virtus, your family’s fortune is as thin as your wit. Stick to making dust-pans. Leave the true forging to those with actual talent.” His words carried, drawing the attention of a few nearby students, including Sirkka Kallio, who paused at her own station, her dark hair falling over her focused expression. Jari forced a goofy grin. “Just admiring your… shiny bits, Eino! They look awfully tasty.” He gave a theatrical sigh. “Mine always seem to vanish before I can even get them hot.” Eino scoffed, turning back to his work. “Don’t touch my components, Virtus. A stray thought from your paltry soul-core would contaminate them.” Jari’s grin tightened, but his persona held. He glanced at the table of raw materials. Eino’s liquid reagent, a shimmering ruby fluid, sat precariously close to the edge. It was an incredibly unstable element, capable of infusing a weapon with explosive fire essence, but only if perfectly controlled. Consuming it raw would be… disastrous for anyone without an absurdly robust soul-core. An idea, reckless and delicious, bloomed in Jari’s mind. He ‘accidentally’ bumped his workbench, sending his own meager supply of dull iron ingots clattering. As he bent to retrieve them, he ‘slipped’. His hand shot out, not to steady himself, but to snatch the uncorked flask of catalyst from Eino’s table. In one fluid motion, before Eino could even react, Jari brought the flask to his lips and gulped. A searing, liquid fire exploded in his throat. It wasn’t pain, not exactly, but an intense, overwhelming warmth that surged through his entire being. His skin flushed dark red. A low hum vibrated in his chest. [Raw Elemental Corium consumed. Constitution increased by 0.5. Fire Resistance increased by 15% (Stackable).] Eino stared in horror. “You… you absolute imbecile! You just drank pure reagent! Are you trying to self-immolate? Instructor Kaelan! Virtus just poisoned himself!” Kaelan, already making his rounds, rushed over, his expression alarmed. “Virtus! What have you done? That’s highly corrosive!” Jari belched, a faint plume of red smoke escaping his lips. He blinked innocently. “Oops. My bad. Got a little thirsty. Thought it was a… spicy juice. Smelled good.” He even managed a weak, apologetic smile. Eino was apoplectic. “Spicy juice?! That was half my Flare-Lance core! You’ve ruined it, you incompetent glutton!” “It’ll just pass through him,” Kaelan muttered, rubbing his temples. “Virtus, are you feeling any adverse effects? Chest pain? Nausea?” Jari shrugged. “Just feeling a little… fired up, Instructor.” His soul-core, now fortified with raw elemental power, thrummed with renewed vigor. Eino, seething, had to scavenge for new components. He managed to piece together a new Flare-Lance, though clearly agitated. He hammered with furious intensity, shaping the Ignis-weave into a sleek, deadly tip, infusing it with his powerful soul-core. Blazes danced around his anvil, proving his precise control. When he finished, he held up his creation: a vibrant, scarlet lance, its tip crackling with contained fire, capable of piercing steel and scorching flesh. “Behold!” Eino announced, thrusting the lance forward. “A masterpiece of controlled destruction!” He cast a triumphant, venomous glance at Jari, who was still ‘struggling’ with his own simple iron ingot. Jari picked up his meager ingot. He hadn’t even bothered to heat it. He hadn’t needed to. His soul-core, bloated and humming, simply pulsed. The iron responded, flowing like water under an invisible pressure. He didn’t use a hammer, didn’t use tongs. He just… willed it. The metal stretched, thinned, spiraled, and then solidified into a perfectly formed, elegant eating utensil. A fork. He held it up. It gleamed, polished to an impossible mirror finish, its tines sharp enough to pierce a hardened shell. It vibrated with a faint, almost imperceptible spiritual energy, a silent hum that only Jari could truly feel. Eino snorted. “A fork? Are you going to eat my lance, Virtus? You’ve proven nothing but your boundless idiocy.” “Maybe,” Jari said, his goofy smile unwavering. He took a single step towards Eino’s magnificent Flare-Lance. “But I *am* starving.” With a casual flick of his wrist, Jari brought the fork down. It wasn't a strike of brute force, nor a skilled parry. It was a mere touch, the prongs of the simple eating utensil meeting the crimson-hot tip of Eino’s Flare-Lance. There was no explosion. No shattering clang. Just a soft, crystalline *tinkle*, like fine glass breaking. A hairline fracture appeared on Eino’s lance tip, then spiderwebbed through the Ignis-weave steel. The contained heat flickered, died. The lance itself, from tip to hilt, dissolved into a pile of smoking, inert dust. The training hall fell utterly silent. Anvils stopped clanging. Bellows sputtered out. Every student, every proctor, gaped at the pile of dust on the floor, and at Jari, who still held his pristine, gleaming fork. Sirkka Kallio, who had been meticulously polishing her own elegantly crafted soul-key, slowly lowered her tool. Her expression was unreadable, a blend of shock and something deeper, something akin to stark curiosity. She walked towards Jari, her steps measured, her gaze fixed on the simple, devastating fork in his hand. She stopped directly in front of him, her voice a low murmur that cut through the silence. “How did you do that?”

A Taste of Humiliation