WELLNESS CHECK | DISPATCHFAILED

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE FIRST

  RULE

  ASSET_01

  TYPE: IRON_SPEAR

  STATUS: INANIMATE EXTREMELY SPITEFUL

  ASSET_02

  TYPE: CULTIVATION_PILL

  NOTES: IT IS LOOKING AT ME. (I SWEAR)

  SEC_LOG // DO NOT DISCARD

  The first rule of power is that your weapon is your life.

  Xu’s life was currently hiding under his bed, growling at him like a cornered animal.

  Scrrraaaape.

  Today, it also smelled of fear and oil.

  Xu sighed, his breath painting long, weary plumes wherever he exhaled. He crouched on the cold floor, staring into the impossible void beneath his bed with his neck craned at an awkward angle to avoid spooking it. In his left hand, he balanced a chipped porcelain bowl filled with high-grade Spirit Oil. In his right, he clutched a heavy, tattered leather blanket.

  "Come onnn," Xu whispered, his voice wavering.

  "We have Morning Drill in like twenty minutes. Don't be like this. They’re going to think I’m weird—they’re going to think YOU’RE weird."

  A low, metallic growl vibrated the bed frame and rattled Xu's washbasin.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.

  Two days ago, this thing had been a normal Iron Wood Spear. Mass-produced, reliable, and definitely not stolen from a distracted soldier.

  It was a stick with a point.

  Then Xu had practiced with it for six hours straight. He swung it, dripped just a sweat on the shaft, and have also lived out his heroic dreams on that same soldier’s… training dummy.

  Apparently, his aura must taste like mutagenic waste, because the last six of—his spear—had developed a spine, a set of iron serrations near the tip, and a vast and complex emotional spectrum that seemingly ranged from "painfully spiteful" to "annoyingly spiteful."

  "I have the good oil," Xu coaxed, wafting the scent toward the shadows. It smelled overly rich and earthy.

  "Top shelf. Filtered. Come and get it."

  Clink. Clink.

  A metal tip poked out from the darkness.

  It wasn't straight anymore. The shaft twisted and coiled like a snake while its wood pulsed. Oak—even if it was—wasn’t the right word anymore. It looked more like a muscle stripped of its skin. Its iron tip sniffed the air—well, at least it seemed to.

  "That's it," Xu soothed. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill.

  "Good boy. Good spear."

  He tensed his legs, feeling the stone bite into his bare feet in speckled patches. If he grabbed the shaft, it would thrash like yesterday and could break his wrist this time. If he aimed for the tip, it’d probably mean losing a finger or two. He had to pin the "neck" right where iron met wood.

  The spear slithered out further—tracking the bowl with determined patience, its head slid back and forth behind his bedpost. It seemed to be under the impression that this improved its stealth. Xu frowned.

  He had waited, holding his breath.

  Xu dropped the blanket.

  The spear screeched—it sounded like a spear being sharpened on a windowpane… because it literally was.

  Oil flew.

  It snapped upward, jaws of twisted metal clashed just inches from Xu’s nose. Without flinching, he wrapped the leather around the thrashing rod and pinned it to the floor with his entire body weight.

  It fought back. A wild strength erupted from below. It coiled around his thigh, squeezing so tight it cut off his circulation. The wood seared against his skin.

  “Stop!” Xu grunted, half-screaming, half-whispering, as his vision slipped to the ceiling. He had been pinned by the five-foot length of animated nightmare. “Stop it! I am your master! I even have the receipt!”

  He did not.

  “Xu? Everything alright in there?” A sweet voice drifted from the hallway.

  Xu froze.

  The spear stopped. It rotated its iron spire toward the door. It didn't seem scared anymore. It seemed... interested?

  The spear wriggled out of his hands and embedded itself straight into the center of the door.

  “GAH!” The voice cracked. There was a frantic scramble, then the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor.

  “You know not to interrupt my morning practice!”

  He jammed his hand forward, ripping the spear back, and flicked the remnants of Spirit Oil at its with all the grace of a terrified woman disposing of a spider.

  Instantly, the struggling ceased. The metal shivered once, gave a satisfied, grinding purr, and went limp. The coils relaxed and began straightening with a series of wet cracks, eventually returning to the shape of a suspiciously normal spear.

  Xu narrowed his eyes.

  "Xu…?" The voice came again, clearer than before. It was Taylor.

  Of course it was Taylor. The only disciple in the Outer Sect who thought “checking on her neighbors” was a valid path to immortality.

  Xu looked at the hole in the door. It was at eye-level. If she looked now, she would see the spirit oil spilled across his trashed room, and the…currently vibrating in his grip.

  "I'm fine!" Xu called back, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. "Just... focusing my strikes. It’s very dangerous. I wouldn’t come in if I were you."

  "You screamed 'Stop it,'” she pointed out. “And you just shot a hole through your door with a spear. Xu, I can see your bed frame. Speaking of which, where are your sheets!?"

  His eyes wilted to his hands.

  Xu cursed silently.

  He scrambled to his feet, kicking the spear under his bed, and threw his body against the wood of the door. He peered through the new, exquisitely designed Taylor was standing there, rubbing her elbow, looking more confused than suspicious. She was wearing the clean white robes of a disciple who hadn't spent her morning wrestling needy weaponry.

  Unsurprisingly, her blonde hair rolled down her shoulders. Xu’s eyes drifted to the corner.

  "Termites," Xu lied.

  "Termites?"

  "Mhmm. Big ones. HUGE actually. I got him, though… with my spear." Xu flashed a tight smile and flicked his eyes to the left.

  “Oh, really? ‘Him?’ So you were so scared of a single insect that you attacked it with your spear… with enough force… to drill a hole through the door?”

  “No, I—“

  Xu paused. A strange expression flickered across his face.

  “Hey, everyone’s got their thing,” Taylor smirked.

  “No judgment.”

  "You—Look, I need to clean this up. Go to drill. If instructor Vance asks, tell him I’m... holding the line against an invasion with—you guessed it—just my spear."

  She frowned, leaning closer. "You smell kinda funky. Also, I don't see any termites in there."

  Xu raised his eyebrows, stepped away, and grabbed something from a dented metal desk in the corner. Taylor’s eye feverishly washed over everything before a flat gray obscured her view.

  “Tape? You know it isn’t—“

  “Taylor, it’s forty degrees in the hallway, and the heater shorted. I don’t want a draft.”

  …

  …

  Eventually, he heard a sigh, then her footsteps retreated down the hall.

  He turned, sliding down the door.

  Xu looked at the weapon lying innocently under the bed, still glistening with oil.

  He steadied himself and slowly closed his—

  Ping.

  Seriously?

  9:45 AMQ-LINK [||||]

  TAYLOR

  Drill starts in 15 btw, I really hope those "termites" are handled?? Because if you're late after this much time off, I'll pick you up some "friends" on my way home to protect your honesty. ;)

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  ??????????.??????????

  Xu stared at the screen.

  "I hate this place," he whispered to the mysterious stains dotting the ceiling.

  He hauled himself over and poked the spear once, carefully. It didn't react. It was just dead wood and cold iron again. For now.

  Just as Xu pulled it from under the bed, a pill rolled out from the corner and seemed to stop—just to stare at him specifically. Or maybe it wanted him to see.

  It was supposed to be his—a gift that could unlock his first combat path. Instead, it had locked that door from the other side and had apparently decided to cultivate while it was at it.

  The thing had haunted him all week, and it was practically untouchable. In his last standoff, half his room was sacrificed in a rush to capture it. Unfortunately, each time he gave up, it would find the highest place in his dorm, roll into view, then stare down at him as if he were lesser. He couldn't stand it.

  His grip strangled a strip of dirty linen as he decorated the "mouth" of his spear shut, even ensuring he knotted it twice. A new spear was ten spirit stones. A muzzle was free.

  Xu strapped the weapon to his back. "Behave," he warned, reaching over his shoulder to tap the shaft. "Or I'll throw you in a lake or something."

  The spear was unresponsive.

  Xu adjusted his gray robes, checked his pockets for stowaways, then slowly stilled.

  He dove at the corner with everything he had.

  The pill had moved, but not as much as he knew it could—only a hair away from the tip of his fingers.

  “DAMN IT.”

  Xu gracefully stood up and pointed at the pill that now lazed in the corner. “Enjoy yourself,” he hissed. “Eventually, I’ll put you in the Pit, or maybe I’ll still eat you. You just wait.”

  The “Pit” was his sanctuary—a heavy iron vase stowed in the corner that emanated mysterious sounds throughout all times of the day. He checked the bindings on the vase and tightened them further.

  “It’s okay, shhhhh.”

  The bedsheets he’d used to firmly “tuck” the lid in were vibrating again. Something inside—probably the criminal that attempted to remove his pinky toe the night prior—seemed to be locked in a fight to the death, at least, that’s typically how it went. It was about half full of things that were supposed to have stayed inanimate and half full of serendipitous space for more.

  Xu stepped into the hallway, locking his door and throwing a matching strip of tape over his new peephole to He walked up to the double doors, glanced at the clock, and sighed before shoving open the heavy oak to the Outer sect, drill housing sector.

  He lingered in the doorway for a moment.

  The sun frowned over mountain peaks, painting the world in blinding golds and gentle azure. Mist caressed the tiered pagodas and neon skyscrapers below. In the distance, a massive holographic scroll flickered above Fluix City’s main temple, displaying this morning’s rankings.

  To anyone else, the world probably seemed like a paradise. To Xu, ever since his sock licked him for the first time, it looked like a very pretty cage full of things that couldn’t wait to bite him.

  "Alright," Xu muttered, stepping out of the hall and into warm sunlight. “Time for Drill.”

  In the distance, the rankings flashed as their order shifted.

  [GLOBAL RANKINGS]

  1. SCRIPTERS

  [17,300] ▲ (+76)

  2. SPECS

  [17,156] ▼ (-99)

  3. CULTIVATORS

  [9,933] ▼ (-30)

  4. DESIGNERS

  [7,730] — (0)

  // Last Sync: 9:50 AM

  Xu sighed.

  WELCOME TO

  FLUIX_CITY

  // I WOULDN'T STAY LONG

  [ Rule_01 ]

  Your things will never harm you.

  // SEE: THE XU EXCEPTION

  [ Rule_02 ]

  Never seek what lies in the darkness below.

  // THERE IS A REASON WE DON'T

  [ SCHEDULE ]

  M0NTH 1: 7 DAYS

  M0NTH 2+: 5 DAYS

  PRAY_FOR_ME

  The Royal Road Algorithm Meatgrinder?

  has determined the price I have to pay to

  get this story to you is my fingers.

  IF_YOU_ENJOY:

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