Chapter 1: White Bread

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Chapter 1: White Bread

“Where am I?”

Xazuo opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, his eyelids swollen and heavy, and halos of spinning light danced before him, leaving him feeling worse than after an all-nighter.

His whole body ached and was limp, arms and legs refusing to obey. Only after exhaling every last bit of air from his chest could he manage to inhale again.

He lay on the ground, gathering his strength, and eventually groped along the floor with his right hand until he found the wall. Leaning against it, he slowly sat up, his gaze gradually becoming dazed as he looked around in disbelief.

This appeared to be a prison cell; thick iron bars blocked his way.

In the narrow corridor outside, torn pieces of black bread were scattered, beside a bucket of water with floating impurities.

The air here was damp and cold.

Xazuo shivered, hugging himself and rubbing his arms for warmth, but soon his movement stilled. He slowly looked down…

He was wearing a tattered cloth garment, patched in many colors, giving off a sour stench.

“What’s going on?”

His mouth opened and closed, his voice hoarse and parched, a strange prickling pain stabbing at his throat.

In the darkness, he heard faint noises.

Xazuo listened quietly, tilting his head.

The sound grew clearer, as if someone was repeating the same words over and over by his ear.

“Detecting if host has awakened…”

“Detecting if host has awakened…”

“Host detected awake. Scanning body data… Scan complete. Beginning data transformation… Transformation successful. Personal template generated.”

“Personal template?” Xazuo gasped in surprise, his words dissolving into a soft cough at his throat.

A strange stream of information invaded his mind.

…

[Personal Template]

[Name] Xazuo

[Gender] Male

[Age] 14 years, 8 months

[Status] Commoner (You are the descendant of ordinary folk, with no special skills or knowledge.)

[Level] Lv.1

[Experience] 0/10

[Health] 15/18 (Mild poisoning, hunger)

[Strength] 2 points. Strength determines most physical attack power, reduces the movement penalty from wearing heavy armor or carrying heavy loads, and increases the damage reduction of blocking and parrying.

[Agility] 2 points. Agility determines your attack and counterattack speed, increases your dodge success rate, and makes it easier to perform complex physical maneuvers.

[Endurance] 3 points. Endurance determines your capacity for sustained running and combat, and influences how quickly you recover stamina.

[Vitality] 3 points. Vitality is your inner life force, determining your maximum health and rate of regeneration.

[Perception] 3 points. Perception is the sum of your five senses and intuition. The higher your perception, the more quickly and thoroughly you can observe your surroundings and sense impending danger.

[Willpower] 3 points. Willpower determines your resistance to abnormal effects, whether they target mind or body; willpower offers protection.

[Spirit] 1 point. Spirit affects your affinity with elements and energy. The higher your spirit, the less energy you expend and the easier it is to control elements and energy.

[Charisma] 3 points. Charisma is a direct reflection of your appearance, physique, eloquence, and so on. The higher your charisma, the better the first impression you make, and the easier it is to win favor.

[Character Feats]

[Immortal Body] Before your health drops to zero, even a blow to a vital spot will not kill you. Any injury will heal itself as your health recovers.

...

“So I… transmigrated? ‘Immortal Body’… Is this the benefit of being transformed into data by this system?” Xazuo stared blankly at the iron bars.

The information in his mind shifted.

“Host has successfully activated Golden Finger. Awarded 1 free attribute point, which can be used to increase any attribute. First skill unlocked: Appraisal.”

The mental buzz faded, and no more messages appeared, as if everything before had been an illusion.

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After several dazed minutes, Xazuo rubbed his face with both hands, covered his eyes, and finally accepted the reality of his transmigration.

He tried asking in his mind, “What is Appraisal?”

The so-called Golden Finger responded crisply:

“Appraisal: You can use this skill to view a target’s basic information. With enough knowledge and perception, you can see more details.”

Xazuo fixed his gaze on the black bread in the corridor and silently invoked “Appraise.”

A brief line floated up: “Black bread, ordinary food, can stave off hunger, slightly speeds up regeneration. Eating grants a small amount of experience.”

If food grants experience, then what about water?

He aimed Appraisal at the bucket of water. The response was similar: drinking water also granted experience, though an extremely tiny amount.

“What other ways are there to gain experience?” Xazuo asked mentally.

“Any action performed by the host can grant experience.” The Golden Finger’s answer appeared as flat information, entirely devoid of emotion.

Xazuo picked up a piece of black bread, soaked it briefly in the water, and placed it in his mouth.

Sour, hard, difficult to bite or swallow—like a stone wrapped in a bread crust.

He used the warmth of his saliva to slowly soften a small chunk of bread.

Gulp.

The first bite slid into his stomach.

“Gained 0.01 experience. Current level progress: 0.01/10.”

His gut, stimulated by food, quickly began to churn, and the hunger from long fasting grew even more acute.

Xazuo broke up a piece of black bread and soaked it in the bucket, forcing himself to ignore his stomach’s protests. A small bite of bread with a small sip of water, slowly chewed and swallowed.

After a few mouthfuls, his stomach calmed, the dizzy hunger faded, the spinning stars in his vision vanished, and the world grew brighter.

At the end of the corridor, a faint glow from a candle barely illuminated the hallway and cell edges.

Xazuo did not call out.

Since he was imprisoned, the light at the end of the hall must come from a guard. Raising a fuss would only invite unnecessary trouble.

He glanced around, eyes falling on a lumped shadow. In the cell opposite, someone seemed to be sleeping curled up in their bedding.

“Hey.” Xazuo lowered his voice and tossed a chunk of black bread, using it as a makeshift stone, at the shadow.

The bread landed on a straw blanket, bounced to the ground, and pattered across the floor.

He picked a larger piece and aimed for what he guessed was the head.

This time, there was a response.

“Xazuo, I thought you weren’t going to make it…”

The shadow threw off its blanket and staggered over to the iron bars, sitting down across the hallway to talk.

“The medicine was worse than ever this time. You passed out after drinking it; I had to carry you back.”

Xazuo used Appraisal on the disheveled figure. Aside from a nickname, no useful information appeared.

“Snubnose, what medicine? My head is splitting—I’ve forgotten so much.” Xazuo pressed his fingers to his brow, finding the spot that ached.

“What other medicine could it be… That old alchemist only ever fiddles with those disgusting, bubbling potions.”

Snubnose tore off a bit of black bread, stuffing it in his mouth and mumbling, “Each batch smells worse and tastes fouler than the last. Who knows how many more times we’ll have to drink before he takes us as apprentices.”

Apprentices?

You can’t be serious.

Xazuo gripped the cold iron bars. Who would lock up their apprentices in a cell?

“Are there others here?”

Snubnose wiped his nose on the wall and sniffed up the mess. “There’s four of us, including you and me. Did the medicine scramble your brains? You only remember me. On your left is a fat kid, on the right a scrawny shorty. I’m the only one left on my row; the rest never woke up after drinking and got sent home by the old alchemist.”

Locked up in a cell while alive, eating black bread, drinking dirty water; if you never wake again, you’re “sent home”?

This old alchemist plying children with potions hardly sounds like an upstanding figure—more like a villainous codger.

If I hadn’t woken, I’d probably be buried by now.

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The character template says I’m poisoned. So, the worsening taste of the medicine Snubnose mentioned must mean the toxicity is increasing.

Xazuo’s heart skipped a beat. “When’s the next dose?”

“You really remember nothing, huh. We eat black bread now, but the day we get white bread, it’s time for another dose.”

Snubnose seemed spent, waved a hand across the corridor, and silently crawled back to bed, assuming his previous pose.

Xazuo ate a few more bites of bread, deep in thought, then sat cross-legged on his straw mat.

He had 1 free attribute point to spend. He needed to think carefully—not a single point could be wasted.

He didn’t know what an adult’s template looked like, but clearly, with only 2 points in strength and agility, a fourteen-year-old boy wouldn’t get far—especially with no weapons in sight. Spending points on these would be pointless.

“Golden Finger, can willpower be used to resist poison?” Xazuo asked mentally, waiting a minute, but no reply came.

So cold and unfeeling—a Golden Finger that leaves me on my own… He hung his head, eyelids drooping, and sighed helplessly.

Spirit’s description was tempting and hinted at magic in this world, but in his current predicament, it was useless.

Willpower, vitality, and charisma might be effective.

The first two would help endure the medicine, survive the ordeals.

The third—if he added a point to charisma, he might improve his standing with the villainous alchemist… pretend to obey, then wait for a chance to escape. That could work.

As he weighed his options, the candle at the end of the hall went out.

Darkness swallowed the cell.

Drowsiness turned the prickly straw mat into a cradle.

Xazuo drifted into sleep.

…

The grating, tooth-aching sound of a lock turning woke the boy in his cell. Then came the scrape of iron doors and approaching footsteps.

Xazuo opened his eyes to see a hunched figure shuffling along the corridor.

The old man wore a black robe stained with splashes from various potions.

His hair was wild, thin, and gray, plastered to his scalp. His skin was furrowed with wrinkles, features deeply aged, back bowed as he supported himself with a cane.

He looked every bit the sinister, scheming alchemist.

Sensing Xazuo’s gaze, the old villain dropped a few pieces of bread in front of the cell.

Before Xazuo could use Appraisal, the man hurried away.

Clang—the iron door at the corridor’s end slammed shut.

Xazuo walked to the bars and picked up the bread, his face turning pale.

Soft, fragrant, with a hint of milk—exactly like the white bread he’d once bought at the bakery.

White bread.

Once he could have savored its flavor at leisure; now it was nothing but a harbinger of doom.

Xazuo glanced at the ground nearby—only he and Snubnose had received white bread. The other two still had black bread.

“Snubnose, wake up. Why do only you and I have to drink the medicine?”

“Did I get white bread too?” Snubnose leapt from bed, crammed the slice into his mouth. “Maybe I didn’t play my part well enough and tipped off the old alchemist?”

Xazuo froze—then understood.

The villainous alchemist chose which boys would test his potions by observing their states.

Just now, Xazuo couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the man’s face—and that was enough to be chosen.

Clearly, the villainous alchemist had high perception. He’d have to be more careful in the future.

Acting rashly or showing hostility could easily put him in danger.

(End of chapter)