Primordial Awakening: I Breathe Skill Points!-Chapter 37: Shopping. (1)

Chapter 37: Shopping. (1)
Zeph woke to the unfamiliar sensation of morning sunlight on his face and the absence of immediate threats.
The apartment was still small, still basic, still had ceilings that his 6’9" frame could touch without fully extending his arms. But it was his, and more importantly, it was safe.
He rolled out of bed—literally rolled, since the mattress was too short for his legs and sitting up meant hitting his knees on the wall—and stretched as much as the confined space allowed.
’Day two of civilization. Let’s see if I can manage not to fuck this up.’
The kitchenette beckoned with possibility. He had actual food. Ingredients he’d purchased with credits, not scavenged from ruins or stolen from the dead. The novelty hadn’t worn off yet.
Zeph pulled out the rice he’d bought yesterday, the dried beans, some vegetables that were probably intended for more sophisticated meals than he knew how to make. He stared at them for a long moment, his survival-focused brain trying to map "ingredient" to "edible meal" and coming up frustratingly short.
’I’ve killed B-rank awakened. I’ve survived three years alone in the ruins. I can figure out how to cook rice.’
Famous last words.
-----
Twenty minutes later, the apartment smelled like burnt offerings to a god that didn’t want them.
The rice was somehow both crunchy and mushy simultaneously—an achievement Zeph hadn’t known was possible. The vegetables were charred on the outside and raw in the middle.
The beans were... well, he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to the beans, but they’d transformed into something with the texture of rubber and the taste of regret.
He sat at the tiny fold-down table, staring at his culinary disaster, and felt something unexpected bubble up in his chest.
Laughter.
Actual, genuine laughter that made his shoulders shake and his storm-gray eyes crinkle at the corners.
’This is the worst meal I’ve ever made. And I once ate a rat that had been dead for three days.’
But he’d made it. Not scavenged, not stolen, not eaten raw because cooking meant smoke that attracted enemies. He’d stood in his own kitchen, in his own apartment, and created something edible through legitimate effort and spectacular failure.
The rice crunched between his teeth. The vegetables tasted like charcoal. The beans had the consistency of bouncy balls.
Zeph ate every single bite and enjoyed the hell out of it.
Not because it was good—it objectively wasn’t—but because it was normal. Because normal people cooked terrible meals sometimes. Because this was what life looked like when you weren’t just surviving, when you had the luxury of failing at mundane tasks without it meaning death.
’I should probably learn how to cook properly,’ he thought, chewing something that might have once been a carrot. ’But later. Right now, I have more important things to do.’
He finished his disaster breakfast, cleaned the pan with water that came from a tap that just worked, and grabbed his citizen ID and credit chip.
Time to get stronger.
-----
The hover-taxi arrived within minutes of his call—another piece of casual magic that civilization took for granted. The driver was different from yesterday’s but had the same slightly bemused reaction to Zeph’s height folding into the back seat.
"Where to, kid?"
"Union branch. Closest one to F-District."
The driver’s eyebrows rose. "Shopping for skills? Got some credits saved up?"
"Something like that."
"Well, you picked the right place. Union’s got the best selection in the sanctuary—probably in all seven Sanctuaries, honestly." The cab pulled into traffic with smooth efficiency. "Fair warning though: prices aren’t cheap. Those skill tomes don’t come free."
Zeph grunted acknowledgment, watching the city pass through the window. F-District was waking up around them—workers heading to morning shifts, street vendors setting up stalls, children being herded toward schools by parents who expected them to survive the day.
Normal life, continuing because people believed tomorrow would come.
’And I’m about to spend almost all my money on ways to kill people more efficiently. Because that’s still what I am, under the cheap secondhand clothes and the legal ID. A weapon that learned how to pretend to be human.’
The thought should have bothered him more than it did.
The Union building announced itself from three blocks away.
It was sleek, modern, a ten-story monument to commerce and power that gleamed with embedded formation arrays and architectural ambition. The exterior was all glass and steel—or whatever mana-reinforced materials passed for glass and steel in this world—creating a facade that managed to be both welcoming and intimidating.
Massive letters above the entrance spelled out [UNION - Avalon City Branch] in glowing script that shifted between blue and silver.
"Here we are," the driver said, pulling up to the main entrance. "That’ll be twenty credits."
Zeph paid and extracted himself from the cab with the awkward grace of someone whose limbs were too long for standard-sized spaces. He stood on the sidewalk, hood pulled low despite the morning warmth, and just looked at the building.
The Union.
He’d heard about them even in the ruins—scraps of information traded between scavengers, stories about the organization that had risen from the chaos of the Descent to become one of the most powerful entities on the planet.
They’d been founded during those first catastrophic years when the dimensional rifts tore open and humanity scrambled to adapt or die. While governments collapsed and societies fractured, the Union had done something simple but brilliant: they’d focused on selling the tools of survival.
Mana-based equipment. System-compatible technology. Skills, techniques, manuals—anything and everything an awakened human needed to get stronger, fight better, survive longer.
They didn’t care about politics or ideology. They sold to anyone with credits, established branches in every major population center, and built an empire on the foundation of humanity’s desperate need for power.
Now, 197 years later, they had branches in almost every city in the Northern Bastion and major locations in all seven Sanctuaries. If you needed to buy something related to the System, you went to the Union. They had the selection, the quality control, the reputation.
And the prices to match.
Zeph walked through the entrance, trying not to look like someone who’d never been inside a proper store before.
The interior made his breath catch despite himself.
The ground floor was vast—easily the size of a football field, with ceilings that rose thirty feet overhead. But it wasn’t the space that impressed him. It was what filled it.
Aisles upon aisles of carefully organized displays. Skill tomes glowing faintly with embedded System energy. Technique manuals bound in materials he didn’t recognize.
Equipment ranging from basic training weapons to artifacts that hummed with visible power. Runes, formations, crystals, consumables—an entire marketplace dedicated to making awakened humans more dangerous.
And the people. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, browsing with the casual confidence of shoppers who knew exactly what they wanted and had the credits to afford it.
Adventuring parties discussing which skills would complement their builds. Solo hunters examining weapon displays with professional scrutiny. Academy students probably shopping with family money, their gear marking them as privileged even among the awakened.
Zeph felt simultaneously out of place and exactly where he needed to be.
A holographic directory floated near the entrance, displaying the building’s organization:
[UNION - AVALON CITY BRANCH]
[GROUND FLOOR:
- Skills (Offensive, Defensive, Utility)
- Techniques & Manuals
- Weapons & Armor
- Consumables]
[FLOORS 2-4:
- Artifacts & Equipment
- Runes & Formations
- Crafting Materials]
[FLOORS 5-7:
- Premium Section (Rank C and Above)
- Restricted Sales
- Private Consultation]
[FLOORS 8-10:
- Administration
- Appraisal Services
- Guild Coordination]
A young woman in Union uniform—crisp blue with silver trim—approached with a professional smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"Welcome to the Union. First time shopping with us?"
Zeph nodded, his voice coming out rougher than intended. "Yeah."
"Wonderful! Let me get you set up with a shopping interface." She pulled a tablet from seemingly nowhere, fingers dancing across the screen. "I’ll need your citizen ID for account creation."
He handed over the card. She scanned it, her expression remaining neutral as his information populated her screen.
"Kai Mercer, Level 35, recently registered. No previous purchase history with Union." She looked up at him, and for just a moment, her professional mask slipped into something more genuine—sympathy? Recognition?
"Welcome to Avalon City, then. I hope you find what you’re looking for." She handed him a small tablet device. "This is your shopping cart. Scan the codes on any items you’re interested in, and they’ll be added to your cart. When you’re ready to check out, just bring the tablet to any register. We’ll retrieve your purchases from our storage and have them ready for pickup within fifteen minutes."
She gestured to the various sections. "Skills and techniques are organized by category and rank. Union policy requires all skill tomes to be D-rank or lower for general purchase—higher ranks require special authorization or Academy sponsorship. If you need help finding anything specific, there are staff members throughout the floor wearing these uniforms. Any questions?"
"I’m good."
"Then happy shopping, Citizen Mercer. And welcome to civilization."
She moved on to the next customer, leaving Zeph standing with a digital tablet and the sudden awareness of exactly how much money he was about to spend.
Marcus had given him 50,000 credits as part of their deal. The citizenship, the housing, and fifty thousand credits to "get started."
He’d spent 1,540 credits in the last day and a half. Food, supplies, manga, public bath, laundry, taxi rides—small purchases that added up with alarming speed.
That left him 48,460 credits.
It sounded like a lot until he remembered that a single skill tome could cost anywhere from 5,000 to 5,000,000 credits depending on rank and rarity.
’Time to see how broke I can make myself in one shopping trip.