Primordial Awakening: I Breathe Skill Points!-Chapter 44: Digital Awakening. (1)

Chapter 44: Digital Awakening. (1)
The apartment smelled like actual food.
Not charred failure. Not questionable experiments. Actual, edible, somewhat appetizing food.
Zeph stared at the pan containing what could generously be called scrambled eggs with vegetables, his expression caught between suspicion and cautious pride.
The eggs weren’t burnt. The vegetables retained some texture instead of dissolving into mush. The seasoning was... present. Not good, exactly, but present in a way that suggested intentionality rather than accident.
He scooped a portion onto his plate and took a careful bite.
Edible.
Genuinely, actually edible.
Not "I’m desperate enough to eat this" edible, but "I made this on purpose and it turned out okay" edible.
’Did I just cook something that doesn’t taste like regret?’
He took another bite, analyzing the flavor profile with the same focus he’d applied to combat optimization.
The eggs had a slight rubbery texture that suggested overcooking, but not so much that they became inedible. The vegetables were crunchy, which he was pretty sure meant undercooking, but at least they weren’t soggy.
The salt-to-food ratio was... survivable.
’Is this improvement? Or did I just get lucky with the temperature settings?’
Zeph finished the meal methodically, his mind already calculating probabilities. Three days of cooking attempts. First day: complete disaster that set off the smoke alarm. Second day: marginally less terrible but still unpleasant. Third day: this.
That suggested a learning curve.
Which meant either his gaming-world pattern recognition was translating to cooking, or he was developing actual skill through repetition.
’Cooking skill books exist,’ he mused, rinsing his plate in the sink. ’Saw them at the Union. Probably expensive, but not impossibly so. Basic Culinary Arts was what, 8,000 credits?’
The thought lingered as he dried his hands and surveyed his small kitchen.
Three years in the ruins, he’d eaten whatever he could scavenge. Pre-packaged meals that were still sealed, canned goods past their expiration dates, and yes, rats when things got desperate. Cooking wasn’t survival—it was luxury.
But here? In civilization? With regular access to ingredients and the time to actually learn?
’I kind of like this.’
The admission felt strange. He enjoyed combat optimization, tactical planning, efficiency maximization. Those were familiar pleasures from his gaming life.
But cooking? Creating something with his hands that wasn’t destruction? Finding satisfaction in transforming raw ingredients into something edible and potentially enjoyable?
That was new.
’When I have spare credits, maybe I’ll grab that skill book. Not a priority, but... yeah. Maybe.’
He glanced at the Primordial Architect interface that only he could see.
PP: 53,007
The number climbed steadily with each breath, but PP couldn’t buy cooking skills from the Union. Those required actual credits, and he was sitting at 4,460 with rent due in three weeks.
Which meant the job hunt needed to start now.
Zeph retrieved his new smartphone from the charging cable near his mattress, the device’s weight feeling oddly substantial in his palm.
He’d bought it yesterday on the walk back from the Union—a small tech store tucked between a noodle shop and a dungeon equipment repair service. The phone was bottom-tier by sanctuary standards, probably outdated by at least two years, but it functioned.
Screen worked. Camera worked. Internet connection worked.
That was all he needed.
The past 24 hours had been spent familiarizing himself with the basics. The interface was similar enough to his previous world’s smartphones that navigation felt intuitive, but different enough that he’d had to experiment with various menus and settings.
No voice assistants, which was mildly disappointing.
But the processing speed was absurdly fast, even for a cheap model. Probably something to do with mana-infused circuitry that he didn’t fully understand yet.
’Alright. Job hunting. Three main methods according to that forum post I found yesterday.’
He’d done preliminary research before bed, scrolling through various guide posts written by other low-rank awakened trying to survive in sanctuary economies.
Option One: Social media job listings. Informal, sometimes sketchy, but occasionally lucrative for people willing to take unusual gigs.
Option Two: Official Northern Bastion Guild website. Legitimate, regulated, and probably the safest option. Also probably the most competitive and lowest-paying for someone at his level.
Option Three: Sky search engine, just typing "jobs near me" and seeing what appeared. Chaotic, unpredictable, required careful vetting.
’Start with social media. See what’s out there.’
In his previous world, social media had been fragmented across multiple platforms. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, Reddit—each serving different purposes and demographics.
But here? Post-Descent Earth had apparently decided that humanity couldn’t afford that kind of division.
There was Nova.
Just... Nova.
One unified social media platform that every sanctuary used. One app to handle everything from personal posts to news updates to job listings to dating profiles to dungeon party recruitment.
It was simultaneously brilliant and terrifying from a data privacy standpoint, but Zeph suspected that concern had died somewhere around the same time 47% of Earth’s population did.
He opened the app store, found Nova’s icon—a stylized supernova rendered in blues and purples—and hit download.
The installation took maybe three seconds.
’Definitely mana-enhanced processing.’
The app opened to a sleek welcome screen with the tagline: "Connect. Survive. Thrive."
Account creation was straightforward. Name, age, sanctuary location, awakened status.
He typed carefully:
Name: Kai Mercer
Age: 16
Location: Northern Bastion - F District
Status: Awakened (Level 35)
Class: [Not Disclosed]
He didn’t care to add a bio, partly because there was nothing he knew to say about his current identity Kai Mercer.
The system prompted him to add a profile picture. He used the phone’s front camera to snap a quick photo—just his face, hood down for once, expression neutral.
Storm-gray eyes. Silver-streaked black hair that looked deliberately styled but was actually just how it grew. Gaunt features that were slowly filling out.
Still very good looking.
He looked exactly like what he was: a teenager who’d survived things most people couldn’t imagine.
’Good enough.’
The app processed his registration and immediately threw him into the main feed.
And holy shit, there was a lot happening.
The Nova feed was chaos in digital form.
Posts scrolled past at dizzying speed, each one tagged with location markers, interest categories, and engagement metrics. The algorithm seemed to prioritize local content first, then broader sanctuary news, then continental updates, then global events.
Zeph started scrolling, his gaming-trained eyes adapting quickly to the information overload.
@DungeonDad47 (Northern Bastion - C District)
*"Just cleared my 200th F-rank dungeon. Still waiting for that ’rare drop’ everyone talks about. Starting to think it’s a myth like reasonable housing prices."*
(Likes) 847 | (Comments) 23 | (Reposts) 12
The top comment made him snort.
@LootGoblin_Official: "200 F-ranks and no rare drop? Bro you’re not unlucky, you’re CURSED. Have you checked your Luck stat? Is it in the negatives?"
@DungeonDad47: "My Luck is 7. Which is apparently high enough to survive 200 dungeons but not high enough to get anything good from them."
@MysticMeg88: "Luck 7 is fine. RNG is RNG. I have Luck 23 and got nothing but goblin teeth for a month straight."
@TeethCollector: "I’ll buy your goblin teeth. 50 credits per kg."
@MysticMeg88: "...are you serious?"
@TeethCollector: "Dead serious. I make jewelry. Goblin teeth polish up nice."
Zeph kept scrolling. If he wasn’t sure there was no such thing as a luck stat, he would have thought them to be serious people.
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@SanctuaryNews_NB (Verified - Official)
"BREAKING: Northern Bastion Council approves expansion of E-District commercial zone. Construction begins next month. Estimated 5,000 new jobs created. Details at 6PM town hall meeting."
(Likes) 3.2K | (Comments) 892 | (Reposts) 1.4K
The comments section was predictably chaotic.
@AngryTaxpayer2027: "Oh good, more construction. Because what we really need is LOUDER NOISES at 6 AM."
@ForThePeople: "5,000 jobs is huge for people struggling in F-District. This is good news."
@AngryTaxpayer2027: "5,000 jobs at minimum wage for unawakened labor while awakened get paid 10x as much for standing around looking intimidating. Real fair."
@BigSwordEnergy: "Maybe get awakened then? Just a thought."
@AngryTaxpayer2027: "Oh wow, ’just get awakened.’ Incredible advice. Let me just WILL my 16th birthday into existence since I’m currently 14. Problem solved."
@ForThePeople: "Bro you’re 14 and this angry? Touch grass. Actually no, stay inside. We don’t need this energy loose."
Zeph grinned despite himself. The internet’s fundamental nature apparently transcended dimensional catastrophes.
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@VoidCultWatcher (Northern Bastion - B District)
"Spotted three people in dark robes doing ’meditation exercises’ near the old metro tunnels. Anyone else seeing increased cult activity lately or is it just me?"
(Likes) 234 | (Comments) 67 | (Reposts) 45
@DefinitelyNotACultist: "Meditation isn’t illegal. People are allowed to practice spiritual disciplines."
@VoidCultWatcher: "Your username is literally ’DefinitelyNotACultist’ my guy."
@DefinitelyNotACultist: "It’s ironic."
@SanctuaryGuardOfficial: "If you see suspicious activity near restricted areas, it through proper channels, not social media. That said, we’re aware and monitoring."
@ConspiracyKing99: "’Monitoring’ = ’we know they’re there but haven’t decided if they’re dangerous yet.’ Classic sanctuary response."
@SanctuaryGuardOfficial: "’Monitoring’ = ’we’re doing our jobs.’ Unlike some people who spend all day posting conspiracy theories."
@ConspiracyKing99: "That’s exactly what someone monitoring a cult would say!"