Alpha Zero (Alpha LitRPG Book 1) by Arthur Stone (top 5 books to read TXT) 📕

ones in all, which I called Strength, Stamina, Agility, Perception, and Spirit. The first three are relatively easy to get and develop. In most cases, they were available from birth, meaning even commoners were afforded this set. The last two, on the other hand, were much more difficult to acquire, typically reserved for nobles and their inner circles.

If you failed to develop the attributes afforded by a degree before reaching the next one, there would be no do-overs. Suppose you were a lowly peasant’s son, having achieved the first level by virtue of simply being born and inheriting from your ancestors all of the presents innate to nearly all newborns. Your parents were too poor to nourish you with precisely the right spices to optimize this essential growth period. As a result, you weren’t able to max out more than six attributes at this degree, and their number might not even correspond. If you raised them all, you would end up with one attribute at three, another at two, and the third at one. This was the most common distribution, and those who achieved it were referred to as “pure omegas.” The unluckiest ones who failed to reach even this were known as “lesser omegas, “pseudo-omegas,” “bottom omegas” and other such epithets reserved for the dregs of Rock.

For those like me.

Most peasants raised their Stamina to three, Strength to two, and Agility to one. It was the optimal build for the type of work a common laborer was born to do, meaning to toil by the sweat of their brow from dawn till dusk. Once these six attributes were maxed out at one degree, the peasant could “level up” and start working on maxing out the next set of six.

And so on and so forth, degree after degree. The process was potentially infinite, limited by only the grave. And death, too, could be delayed by developing harmoniously, unlocking the right skills, avoiding harming one’s health with bad habits, paying healers for timely rejuvenation treatments, and, of course, utilizing spices.

Attributes were more than status indicators, but actually increased one’s strength, stamina, and so on. Furthermore, attributes were key to unlocking and developing all sorts of useful talents.

And talents could be quite a serious boon. For instance, unlocking a Marksman talent and adhering to certain conditions made it possible to become a pretty good archer without so much as ever handling a bow. Such a path, however, was not advisable, as harmonious development necessitated practice to “lock in” any theoretical gains.

Sticking with the Marksman example, to get the talent you first needed to acquire the talent mark, whether personal or common. Defeating opponents with this talent granted a small chance of getting it yourself. Or you could luck into a situation and be rewarded with it, as had happened with me when treating the wounded soldier. Failing that, you could train like a madman until the ORDER deemed you worthy of acquiring the talent mark as a prize for your dogged persistence and efforts.

Without any Agility though, you still could not unlock it. This world’s conditions were harsh. Once you did pump your talent to level 10, your progress would stop until your Enlightenment reached 2nd Degree—and your Agility reached 3.

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure about the numbers, but only about the main principle. The big takeaway was that you didn’t need to attend academies, apprentice with artisans or trainers, or even train yourself. Though all of those things were obviously helpful, they weren’t nearly as important as developing your own hidden parameters.

Teshimi’s success in growing spices was rooted in more than just his magic touch. He had possessed a number of relatively advanced attributes and talents that enabled him to excel at such a difficult task. The plants he had worked with required special care that could only be provided by an appropriately skilled caretaker. By executing him, mother had killed the proverbial golden goose, and Camai had been right to be flabbergasted, as the clan had had no other who could have replaced a master of Teshimi’s caliber, meaning not only his degrees of enlightenment, but the required sets of attributes and other talents besides.

Grooming a new master was always an option, but one that would take years and years, as the process of developing one’s talents was both long and expensive.

So where did that leave me, a tragic anomaly in the world of Rock as a thirteen-year-old teenager with zero degrees of enlightenment? I hadn’t gotten the first degree at birth, and the defect hadn’t been rectified despite mother’s considerable efforts. All attempts to fill me with chi had been futile.

Like filling a sieve with water.

But something had changed in the attack on the homestead. I had gotten access to a kind of interface with which I could now observe and partially manage my inner parameters. For instance, the partially filled ring symbolized the degree’s progress. If I filled it to full with chi, I would finally unlock what others received as their birthright. That was how insignificant this achievement truly was.

Insignificant, yet so very difficult for yours truly.

If not impossibly difficult.

If the numbers indicated in the parameters of my present—and pitiful—degree of enlightenment were true, I would need to accumulate eight hundred and eighty-eight units of chi to move on to the next degree. Three 8s, three symbols of infinity. That hardly felt coincidental.

But let’s put that aside.

The events at the homestead had partially filled my ring. During my first introspection, the counter had been at sixty-two units. Meaning I had eight hundred twenty-six to go.

Though technically not impossible, that number still felt well out of my reach. As far as I knew, your average newborn received about a hundred chi at the start of their life, which was enough to reach the first degree of enlightenment. From then on, some had to accumulate more than others