I didn't level up like the others.
While players spammed AOE attacks through starter quests and sprinted to the nearest goblin caves, I stayed on the fringe—testing combos, observing mob patterns, and adjusting glyph efficiency until it felt like muscle memory.
By the time they hit Level 5, I'd reached Level 4.
But my Lexicon had improved tenfold.
I'd rewritten Repulse Thread twice. Re-balanced the ink cost. Added a delay anchor and infused a feedback rune I'd seen once during a high-tier boss animation. The spell now staggered enemies for 1.2 seconds if cast just before impact.
A minor detail.
To most players, irrelevant.
To me, it was everything.
The SYSTEM didn't reward creativity.
But it recorded it.
And I was stacking up observations—quietly, relentlessly—beneath the notice of anyone who thought this was just another fantasy grind.
[You have created a new variation: Repulse Thread – Elastic Bind (Tier F+)]Combo Detected. Feature Queued: Glyph Stagger Memory.
I grinned.
Now it was a real tool.
By mid-morning, the town square was packed. Players screamed about starter drops and duels gone wrong. Someone had already formed a party named 'Speedrunners of Glory' and were challenging others to a Level 10 race.
I leaned against a low wall and sipped water from my travel inventory. My Lexicon hovered at my side, pages lazily flipping in the sun.
A notification pulsed.
[System Suggestion: Join a Party]Party-based XP gain is 15% faster. Party role synergy recommended for support-class users.
I closed the prompt without blinking.
Not yet.
I was finishing up a rework of a basic shield tag when I saw her.
A blur of movement across the edge of the square—fast, agile, stepping through combat with uncanny precision.
She wasn't high-level. Her gear was basic. But the way she moved… sharp. Controlled.
[Player Detected: Lyra Fen]Level: 5 | Class: Unlisted | Weapon: Dagger | Tag Affinity: Shadowline Runes (Uncommon)
I blinked.
Shadowline Runes? That wasn't supposed to unlock until the Level 15 dark mage progression questline in Wyrmveil.
She hadn't unlocked them officially. She'd found them.
"Interesting," I murmured.
She defeated her opponent in under eight seconds and turned to walk off, vanishing into the crowd.
I watched her go, then tapped my Lexicon open again.
Don't rush.
I reminded myself of the rule I never followed in my first life.
Instead of chasing glory, I walked a familiar route through Elderfall—straight to a tiny, overlooked cellar near the alchemist's hut. Inside, a dormant glyph ring pulsed weakly on the floor.
Buried under it, hidden beneath disused terrain geometry, was a one-time exploit.
I crouched and activated the tag sequence.
[Secret Interaction Triggered]You have discovered a Forgotten Glyph Node. Do you wish to link it to your Lexicon?
Yes.
The moment I did, the ink reserves in my book flared—and expanded.
[Ink Capacity Increased: 100 → 120]Permanent upgrade.
In my old life, someone had posted about this spot six months into the game. It was patched within a week.
Now, I had it on Day One.
By evening, I was still alone.
But I wasn't lonely.
Every spell felt cleaner. Every tag faster. Every outcome sharpened.
While the world played catch-up…
…I was laying the groundwork for something no player had ever seen.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Observation Level Elevated. Anomaly Progressing.]User behavior does not conform to projected growth curve. Monitor for Pattern Drift.
Tomorrow, I'd leave Elderfall.
Tomorrow, the real story would begin.
But tonight?
Tonight I wrote one last tag beneath the stars—just a simple light rune, cast into the air to see how long it would last.
It stayed for almost a full minute.
Like the game itself didn't want to let it fade.