Chapter 3: Strength: 9
Atlas stopped before the blank line beside Strength.
The Sanguis Stylus was already in his hand, and the Bloodbound Codex floated open in front of him, but the page did not react the way he expected. He had already written 3 into Strength once, and his body had changed because of it. That proved the Codex’s first function. It could take blood, accept a number, and rewrite his body according to what was written.
But when he tried to write again, nothing appeared.
The stylus touched the page.
No blood-ink flowed from the tip. No line formed. No change passed through his body. The Codex only hovered there quietly, open and still, as if the problem was not with the relic but with Atlas failing to understand one of its rules.
Atlas frowned and pressed the stylus harder.
"...What is this?"
His voice was low, not because he expected an answer, but because the refusal itself meant something. The Codex had healed him enough to wake, shown his name, displayed his attributes, and accepted blood when he wrote Strength the first time. It was not broken. If it refused to write now, there had to be a condition.
He looked at the Sanguis Stylus.
The dark red liquid inside had decreased after writing Strength. It was not empty, but it was much lower than before. The first number had consumed blood. If the stylus could not write now, the reason was probably simple.
There was not enough ink.
Atlas looked at his bandaged hand. The cloth was still damp in places, but the bleeding had slowed. The wounds on his hand were closing enough that blood no longer flowed freely into the stylus.
"So it needs more Blood."
The moment he reached that conclusion, the Sanguis Stylus reacted.
A faint pull moved through his hand.
Atlas stiffened immediately.
It did not feel like someone pulling his arm from the outside. The pull came from inside, through his blood vessels, as if the stylus had found the source directly. Thin crimson strands rose from beneath the bandage, passed through the cloth as if the fabric did not exist, and entered the crystal body of the stylus.
Atlas watched without moving.
The stylus was not collecting spilled blood.
It was drawing blood from him.
If the stylus only used blood that had already left his body, then Atlas could control the cost by choosing how much to offer. But if it could pull blood directly from his veins, then every number written into the Codex carried a real danger. The relic was not politely accepting payment. Once he chose to write, it could take what it needed.
The crystal stylus filled little by little. The liquid inside thickened and moved with a slow rhythm that almost matched his pulse. Atlas felt the blood leaving him as a draining sensation, making his fingers colder and his breathing slightly heavier.
He let it continue for a few seconds, then tightened his grip.
The pull slowed.
It did not stop completely, but it weakened.
Atlas understood another rule.
The stylus could draw from him, but his will affected the flow. Maybe only a little.
He looked back at the page.
[ PROFILE ]
[ Name: Atlas Mariorett ]
[ STATS ]
Strength: 3 [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Stamina: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Agility: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Spirit: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
The first Strength number was stable now. The two locked fields after it were still sealed. Atlas did not know what those fields meant exactly, but their position suggested stages, higher limits, or some kind of future expansion. For now, only the first value could be changed.
If Strength 3 had changed him a little, what would happen if he wrote a larger number?
That thought came naturally.
Atlas did not like the risk, but he could not ignore it either. He was trapped in the lower part of an Eternal-Class Ruin. A faceless monster above had moved faster than his eyes could follow and pierced his stomach before he could react. If he raised his attributes slowly, he might learn the Codex’s rules better, but he might also die before that knowledge mattered. If he wrote too high, the Codex itself might kill him.
Both choices carried danger.
The only difference was whether the danger came slowly or immediately.
Atlas stared at the Strength line and thought through it practically. Strength 3 had given him a small but real increase. The pain had been bearable, and the change settled quickly. That meant his current body could handle at least that much. But the Codex had locks, the stylus demanded blood, and the page had not shown a clear maximum. A relic that rewrote attributes with blood would not allow meaningless numbers without consequence.
He considered writing 4 or 5.
Then his thoughts moved toward 9.
If the Codex rejected false numbers, then trying 9 would show him the limit. If it accepted the number, he would gain enough Strength to matter in a place where one mistake could kill him. If the cost was too high, he could stop before touching Stamina or Agility the same way.
Atlas placed the stylus over the Strength value again.
The moment he thought of replacing 3 with 9, the page reacted.
The space around the number warped slightly.
Atlas paused.
"...So you do react."
The Codex gave no answer, but the reaction was enough. The page had recognized his intent before the number was written. That meant the Codex was not just paper accepting ink. It understood the act of writing, the chosen value, or perhaps the will behind it.
The stylus vibrated.
The blood inside stirred faster.
Atlas’s eyes narrowed.
"It doesn’t like this number...?"
He should have stopped there.
But the monster above had already shown him what weakness meant. The Royals had used him because he had no value. If the Codex had given him a path, then he needed to know how far that path could be pushed.
Atlas pressed the stylus down.
The tip met resistance.
It was not physical resistance like stone. It was more like trying to write on a surface that denied the meaning of the number itself. The stylus dragged slowly, and the first stroke of 9 began forming over the previous value.
The blood cost increased immediately.
"Khh—!"
Atlas’s arm locked.
The stylus pulled harder from his veins. Blood no longer rose in thin strands. It came faster and thicker, drawn through his bandaged hand into the crystal body until the liquid inside became darker and denser. His fingers went cold. His vision blurred at the edges. The Codex’s page pulsed once, then again, as if the relic was deciding whether to accept or reject the number being forced into it.
The number appeared.
Strength: 9 [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
For one second, it existed.
Then it flickered.
Strength: ? [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Atlas’s breath caught.
The number was unstable.
He understood the meaning at once. The Codex had allowed the attempt, but his body, the page, or the current limit had not fully accepted it. If he stopped now, the number might collapse, and the blood already taken would be wasted. If he forced it, the cost would increase.
Atlas gritted his teeth and pushed the stylus deeper into the page.
"Just stay-! Damn it!"
The word came out rough and angry.
The page distorted harder.
The two locks beside Strength flickered.
[ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Then they glitched.
[ L̴O̶C̷K̶E̴D̷ ] [ L̵O̶C̴K̷E̶D̸ ]
For a fraction of a second, Atlas felt something behind the locks. It was not another line of text and not a clear message. It was closer to a mechanism with awareness, watching the attempt from behind the restriction, waiting to see whether he would break or pass.
He had no time to study it.
The change entered his body.
Strength 3 had felt like his muscles being adjusted. Strength 9 felt like his body was being forced to accept power before it was ready. His arms tightened first, then his shoulders, chest, back, and legs followed. Every muscle fiber contracted, burned, and compressed under pressure. His bones creaked faintly as sudden density formed around them. His veins heated as if the blood inside had become too heavy to move normally.
Atlas’s knees bent, but he refused to fall.
If he fell before the number stabilized, he did not know whether the Codex would reject it. So he stayed upright, one hand gripping the stylus and the other clenched at his side, teeth pressed together until his jaw hurt.
The page continued flickering.
Strength: ? [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Atlas forced his hand down one final time.
The stylus carved the number into place.
The blood-ink sank into the page.
The line stabilized.
Strength: 9 [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
The pull stopped instantly.
His body lost balance the moment the pressure vanished. He dropped to one knee, and both hands hit the ground to stop himself from falling flat. The stone beneath his palm cracked.
Atlas froze.
Thin lines spread outward from his fingers.
He stared at the cracks, then applied a little more pressure.
More cracks formed.
His hand had cracked stone without effort.
Atlas lifted his palm.
His breathing was still rough, and his body still trembled from blood loss and forced change, but the difference was obvious. His arm did not feel like the same arm. His shoulders no longer felt like those of a starving commoner. His muscles had not grown absurdly large, but they were denser, tighter, and far more responsive.
He stood carefully.
The ground dented faintly beneath his foot.
Atlas looked down, then raised his hand and closed it into a fist.
The air shifted lightly around his knuckles.
Atlas looked back at the Codex.
The page floated in front of him calmly, as if it had not nearly drained him and forced his body through a dangerous change.
[ PROFILE ]
[ Name: Atlas Mariorett ]
[ STATS ]
Strength: 9 [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Stamina: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Agility: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Spirit: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
The number stayed.
Atlas exhaled slowly.
"So this is how it works."
The Codex allowed him to write attributes, but the value mattered. Higher numbers cost more blood and caused stronger backlash. If the value exceeded what his body could accept easily, the page resisted. If he forced it, the change could still happen, but the price became harsher.
It was power with rules.
And if he ignored those rules, it would kill him as easily as the monster above.
Atlas looked at Stamina and Agility.
The temptation came immediately.
If Strength 9 gave him this much physical force, then Stamina 9 could let him keep moving despite injuries and blood loss. Agility 9 could make him fast enough to survive sudden attacks. Spirit 9 might let him touch the kind of energy only trained Explorers and Revenants used.
If he wrote all of them now, he might become strong enough to escape.
He might even survive against the black monster, at least that’s what he thought.
Then his vision blurred slightly.
Atlas steadied himself and looked at the hand holding the Sanguis Stylus. The stylus still contained blood, but less than before. His fingers were cold. His heartbeat had become heavier. His body had accepted Strength 9, but it had done so by force, and the change had not come without damage.
He lowered the stylus.
"...Not again."
The words were quiet but firm.
He was desperate, not stupid.
Writing Strength 9 had worked because he focused only on one attribute. If he forced Stamina, Agility, and Spirit to the same level immediately, his body might not stabilize. Strength was external. Spirit was different. If he wrote Spirit too high without understanding it, the backlash might not stay in his muscles. It could damage something deeper.
Atlas needed to use what he had first.
He flexed his hand again.
The strength felt unstable but usable. His body had become more powerful than before, but his control had not caught up. A careless step could dent the floor. A careless grip could break something. If he fought now, he would need to adjust quickly.
That was still better than dying helplessly.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"...But it’s worth it."
He had been thrown into the Eternal Ruin to die. He had been pierced, thrown, and dropped into a sealed lower chamber. But now he stood with a relic that could rewrite his attributes and a body that had already begun to change.
Then the floor trembled.
A rubble of tremor came.
From somewhere deeper in the darkness.
His smile vanished.
He turned his head toward the far end of the chamber, beyond the Codex’s faint glow. The darkness there remained thick, but the air had changed. Something was moving through the lower ruin, and each movement dragged against stone.
Grrrk.
A slow scraping sound echoed once.
Then again.
Grrrk.
Atlas tightened his grip around the Sanguis Stylus.
His new strength pulsed through his body, unfamiliar and not fully controlled, but real. The Codex floated beside him with three empty attributes still waiting. The locked pages remained sealed, and the black monster above was no longer the only danger.
Whatever was coming had noticed something.
Atlas looked at the remaining blanks.
Stamina: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Agility: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
Spirit: _ [ LOCKED ] [ LOCKED ]
His body warned him not to write again.
The approaching sound told him he might not have a choice.
Atlas swallowed the blood taste in his mouth and raised the stylus slightly.
"Hoof..."
His eyes stayed on the darkness.
"...I need more than strength for that thing."
