Trading for Time

"Are you kidding me? A hundred million merit points for just one single day? That is a scam." Marcella rolled her eyes at the floating interface. Of course she wanted to go back to Veridia, but the sheer scale of the requirement felt like a cruel joke. Working herself to death in her previous life was exactly what got her into this mess. She had no intention of doing it again.

'Do not worry, Ms. Vance. I will select only the finest mates for you, which will aid in developing your psionic powers at a rapid pace. Once you reach Level 4S, purifying one hundred million males will be a piece of cake.'

Marcella scoffed, almost choking on the absurdity of the claim. She sat at a pathetic C-tier right now. The gap between C-tier and 4S was like the distance between a puddle and an ocean. When in the universe would she ever reach 4S?

"Me, achieving 4S? Why don't you just do it yourself if it is so easy?"

'I believe in you, Ms. Vance.'

A muscle ticked in her jaw. "Anyone can be a pro at empty flattery."

Complaining would not change her reality. At this point, she had zero alternatives. Her top priority had to be extending her fleeting lifespan. Her death clock was literally ticking down by the second. Only by staying alive could she dream of doing anything else, let alone returning home.

Her mind raced, sifting through the original Marcella's memories for a lifeline. The female-to-male ratio in this beastworld was staggeringly unbalanced. Because of this harsh demographic reality, the system simply could not match an overwhelming number of mates to a single female all at once to manage the widespread contamination crisis. That grim necessity birthed the resonance hubs.

Once a female awakened her psionic powers, a dedicated resonance room awaited her at the center. The governing system did not force females into this labor, but it dangled irresistible bait. Any female who performed resonance treatments earned corresponding merits and galactic credits based on their performance. The most crucial resources in this world—beast cores, insect cores, luxury housing, vehicles, and starships—required merits for purchase. Motivated by this wealth and social status, the vast majority of females flocked to the resonance hubs to work.

Furthermore, the system mandated an annual ten-day battlefield deployment for every registered female. There, they performed mass resonance for the frontline soldiers. The system offered massive merit bonuses and galactic credits for those who volunteered for extra battlefield duty, but the frontlines were brutal and lethal. Few ever took the offer willingly.

Since the battlefield was too far and far too dangerous for her current fragile state, Marcella made a swift decision. She would hit the resonance hub tomorrow morning and farm some days for her lifespan.

She navigated to the resonance slot application on her Holocom. Because this was her inaugural session, she possessed the rare authority to dictate the parameters: the number of slots, the tier of her targets, and their specific contamination levels.

A standard C-tier female could simultaneously purify seven 1-star males hovering at ninety-five percent contamination, dragging their levels down to thirty percent. Doing the math, purifying seven 1-star males under those exact conditions would grant her roughly four and a half days of extra life.

Marcella did not hesitate. She input the requirements: seven slots, 1-star males, contamination range between ninety and ninety-five percent. She ignored the merit payout section entirely. Survival came first. Let the money handle itself later.

She hit confirm. Less than sixty seconds later, the application pinged loudly in her mind. All seven slots were booked solid.

Words failed her. Beastworld men really did burn the midnight oil just for a chance at a treatment session.

With her immediate future secured, a wave of calm washed over her. Without warning, a magnetic pull grabbed her spectral form. Her soul snapped back into her physical body on the bed, sinking into a heavy, dreamless state.

At two in the morning, the metallic whir of the household robot helper broke the silence. Its thermal sensors detected Marcella running a fever. It sprang into action, rolling smoothly to her bedside. The fever remained low-grade, so the machine simply pressed a cooling hydro-patch to her forehead and monitored her vitals through the dark hours.

Marcella slept through the entire ordeal. By the time the morning light filtered through the curtains and the fever broke, she remained oblivious to the midnight medical intervention.

"Fever? Are you sure?" Marcella blinked at the robot helper. The machine had nudged her awake at half-past nine, delivering its overnight medical report in a cheerful synthetic voice.

Her mind immediately latched onto a striking piece of trivia she had scrolled past on the AetherWeb. On the day a female reached adulthood, a sudden fever signaled the awakening of psionic powers and supernatural abilities. On incredibly rare occasions—a statistical miracle bordering on zero point zero one percent—a standard fever could trigger a secondary awakening.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Could her psionic powers have undergone a second awakening while she slept? Or had she unlocked a brand-new supernatural ability?

The system had called her a lucky transmigrator who landed in an aether beastworld novel. This kind of plot armor fit the narrative perfectly. A thrill chased away her morning grogginess. She might look like a harmless girl, but she craved the security of raw power. S-tier psionic strength paired with a supernatural ability sounded like the ultimate survival kit.

By eleven o'clock, Marcella strode into the gleaming lobby of the Center of Maris Affairs. The air smelled of sterile cleaner and ozone. She pulled a queue number, offered her arm for the mandatory blood draw, and took a seat in the waiting area.

She stared at the white screen mounted on the wall. Her leg bounced, anxiety and anticipation warring in her chest. Five minutes ticked by like hours before her name flashed across the display in bold letters.

'Psionic Power Tier: S'

'Status: Upgraded from C-tier. Classified as Secondary Awakening.'

'Ability: Wood-Based'

'Tier: One Star'

A squeal slipped past her lips, and the corners of her mouth hijacked her face, pulling into a massive grin. This was incredible. Her psionic power had bypassed the middle tiers entirely, vaulting straight from C to S. Adding a wood-based ability on top of that felt like hitting a universal jackpot. Her odds of surviving this brutal world had just skyrocketed.

'Congratulations on becoming an S-tier female, Ms. Vance!'

The system chimed in her mind with perfect comedic timing. It had known the results the second her blood hit the analyzer, but it had held its digital tongue to let her experience the sheer thrill of the reveal.

"Hey, do you know why my psionic powers triggered a second time?" Marcella asked, keeping her voice low to avoid weird looks from the clinic staff passing by.

'You underwent a soul fusion. Your soul grew exponentially stronger, which naturally forced your psionic powers to scale up to match.'

Marcella paused, her celebration halting. "System, what happened to the original owner's soul then?"

'It fused with yours.'

That answer raised more questions than it answered. "What does that even mean?"

'You are her, and she is you. Think of your soul as a single thread that frayed into two. One piece remained in this universe, while the other strayed into Veridia. The transmigration simply stitched the two halves back together into a whole.'

The concept sounded wild, but she had literally died and woken up in a beastworld novel. A split soul barely registered on the weirdness scale. Knowing that the original Marcella was just another fragment of herself erased the lingering guilt of stealing someone else's body. She was whole now. As for the metaphysical mechanics behind it, she decided not to waste brainpower on things outside her control.

Across the room, the testing staff member stared at his monitor. He looked like he had forgotten how to breathe. He finally snapped out of his daze, rushing toward her with wild, manic eyes.

"Ms. Vance! Congratulations on your secondary awakening! Your psionic power has officially risen from C-tier to S-tier. And congratulations on awakening a wood-based ability!"

The man practically vibrated with hype. He had personally handled the testing for this female therian. A jump from C to S was legendary enough, but a localized elemental ability? He would be telling this story at bars for the rest of his natural life.

With shaking hands, the staff member finalized the data and hit upload. The central system caught the S-tier designation and immediately broadcast the update across the entire AetherWeb. Two young S-tier females appearing within a three-year span, both wielding awakened abilities, demanded universal celebration.

Notifications pinged on Holocoms across the continent.

'Ms. Vance Achieves Secondary Psionic Awakening: Vaults From C to S!'

'Ms. Vance Awakens Wood-Based Ability! Now One of Only Three Females in the Aether Beastworld With Supernatural Powers!'

Within minutes, those two headlines hijacked the top spots on the trending charts. The AetherWeb erupted into an absolute frenzy. Comment sections moved faster than the eye could track.

"Another S-tier female? Are my eyes working right?"

"Another female with a supernatural ability! The heavens are blessing us!"

"Can the Maris center match more mates to two S-tier females? I will do anything to become one of her husbands!"

"Is Ms. Vance single right now? I am begging the system to drop my profile on her desk!"

"Wait, isn't this the same Marcella who divorced five mates less than six months after being matched? Is she just scamming males out of their property and merit points?"

"I heard a rumor she has a toxic temper and tortures her mates every single day behind closed doors."

"I do not care! I will gladly take the torture! System, match me with Marcella right now!"

While millions of netizens fought in the comment sections, seven specific males stared at their personal Holocoms in stunned silence. They were the desperate ones who had scrambled to book a 1-star resonance slot the night before. Now, their private chat groups were melting down.

"Did I read that right? I actually booked a slot with an S-tier female?"

"My contamination levels might drop straight to thirty percent in one session! I can actually return to the battlefield!"

"I just hope Ms. Vance is not like those other high-tier females, only skimming off ten percent of the contamination per session just to drag it out and milk us for merits."

The public hype reached a boiling point, echoing across the network.