Two days passed in the blink of an eye.
The night lay in complete silence, moonlight spilling over the high-rise buildings of the Underground. At this hour, the streets showed no signs of life, a stark contrast to the adult establishnts that thrived under the evening bells.
Within Solace Bar, a soul-catching rhythm resounded, soothing the ears and minds of those who were anxious and tired. Despite there being so many custors, the bar was unusually quiet, save for the music.
Zeke looked at the Solare Special he had just mixed, seemingly in a daze. He wasn’t thinking about the drink, instead his mind was occupied by sothing else.
A light-blue panel quietly appeared before him.
---
[Na: Zeke Crimson]
[Age: 16]
[Class: Stick Master (Gray 99/100), Gar (Black 0/100,000)]
[Rank: Initiate 1.1]
[Striking Force: 615]
[Speed: 19m/s]
[Spirit Force: 0]
[Echoforce: 12]
[Skills: Stick Manifestation (Active 99/100), Stick Skill (Passive 99/100), Gar Proficiency (Passive 0/10,000), Gar Attributes (Passive 0/10,000), Gar Growth (Passive 0/10,000), Gar Overload (Active 0/10,000)]
---
Zeke maintained a consistent training plan over the past two days, pushing 3 and a half hours of training each day. He had already reached 99 points since yesterday, but even after today’s session, it hasn’t budged at all.
He had a feeling that evolving his class wasn’t going to be as simple as continuously swinging his stick. There had to be a ’requirent’ or ’key’ to evolve his class. He just didn’t know what that requirent was, and his Gar class offered no information about it as well.
’It can’t be that I have to just keep swinging...’
Zeke rubbed his chin, deep in thought. He could afford to be a bit relaxed today because he had two co-workers with him, Hullo, and one of the bartenders who was already working before him.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
A calm voice echoed on his left, snapping him out of his daze.
Zeke closed the panel and looked to his left, seeing a tall, modestly built man with shoulder-length gray hair. Both ends of his hair rested neatly over his shoulders, while a fringe fell across the left side of his face, covering his left eye.
"Leon."
He nodded slightly. Leon was the na of the mature-looking man in front of him. He was one of the bartenders working for Hullo. Although they had only t yesterday, he noticed this person had a quirky habit of being intentionally obtuse, which he described as being ’poetic’.
"Why do I feel like you’re thinking sothing totally rude about ?" Leon glanced at him, narrowing his eyes.
Zeke imdiately shook his head. "I’m not."
"Liar." Leon glared at him, crossing his arms. "So what is thy quandary?"
’Maybe asking others for so ideas wouldn’t hurt...’
Zeke hesitated for a mont, then asked.
"Can I ask a question?"
"Whoa." Leon’s mouth opened slightly. "You actually understood what I said?"
Zeke looked at him strangely. "Why would you talk like that if you’re not sure people are going to understand you?"
"... That... well..." Leon averted his gaze, montarily speechless. He shook his head. "Just because you’re correct doesn’t necessarily an that you’re right! Take that!"
Zeke raised a brow. "Which book did you take that line from?"
"That’s just semantics, junior." Leon waved his hand dismissively. "So? What’s your question? If the boss catches you slacking off on work duty, you’ll never hear the end of it. Trust ."
’I know... he was yelling at you when I saw you yesterday...’
Zeke felt like he didn’t need to say that at all. He shook his head, denying it first. "I’m not slacking off... but how old are you, Leon?"
Leon answered casually. "I’m in my pri years."
’What does that even an?’
Zeke thought, letting him be. But he was starting to think that even if he asked this guy, he wouldn’t answer anything useful. Well, any direction was sothing. His mind was feeling a bit clouded lately, so no good ideas were coming to him.
"Forget it. Are you interested in the question or not?" Zeke asked, sighing.
Leon smiled. "What’s thy question?"
Zeke thought for a mont, then replied. "You’ve been here for a while, right? Let’s say you master making every drink here, and by the end, you’ve beco so good that things beco effortless to you. But you still want to improve, what would you do?"
"What’s the age question got to do with that..." Leon mumbled. But since Zeke was serious, he thought for a mont before giving out an answer. "Isn’t that simple then? I’d just make a new drink. Since I already know everything, I’ll make one that I don’t know."
’Make a new drink...’
Zeke suddenly paused, subconsciously rubbing his chin. That was right. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
’Wait, isn’t this also what top Rankers do? I rember...’
When a Ranker reaches a certain level, they usually create techniques, an imitation of innate skills. It was different from the innate skills one awakened along with their class. Instead, techniques were the crystallization of the Ranker’s knowledge and experience, taking form into a transmissible ability.
It didn’t imdiately co to mind because from what he knew—only the most seasoned and talented Rankers could create techniques.
With his experience and strength, Zeke couldn’t exactly associate himself with the word ’seasoned and talented Ranker’.
But if he considered the proficiency panel as real experience, then technically, he was already a seasoned Ranker who was very familiar with his class. He didn’t know the basics of creating a technique, nor did he have much experience in real combat, but from what he knew, class proficiency was the most important tric in being able to create a technique.
This was why there were even techniques made by people with gray-quality classes.
’Hmm, it’s not impossible...?’
Regardless, Zeke thought it was worth a try. Maybe the ’key’ to breaking through to a hundred points was making a technique that represented the culmination of his training.
In that case, what he needed wasn’t more effort, but a direction for his technique.
’What technique do I want to make...’
This thought lingered in Zeke’s mind throughout his entire night shift, causing him to make more mistakes than usual. Leon seed to sense that he was distracted and let him be, covering for him when Hullo returned from the office.
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