Harry’s eyes fluttered open.
The mory dissolved around him, and he found himself back where he started, seated in the white room.
Leon rembered where he was before, lying down with his head resting on his palms.
A faint smirk tugged at Harry’s lips.
The mory dive had been a success.
Leon tilted his head slightly, eyeing him as if expecting a full report.
"It went well," Harry said simply, voice calm, steady.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device—roughly the size of a matchbox.
It pulsed faintly with thin magical lines running around its surface.
The lines pulsed softly with mana, giving off a soft hum.
It looked identical to the artifact Dani had used to call Veiss. Sa magical lines, sa structure, and the exact sa appearance.
He turned the artifact in his hand, fingers brushing lightly over its edge.
Dani would be reaching out soon—just like Harry had planned, and he would be waiting for him.
Back at the tournant, Harry made sure to plan out his next steps carefully.
After subduing Dani and manipulating his mories, he had taken care to do one last thing before the AMO arrived.
He’d made sure to wound himself.
Though he hated it, it was necessary, as it would be strange if he was sohow found unscathed after what happened.
In order to prevent arousing suspicion, and keep his power hidden, it was simply sothing that had to be done.
He had also taken the chance to search through Dani’s unconscious body, which was where he found the communication artifact.
It has been hidden under his coat; the sa artifact which the adventurer always used to contact Veiss.
Harry had returned the original, using one of his skills—Duplicate, to create a perfect copy of it, which he kept for himself.
However, the level one version of the skill could only copy objects with their effects halves, so he dumped a full three hundred skill points into it, evolving the skill to level five.
The reward was worth it. At level five, [Duplicate] no longer just mirrored objects. It perfectly replicated them.
The result: a flawless, undetectable copy of the artifact.
He opened his interface with a thought.
’Host Stats.’
===========
[Host Stats]
[Na: Harry Ainsworth]
[Race: Human]
[Class: Manaless Mage]
[Level: 33]
[EXP: 359200/4,500,000]
[H/P: 1500/1500]
[Energy: 102,000/102,000]
[Strength: 350]
[Agility: 361]
[Stamina: 340]
[Perception: 342]
[Endurance: 330]
[Intelligence: 328]
[ntal: 330]
[Charm: 329]
{Stat Points: 400]
===========
Harry briefly glanced at the stat window in front of him.
The numbers looked clean—solid, even impressive by most standards—but his expression barely shifted. A sigh slipped past his lips, soft but weighted.
Over four months.
That was how long it had taken him to move from Level 30 to Level 33. Just three levels up.
Even with all the training, missions, and occasional skirmishes, the experience gain had slowed to a crawl.
The EXP requirent grew higher with every level, and even the stage two and three mana beasts he used to hunt barely brought in EXP for him anymore.
All he had been relying on for EXP during the past few months were his daily quests.
Though the progress was slow, it was still appreciated.
His eyes slid down to the stat points section—400 unspent.
He still hadn’t allocated them.
It wasn’t really because he was stacking them up for sothing, he just didn’t see the need to allocate them now.
After watching how Leon trained from his mories, he realised how much he had been relying on the system, and refused to do so anymore.
He wanted to develop his raw strength, his body and properly hone his techniques without replying too much on the system.
He didn’t see why he should keep on dumping numbers into his stats without giving his body the proper training it needed.
If anything, he wanted to see how far he could go under his own strength first.
Leon glanced at Harry, who was still staring at his stats, and a strange glint flashed across his eyes.
Then, the matchbox sized device suddenly pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
The lines around it glowed even brighter, catching Harry’s attention.
’Right on ti.’ He thought, his lips curling into a slight smirk.
He picked up the device and brought it to his ear. The mont the edge of it pressed against his skin, a shaky voice ca through from the other side.
"...M-Master Ryhar? Are you there...?"
Dani’s voice cracked on the edge of desperation, the kind of fear that stemd from uncertainty and failure.
Harry’s smirk turned sharper. Sinister. Cruel.
He cleared his throat, shifted his tone, and deepened his voice just enough to sound unfamiliar.
"Yeah," he said flatly, coolly. "Why did you call suddenly?"
The words were slow, deliberate. Just enough hesitation to feign authority. Just enough rasp to sound nacing.
Beside him, Leon almost lost it.
The blonde-haired man pressed a hand to his lips, eyes twinkling as his shoulders trembled with barely suppressed laughter.
He turned away, trying to contain himself, but he was barely able to.
Harry simply ignored him, focusing on maintaining his character.
He already knew why the latter was laughing.
The na ’Ryhar’ he gave to Dani was just the syllables of his na spelled backwards.
It was a lazy alias, one he had simply ca up with at the spur of the mont.
Leon had found it hilarious.
He said it was the kind of thing a dramatic teenager would co up with—barely even trying to sound evil.
Ryhar. Mysterious. nacing. And utterly ridiculous if you knew what to look for.
But Harry didn’t care.
He wasn’t trying to win points for style. He didn’t need his moniker to sound grandiose or edgy. He only needed it to work—and so far, it had.
He leaned back slightly, the communication device still pressed to his ear.
On the other end, Dani was breathing hard, clearly trying to collect himself.
"Sothing went wrong," Dani muttered. "I—I did everything you said. "But... I think... I’m in trouble..."
Reviews
All reviews (0)