Chapter 84: Leveling Up is For Suckers
"One more," I growled through gritted teeth. "Just... one... fucking... more."
The gangster rap from my past life pounded through my earbuds, drowning out everything but my own breathing. It was old-school Tokyo underground shit, a ghost of Kaelen Leone.
My arms gave out halfway through the rep. The barbell crashed down onto the safety catches with a thunderous clang that rattled through the gym. I lay there, chest heaving, lungs burning, sweat dripping from my face onto the bench.
"Fuck," I muttered, staring up at the ceiling. My muscles scread in protest as I sat up, wiping my face with a towel.
"Nel," I called out, my voice rough from exertion. "Status screen."
The familiar blue interface materialized before my eyes, floating in the air like a hologram that only I could see.
SATORI NAKANO
Level: 1 | Title: None | Class: None | Schema Points: 85
ATTRIBUTES:
Strength: D-327 Endurance: D-351
Dexterity: D-252 Magic: F-155
Agility: D-279
ACTIVE ABILITIES (2/2):
Ember, Sever
PASSIVE ABILITIES (2/4):
Mysticism, Protection From Arrows
SKILLS & TRAITS:
Charming Eyes, Interdiate Kama Sutra, Basic First Aid, Rivalry, Consort’s Touch
I frowned at the numbers. Better than before, sure. I’d clawed my way up from the absolute bottom, dragging this body kicking and screaming into sothing resembling competence. But it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.
"Nel, remind
of the level-up paraters."
The System interface shifted, presenting two progression paths side by side with brutal clarity.
[Of course. Allow
to illustrate the choices available.]
Two simulations appeared before .
The first showed my stats as they currently were. A simulated finger pressed a glowing "Level Up" button. My visible stats reset to F-0, but behind them, hidden from the world, my base stats jumped to a respectable C-rank. A solid power boost, imdiate and tempting.
[Path A: The Impatient Fool] Nel narrated. [Take your modest gains now and restart the climb from a slightly higher plateau. A choice for the shortsighted, the weak, and those lacking the fortitude for true greatness.]
In the second simulation, the stats climbed to a blood-red X-1500 before the level-up. When the F-0 reset appeared, the hidden numbers behind it were an entirely different class of existence. The power was a tidal wave of potential that made the first path look like a child’s wading pool.
[Path B: The Patient Predator] Nel continued. [Maximize every attribute before ascending. The difference is exponential. The gods prefer a host who understands the value of delayed gratification.]
I dismissed the interface. As if there was ever a choice.
"You know, I actually think the gods just enjoy watching
suffer," I said, rising from the bench. My legs trembled slightly from the earlier squat session. "Keep grinding, keep pushing until I can’t anymore, all for their sick entertainnt."
[Such is the burden of the protagonist] Nel replied. [Your struggle is their show. I’m rely the humble narrator.]
"Humble my ass," I muttered, moving toward the reinforced training dummy in the corner. Ti to shift from raw strength training to combat practice.
I stood before the dummy, rolling my shoulders to loosen them. The thing was a high-tech piece of Hunter training equipnt, capable of asuring force, registering hit locations, and automatically repairing minor damage. Luka had spared no expense in outfitting this gym.
Too bad his son was about to misuse the hell out of it.
My palm ward. I focused, pushing power into the [Ember] ability. A lazy ball of orange fla sputtered to life. Pathetic. I narrowed my focus, willing it to tighten. The fla resisted, wavering wildly before collapsing.
"Fuck," I muttered.
Again. This ti, I pictured a needle. The energy coalesced, and the orange fla compressed into a searing blue point that hissed in the air.
Next, I tried creating a wide, low-heat flash, spreading my fingers to fan the flas outward. The result was a sudden burst of orange light that would temporarily blind an opponent without causing serious burns.
[Sever] was my primary weapon, my ace in the hole.
I flicked my finger. A static charge prickled my skin as the invisible force left my hand. There was no sound, just a faint thrumming in the air and the satisfying sight of a new line carved into the synthetic skin.
For defense, I swept my hand in a wide arc, weaving a net of invisible blades into the air—a deadly surprise for anyone foolish enough to charge .
I started the sequence. A low [Sever] slash bit into the dummy’s knee joint, forcing it into an artificial lurch. I followed with a wide fan of [Ember], washing its face in a disorienting flash of heat and light. Before it could "recover," a final, powerful [Sever] strike carved a deep line across its neck.
A notification chid in my vision:
[Repetitive, focused action has been recognized.]
[New Developntal Skill Unlocked: [Combat Arts - F Rank]]
[Effect: Slightly increases the efficiency and reduces the energy cost of all registered Active Combat Arts. Continued practice will improve this skill’s rank.]
A smirk touched my lips. Perfect. A multiplier. Now, every mont spent practicing was a compounding return on investnt.
I fell into a rhythm, running the drills again and again. The more I used [Sever], the more natural it felt. The invisible force beca an extension of my will, my fingers rely a conduit for the power.
An hour later, I was slick with sweat, the salt stinging my eyes and my shirt clinging to my back like a second skin. Each breath was a hot, ragged gasp. My arms felt like lead weights, and my reserves were nearly depleted.
I pulled up my status screen again:
DEVELOPNTAL ABILITIES:
[Combat Arts - F]
Another tool in my arsenal, another advantage the world didn’t know I had.
I glanced at the wall clock. Nearly midnight.
Walking to the massive panoramic window, I gazed out at the sprawling expanse of New Vein City. From this height in Veridian Hills, I could see it all—the gleaming spires of Mirai Central, the academic towers of Palo Alto Ward, the distant industrial zones of Port Tsurumi, all protected by the faint shimr of the barrier do high above.
A city of monsters and monster hunters. A place where power determined everything.
And I was still so fucking weak.
"Nel," I said quietly, "what’s the gap between
and an A-Rank Hunter?"
The System interface reappeared, this ti displaying a comparative analysis.
[The average A-Rank Hunter possesses level 3 attribute values ranging from C-400 to C-599 across the board. Their Aspects are honed to a razor’s edge. Most have unlocked at least one Aspect Evolution or Specialized Application.]
The display showed a silhouette of a Hunter surrounded by glowing energy, attributes all in the high A-rank.
[In a direct confrontation, your survival probability against an A-Rank Hunter would be approximately 0.037%. And that’s assuming they’re having an off day and you’re extrely lucky.]
I snorted. "So you’re saying there’s a chance."
[I’m saying to think of yourself as a speed bump made of at.]
I turned away from the window, grabbing my towel and wiping the sweat from my face.
"And what about the World Ranked Hunters? The Seven Sovereigns?"
The interface shifted again, this ti displaying seven shadowy figures, each surrounded by a different colored aura. The attribute values weren’t even visible—just infinity symbols where numbers should be.
[You exist in a completely different reality than they do. To them, you wouldn’t even register as a threat.]
I stared at the shadowy figures, burning their silhouettes into my mory.
"That’s where I’m going," I said quietly. "To the top. To stand among them as an equal."
Nel’s laughter echoed in my mind, loud and mocking.
[Your ambition is adorable. Truly the mark of a protagonist worth watching.]
I dismissed the interface with a flick of my wrist and headed for the shower. Nel’s mockery didn’t bother . I’d been underestimated my entire life—both lives, actually. It was an advantage.
And by the ti they realized their mistake, it would be too late.
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