The night sky stread through the tall windows of Aric's room. Exhausted from hours of wiring and testing his prototype like ceiling fan, air conditioner, exhaust, in his ntal space. Aric collapsed onto the plush bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling.
His body ached, his mind buzzed with residual ntal strain, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He felt like he'd accomplished sothing aningful.
Before sleep could claim him, Ivy materialized in her usual holographic form, perched elegantly on the screen.
[Well, well, Administrator] she began, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.
[Looks like you've earned yourself a shiny new title for all your hard work today.]
Aric groaned, rolling over to face her. "What are you talking about now?"
[Oh, don't act so surprised, darling.] Ivy leaned forward, her amber eyes gleaming with amusent
[You introduced electricity—a concept foreign to this world. Not many people can even do that. You created devices that preserve food and blend ingredients effortlessly. And let's not forget… you sohow managed to bridge the gap between humans and dwarves, two races who haven't collaborated since the Great War three centuries ago. That's quite the resu for one day's work, wouldn't you say?]
Aric blinked, montarily stunned. "Wait—you're giving a title for that?"
[Of course!] Ivy exclaid, clapping her hands together theatrically.
[Every hero needs a proper title, after all. So here it is:]
"The Spark of Innovation"
She paused dramatically, waiting for his reaction. When Aric simply raised an eyebrow, she sighed exaggeratedly.
[Fine, fine. Maybe 'Innovation' sounds too nerdy. We can tweak it later if you want. But regardless, your efforts have triggered sothing big—sothing worth celebrating. Behold!]
With a flick of her wrist, a glowing interface appeared beside the screen, displaying Aric's updated status:
[STATUS]
Na: Aric/Vayne Arkwright (LVL 5) Potential: EX
Age: 22
Height: 6'1"
Blood Type: O-
Magic: Creation Magic
Description: The ability to manifest anything imagined; limited only by ntal strength, mana reserves, and clarity of vision. [Press here to hide it.]
[STATS]
Strength (STR): D (0/1000)
Speed (SPD): D (0/1000)
Durability (DURA): D (0/1000)
Endurance (ENDU): D (0/1000)
IQ: S (0/950,000)
Mana: SS (0/999,999)
Mana Control: SS (0/999,999)
ntal Strength: SS (0/999,999)
ntal Resilience: SS (0/999,999)
REPUTATION:
Charisma: F Tier
Reputation: G Tier
[TITLES]
The Spark of Innovation
Aric stared at the screen, processing the information slowly. His physical stats were average despite the years being in war.
This body is so ass bro! At least my intellectual and magical capabilities were S ranked. Why is it so high though? Aric told to Ivy ntally with a sigh
[The SS-tier ratings for mana-related attributes make sense given your EX-tier Creation Magic potential, though the massive experience requirents ans you are gonna need to use it alot to upgrade it. Also since you are making stupidly complex blueprint despite your mory, you still will have ntal strain, just like today.]
"What do these numbers an?" he asked finally, pointing to the denominators.
"Like, why is IQ out of 950,000 instead of, I dunno, 100?"
[Think of it as a scaling system.] Ivy explained casually.
[Higher tiers require exponentially more effort to improve. Physical stats is at 1,000 because they're tied to your current body. Your old body probably would've been C . ntal and mana stats, however, are practically limitless thanks to your EX-tier magic. As for IQ… well, let's just say you're quite smart despite being a philosopher. Not everyone can replicate electricity even with perfect mory.]
Aric nodded absently, his gaze lingering on his abysmal charisma and reputation scores.
"Guess I've got my work cut out for ."
[Indeed.] Ivy replied smugly.
[But hey—at least you're not starting from scratch anymore. Now get so rest, Administrator. Tomorrow's another day full of chaos.]
With that, she vanished, leaving Aric alone with his thoughts. Despite the challenges ahead, he couldn't suppress a small chuckle.
Level 5, huh? Not bad for soone who'd woken up in a strange world with a wife who hates .
Thorin ducked low to avoid hitting his head on the doorfra as he entered Seraphina's private office. The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of candlelight and the occasional spark from the fireplace. Shadows danced across the walls, casting eerie silhouettes that mirrored the tension in the air.
Seraphina sat slouched in her chair, a half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on the desk beside her. Smoke puff from her mouth and her eyes look a little red. Evidence of the joint she'd been smoking on.
"You reek of desperation." Thorin remarked dryly, taking a seat across from her without invitation. His towering fra made the elegant furniture look comically small beneath him.
"Not exactly the image a duchess should project."
Seraphina shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual intensity. Her blue eyes were bloodshot, her silver hair disheveled, and her posture scread exhaustion.
"I'm not in the mood for your lectures, Thorin. What do you want?"
"To talk." he replied simply, leaning back in his chair with an ease that belied his imposing presence.
"About Vayne."
At the ntion of his na, Seraphina's lip curled into a sneer. She grabbed the divorce papers stacked neatly beside her and put it in front of him.
"That piece of shit doesn't deserve a second thought. He's worthless—a stain I can't scrub off no matter how hard I try."
Thorin raised an eyebrow, unfazed by her outburst.
"Strong words. But tell , Duchess, why haven't you acted yet? Why endure him all this ti?"
"Because I have no choice!" she spat, slamming her fist against the desk hard enough to rattle the whiskey bottle.
"Every damn thing he does ruins lives—including mine. Gambling away fortunes wasn't enough for him. No, he had to swindle rchants, leaving entire villages starving during winter because of his incompetence. People died because of that and he bought a fucking slave off the black market—a slave, Thorin! My people and I had to cover for his fuck-ups so many tis and it's not even for him. It's to keep House Arkwright's reputation intact. You know why I never reported him? Or divorced him earlier? Because it would ruin everything my family and I worked so hard to build! He's a fucking parasite!"
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
"And not to ntion that fucking Callista Duval. That cheating bastard humiliated publicly, aligning himself with my greatest rival. Do you know how many people changed their view on ?"
Thorin listened silently, his expression unreadable. When she finally paused to take another gulp of whiskey, he spoke calmly.
"It sounds like you have every right to hate him. But let ask you this: why is he creating these inventions? To destroy this place further? Or to save it?"
Seraphina froze mid-sip, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why the fuck does that even matter?"
"Vayne told sothing interesting when we were coming back here." Thorin revealed cautiously.
"He asked to cover for him if anyone accused him of stealing ideas. Said he wanted to confirm he stole them from ."
Seraphina snorted derisively.
"Of course he did. Nothing new there. Lies upon lies—it's all he knows."
"No." Thorin countered firmly.
"He didn't steal it. Those inventions are his own. And here's the kicker: he hasn't sold them to anyone—not yet. Not even to . But I already want the blueprints. I know you're wealthy, Seraphina. Second only to the royal family, if at all. I despise them, but I can't deny their authority. You, however, are different. Your ambitions extend beyond greed. These inventions could revolutionize agriculture, industry, the way we live—for everyone! Humans, dwarves, elves—it doesn't matter. They'll change the world."
"You're defending him?" Seraphina growled, rising abruptly from her chair. She grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured herself another glass
"After everything he's done, you're actually taking his side? Just because his ideas can change the world?"
"I'm not defending him." Thorin clarified, his tone firm but asured.
"I'm just defending his ideas. Look, I've lived for centuries. I've seen countless rulers rise and fall, empires crumble and rebuild. Trust when I say this: those inventions aren't for him. They're for… sothing bigger. Sothing he started to finish sothing. Sothing personal maybe."
Seraphina inhaled the joint deeply and let out a puff,
"So what are you suggesting? That I just let him walk around unchecked while he pretends to fix things? Let him play martyr after everything he's done? Should I just forgive he cheated on ? Or the people he starved?"
"I'm suggesting you give him a chance. Not for the sake of fixing anything." Thorin said evenly.
"Just let him finish what he started. If it helps, divorce him afterward. Kill him, if that's what you truly want. But don't throw away the progress he's making. Let him prove sothing—anything—before you decide."
"And if he fucks this up?" she demanded, her voice trembling with fury.
"Then kill him for it." Thorin replied simply.
"But until then, let him try. Resent him, hate him—but don't stop him. At least not yet. At least use him objectively."
Seraphina hesitated, her fingers tightening around the glass once more. For a mont, she looked torn between screaming and collapsing into tears.
Finally, she exhaled sharply, drinking the contents of her glass in one go.
"Fine." she muttered, setting the empty glass down with deliberate care.
Thorin smirked faintly, rising to his feet.
"Fair enough. Sleep tight, Duchess. Try not to drink yourself into oblivion."
As he turned to leave, Seraphina called out after him.
"So, are you staying here for a bit until you get your precious inventions? If so, I have hundreds of rooms—all big enough to accommodate you, 'Your Majesty.'"
Thorin scoffed, glancing over his shoulder with a wry grin.
"Formalities are only for the front, okay? Just call Thorin. Plus, I'll stay here until I get his blueprints. They're worth whatever price he decides to set. That should tell you how valuable they are—as well as how serious I am about seeing this through."
With that, he exited the room, leaving Seraphina alone with her swirling emotions and half-finished bottle of whiskey.
Use him objectively huh? How do I even do that when my heart and mind is so hurt by him?
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