Lexel threw himself onto the bed.
The mattress groaned in protest, the stuffing lumpy and smelling faintly of stale lavender and dried straw, but to a man who had spent the last twenty-four hours sleeping on a cold stone floor in a jail cell and the mossy roots of a forest, it felt like a cloud spun from silk.
He stared up at the wooden ceiling, tracing the rough-hewn grain of the timber with his eyes. The inn was quiet now. The raucous laughter, clinking tankards, and boasts of the adventurers on the first floor had died down, replaced by the settling creaks of the old building and the distant hoot of a night owl.
He lay there for a moment, letting the silence wash over him. His body was heavy, not with fatigue, but with the density of the power he was suppressing. Being a War God Scion meant constantly holding back the urge to crush, break, or conquer.
I guess it's as good a time as any to mess with the UI, Lexel thought, crossing his hands behind his head.
He closed his eyes, focusing his mind inward. He didn't need to shout commands or wave his hands like the mages of this world. He was a digital native of the System, born from the code of the Zodiac. A single intent was all it took.
Ping.
The blue notification bar materialized against the darkness of his eyelids. It hovered there, crisp and clean, a stark contrast to the organic chaos of the real world. He mentally navigated to the [Status] tab, expecting the usual wall of numbers—damage coefficients, mana regeneration rates, evasion percentages.
Instead, what greeted him was a grading system. It was simple. Almost insultingly so.
[STR: S][DEX: B][END: A][INT: B][LCK: S]
"Hm?" Lexel frowned, opening his eyes to the dim room. "I thought I had invested some STR in there."
He recalled the skill tree. He had poured his initial points into the [Tiger Stomp] node, which was explicitly a Strength-based constellation. He intuitively focused on the [STR] tab to investigate.
The screen transitioned, the single letter expanding into a translucent window that floated above his chest. His brows raised at the new information.
[STR: Determines how powerful you are. Some active skills use this modifier to determine how powerful the output will be.]
[Rank: S -> Superior -> STR++ are highly likely to make an appearance in the Skill Tree, STR+++ may appear as well.]
"Ooohh!" Lexel smirked, the realization hitting him. "So that's how it is."
It wasn't a linear progression of numbers. It was a qualitative tier system. In the Three Realms, power was measured in cultivation stages—Foundation, Core, Soul. Here, it was measured in Ranks. And S-Rank... that was a start he could work with.
"But it seems like there is no way to know how powerful I am now," Lexel thought, clenching his fist. He watched the muscles in his forearm ripple, looking like coiled steel cables beneath his skin. "There are no damage numbers floating above my head when I punch a wall. I guess it's like Cultivation—we go by the feels."
He flexed his fingers. The air popped audibly in his grip.
If I punch it and it explodes, I'm strong enough. If I punch it and my hand breaks, I need to train more. Simple.
He then checked on the other parameters.
[DEX: Determines how agile you are. Some active skills use this modifier to determine how powerful you are.]
[Rank: B -> Better -> DEX++ rarely made an appearance in the Skill Tree.]
Figures, Lexel mused. Why dodge when you can just endure?
[END: Determines how well you suffer a hit, the regeneration rate of AP, and HP.]
[Rank: A -> Awesome -> END++ more likely to appear in the Skill Tree.]
[INT: Determines how one wields magic. Some active skills use this modifier to determine how powerful the magic will be.]
[Rank: B -> Better -> INT++ rarely made an appearance in the Skill Tree.]
Lexel snorted. "B-Rank Intelligence. Dad would probably say that's generous."
Then, Lexel went toward the last attribute of the stats. The wildcard. The stat that usually determined whether a hero lived to become a legend or died in a ditch because of a stray arrow.
His brows only furrowed as he read the description.
[LCK: Determines how many things will go your way, how super rare items will drop from a monster, refining chances, and many others]
[Rank: S -> Superior -> LCK++ are highly likely to make an appearance in the Skill Tree, LCK+++ may appear as well.]
Lexel closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
The wooden ceiling of the CrossInn faded away. The smell of stale lavender was replaced by the scent of divine ambrosia and burning stars.
"It is perhaps your most dangerous trait, the Luck attribute," Lyon had said, tossing a piece of orange peel into the void, where it turned into a shooting star. "It is the most disregarded trait of them all, because one can't use it directly and feel the impact of it. You can't flex Luck. You can't train Luck."
Lyon leaned forward, his expression turning serious.
"However, if things go your way, things go your way. You find the key in the first chest. The enemy trips on a rock. But when it doesn't? You're kinda fucked."
Then Lyon's voice turned stern, losing its casual edge. "And don't forget to use the system as frequently as possible! Since you're a Cultivator, you're basically a noob in this! Get a feel of it! Don't just rely on your gut; look at the data!"
The memory dissolved.
"Thanks, Dad," Lexel mused, opening his eyes to the darkness of the room. "Always the pragmatist."
He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
"With my current strength, I'm able to break that greatsword that was made out of Iron Ore," he muttered to himself, analyzing the data. "That implies my grip strength exceeds the tensile limit of common steel. That means, there will come a moment where I could bite off a Mythril Ore blade."
He grinned, clicking his teeth together. "Heh, thinking about it makes me goosebumped."
He went to close the UI, but a small, pulsing icon caught his attention in the corner of his peripheral vision.
It was a symbol of a Question Mark.
"Hm?"
He tapped it. The window expanded, sliding open with a soft digital chime. It laid out the quest section. Of course. Quest. Question Mark.
[Daily Quest: Blood for the Machine][Objective: Kill one entity][Reward: Small HP Potion][Time Remaining: 00:45:00]
Lexel froze.
"Crap, I forgot about my daily quest."
He jolted up from the bed. Forty-five minutes. If he failed a Daily Quest, the penalty might be trivial, or it might be annoying, but his pride as a Gamer wouldn't allow him to miss a simple objective.
He slid open the window. The cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of dew and distant pine. He looked down. It was a two-story drop to the alleyway below.
"The stairs are for guests," Lexel smirked.
He vaulted over the sill.
He fell silently, his body adjusting instinctively. He didn't land with a thud; he landed with a crouch, absorbing the impact into his A-Rank Endurance muscles like a cat. He dusted off his hands and looked toward the village outskirts.
"Alright," he whispered.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the joints pop, and took off into the night.
The plains outside the village were a different world at night.
During the day, the tall grass swayed peacefully, golden and inviting. Under the pale light of the moon, the grass looked like a sea of black blades, whispering secrets to the wind. The shadows were long and sharp, hiding predators that slept while the sun was high.
Lexel walked with confidence, his hands in his pockets. He didn't have Cresty's [Alert] skill, but he had the killing intent of a War God.
He could feel eyes on him.
About fifty meters to his left, the grass parted. Two glowing red eyes emerged from the darkness, hovering about three feet off the ground.
Lexel stopped. He turned his head slowly, locking eyes with the beast.
"Heh, I guess I'm doing this for a living now!" Lexel grinned.
The monster stepped out. It was in the shape of a dog beast—a Shadow Wolf. Its fur was matted and dark as ink, absorbing the moonlight rather than reflecting it. Saliva dripped from its jaws, sizzling slightly as it hit the grass.
It snarled, crouching low, ready to pounce.
Lexel widened his stance. "Come on, puppy. Daddy needs a potion."
The wolf lunged.
FWOOSH.
A sound like tearing silk ripped through the silent night.
Before Lexel could throw a punch, a beam of violet light descended from the heavens. It was thin as a needle but bright as a collapsing star. It pierced the wolf's body mid-air.
There was no yelp. No struggle.
BOOM.
The wolf exploded. The internal pressure of the magic spell vaporized the beast instantly. The carcass didn't just fall; it spread out like little shrapnel, chunks of shadow fur and bone scattering across the grass like confetti.
Lexel stood there, his fist half-raised, punching at empty air.
He slowly lowered his crossed arms, staring at the smoking crater where his kill—and his Daily Quest credit—used to be.
"What in the..."
"It's dangerous to travel at this hour. The monsters are more likely to be aggressive with fewer people in it."
The voice drifted on the wind. It was melodic, calm, and laced with a power that vibrated in the air.
Lexel looked over toward a small ridge to his right.
Standing there, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon, was a woman.
She wore a wide-brimmed witch's hat that cast a shadow over her eyes, but it couldn't hide the intensity of her presence. In her hand, she held a staff that was mesmerizing to behold. It was carved from a wood so dark it looked like petrified void, twisting and spiraling upward to cradle a massive onyx gem at the top. The gem pulsed with a faint, violet heartbeat.
Her cloak was not made of fabric. It was alive. It was ever so flaming with dark fire, the black flames licking at the breeze of the plain without burning the grass beneath her boots.
But it was her features that made Lexel pause.
Her eyes were blue—the deep, endless blue of the ocean trenches. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves, a stark and beautiful contrast to her dark attire. Her robe was cut with a daring elegance, leaving her collarbones bare to the night air, and her cleavage promised an experience that would leave most men begging for mercy.
"Who are you?" asked Lexel, his irritation at the kill-steal momentarily forgotten. "Oh, I'm sorry, what is your name, beautiful lady?"
She chuckled. It was a rich, throaty sound that felt like warm honey. "It seems like my name didn't precede me, here."
"Perhaps so," said Lexel, crossing his arms and leaning back on his heels. "I'm new to the neighborhood."
She chuckled again, tilting her head. "How amusing, isn't being ignorant beautiful? It protects you from so much fear."
"Indeed," said Lexel. He took a slow, deliberate step toward her. "Then I must warn you, it is dangerous for a lady with your assets to be walking in the middle of the night."
The woman's smile widened, amused by his boldness. Most men trembled when they saw the dark fire of her cloak. This boy was staring at her chest.
"Oh? Are you hitting on me, boy?" the woman chuckled.
Her attention shifted to the horizon, as if she had lingered too long. She tapped her staff on the ground.
Thrum.
A complex geometric circle glowed into existence beneath her feet. Runes of ancient violet light spun in the air, humming with magical energy.
"I have to go, it was nice meeting you," she said.
"Aren't you something," said Lexel, checking her behind as she turned within the circle. "Though, if we ever met again, don't be a stranger."
"Hahaha," she laughed, the sound fading as the magic intensified. "I can't promise that."
"I will return your favor one day," said Lexel.
He moved.
He didn't run. He didn't dash. He simply stepped through the space between seconds.
Before the teleportation spell could reach its crescendo, Lexel stepped into the circle. The sheer density of his soul pushed against the magical barrier, warping it slightly.
The woman's eyes widened. She hadn't seen him move. One moment he was ten yards away; the next, he was inside her personal space, ignoring the volatile magic swirling around them.
Lexel reached out. With a boldness that bordered on suicidal, he lightly lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to look up at him.
"My name is Lexel," he whispered.
Her lips widened open. The amusement in her eyes was replaced by genuine shock.
FLASH.
The spell triggered.
A column of violet light shot into the sky, taking the mysterious witch with it. Lexel was pushed back gently by the aftershock, his boots sliding on the grass.
He stood there for a moment, the scent of ozone and exotic perfume lingering in the air. With the breeze of the plain, Lexel's hair fluttered ever so charmingly.
He rubbed his nose, smirking at the empty space where she had stood.
"She didn't kill me," he muttered. "I'll take that as a win."
He looked around the dark plains.
"Anyway, where was I?"
He turned, scanning the darkness. A low growl echoed from a nearby bush. Another wolf, unaware that its packmate had been vaporized, stepped out.
Lexel cracked his knuckles, the lava-red glow returning to his eyes.
"Right. Blood for the machine."
He lunged.
[Quest Complete.]