Michael didn't answer right away.
He was still staring at the panel hovering in front of him. Everything about it screamed bullshit. The numbers didn't make sense. His entire stat sheet looked like someone had hacked into the system and rewrote the laws of reality for fun.
Tier 18? He was Tier 12 just a minute ago.
And yet, his body didn't feel like it had changed all that much. His breathing was still ragged, and his muscles still ached slightly from overusing his mana. But there was this strange... silence. Not in the surroundings—but inside.
"How?" Irelia repeated, slower this time, as if the extra second would help her brain process what she was seeing.
Michael glanced her way, then looked down at his own hand. There was no glow. No aura. Nothing flashy. And yet, the moment he curled his fingers into a fist, the air around him bent. Just a little.
He didn't even need to swing. Just thinking about it was enough to make the mana move.
