Chapter 41: SYSTEM Upgrade Qualifications and the Angel of Justice and Death
Year 0003, Month XI-XII: The Imperium
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Day 124.1: System Update
The familiar rhythm of dawn broke through the frost-covered windows of the Fernando estate as August stirred from his sleep. His internal clock, honed by years of disciplined training and countless dangerous encounters, pulled him from the depths of slumber at precisely the same moment it had for years. This unwavering consistency had become second nature to him, broken only during those rare occasions when injuries forced him into extended recovery periods.
As consciousness fully returned to him, August felt the distinctive mental tremor that preceded a system communication. The sensation was as familiar as breathing now, yet what followed was anything but routine.
[SYSTEM: NEW INFORMATION UNLOCKED. YOU ARE NOW ELIGIBLE TO LEARN A HIDDEN KNOWLEDGE ABOUT YOUR SYSTEM.]
The message materialized in his mind with crystalline clarity, its implications both thrilling and mysterious. August sat up in his bed, running a hand through his dark golden hair as he processed the unexpected development. In all his years of relying on the system's guidance, he had never encountered anything quite like this. The very notion of "hidden knowledge" suggested depths to his abilities that he had yet to fathom.
"What does that mean?" he asked mentally, with his voice barely above a whisper in the pre-dawn quiet.
[SYSTEM: Currently, Prospect August Finn's system level is at Level 1, with the prospect (player's) maximum level capped at 25. To upgrade the system level and increase the prospect's (player's) own level cap, specific requirements must be met. To be eligible for a system upgrade, you must: reach prospect (player) level 25, defeat a boss-level monster or defeat a master-category human, (human/humanoid/demi-human), and pass three trials given by the system. These trials will test your current capabilities that you have built up over these past few years. Currently, Prospect (Player) August has achieved one of those eligibility by defeating a master-category human. This leaves only reaching level 25 and passing the three trials for a system upgrade to be completed.]
August's eyes widened as the full scope of the revelation settled over him. The implications were staggering. "So level 25 isn't my maximum level, and my current system can be upgraded?" he asked, his voice carrying a mixture of excitement and disbelief.
[SYSTEM: AFFIRMATIVE.]
The single word response carried the weight of infinite possibilities. August rose from his bed and moved to the window, gazing out at the snow-covered grounds of the estate. The winter landscape stretched before him, beautiful yet harsh, much like the path that now lay ahead.
He began to contemplate the future with renewed purpose. Reaching level 25 was achievable, though it would require careful planning and strategic thinking. Currently sitting at level 22 and steadily approaching 23, he had noticed a significant slowdown in his progression. The harsh winter months had driven most of the dangerous beasts into hibernation or deeper into their territories, making encounters scarce and the experience points they provided minimal. His last human adversary had been eliminated a month ago during the attempted assault on Count Gremory, and since then, he had been forced to rely primarily on his daily, weekly, and monthly tasks, along with occasional emergency missions, to maintain any semblance of steady progression.
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning: the experience points gained from human adversaries—particularly those of ill intent—far exceeded anything he could harvest from the beast population. Bandits, thieves, assassins, and other criminal elements not only provided substantial experience but also served a greater purpose in protecting the innocent. The beauty of this strategy was that he wouldn't need to venture to the dangerous front lines of the ongoing war to find worthy opponents.
"Of course," he murmured to himself, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I could systematically dismantle the criminal organizations that have infested this city. It would serve multiple purposes: advancing my own goals while cleansing the streets of the filth that has plagued innocent citizens for far too long."
As August stood there, speaking his thoughts aloud to the empty room, passersby in the courtyard below took notice of his animated gestures. Some newer members of the household staff showed signs of concern, perhaps wondering if their young master had finally succumbed to the pressures of his mysterious nocturnal activities. However, those who had been with him the longest recognized the familiar pattern. They had witnessed this behavior before—August's tendency to verbally process his thoughts when a particularly beneficial idea took hold. They understood that when he entered this state of contemplation, something significant was about to unfold, something that would ultimately benefit everyone around him. With knowing smiles, they continued about their duties, confident that August would eventually share his plans when the time was right.
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Day 124.2: Another Late Night Visit
The day had progressed with the typical weight of wartime anxiety that had settled over the city like a suffocating blanket. News from the front lines continued to arrive in a steady stream of mixed reports—some victories, some defeats, but all carrying the inevitable cost of human lives. The sight of horse-drawn wagons bearing the bodies of fallen soldiers had become a grim fixture on the roads leading to nearby towns and cities. Sons and daughters, fathers and husbands—all returned home in wooden boxes rather than triumphant processions.
The war effort had implemented strict regulations regarding military service. Women who were pregnant or were already mothers had been dismissed from active duty, their service to the realm redirected toward supporting the war effort from the safety of their homes. The policy was both pragmatic and heartbreaking, as many of these women had proven themselves capable warriors, now forced to watch from the sidelines as their comrades marched toward uncertain fates.
As the evening shadows lengthened and the city settled into its nightly rhythm, August prepared for another of his clandestine meetings. The familiar weight of his armor settled across his shoulders like a second skin, and the featureless mask that had become his trademark felt as natural as his own face. These items had become more than mere equipment—they were the physical manifestation of his alternate identity, the "Blurred Devil" or the most recent the "Angel of Justice and Death" that had become legend among both criminals and law-abiding citizens.
The route to Count Gremory's private study had become as familiar as the hallways of his own home. August moved through the shadows with practiced ease, his enhanced abilities allowing him to traverse the city without detection. The study itself was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where sensitive matters could be discussed without fear of eavesdropping or political complications.
Count Gremory had fallen into the habit of setting aside time each evening for these potential visits. The routine had become almost ritualistic: he would pour himself a generous measure of his finest whiskey, settle into his leather chair, and wait. If August failed to appear within fifteen minutes, the Count would finish his drink and retire for the evening. If the masked figure did materialize from the shadows, it invariably meant that significant events were about to unfold.
Tonight, as had become his pattern, August arrived with only moments to spare. His entrance was so subtle that even the Count, who had been expecting him, barely registered his presence until August chose to make himself known. The juxtaposition was striking—behind the intimidating mask and formidable armor stood a youth barely out of his teens, yet his reputation preceded him like a force of nature. The names whispered in the streets, "Blurred Devil" and "Angel of Justice and Death," carried weight that his physical appearance might not immediately convey.
Count Gremory had learned to read the signs of August's visits. The young man's nocturnal appearances were never social calls; they invariably preceded events of significant magnitude. As August's imposing figure materialized from the shadows, the Count prepared himself for another of their consequential conversations.
"Count Gremory," August began, his voice carrying the authority that his reputation had earned him, "I am here to inform you of my intentions regarding the criminal elements that continue to plague this city. I have reached a conclusion that these organizations must be completely eradicated. I am not seeking your permission—I am extending you the courtesy of advance notice that bodies will begin to fall, accompanied by irrefutable evidence of their crimes."
The Count set down his glass with deliberate care, his political instincts immediately engaging. While he had witnessed August's capabilities firsthand and had benefited from his interventions on multiple occasions, with the "Blurred Devil" saving his life, the implications of what was being proposed required careful consideration. The delicate balance between justice and vigilantism was a line that could not be crossed without serious consequences.
"I acknowledge your past services to both myself and this city," Count Gremory replied, his tone measured and diplomatic. "However, I must establish certain conditions before I can tacitly approve such actions. First and foremost, I need your absolute guarantee that no innocent civilians will be harmed in your operations. Second, I request that you leave matters involving petty crimes and minor infractions to the proper authorities—our focus should remain on the most heinous and dangerous criminal elements that pose genuine threats to public safety. These are my terms for agreeing to this arrangement. Without such assurances, I would be forced to classify you as a criminal vigilante, regardless of our past associations."
August considered the Count's conditions carefully. They were reasonable, even admirable in their attempt to maintain some semblance of legal order within the chaos of vigilante justice. After a moment of contemplation, he extended his hand toward the Count.
"I agree to these terms completely," August declared, his grip firm and confident as they shook hands. "You need not worry about the thoroughness of my investigations—I will ensure that every target is absolutely deserving of their fate. In fact, if you could provide me with intelligence regarding the most dangerous criminals, it would help me avoid any potential mistakes."
The handshake sealed their gentleman's agreement, an understanding that would exist only in the realm of verbal commitments and mutual trust. Both men understood the precarious nature of their arrangement. Count Gremory would maintain plausible deniability should anything go wrong, and he retained the right to arrest August if the situation deteriorated beyond acceptable parameters.
With their business concluded, August melted back into the shadows as effortlessly as he had arrived, living up to his reputation as the "Blurred Devil." Count Gremory remained in his study for several additional minutes, using the remaining whiskey to wash away the weight of their conversation and the implications of what would soon unfold in his city.
Within the span of a single week, the criminal underworld of the city began to experience a reckoning unlike anything in its history. Bodies of notorious and seemingly untouchable criminals began appearing with clockwork regularity. Each death was accompanied by meticulously gathered evidence of their crimes, creating an irrefutable case for justice that had long been delayed by corruption, fear, or simple inefficiency.
The city's authorities, operating under strict gag orders, were tasked with seizing any wealth discovered in connection with these criminal organizations. This money, accumulated through years of illegal activities, was redirected toward the city's recovery efforts and military support, providing a much-needed boost to the war effort while simultaneously cleaning the streets of their most dangerous elements.
The message was clear: the age of criminal impunity had come to an end, and the Angel of Justice and Death was ensuring that every debt would be paid in full.