[Level Up]
[Level Up]
[Level Up]
[Level Up]
[Level Up]
[Level Up]
[Level Up]
[Level Up]
[Level Up]
[Level Up]
William's vision was bombarded by an onslaught of flashing [Level Up] prompts, each one piercing his senses like the remnants of the blades that had torn through him mere moments ago. The room around him was unnervingly still and sterile, yet his mind replayed the carnage of the goblin clearing with horrifying clarity: the guttural cries, the splatter of purple ichor, the crushing weight of exhaustion that had dragged him to the brink of collapse.
A cold shiver coursed through him. Despite his body being intact and safe in his bed, the memory clung to him like a shadow, a stark reminder of his mortality and frailty. The phantom weight of his shattered spear lingered in his grasp, the searing pain of jagged blades raking through flesh and bone, the overpowering stench of blood-soaked earth filling his senses. A wave of gratitude intertwined with fear surged within him: he had survived, but the experience had left an indelible mark.
His trembling fingers reached toward the semi-transparent status sheet hovering before him. It glowed faintly in the dim light of his bedroom, yet it felt like a portal to a new reality, one where death was not an end, but a catalyst for growth. The numbers were more than mere statistics; they were proof of his resilience, forged in the crucible of battle, and the fire within him now demanded refinement.
With a shaky exhale, he began to allocate his attribute points. Each selection was a solemn vow: strength to protect, endurance to endure, intelligence to adapt, wisdom to avoid repeating past errors. A lump formed in his throat, the weight of his near-death experience pressing heavily upon him, as vivid as the corpses that had once surrounded him. The anguish, the fatigue, the terror, all of it had been painfully real, and yet it had been transmuted into strength.
Finally, he sank back against the bedframe, the coolness of the sheets soothing his overheated, clammy skin. His heart continued to pound, the remnants of adrenaline coursing through him like an unshakable phantom. For the first time since he awoke, a rough, unrestrained laugh escaped his lips. It was sharp and bitter, laced with disbelief, yet undeniably mingled with relief: he was alive. Intact. Resilient.
Before him, the status sheet glowed faintly, revealing the tangible rewards of his perseverance and growth:
Name: William Conwell
Age: 16
Race: Human+
Class: Unassigned
Title: Chosen by Phosphorus
Level: 28
EXP: 0 / 8000
HP: 1,720 / 1,720 (+755)
MP: 640 / 640 (+300)
Stamina: 1,525 / 1,525 (+635)
[Stats]
Strength: 46 (+18)
Dexterity: 41 (+15)
Endurance: 59 (+22)
Intelligence: 44 (+15)
Wisdom: 25 (+11)
Charisma: 12 (+2)
Luck: 12 (+2)
[Skills] Combat & Survival
Twin Blade Proficiency — Level 3 (EXP: 210/400) | Rarity: Uncommon
Grants +18% accuracy and +12% attack speed when dual-wielding short swords. Enables special combo finishers.
Battle Instinct (upgrade of Danger Sense) — Level 1 (EXP: 0/1200) | Rarity: Rare → Epic
Detects hostile intent from enemies up to 25 levels higher. Increases reaction speed by +15% when caught off guard.
Blood Survival — Level 2 (EXP: 150/500) | Rarity: Rare
Passively regenerates 1.5% HP per second for 10 seconds when HP drops below 20%. Cooldown: 1 hour.
[Craft & Utility]
Handicraft — Level 5 (EXP: 50/600) | Rarity: Common → Upgradeable
Passive: Enhances item durability by +20%, crafting speed by +12%, and aesthetic quality by +25%.
Active: (Costs 12 MP) Provides a 10% chance for flawless items and a 33% chance for superior-grade items.
[Focus & Awareness]
Focus — Level 5 (EXP: 40/700) | Rarity: Uncommon
(Costs 15 Stamina) Reduces perception of time by 40% for 7 seconds, improving reaction timing.
Sneak — Level 5 (EXP: 190/600) | Rarity: Uncommon → Rare (Upgradeable)
Decreases visibility and audibility in shadows by 30%. Grants a +15% critical strike chance on opening attacks while hidden.
William stared at the stats, letting the numbers flood his mind. It was electrifying, this undeniable proof that he had conquered horrors beyond human comprehension. Yet, beneath the intoxicating rush of power, a lingering chill clung to him. He had seen the fragility of life, the ruthless hand of fate, and it had left its mark. Each level gained was more than just strength, it was a testament to the blood spilled, the pain endured, and the relentless fight for survival.
His fists tightened, knuckles white with tension. The phantom ache of the arrow in his side echoed in his mind, the imagined crunch of bones and sinew crushed under the brutal onslaught of goblins. That pain, though no longer tangible, would be his guide. It would teach him resilience, discipline, and a feral intensity he would need to embrace.
The bed beneath him groaned as he shifted, heart pounding in his chest. William inhaled deeply, grounding himself. This was no longer just a game.
William pushed himself off the bed, his entire body thrumming with a chaotic mix of adrenaline, newfound strength, and lingering panic from the goblin ordeal. He staggered toward the bedroom door, focusing on something mundane, something grounding. Opening the door, such a simple act, felt like a tether to reality after the nightmare he had endured.
His hand closed around the brass handle, a motion that should have been effortless. But as his fingers tightened, the door groaned and splintered audibly, as though it were made of fragile paper. William froze, dread and disbelief flooding him. The handle, the mechanism, the wood, everything had crumpled under his grip, crushed and warped as if it were nothing.
He stepped back, trembling, not from weakness, but from the fear of his own strength. Every movement felt heavy, burdened with destructive potential. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and the sound of metal cracking filled the room as the doorframe shuddered, raining splinters onto the floor. The realization struck him hard: his strength wasn't just a gift; it was a raw, untamed force, barely contained by his will.
A chill ran down his spine, equal parts exhilaration and terror. His pulse roared in his ears as he tried again, this time with painstaking care, determined to master himself. The handle bent like soft wax under his touch, curling as the door groaned in protest. His eyes widened, his jaw clenched. He had survived the goblins and emerged stronger, but now he faced a new and terrifying adversary: himself.
William stepped back, releasing his grip.
He leaned against the wall, feeling the residual energy buzzing through his fingertips. He closed his eyes and steadied himself with a deep inhale, then another. He shifted his focus, not on the door, not on the numbers flashing in his mind, but on his breath. The rhythm was grounding, the simple reminder that he could master this power… or let it master him.
Slowly, he reached for the handle once more. This time, he moved with intent, his fingers curling around the metal in measured control. The handle groaned under the pressure but held firm. A faint smile played on his lips. He was figuring it out. The power was immense, a lot to handle, but he was alive. More importantly, he still held the reins, mostly.
With a deliberate motion, he turned the handle, and the door creaked open.
William exhaled with relief as he realized his parents and sister were not home, sparing them from witnessing the chaos he had caused. He headed to the bathroom, eager to take a hot shower and rid himself of the sweat and grime accumulated during his sleep.
To his astonishment, his previously flat stomach now displayed the beginnings of defined abdominal muscles. His formerly unremarkable arms appeared nearly double their original size, boasting improved definition and prominent veins. His once underdeveloped legs had transformed into strong, muscular limbs. Despite the dramatic change in his physique, his youthful, childlike face remained unaltered.
After washing away the dirt from the previous day, he stepped out of the shower and reached for a T-shirt. As he pulled it on, he immediately noticed it was far too tight, the fabric straining against his newly muscular frame, with his muscles pressing against the material as though it might tear at any moment.
"I'll have to borrow one of Dad's shirts before I go shopping," he muttered to himself, heading into his parents' room. As he rummaged through the closet, his eyes landed on a black shirt featuring three wolves howling at the moon. With a slight cringe, he reluctantly put it on.
"This is just temporary. I'm not keeping it," he reassured himself before leaving the room. He descended the stairs and exited through the front door, making sure to lock it behind him.
After walking a few steps, he began to notice how light he felt, each stride propelling him several feet forward, giving the impression that he was slowly running even as he walked.
At such a pace, it was no surprise when a few passersby started to take notice, with some snapping pictures or recording short videos. This left William feeling like he was under constant observation during his entire walk to the store.
The uneasy feeling subsided slightly as William stepped into the clothing store, noticing only a handful of customers who glanced at him with puzzled expressions as he lingered awkwardly by the door.
"Hello, can I help you find anything? Oh, it's you!" The cheerful, vaguely familiar voice jolted William from his daze. Turning to his left, he found the bouncy-haired clerk with warm brown eyes and a smile so radiant it could light up galaxies, sincerely offering her help.
His face flushed crimson as his eyes drifted downward to her nametag, which hung just above her cleavage, leaving William fumbling and stammering as he tried to decipher the name.
[Angelique]
Finally managing to read her name, his gaze shot back up to meet hers, desperately trying not to seem like a leering fool in front of the charming young woman.
William shifted uneasily, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as though anchoring himself to the ground might prevent him from floating away under the weight of his nerves. His gaze flitted toward Angelique, who remained entirely unfazed by his towering frame, her demeanor steady and warm.
"Uh… I, uh… I'm not really sure what I'm looking for," he stammered, his voice cracking slightly, betraying the vulnerability he felt when caught off guard.
Angelique's smile never faltered. "That's okay! We'll figure it out together. Let's start simple, how about a few casual shirts? Something comfortable, but also… you know, fits properly."
She motioned toward a rack of neatly folded shirts, and William's eyes darted down to the fabrics, assessing whether they could withstand the stretch across his recently honed chest and arms without splitting apart.
"Right… yeah, okay," he mumbled, his mind racing through calculations of sizes, fabric tension, and the potential disaster of tearing a seam with one errant flex.
Angelique stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against his arm as she selected a few options. William froze, his breath catching while a fiery heat crept up his face.
"These look good," she said, holding up a fitted navy blue T-shirt and a sleek charcoal-gray button-up. Her tone remained professional, yet there was something in the way her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders and chiseled chest that left him squirming.
"I... I'll try them on," he blurted, grabbing the shirts a little too forcefully, causing one to crumple slightly in his grip. His fingers fumbled with the fabric as he silently willed himself to get through this moment unscathed.
Angelique chuckled softly, her tone a mix of amusement and admiration. "Don't worry, they'll survive. I promise. The navy one should really highlight… your build. You've, um… definitely grown since the last time we saw each other."
William's eyes widened, the blush spreading up his neck and across his ears. "I… yeah… I guess I have," he stammered awkwardly, retreating toward the changing room.
From the other side of the curtain, Angelique offered encouraging words. "Take your time. Just remember, the gray one is more versatile for, like… family or casual outings, while the navy is more of a statement."
When he emerged a few moments later, the navy shirt clung snugly to his chest and arms. He caught sight of his reflection and nearly stumbled backward. The fabric accentuated every contour of his new physique, and Angelique's gaze was unmistakably fixed on him.
"Wow," she breathed, clearly impressed. "That… that looks incredible on you. Really good choice. It fits perfectly across your shoulders without looking… too tight."
William's face turned crimson. "Thanks… I, uh, I just grabbed it," he mumbled, nervously scratching the back of his neck, torn between smiling and disappearing into the floor.
Angelique stepped closer, her hands adjusting the collar slightly, her fingers brushing against his chest for a fleeting moment. "You've obviously been putting in a lot of effort. It really shows. You should be proud."
"I… uh… thanks," William managed, his gaze darting anywhere but hers. His chest thudded rapidly, not from exertion but from the overwhelming mix of pride, embarrassment, and the peculiar flutter he felt whenever Angelique complimented him.
"Now, the gray one," she said with a teasing grin, holding it out. "Let's see how that looks, too."
William swallowed hard, muttered a reluctant, "Yeah, sure…" and disappeared back into the changing room.
A few moments later, William emerged once more, this time clad in the charcoal-gray button-up. The shirt fit him perfectly, accentuating his frame with a snug yet comfortable embrace, lending him an air of sophistication and maturity. A strange cocktail of confidence and nervousness churned within him, heightened by the sensation of Angelique's eyes carefully tracing every line of his form.
"Hmm…" she murmured, tilting her head thoughtfully as she appraised him. "This one definitely has a more refined vibe. It highlights your physique without screaming for attention, which is really nice."
William fidgeted slightly, tugging at the hem of the shirt in an attempt to alleviate the weight of her gaze. "I… uh… yeah, I think it's fine," he stammered, still unsure how to navigate the intensity of the moment.
Angelique took a step closer, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric on his shoulder as though to smooth an imperceptible crease. "Honestly, William… you've come so far. It's clear you've been putting in a lot of effort. Just look at your arms, your chest… everything." Her voice was soft, laced with admiration, and William's cheeks flushed hotter with every word she spoke.
William's heart raced with a blend of embarrassment and pride as he flexed slightly, feeling the fabric of the shirt stretch across his biceps. Angelique's eyes flickered down for a brief moment before meeting his gaze again, and he was almost certain she had noticed.
"Alright," she said at last, stepping back with a radiant, approving smile. "Both of these look fantastic, but I think the navy T-shirt is perfect for casual, everyday wear. And this gray one… maybe it's better suited for school events or family gatherings. What do you think?"
William swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah… yeah, that makes sense."
Angelique handed him the shirts with a playful wink. "You're going to turn some heads, William. Just… try not to break anything while wearing them, alright?"
He let out a nervous laugh, feeling some of the tension ease. "I'll… try not to."
As he clutched the shirts and moved to pay, a surge of pride welled up in him, not just for how he looked, but for the strength he had gained and how far he had come. Beneath the mix of embarrassment and attention, a small but insistent flicker of excitement began to stir, fueling his determination even more.