An 'illusion of infinite rooms' was created using dim lighting and an extended corridor. By putting the doors by each side, with a long stretch of hallway down. You could create the illusion that it went on forever, even though it ended after about a mile or two.
That was what Tello had landed on, and he was extremely excited to start on it.
Everything had already come together nicely, Gila had returned with a valid permit even though it seemed unlikely she'd get one, and Rumm had also returned with the documents to the plot. Handing it over to them.
Ground workers were already on the plot, uprooting weeds and removing loose blocks, killing small trees and laying down cement to level the grounds.
Both Tello and Gila stood on the plot, setting out directives for the workers to follow, and the building was coming together nicely. Within the first day alone, most the rubble had been cleared and the second, the foundation had already gotten laid.
Everything was going well on this front, not so well on Stephen's end however.
He sat within a rented apartment overlooking the plot, staring at his hand and occasionally talking to himself.
It had been about a week, and there was still no sign of the system returning. Was what had happened with Diavelia more serious than he'd thought? Did he need to help?
"How the hell would I even help."
Stephen sighed, and laid down on the ground. Staring at his hand.
He didn't quite understand why he wanted to use magic so badly. At first it had been to protect himself, but that wasn't just it. There was another much deeper reason, a feeling in his chest he couldn't get rid off.
A feeling of incoming danger.
"Nah, I just have to be stressed or something." Stephen brushed it off, letting his hand fall to the ground by his side. "Yeah, that has to be it."
Those were the last words he muttered as he drifted into sleep.
His snores filled the room, while outside, the clang of metal against metal echoed through the morning air. Construction was in full swing and Tello stood at the center of it all, wearing a hard hat and clear work glasses, his white hair smudged half black with coal dust.
Gila stood beside him, clipboard in hand, forcing herself to stare ahead, to anywhere but at him.
"I don't think the rods will be enough..." she said, absentmindedly. "Can you give me yours?"
"What was that?" Tello glanced back at her.
"I said, should I order more rods!" she yelled. "These won't cut it!"
"Oh, definitely. Do that." Tello nodded.
"Hey, boss!" one of the workers shouted from the scaffolding. "The beam goes here, right?"
"No, it's on the opposite side," Tello called back, rushing over, sweat trailing down his chin as he spoke.
And Gila watched him go, a thin trickle of saliva at the corner of her lips.
Maybe her father really was onto something.
The construction moved smoothly from there. The workers carried out their tasks with surprising efficiency, and Tello inspected every corner, every joint, making sure it all came together as planned.
Gila brought in additional hands and placed orders for the brothel's furniture and doors. The structure was shaping up fast.
By the time the royal guards arrived for their routine inspection, Stephen and Tello were already back in their apartment, peeking out through the window, quietly watching the scene unfold.
Two more months went by, and the brothel had come to a stand. Both Stephen and Tello inside it now and while Stephen had no idea what was happening. He was still the one who had the ideas for the brothel, and his comments were necessary for the final product.
"I think we should add some string lights," Stephen said, gesturing to the entrance. "Like the purple ones they use."
"Wouldn't that be a little... I dunno. Copy-ish?" Tello muttered, stepping aside as two men carried a door past him.
"Doesn't matter," Stephen replied, hands on his hips. "Anything that makes it look expensive and legitimate is the priority."
He ducked as another pair of workers passed by with a second door.
"Can I ask a question?" Tello said, staring off into the distance while the men secured the doorframes. "Does anything feel weird to you?"
"How do you mean?"
"I mean..." Tello hesitated. "We're wanted men. And while the royal guards did stop by, they never asked questions, they never pried. I think that's a bit too lucky, no?"
"Hm..."
"Also, Madame Verre, or anyone from Love Supreme for that matter, hasn't shown up here, even though we're this close to finishing a brothel that'll directly challenge them."
"You think it's going too smoothly?" Stephen asked, scratching his chin. "I guess it kind of is."
"But it's more than that." Tello raised a trembling hand to his face. "I feel something's wrong..."
Stephen glanced at him but said nothing. He felt it too, that same unease. And even though he kept trying to write it off, the feeling just wouldn't leave.
That quiet dread, like a slow brewing storm.
"I'm sure we'll be fine," Stephen muttered. "Plus, we survived the last ordeal, we're basically immortal now."
"True. Escaping the royal guards and the prince himself wasn't easy," Tello said, then turned to join the workers.
"I hope you're right."
"I know I am," Stephen called after him. "Now go on. Get lost in your shapes and blocks."
"Sure, sure," Tello replied over his shoulder.
Stephen watched him walk away, then turned and headed for his room.
He sat cross legged in the center, a pencil he'd borrowed from Tello, spinning around in hand. A sheet of paper lay before him.
On it, he began writing down his last stat check from the system.
[Host: Stephen Eldoria]
[Age: 16]
[Level: 33]
[Class: Knight]
[Rank: Commoner]
[Current Love interest: Claris Grandbelm]
[Reputation Meter: Disowned Prince]
[Strength: 120/99999]
[Speed: 200/99999]
[Toughness: 400/99999]
[Magic: 1000/99999]
[Health: 1000/99999]
[Stamina: 7000/99999]
[Intelligence: 210/9999]
[Luck: 85/9999]
[Charisma: 120/9999]
[Stat Progression Mechanic]
Stats now grow based on usage rather than experience. When the host levels up, only the attributes actively utilized will increase. For example, consistently using Strength-related actions will result in Strength gains and unlock Strength-based passive skills.
[Skills:]
[Active Skills: None]
[Passive Skills:]
[Skill Acquired: Adaptive Charisma]
Gain +10 Charisma for every successful business pitch, seduction, or public stunt. This bonus stacks infinitely, but resets at the start of each day.
[Skill Acquired: Lucked Out]
Every action has a 5% chance to result in an unexpected but beneficial outcome. For every 1000 Luck points, this chance increases by +1%.
________________________________
For the past two months, Stephen had been "training" with Rumm.
Although the system didn't reward stat growth from regular training, he'd worked around that by never actually telling Rumm it was training. Instead, he just ambushed him every day, catching him off guard and forcing him into spontaneous brawls.
Though this led to way more bruises than he'd like.
Whether it was working or not was still unclear. Until the system returned, all he could do was keep at it and hope it would.
Stephen let out a sigh, eyes scanning the page in front of him. It should've been accurate, more or less, but definitely not up to date. His Charisma should've gone up. His Luck too and hopefully his Strength as well.
He yawned softly still staring at the page.
A hundred and twenty in strength was no where enough and that was a fact, even if he had been trained rigorously in the castle, he was more skill than he was strength. There no chance he was defeating a competent knight at this level.
Stephen turned to his passive skills, and sighed, though mostly at the first one.
The use case of it was ridiculously low, only being useful in the event he was talking to multiple people at the same time or in a sequence. Where he'd gain a stack each time he was successful, but that was about where it ended.
Lucked Out, on the other hand, was far more useful. A rare skill with the absurd effect to twist reality in his favor, at a one-in-a-million chance.
"Lucked Out, bring the system back!" Stephen yelled dramatically, thrusting out his hand like a superhero.
Nothing happened.
He laughed at himself. "Of course that's not how it works."
He didn't have magic. Accepting that had forced him to pivot to focusing on being tougher, faster and most importantly physically stronger. Raising his level also meant raising his HP. That alone could be the difference between life and death.
But why was he even doing this?
What situation was he ever going to need to fight in?
Stephen sighed, he was currently working under more emotion than logic, but then again at the same time. Tello was occupied with the building and he was alone, keeping himself busy was also good.
"Should be about that time of day." Stephen muttered, stretching his arms.
He walked out the door of his apartment, and strolled over to the next block about two minutes away. Where Rumm had gotten an apartment after his last one went up in flames.
Even though Stephen had always been too preoccupied to notice, he often thought about what people did to spend the time in this world.
They didn't have televisions, or phones or computers or anything of the sort. So what exactly did they do when they stayed at home. That was the thought on Stephen's mind as he knocked on Rumm's door.
The old man opened the door a moment later, a dull look on his face and a book in hand.
"Read I guess." Stephen answered his own question.
"What do you want?" Rumm said, coming to the door but not seeing anyone.
He could've sworn someone had knocked. He stepped out of his door frame, book still in hand, looking down the hallway to see if whoever had knocked was still nearby.
"PEEKABOO!"
Stephen landed from the ceiling, crashing down directly onto his back. With his legs, he wrapped them around Rumm's neck and pulled him down to the ground.
Rumm quickly raised an arm, stopping the choke before it could fully lock around his throat.
"C'mon, don't tell me you got too comfortable, Rumm," Stephen said, now using one hand to pry away Rumm's other arm.
"Stephen!" Rumm shouted, letting himself drop to the floor, his weight slamming Stephen's back against the concrete with a thud.
But still, Stephen didn't let go. His knees pressed against Rumm's neck. Just as he began to tighten the hold, a gust of wind burst from Rumm's body.
Stephen flew backwards, slammed into the wall, and finally released his grip.
"You still haven't told me why you're doing this EVERY. DAMN. DAY." Rumm said, one hand pressed to his neck.
Stephen didn't respond. He wasn't sure how much information he could share before this would qualify as a training session or if it already did, since he knew this wasn't a real fight. Regardless, he raised his hands again, saying nothing.
In the castle, he'd been taught two primary methods of combat: close range grappling and strike combat, and swordplay, both taught to him by Cruige. He utilized the first now.
Stephen dashed forward, closing the distance with one step, and threw a punch with the next. His arm slammed against the wall, just inches from Rumm, who had ducked underneath the strike.
"Sixty days of nonstop annoyance," Rumm grimaced. "And each time, you leave with more broken bones than you can count on one arm. How can you even move right now?"
"I heal fast!" Stephen muttered, and it was true. After a period of time after his health dropped low, it regenerated moments later, though most cases took an hour or two.
"Is that so?" Rumm said, channeling mana into his palm before thrusting his fist straight toward Stephen's chest.
"Then I guess there's no reason for me to feel bad anymore!"
Stephen shot backward, narrowly dodging the punch. For the past two months, this had been Rumm's signature move, using mana to strengthen his blow and launch Stephen across the room. And it had worked. Every single time.
But today, he'd countered it.
Stephen dashed to the side, evading the follow up strike, and then kicked Rumm hard in the ribs, sending him flying.
Rumm slammed against the concrete, his head cracking against the wall, blood smearing the surface.
Stephen paused, hands raised. He wasn't this strong just now.
"Umm... are you okay?" he asked, stepping forward. "I didn't mean to—"
"You ripped my book," Rumm said, slowly standing, dust falling from his shoulders.
"Ehh?" Stephen muttered.
"The very same book my daughter had given me." Rumm said, staring at a torn page. "The very one she'd entrusted me with..."
"C'mon," Stephen laughed. "it can't be that serious—"
"Alsa," Rumm intoned, raising a hand, "grant me your beautiful winds, your furious storms. So I shall blow away my enemies!"
A purple glow erupted from his body.
"Wait... let's think about this!" Stephen said, hands outstretched. "I'm sorry, okay!"
A violent gust of wind exploded through the hallway, blasting Stephen clean through the wall and out onto the streets of Harksvell.
He groaned, slowly getting to his feet, one hand clutching his chest.
Well, his durability had definitely improved.
Maybe what he was doing was actually working.
Rumm dropped down from the hole above, landing softly. His hand moved back as if gripping something invisible.
Stephen glanced at him. Ever since their daily fights, or rather, his daily beatdowns. He'd begun to understand how to gauge mana. Not only could he see it in small quantities now, but he could feel how much was being released, and even perceive the shape it took.
And in Rumm's hand... was a javelin.
"You're not going to throw that, are you..." Stephen said just as the javelin shot forward, slamming into the ground between his legs with a crack. The stone split from the impact.
"Rumm... I apologize. This wasn't—"
But Rumm wasn't listening.
He was already leaning back for the second throw.
And it didn't look like he was going to miss this time.