If he could raise their levels, maybe it would lead to a Rank 2 breakthrough.
And if that happened, then university admission would be guaranteed. Top 1,000 wouldn't even matter. Rank 2 Psychics were always accepted. The government needed them.
"These skills are perfect. They will help me fight the bullies I shooed off today. I bet they will attack me tomorrow as soon as we meet."
However, there was one thing Cale needed to do before that.
He stood in front of the room's mirror.
He clenched his chest with one hand. The weight in his heart hadn't disappeared.
"I didn't steal your body because I wanted to," he said, looking in the mirror. "You were already dead by the time I took over."
The bullies attack had killed the original Cale.
"But since I'm already here, I'm going to use your body. Your name. Your identity. But in exchange… I'll get revenge for you. I'll kill the ones who murdered you."
He looked at the photo pinned to the wall. It was an old, grainy image. A younger Cale and a woman with soft eyes and a tired smile. His foster mother.
"I'll find her too. And I'll save her."
Cale had always lived by simple rules.
If someone helps you, help them back.
If someone hurts you, return the blow twice as hard.
He exhaled slowly.
"Well," he said, reaching for his jacket, "first I need to get stronger."
Raising his skill levels seemed like the only logical path forward.
If the system worked the way he suspected, then skills could be leveled by repeated use. That meant training would be a direct investment into his growth.
"Let's try it."
He walked out onto the small balcony.
The city was still alive. The streets below were filled with people—traders, gang lookouts, tired workers returning home.
Neon signs flashed dull blue and red against the broken pavement.
Cale looked toward the nearest alley where light met shadow.
"Alright… Shadow Summon."
A ripple spread out from his feet.
His shadow twisted unnaturally, peeling away from the ground.
It detached itself, rising like dark smoke given form.
The figure took a vague humanoid shape, but its edges pulsed as if still deciding what it wanted to be.
Cale took a step back.
The summoned shadow followed, silent and perfectly mimicking his stance. This shadow was quite different from the previous one.
"It's as big as me now," he said, watching carefully.
But even so, the connection felt solid. He could feel its presence clearly, like another limb.
He raised his hand. The shadow did the same.
"Good. It's listening to my instructions carefully."
He stepped into the darker part of the balcony, eyes on the moving pedestrians below.
Then, he gave the next command.
"Shadow Assimilation."
The moment he spoke the words, the shadow lunged forward and merged into his body.
Cale's skin felt cold. Not from wind or temperature, but as if something beneath his skin had shifted.
His heartbeat slowed, his breath thinned, and the world around him dimmed like someone had lowered the brightness on a screen.
Even the sounds felt distant.
He looked down.
His hand was… translucent.
The lines of his palm were still there, the slight twitch of his fingers remained, but the skin looked like smoke clinging to shape.
He stepped forward, toward the edge of the balcony, and rested one hand on the rough concrete rail.
From here, he could see the street below—people walking, talking, unaware.
But something had changed.
The shadows they cast were darker, and more defined.
They tugged at his senses, gentle and inviting, like doors slightly ajar.
Cale drew in a deep breath and focused.
His eyes locked on the long shadow cast by a tall, gray building across the street. Then, he stepped forward.
And slipped inside.
The feeling was immediate.
He felt weightless. Silence surrounded him.
The light vanished entirely, replaced by a low, ambient darkness.
It was not pitch-black, but rather the colors were subdued.
Here, shadows didn't feel like the absence of light.
They felt like matter, like space he could move through.
He looked down again.
His body had lost all color.
Even his clothes had become part of the murky blur.
But he could move. And more than that, he could fly.
Walls didn't matter.
Gravity didn't matter.
He surged forward and was suddenly upside down, skimming across the bottom of a streetlamp.
Then sideways along the vertical face of a wall.
He crossed a narrow alley in seconds, his body following the shadows as naturally as breath.
This was insane.
No one saw him. No one sensed him. And as long as there were shadows nearby, he could keep moving.
Eventually, he emerged onto the rooftop of a tall building.
His feet touched down soundlessly on the concrete.
His body reformed, smoke coalescing into flesh and fabric. A faint mist of black trailed off his back before fading into nothing.
He exhaled.
"Alright. Time to test the second skill."
He turned toward the streets below.
People were still moving around.
But now, thanks to Shadow Gaze, he could see something else.
Black flames.
They were flickering faintly in the shadows of the people. These flames were small, weak, and mostly broken apart, like dying embers.
"The people leave something behind as they walk past the roads," Cale muttered. "Fragments of their shadows."
He focused harder.
The flames were subtle.
They flickered in and out, left behind in alley corners, under benches, and near cracks in the pavement.
It was almost like the residue of their life force.
He noticed a few black flames slowly die out like normal flames.
"This must be what Shadow Gaze lets me see. The remnants of shadows left behind by people."
He called out mentally to his shadow summon. "Go and eat it."
The shadow detached from his feet.
It slithered downward, nearly invisible against the surrounding darkness, and moved toward one of the broken black flames on the sidewalk.