The UI floated in the air like a cruel temptation.
---
[ Reputation Coins: 0.30 ]
[ Reputation Points: 1339 ]
[ Units Owned: 1 ]
[ System Level: 1 ]
---
Loid sat at the edge of his cramped bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the screen until his eyes burned. The light painted his face in pale glow, flickering faintly with every subtle twitch of the interface.
"Thirteen hundred thirty-nine points," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "That's quite close enough to push Selvara to level six just need 300 more reputation points. Or… enough to raise the system itself."
His throat was dry. He swallowed, staring hard at the words System Level: 1.
"Leveling Selvara is safe." His voice grew quieter. "But if I raise the system… maybe... just maybe, it unlocks something for me. Or another mercenary. Or… hell, anything that means she's not out there alone."
He leaned back, exhaling slowly, his head knocking against the thin wooden wall of the room. The muffled noise of the village filtered through voices, footsteps, the crack of wood splitting at the smithy. Life went on, blind to the blood-soaked hell Selvara fought through in the eastern forest.
Loid clenched his fist. "If I do nothing, I'll keep watching her burn herself away while I sit here useless. I can't…" His voice faltered. "I can't keep being dead weight."
The UI pulsed faintly, waiting.
Loid stared at it for a long time, caught between safety and gamble. At last, he whispered, "Fine. If this doesn't give me another mercenary… then I'll go east myself. I'll drag Selvara back here if I have to."
His finger hovered, then pressed.
---
[ System Level Up: Level 2 ]
[ Summoning Rights Available: 1 Mercenary ]
---
Loid's heart lurched. His eyes widened.
"…Yes," he breathed, half disbelieving, half elated. "Yes, yes, yes!"
The words came spilling out before he could stop them, a laugh breaking through his exhaustion. "I knew it, I knew it wasn't just for nothing!"
He slammed his fist into his mattress in relief. "Alright then… let's see who's coming."
He pressed summon.
The air before him rippled, warping like heat haze. A pulse of scarlet light erupted, twisting upward into the cramped room until it brushed the ceiling. Loid scrambled back against the wall, eyes wide.
The light condensed, heavy footsteps echoing as a figure formed within it.
And then she stood there.
A woman... no, a giant of a woman. Nearly seven and a half feet tall, her crimson hair cascading down her back in a straight fiery mane. Her frame was both voluptuous and powerful, corded with muscle that didn't diminish but enhanced her imposing femininity. Her skin gleamed pale against the dim light, and her eyes sharp, burning with authority locked onto him immediately.
When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of command, crisp and deep, like a general addressing her soldiers.
"I am Angela," she said, bowing her head slightly, though even bowed she loomed over him. "Summoned blade of your will. You are my master. Issue your orders."
Loid blinked several times, his mouth opening but words fumbling. He was forced to crane his neck upward just to meet her gaze.
"…Right," he stammered. "Uh… Angela. Yes. You're… tall."
Her lips curled faintly, though her expression remained disciplined. "That is correct."
Loid dragged a hand down his face, trying to compose himself. "Okay, um… I need to know. What do you specialize in? Selvara, my first mercenary, she's fast, she plays with her speed. But you…"
Angela straightened, shoulders squared, voice ringing firm. "Strength and speed. Those two alone. I care little for tricks or sorcery. Give me a weapon in hand, and let me crush the enemy with force and velocity. My path is simple, my purpose absolute."
Loid blinked again, slowly, as though trying to parse her words. "…So you don't care about abilities? Or mana?"
Angela shook her head once, sharply. "Mana is for scholars and tricksters. Strength is truth. Speed is inevitability. When a blade is swung faster and harder than the foe can react, what need is there for tricks?"
Loid exhaled, muttering under his breath, "…She's the complete opposite of Selvara."
He pulled up her panel.
---
Angela
Level: 1
Strength: 1 | Endurance: 1 | Agility: 1 | Spirit: 1
---
He had 1339 points, but already spent 1000 on the system level up. 339 remained.
"Alright," Loid said, rubbing his chin. "I can raise you to level three with this. That'll give you… seven stat points. Let's put three into strength and agility, one into endurance. Spirit stays at one. You don't care anyway."
The UI flared as he allocated them.
---
Angela – [Title: The Crimson Colossus]
Level: 3
Strength: 4 | Endurance: 2 | Agility: 4 | Spirit: 1
---
Angela flexed her arms, her lips curving faintly in satisfaction. The sound of her gauntlets straining against her own muscle was sharp. "Yes. This pleases me."
Loid tilted his head. "Satisfied?"
Angela's smile grew sharper, more dangerous. "More than satisfied. This body will break bones and split shields. Thank you, master."
Loid cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away from the sheer presence she radiated. "R-right. Next… you need equipment. Armor. Weapons. We'll use the gold that selvara gain, I'll just pay her later on."
He pulled the coin pouch from his belt, counting quickly. "One hundred and five. That should do."
---
The market district was alive with the usual hum of voices, but when Loid and Angela walked through, the noise shifted.
People stared. Some stepped back. Some muttered under their breath. Children pointed before their mothers yanked them away.
A seven-and-a-half-foot-tall woman with crimson hair walking beside a exhausted, average man was spectacle enough. But the way she carried herself with perfect posture, aura of a hardened commander, eyes sharp and judging made her less a woman and more a moving fortress.
Loid did his best to ignore the stares, though sweat prickled at his neck.
They entered the blacksmith's workshop, the air thick with smoke and ringing steel. The smith, a broad man with soot-blackened arms, turned and froze.
"…By the gods," he muttered. "What in hell are you?"
Angela's eyes narrowed faintly. Her voice rang out, calm but firm. "I am a mercenary. And I require arms and armor. Do you provide, or should I find a real smith?"
The blacksmith sputtered, then laughed nervously. "No, no... I provide. It's just... never had a customer your size."
Angela folded her arms, unimpressed. "Then work faster."
Loid winced. "Angela. Maybe tone it down?"
Angela exhaled sharply and said no more.
It took nearly an hour of adjustments, fittings, and a great deal of hammering, but eventually Angela stood clad in full iron plate, customized to her height and breadth. The armor gleamed dark under the torchlight, broad shoulders and gauntlets emphasizing her colossal form.
Then came the weapon.
The smith showed her spears, axes, even longsword. She rejected them all.
At last, her gaze fell on a greatsword, a massive slab of steel nearly six feet long, its edge thick and heavy.
She reached for it, hefted it easily with one hand, and gave it a test swing. The air itself seemed to shudder at the weight of it.
"This," she said firmly. "This is mine."
Loid's mouth went dry. "…That's taller than me."
Angela smiled faintly, resting the blade across her armored shoulder as though it weighed nothing. "Then stay behind it."
The total cost came to sixty gold. Loid handed it over with shaking hands.
When they left the smithy, Angela's presence was utterly transformed. Fully armored, sword in hand, she no longer looked like a mercenary. She looked like a general, a juggernaut, an executioner striding into war. Villagers parted in silence as she walked, their eyes wide.
Loid tried not to shrink beside her, but it was impossible not to feel like a shadow in her wake.
---
The barracks loomed ahead. Guards at the door glanced up and went silent. One of them muttered, "What in the hells…"
Inside, Roderick was speaking with a few men when Loid entered, Angela behind him like a looming tower. The captain turned, words dying on his tongue. His eyes widened, then narrowed with wary calculation.
"Loid," he said slowly. "And… this."
Angela spoke first, her voice firm. "I am Angela, blade of your ally. Stand aside."
Roderick blinked, then looked at Loid. "…What is she?"
Loid raised his hands. "A mercenary. Like Selvara. I wanted to introduce her and… ask if the village might employ her. With the goblins pressing…"
Roderick frowned. "Ten silver a day. That's the best I can---"
"Thirty gold," Loid cut in sharply.
The room went silent. Roderick stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Thirty… gold? Per day?"
Loid met his gaze, steady. "Angela and Selvara together can stall the goblins. That buys you time to prepare defenses, and maybe until reinforcements arrive from the kingdom. You want that chance? That's the cost."
Roderick opened his mouth, ready to snap back, but another voice cut across the room.
The village chief, older but with eyes sharp as a hawk's, stepped forward. "Done."
Roderick turned, startled. "Chief---"
The old man raised a hand. "He's right. We cannot afford to gamble. Pay them."
Loid exhaled in relief, nodding once. He turned to Angela.
"Angela," he said quietly. "Head east. Find Selvara, her eyes are bright silver so you will instantly recognize her. Help her hold the line."
Angela slammed her fist against her armored chest, the sound ringing like thunder. "As you command."
And without hesitation, she strode from the barracks, greatsword in hand, every step radiating the presence of war itself.
Loid watched her go, heart hammering, the UI still glowing faintly at the edge of his vision.