The walk back to the city felt longer than it should.
My arms were heavy with the weight of fresh kills—two wolf ears and the pack leader's horn tucked into a small sack I'd bought from a roadside vendor on the way in. The red core from the leader pulsed faintly against my thigh where I'd wrapped it in cloth. Proof enough to cash in the quest.
But more than the loot, it was the changes inside me that kept pulling my attention.
I'd never been one to obsess over stats in games back on Earth. Numbers were just numbers. Grind a bit, buy better gear, move on.
Here?
The numbers were me.
They were the difference between dying in an alley and walking away with someone else's power.
When I reached the city gates again, the guards barely glanced at my guild card and the bloody sack. Adventurers came back looking worse every day. I was just another bronze-rank nobody with a monster story.
The guild hall was busier now—midday rush. People shouting quest completions, arguing over splits, laughing too loud at bad jokes. I joined the payout line, hood still up, and waited my turn.
The same tired receptionist from earlier raised an eyebrow when she saw me.
"Back already? Horned wolves?"
I dumped the contents of the sack on the counter: ears, horn, core.
She inspected them with practiced efficiency, then nodded.
"Pack leader confirmed. Clean kills too—no excessive damage. Fifty silver, plus twenty extra for the core. Seventy total."
She counted out the coins—shiny silver discs with the same bear crest—and slid them across in a small pouch.
"Anything else?"
I hesitated.
"No, it's nothing" I said quietly
She looked at me—really looked.
"You hiding something?"
I met her gaze calmly.
"No" I said.
She snorted, but didn't push it.
"Whatever. Keep your secrets. Just don't die stupidly. Next!"
I stepped away, pouch heavier in my pocket.
Seventy silver. Enough for food, better gear, maybe a week's rent if Garrick didn't charge me an arm and a leg.
But the real value was the numbers.
Strength 22 — I could feel it in the way the sword felt lighter, how my swings carried more force.
Agility 31 — every step was smoother, reactions sharper.
Perception 28 — I could hear conversations across the hall, smell the faint copper of someone bleeding from a fresh cut two counters over.
Intelligence 17 — still low. Made sense. I'd never been a genius. But Mana Manipulation made up for it in raw control.
Endurance 19 and Vitality 24 were climbing slower, but Horn Reinforcement was already helping. The shallow claw marks on my forearm from the pack leader had scabbed over faster than they should have.
I left the guild and headed back toward Raven's Edge, mind turning over possibilities.
The city felt different now.
Not safer.
Just… smaller.
People who'd looked intimidating an hour ago—armored adventurers, tall mercenaries—now registered as potential targets. Their talents floated in my mind like items on a shelf.
I could take them.
All of them.
The thought didn't scare me anymore.
It excited me.
Garrick was waiting when I walked in.
He took one look at the blood on my cloak and the satisfied glint in my eye.
"Successful hunt?"
"Wolves," I said, dropping the pouch on the counter. "Seventy silver. Here's your ten percent."
He counted it out, pocketed seven silver, and slid the rest back.
"Generous," he grunted. "Most kids try to haggle."
"I'm not most kids."
He studied me again.
"You're changing fast, Ren. Too fast. People are going to notice."
"Let them."
He shook his head.
"Room's still yours. But if guards come sniffing, I didn't see nothing."
I nodded and headed upstairs.
In the room, I locked the door, stripped off the bloody cloak, and sat on the bed with the sword across my knees.
I pulled up the full status window again—willing it to show everything now that I knew how to ask.
[Name: Takahashi Ren]
[Level: 6]
[Race: Human (Otherworlder)]
[Attributes]
Strength: 22
Agility: 31
Endurance: 19
Vitality: 24
Perception: 28
Intelligence: 17
Mana: 480/480
Stamina: 260/260
[Unique Talent]
Talent Devourer – Rank: EX
Slots Available: 2/3
Filled: Mana Manipulation (EX)
[Passive/Acquired Talents]
Swordsmanship (A)
Enhanced Agility (B)
Horn Reinforcement (A)
[Current Status]
Healthy
No debuffs
Threat Level: Medium-High (Rising)
I stared at the numbers until they blurred.
Six.
Just six.
And already I felt like a different person.
Back on Earth, I'd been invisible.
Average at best, forgettable at worst.
Here, every fight, every stolen talent, every level-up was rewriting me.
I wasn't just surviving anymore.
I was becoming something else.
Something dangerous.
Something that could take whatever it wanted.
I stood up, walked to the small mirror cracked above the washbasin.
My reflection stared back—still me, but sharper. Eyes brighter. Shoulders broader from the strength gains. A faint scar on my forearm already fading thanks to Vitality and Horn Reinforcement.
I touched the mirror.
A tiny thread of mana left my fingertip and traced the glass, leaving a perfect circle of frost.
I smiled.
Small.
Cold.
Real.
Tomorrow I'd go back to the board.
Pick something harder.
Something with more bodies.
More talents.
_____
The alley behind Raven's Edge was quiet in the late afternoon, just the occasional drip of water from a leaking gutter and the distant clatter of the main street. I'd slipped out the back door after handing Garrick his cut, not wanting to walk through the shop looking like I'd just crawled out of a slaughterhouse.
Blood still crusted my forearms and the edge of the borrowed cloak. The wolf pelts were too bulky to carry, so I'd left them with the vendor on Old Mill Road for a quick five silver extra. The horn and the core, though—those I kept. Proof was one thing. Power was another.
I found a shadowed corner between two leaning buildings, sat on an overturned crate, and finally let myself breathe.
No guild payout line.
No appraisal orb.
No receptionist staring at numbers that didn't make sense.
Just me.
And the system.
I closed my eyes and willed it open—same way I'd done back in the summoning chamber, same way I'd done when I stole Aria's mana.
The familiar blue panel unfolded in my vision, crisp and private. No one else could see it. No one else needed to.
[Name: Takahashi Ren]
[Race: Human (Otherworlder)]
[Level: 6]
[Attributes]
Strength: 22
Agility: 31
Endurance: 19
Vitality: 24
Perception: 28
Intelligence: 17
Mana: 480/480
Stamina: 260/260
[Unique Talent]
Talent Devourer – Rank: EX
Slots Available: 2/3
Filled: Mana Manipulation (EX)
[Passive/Acquired Talents]
Swordsmanship (A)
Enhanced Agility (B)
Horn Reinforcement (A)
[Current Status]
Healthy
Minor lacerations (healing)
Threat Level: Medium-High (Rising)
I stared at the panel until the edges blurred.
Six.
Just six levels, and already the numbers looked wrong for a guy who'd spent most of his life sitting in front of screens.
Strength 22 — I could feel it in the way my grip on the sword didn't tire, how the blade felt balanced instead of heavy.
Agility 31 — every movement was smoother, quicker, almost anticipatory. I'd dodged the pack leader's lunge before I'd even consciously registered the motion.
Perception 28 — sounds were sharper. I could hear the heartbeat of a rat scuttling three buildings over, smell the faint copper tang of my own drying blood mixed with wolf musk.
Intelligence 17 — still embarrassingly average. No sudden genius. But Mana Manipulation made up for it. Control, not raw brainpower—that's what mattered.
Endurance 19 and Vitality 24 were climbing slower, but Horn Reinforcement was already paying dividends. The claw marks on my forearm—deep enough to sting—were already pink and shallow. Scabbing faster than any human should.
I flexed my fingers.
A thin thread of mana lifted from my palm, coiling into a perfect sphere the size of a marble. I compressed it until it glowed white-hot, then let it dissipate in a silent puff of heat.
No chant.
No gesture.
Just will.
I laughed under my breath—short, sharp, almost disbelieving.
Back on Earth, I'd been nothing.
A background character in everyone else's story.
Here?
Every fight was rewriting the code of who I was.
Every stolen talent was a line of cheat code I got to keep.
I leaned my head back against the rough brick wall and let the panel fade.
The hunger was still there—sharper now, more focused. Not just for survival anymore.
For more.
More levels.
More attributes.
More talents.
I stood up, rolled my shoulders, and felt the new Agility make the motion feel effortless.
The city was still hunting me.
The royal palace probably had my face on every guard post by now.
But they were looking for a scared, level-1 otherworlder who'd gotten lucky once.
They weren't looking for me.
Not yet.
I pulled the hood lower and stepped out of the alley.
The sun was dipping toward evening. Street vendors were lighting lanterns, the smell of grilled meat and spices drifting on the cooling air.
I had seventy silver in my pocket—blood money, wolf money—and a sword that was starting to feel like part of my arm.
Tomorrow I'd hunt again.
Something bigger.
Something with more bodies.
Because the numbers on that panel weren't just stats anymore.
They were proof.
Proof that Takahashi Ren—the nobody who died under a truck—wasn't nobody anymore.
And the world was about to find out just how far I was willing to go to make sure it stayed that way.