Chapter 55: Starter Skills

Chapter 55: Chapter 55: Starter Skills

Chapter 53: Starter Skills

The wind howling outside the Zenith Spire was freezing, but Evelyn didn’t seem to notice.

She stood on the edge of the penthouse balcony, looking down at the massive drop to the Genesis City streets fifty floors below. She had her eyes closed, feeling the ambient mana in the air.

Donald leaned against the sliding glass door, holding a fresh cup of coffee. He was watching her closely.

"Don’t jump," Donald said dryly. "I don’t think my deposit covers suicide cleanup."

Evelyn glanced back over her shoulder, a wide, thrilled smile breaking across her face. "I’m not going to fall, Donald."

She turned back toward the edge and stepped directly off the balcony into the empty air.

Donald’s stomach dropped. He lurched forward, dropping his coffee mug on the hardwood floor, and sprinted for the railing.

He didn’t need to panic.

Hovering five feet out from the balcony, suspended entirely in mid-air, was Evelyn.

Two massive, ethereal wings of solid sapphire and gold light had erupted from her shoulder blades. They didn’t flap like a bird’s wings; they pulsed, catching the atmospheric mana and bending gravity entirely around her. She looked like an ascending deity against the morning sky.

She drifted back toward the balcony, her boots touching the concrete without making a single sound. The wings shattered into a thousand tiny motes of golden light and faded into her skin.

"Starter skill," Evelyn laughed, her blue eyes shining with pure adrenaline. "It’s called [Celestial Ascent]. I can’t fly across the city yet, but I can hover, air-dash, and completely negate fall damage. My mobility just tripled."

Donald let out a long breath, resting his hands on his knees. "Give a guy a warning next time."

"That’s not even the best part," Evelyn said, tapping the glowing tattoo of the winged blade on her wrist. She summoned her sword.

The Bloodhound’s Fang materialized in her grip. But it wasn’t the dark, cursed, blood-drinking weapon it used to be. The metal had been completely purged. The blade was now a pristine, glowing silver, radiating a heavy, crushing heat.

"My new passive," Evelyn explained, gripping the hilt. " [divine pulse]. Every ounce of physical force I put into a strike is automatically multiplied and converted into holy damage. If Kaelen tries to block this with his broadsword, I’m going to melt right through his armor."

She dismissed the sword and walked back inside, completely energized.

Donald watched her head toward the kitchen, his smile slowly fading. He was happy for her. But the reality of the situation was starting to set in.

He pulled up his internal interface, hiding the golden screen from her view.

[STATUS PANEL: DONALD]

[Class]: SSS+ Investor

[Level]: 13

[STATS]:

Strength: 60 (57 + 3 Loyalty Bonus)

Speed: 60 (57 + 3 Loyalty Bonus)

Stamina: 59 (56 + 3 Loyalty Bonus)

Mana: 62 (59 + 3 Loyalty Bonus)

[Free Stat Points]: 21

His stats were incredible for a Level 13. He could easily trade punches with a C-Rank mercenary and walk away. But tomorrow, they were stepping into an arena with an A-Rank Berserker. Kaelen was Level 42. His stats were likely sitting in the high hundreds.

If Donald caught even a glancing blow from Kaelen’s broadsword, his Level 13 ribcage would shatter like glass. His F-Rank [Aura of the Vanguard] shield wouldn’t last a second against an A-Rank impact. And his C-Rank Pile Bunker wouldn’t even dent Kaelen’s heavy charcoal armor.

He needed better gear. Immediately.

"Evie," Donald called out, grabbing his new tactical jacket off the couch. "I need to run an errand. Take a few hours. Meditate. Get a feel for the new mana capacity."

Evelyn leaned around the kitchen counter. "An errand? Where? It’s not safe out there. Sterling’s people are probably combing the streets."

"I’m keeping my head down," Donald promised, tapping his gold mask sitting on the table. "I have a contact in the lower sectors. I need to call in a favor and get my gear tuned up. I’ll be back before lunch."

Donald took a cab down to Sector 4. The industrial district was still a mess from the Wildfire Syndicate explosion, making it the perfect place to do off-the-books business.

He walked down a damp, oil-stained alleyway, his [Valuation Eye] scanning the brick walls until he found the hidden mana-lock he was looking for. He pressed his hand against a loose brick, injecting a tiny spark of mana.

The brick wall slid backward, revealing a heavy iron door.

Welcome to the Forge.

Donald stepped inside. The underground workshop was blisteringly hot. The air smelled of sulfur, molten steel, and ozone. Massive hydraulic presses pounded away in the corners, operated by heavily scarred mercenaries.

Behind a reinforced glass counter stood Gideon. He was a massive, scarred man with a metal prosthetic arm and thick goggles resting on his forehead. Gideon didn’t ask questions; he just built weapons that killed things.

Donald walked up to the counter and unbuckled the Type-3 Pile Bunker from his left forearm. He set the heavy, scorched metal gauntlet on the glass.

Gideon looked at it, then up at Donald.

"C-Rank kinetic payload," Gideon grunted, his voice like grinding rocks. "Piston is warped. Chamber is burnt out. It’s garbage. Throw it away."

"I don’t want to throw it away," Donald said flatly. "I want to upgrade it."

Gideon snorted. "Upgrading C-Rank scrap to B-Rank takes rare monster cores. It takes compressed titanium. It takes three days of labor. And it costs more than you’ll make in five years, kid."

Donald didn’t argue. He just reached into his jacket and pulled out the solid black data-card. He tapped it against Gideon’s payment terminal.

[Current Balance: 40,000,000 System Credits.]

Donald keyed in a manual transfer.

The terminal chimed a bright, cheerful green.

Gideon looked down at the screen. His one good eye nearly bulged out of his head.

"Two million credits," Gideon whispered, staring at the receipt.

[Transfer Complete. Current Balance: 38,000,000 System Credits.]

"I need it in two hours," Donald said, his voice cold and absolutely serious. "I want a B-Rank compressed thunder core housed in the chamber. I want the piston reinforced with A-Rank monster bone. And I want the kinetic payload doubled. Can you do it, or do I need to ask for a refund?"

Gideon stared at the two million credits sitting in his account. He grabbed the ruined Pile Bunker off the counter like it was made of gold.

"I’ll have it done in ninety minutes," Gideon barked, turning toward his massive forge. "Hey! Shut down the presses! Clear the main anvil!"

Donald leaned against the glass counter, crossing his arms and watching the mercenaries scramble.

An hour and a half later, Gideon placed a heavy metal case on the counter. He popped the latches and spun it around.

Donald looked down.

The weapon was beautiful. It was slightly bulkier than the old model, plated in matte-black titanium. The heavy steel spike resting inside the piston chamber glowed with a faint, violent blue electrical charge.

Donald lifted it out of the case and strapped it to his left forearm. The heavy buckles snapped into place. It felt incredibly dense, but the weight was perfectly balanced.

He accessed his [Valuation Eye].

[Item: Type-5 ’Thunderclap’ Pile Bunker]

[Rank: B-Rank]

[Effect: Houses a compressed Thunder Core. Upon impact, the piston delivers massive kinetic trauma followed by a localized B-Rank electrical detonation. Capable of shattering standard A-Rank armor plates.]

Donald smiled.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Gideon," Donald said, pulling his jacket sleeve down to conceal the massive gauntlet.

"Don’t blow your own arm off, kid," Gideon muttered, wiping grease off his forehead.

Donald walked back out into the alleyway, the heavy weight of the B-Rank weapon resting comfortably against his forearm. He wasn’t completely helpless anymore. He had the teeth to bite back if Kaelen got too close.

He pulled out his burner phone and dialed Evelyn as he walked toward the main street to catch a cab.

"Hey," Evelyn answered on the first ring.

"I got the gear sorted," Donald said. "I’m heading back now."

"Good," Evelyn replied. Her voice was completely calm, but laced with a hard, professional edge. "Because Sterling just made his move. Get back to the penthouse. The mandatory pre-tournament press conference is in three hours. And the Iron Guild is trying to rig the narrative."