CHAPTER 79: SYSTEM (2)

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■Roera

Level: 56

Race: Human

Class: Swordsman

Traits: Aura of ??? (A+), Master of the Holy Sword (A)

■Fienne

Level: 53

Race: Progenitor

Class: Mage

Traits: Aura of ??? (A+), Blessing of Purified Blood (A)

■Pamon

Level: 65

Race: Dark Elf

Class: Mage

Traits: Aura of ??? (A+), Master of the Forest (A-Rank)

■Rona

Level: 35

Race: Human

Class: Priest

Traits: Aura of ??? (A+), Vessel of Purity (A-Rank)

■Feryn

Level: 50

Race: Half-elemental

Class: None

Traits: Aura of ??? (A+), Pure Chaos (A-Rank)

■Risir

Level: 42

Race: Human

Class: ??? (Unique)

Traits: ...

[Viewing target information]

...

...

...

[The target’s power level is too high]

***

[Title : Wow Trash Game]

Post : lmao now they got it so ur HP n mana drain just from lookin at the status screen

: yeah that starts happenin late game when u check fate quest bosses or named mobs lmao

: [Target’s power level is too Faker]

: T O O F A K E R

: goddam you spoke the GOAT’S name bruh now i gotta kneel again

: even 7th rank (lvl 60) mobs drain ur HP n mana but once u hit 8th rank (lvl 70+) its just straight up unplayable

***“Ugh...!”

I involuntarily squeezed my eyes shut. It felt as if a dense liquid was flowing through my eyes into my brain, an unpleasant and painful sensation. Simultaneously, I could feel my mana and mental strength melting away like well-cooked meat.

What is this...?

This happened when I tried to check my own information in the Status Window. I could see it even with my eyes closed, but its presence was blurring.

I tried withdrawing my focus from the Window, and as I did so, I felt the mounting pressure dissipate.

“Whew...”

I opened my eyes and collected myself, letting out a sigh.

“Seriously, what kind of crap is this...”

No language synchronization support, and resource-hungry to the point of burning them up. Garbage optimization.

If there was an app rating, I’d give it a 1-star review and request a refund immediately.

Isekai senpais, was your Status Window this messed up too?

Status Windows were usually the starting point for life-changing adventures, but realizing it was just a disaster, I couldn’t help but curse. The only consolation, if any, was that it wasn’t completely useless.

I organized the information I had just gleaned from the Status Window, and a dry chuckle escaped my lips.

“...What’s with these people’s levels?”

I wasn’t sure exactly what those level numbers meant. But one thing was clear: judging by my own level, my companions’ levels far exceeded my expectations.

I already knew that my master and friends were extraordinary figures.

My master had single-handedly overthrown an entire family. Roera was the genius who bore all the expectations of our family. Fienne the Progenitor had managed a harem on the scale of an entire noble household. And Feryn was important enough to make even an elven princess anxious.

Despite all this, seeing their greatness quantified like this in levels made me dumbfounded.

I’m level 42 after reaching the 6th Rank, so what’s level 50? Don’t tell me it’s the 7th Rank?

The most striking part was that I was dead last. Even Rona, who should have been at the bottom, showed incredible growth. The girl had only recently lost all her abilities after disqualifying as a devil and qualifying as a human instead, but now she had nearly caught up to my level.

Suddenly, I recalled the traits I had glimpsed. I couldn’t check them in detail because it felt like my brain was being tenderized, but...

They all had that Aura of Whatever.

Could that be the secret to their tremendous growth? Did I have that too?

As I was pondering these thoughts about the Status Window, there was a knock at the front door.

***“Wrinkly Stringy, hello!”

As I opened the front door, Verdandes darted forward to greet the visitor, Wrinkly Stringy.

It was Sir Meltas.

Wrinkly referred to the wrinkles all over his face, and Stringy to his braided hair and beard. It was a surprisingly intuitive name that exuded pure emotional feeling, but it had the drawback of being extremely rude.

I lightly tapped the little sand girl’s head with my knuckle, scolding her.

“Bad girl, Verdandes! You can’t do that! Say it properly now. Sir Meltas.”

“S-Sir Mertash?!”

“I apologize, Sir Mertash. I had her practice how to pronounce her own name correctly for a bit, but she’s ended up growing a habit of pronouncing all difficult sounds like that. It’s the drawback of rote learning, I suppose.”

“Haha, I do not mind. Wrinkly Stringy, how adorable. I quite like the name.”

“Is that so? Well then, Sir Wrinkly Stringy. What brings you here?”

“You address me properly.”

“Shall we first go inside?”

“No need. It’s a simple matter, so I’ll keep it brief. Do you know of the city councilor, Lan?”

For a smooth social life in Bondalles, I had familiarized myself with most of the key figures to watch out for. Lan was one of those names on the list.

The City Council was effectively the rulers of Bondalles, and Lan was the eldest daughter of House Pelroth, one of the five families that made up the council. She was currently managing the family affairs in place of the patriarch, who was bedridden with illness.

“You mean Lan of House Pelroth. I do know she’s a city councilor and one of the most powerful figures in Bondalles.”

City councilors. Even the tower masters, who remained politically independent within the city, and the great nobles who ruled territories near the empire couldn’t afford to take them lightly in Bondalles.

“Well, it seems a powerful figure in the city wants to make a personal request of you.”

“Me?”

Having handled multiple requests from merchant guild leaders, I was fairly used to receiving commissions from outsiders. Even so, this one felt particularly abrupt—city councilors were usually the ones granting favors, not asking for them.

Was there anything in Bondalles that a city councilor couldn’t handle with their own power?

If I had to guess, it would probably be something involving another city councilor.

“I feel rather iffy about this. Why would someone like that need a favor from me?”

“I feel the same way. City councilors rarely put themselves in debt to those of the Gray Tower. Do you know why?”

“They’re afraid the tower might gain political influence within the city?”

Sir Meltas eyed me with surprise.

“You understand well. I’ve thought this before, but for your age, you’re remarkably perceptive.”

“Oh, come on. That’s hardly worth praising.”

“You say that because you don’t know how nobles your age usually act. You have no idea how relieved I was when you didn’t blurt out something stupid like, ‘Because that would be dishonorable!’”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Certainly, there were plenty of carefree young nobles like he described. But while they might not meet Sir Meltas’ standards, I wouldn’t call them fools. After all, I wasn’t in any position to judge someone else’s intelligence.

If anything, they were just unbearably stubborn. The type to impose their worldview on others, spouting nonsense about honor and dignity.

I’d seen more than enough of them back in Bendel.

“Regardless. As you said, the city council fears the tower gaining political influence in the city, so they never give us an opening. Not that they need to—at their level, bringing in outside mages is child’s play.”

“And yet, they’ve come to our tower with a request.”

“Not just that, they specifically asked for you.”

“Would there be a reason for that? Or is this about my back-alley friends again?”

“If you ever ran into trouble with them, the person you’d have to turn to would be a city councilor.”

“That’s true. But then, why on earth?”

“That’s exactly why I asked in advance. There’s nothing more unfortunate than a promising mage getting caught up in political affairs and having their hands tied.”

“Heh, of course. So what did they say?”

“She received some advice.”

“Advice?”

Sir Meltas paused for a moment before continuing.

“From what I’ve gathered, Lan has recently become deeply fascinated with someone. A rather suspicious figure known as the Saint.”

“The Saint?”

“Yes. Word is, this Saint has been providing free medical treatment to the sick in Bondalles’ slums.”

“Sounds like a good person, no?”

“It’s a shame we live in a world where I have to say this, but Risir—beware those who offer kindness without reason.”

“It really is a shame. Still, I do agree with that notion to some extent. People who claim they have no interest in money are usually the ones obsessed with it. So, are you saying this so-called Saint advised Councilor Lan? Told her to seek my help?”

“What do you think?”

“If they like me, maybe they’re a better person than we think.”

“Right! If they likes Mastah, that means it’s a good person! So that means Wrinkly Stringy is good too!”

All this time, Verdandes had been staring at Sir Meltas’ beard from below. Her little outburst drew a grandfatherly smile from the old mage.

Meanwhile, Risir continued speaking.

“And from what I know, this Lan lady has quite the reputation. You could even call her the city council’s beacon of hope.”

“She’s indeed relatively clean for a councilor. Though, because of that, she doesn’t hold much power.”

“In that case, the decision’s made. I’ll at least hear her out. It’s not every day you get a chance to earn favor with a city councilor.”

Surprisingly, the Gray Tower didn’t hold much influence within Bondalles.

Saying, “I’m from the Gray Tower,” might only get about 50% of people to lower their heads.

But saying, “I’m friends with a city councilor,” would get that number up to 95% or so.

Sir Meltas hadn’t brought me this shady proposition for no reason. This was a golden opportunity—a chance to solidify my standing in Bondalles and the noble society.

And so, I accepted Sir Meltas’ proposal.

***

■Risir

Level: 42

Race: Human

Class: ??? (Unique)

Traits: ??? (Unique), ??? (Unique), Breathing Iron (S-), Pure Chaos Energy (A-), Mirage of the Firmament (B+)...

***To meet City Councilor Lan Pelroth, Risir headed to a grand manor in the 2nd district, the wealthiest residential area in Bondalles.

They were in the reception hall, which by itself was likely larger than most homes.

“My lady, Honorary Mage Risir has arrived.”

As Risir stepped inside, guided by the butler, every gaze in the room turned to him. The emotions behind those stares were mostly complicated. Even those who smiled in curiosity didn’t seem entirely welcoming.

Risir immediately understood why.

I’m just a pup among wolves, huh?

***Councilor Lan had gathered these individuals to resolve the issue at hand. Each of them was a heavyweight, someone worthy of receiving a formal invitation from a councilor.

A sharp-eyed man began by introducing himself.

“I am Valrod of the Red Tower.”

A beastkin woman with crimson furred ears and a tail remarked with interest at that.

“So this is how we meet, Crimson Spear. I am Shakan of the Skystride Tribe.”

“A descendant of great warriors, I see.”

“And you?”

“Maldad.”

“The Devil Hunter of Kardum. I’ve heard of you.”

With the introduction of the last man, who remained hooded even indoors, the group exchanged looks of satisfaction. Every name in that room carried weight across the continent.

Except for the one that had introduced himself first—the green pup among them.

Honorary Mage of the Gray Tower, Risir?

No one had ever heard of him. Had the councilor been forced to take on some obscure nobody due to political dealings? If not, wouldn’t it have made more sense to invite someone like Meltas of the Gray Staff or Marina of the Flowing Stars?

As dissatisfied gazes turned toward Councilor Lan, she cleared her throat and began to speak.

“Thank you all for making the time to be here.”

“You called us here for that, I assume?”

Maldad, the Devil Hunter of Kardum, pointed to the table at the center of the receiving room. A black crystal orb rested atop it.

“That’s right. The devil sealed inside...it holds information my house desperately needs. But no matter how much we plead or threaten, it refuses to speak. And that’s where you come in.”

Devil. The weight of that single word, uttered without warning, settled over the room.

“One experience will surely speak louder than a hundred explanations. Care to see for yourselves?”

Councilor Lan gestured cautiously toward the crystal orb.

“Hmm~”

The beastkin warrior Shakan leaned back against her chair, sharp eyes fixed on the black crystal orb.

Moments later, she pushed herself up and stepped forward, placing a hand on the orb.

“Oi.”

“...”

The orb remained silent.

The next to approach was Valrod, the master mage of the Red Tower.

“I ask your name, Devil.”

“I have no name to share with the likes of you worthless cretins.”

Watching the whole exchange, Maldad folded his arms with a sigh. Even from a distance, the presence seeping from the orb felt unnervingly tangible, as if brushing directly against his skin.

This was clearly no lowly devil. It was the kind that saw humans not with curiosity, but with absolute disdain.

Extracting specific information from something like that? And ensuring it was accurate without any distortion?

Maldad had a feeling this task would be anything but simple.

Meanwhile, Shakan and Valrod struggled with the black crystal. It was only after a long while that they finally returned to their seats.

The group was about to begin their discussion, their expressions grim.

But then, suddenly...

“Mastah! Mastah! I wanna talk to Blackie too!”

Out of nowhere, a little girl suddenly appeared and grabbed the black crystal.

They were late to react, panic setting in as they scrambled to stop her.

“Blackie! You gotta answer when my Mastah asks you something! Got it?!”

“...Gladly.”

***

■Verdandes

Level: ??? (78)

Race: Elemental

Class: None

Traits: Aura of ??? (A+), Ruler of the Sands (A+)