The rain continued to fall around them, though lighter now, as Charles followed Nora along the path back to the Storm Clan's building.
His tunic, dry thanks to Nora's air trick, still felt heavy from the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders.
The fight with her had left him drained, but the victory and the system's message about leveling up gave him a small spark of energy.
'At least something's going right,' Charles thought, glancing at the blue panel still floating in front of his eyes, though he ignored it for now to keep up with Nora.
Nora walked with light steps, as if the rain didn't bother her.
Her brown hair, still wet, clung to her back, and her black tunic with white trim swayed with each stride.
"Come on, Rian, don't lag behind," she said without turning, her tone lively. "The laundry room's not far."
Charles nodded, though she couldn't see.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he muttered, picking up his pace.
The forest gradually opened up, giving way to a cobblestone courtyard that led to a back entrance of the building.
Torches on the walls were lit, casting an orange glow over the damp stone.
As they entered, Charles noticed several servants pause to stare.
Some wore white tunics like his, others carried buckets or rags, but all shared the same look of surprise.
"What's a Master-rank doing here?" whispered a young servant with messy hair, holding a bucket.
He glanced at Nora, then at Charles, frowning. "And with Rian Cole, of all people?"
Another servant, an older woman with her hair in a tight bun, sidled up to her companion and muttered, "No way. A Master hanging out with that useless guy… What's going on?"
Charles gritted his teeth, trying to tune out the comments.
'Master-rank?' he thought, stealing a glance at Nora.
He didn't know much about the clan's ranks, but it sounded important.
More important than the Mentors he'd beaten earlier, at least.
Nora, though, seemed oblivious to the stares and whispers, walking with her head high, like she was used to being the center of attention.
"Here we are," Nora said, stopping at a wooden door in a narrow hallway.
The smell of soap and damp clothes wafted from inside.
"The laundry room. You can change or dry whatever you need here."
She turned to Charles, her smile warmer than before.
"Good luck in the arena tomorrow, Rian. I hope you climb the ranks fast."
Charles blinked, thrown off by the comment.
"Climb the ranks? I don't even know how the ranks work here," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "No one explains anything."
Nora giggled, leaning toward him.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, so close Charles felt her breath on his ear.
"You'll figure it out soon enough, trust me. But, hey, don't tell anyone you beat me, okay? It'd be… a little embarrassing."
Her gray eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was a hint of seriousness in her tone.
Charles laughed, nodding.
"Deal. My lips are sealed."
Nora gave him a playful tap on the shoulder.
"You better keep that promise, Rian Cole."
With one last smile, she turned and sauntered down the hallway, her tunic flowing behind her.
Some servants stepped aside to let her pass, bowing their heads in respect.
Charles watched until she vanished around a corner, feeling a mix of relief and curiosity.
For the first time, someone in this place hadn't treated him like trash.
He glanced at the laundry room door but suddenly realized something.
'Wait… my clothes are already dry,' he thought, touching his tunic.
Thanks to Nora, he didn't need to change.
The idea of hunting for a new tunic felt pointless now, and exhaustion made him crave only one thing: a place to crash.
But before he could decide his next move, a voice cut in.
"Rian? What are you doing here?"
Charles turned and saw a young girl, probably his age, in a white tunic identical to his.
Her brown hair was tied in a braid, and her dark eyes studied him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
She held an empty bucket, like she'd just finished a task.
"Just… wanted a change of clothes," Charles said, shrugging.
He didn't know who she was but assumed she was another servant like him.
The girl frowned, clearly puzzled.
"You know you only get two tunics, right? And you can only change when you bathe."
She paused, looking him up and down.
"Besides, your clothes don't even look dirty. What's with you today?"
Charles sighed, scrambling for a quick excuse.
"Then I wanted to bathe," he said, though he wasn't sure he wanted to dig himself into more trouble.
The girl let out a dry laugh.
"You bathed this morning, Rian. Forgot the rules? You only get one bath a day. You'll have to wait till tomorrow."
Charles let out a long, weary sigh.
"Fine, fine…" he muttered, running a hand over his face.
'This place is the worst,' he thought, frustration bubbling in his chest.
Everything here seemed designed to make him miserable.
Suddenly, two figures approached down the hallway.
They were servants, but their white tunics had blue stripes—a design Charles hadn't seen before.
One was a tall young man with a serious face and short black hair.
The other was a middle-aged woman with graying hair and an impatient expression.
Both eyed him like they were sizing something up.
"You're Rian Cole?" the man asked, stopping in front of him.
Charles nodded, a bit wary.
"Yeah, that's me."
The woman pulled a sealed envelope from her tunic and handed it to him.
"This is from Lira Cole. She asked us to deliver it. It's important."
Without waiting for a reply, they turned and hurried off, as if they couldn't stand being near him a second longer.
"Hey, wait! Thanks, I guess?" Charles called, but the servants were already gone.
He looked at the envelope in his hands, frowning.
"What the hell does Lira want now?" he muttered.
He broke the seal and opened the letter. The words were written in precise calligraphy, black ink on thick paper:
[Rian Cole, you have two options. First: become Lira Cole's personal servant. Second: fight in two arena matches today. If you lose even one, you will be demoted and sold as a slave. If you win both, you will be promoted to an official arena fighter. Report to Lira's room to confirm your choice and learn the match times.]
Charles felt his stomach twist.
"Damn… two matches?" he muttered, rereading the letter to make sure he hadn't misread.
Fighting in the arena was daunting enough, but two fights in one day?
And if he lost, he'd be a slave?
The word sent a shiver through him.
But what pissed him off most was the first option.
"Become Lira's personal servant? No way in hell," he growled, clicking his tongue.
'Who does she think she is? Thinks I'll kiss her boots after how she treats me?'
There was no chance he'd pick that option. Being an arena fighter sounded risky, but at least it gave him a shot at improving his status.
Plus, the system had said he'd leveled up.
Maybe now he could use his power without so many restrictions.
"Alright, system, let's see what you've got," Charles muttered under his breath. "Status window."
The blue panel appeared before him, clear and steady despite the curious glances from passing servants.
Its glowing letters displayed:
Name: Rian Cole
Element: Lightning
Level: 3
Stats
Health: 22/100
Energy: 0%
System Intelligence: 1
Control Level: 1
XP: 25/400
Available Upgrade Points: 2
Charles frowned at the numbers.
'This is it?' he thought, disappointed.
He'd expected something more… epic.
In the games he played, systems usually showed detailed skills, talent trees, or at least something flashier than this.
Low health, zero energy, and two vague stats he didn't fully understand.
"System Intelligence? Control Level? What's that supposed to mean?" he muttered, scratching his head.
Determined to try his luck, Charles whispered, "System, what's System Intelligence?" hoping not to draw more attention from the servants already giving him weird looks.
The blue panel flickered, and a new message appeared:
[System level too low to answer that question]
Charles let out a long, frustrated sigh.
"Great, you're about as helpful as a brick," he grumbled, glaring at the panel.
But then he thought about the upgrade points.
If he could use them to boost something, maybe System Intelligence would give him more info.
"I'll put one point into System Intelligence…" he said, tapping the air where the panel hovered.
A new message popped up:
[Confirm you wish to invest 1 point in System Intelligence?]
Charles rolled his eyes.
"Damn it, stop asking or you'll kill my vibe," he muttered. He selected yes, and to his surprise, the panel shifted.
A percentage appeared:
[Update in progress… 1%]
The number crept up slowly.
2%.
Then 3%.
Charles sighed, feeling like he was watching a software update on his old computer.
Some passing servants shot him odd looks, probably because he looked like a lunatic poking at the air and talking to himself.
"This is gonna take forever…" Charles muttered, dismissing the panel with a wave of his hand.
He glanced at Lira's letter again, the weight of the decision sinking in.
Fighting in the arena was his only option.