Charles sat on the edge of Lira's bed, hands resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the blank TV mounted on the wall.
Lira had stormed out minutes ago, her face a mask of pure rage, but before leaving, she'd pointed at the bed and said in a tone that brooked no argument:
"Stay there and don't touch anything. I'll be back once I sort this out."
Charles had nodded, though sitting idle in someone else's room felt a bit awkward.
The air in the room was heavy with a scent Charles couldn't ignore.
The bed smelled like Lira—a faint mix of sweat, lavender soap, and something else, maybe leather.
He decided to lie back, just to relax, and the mattress creaked under his weight.
The black sheet was rumpled, and Lira's scent grew stronger.
"Damn, why isn't my bed this nice?" Charles muttered, staring at the ceiling.
But exhaustion took over, and he stayed there, arms behind his head, gazing at the dead TV.
His mind drifted to the donut news he'd seen earlier.
A modern restaurant, LED lights, smartphones, internet.
'This world's like mine,' he thought, a spark of hope flaring. 'If I escape this clan, maybe I can live a normal life.'
He pictured a small apartment, an office job, maybe a Wi-Fi café to hang out in.
But the idea didn't quite fit.
'Work?' he thought, letting out a sarcastic laugh. 'The system could handle any boring job for me. Cleaning, writing reports, whatever.'
The Auto-Cleaning skill had already saved him hours of grunt work.
If he could use it for a real job, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
But then he frowned.
'And my power? How do I improve my lightning control if I'm out of here?'
In the clan, hellish as it was, he had chances to practice: animals, clan members.
Outside, in a modern world, where would he train without being seen?
A park?
A gym?
The thought of shooting sparks in public made him cringe.
'If anyone sees me, they'll think I'm a freak,' he thought.
To clear his doubts, he muttered, "System, show my stats."
A blue panel appeared, floating in the air:
Name: Rian Cole
Element: Lightning
Level: 4
Stats
Health: 94/100
Energy: 35%
System Intelligence: 3
Control Level: 1
XP: 752/800
Available Upgrade Points: 0
Charles blinked, surprised.
"35% energy?" he said, sitting up on the bed. "It was at zero after the bull. How'd it climb so much?"
The panel flickered, and a new message appeared:
[All physical movement generating friction produces static electricity, which is stored in your body for later use. Activities like walking, rubbing fabrics, or interacting with the environment contribute to this recharge.]
Charles let out an incredulous laugh.
"That's awesome!" he exclaimed, staring at his hands. "So I just move around to recharge? Like a damn human generator?"
The idea was ridiculous but useful.
But his excitement faded when he glanced at his XP.
He was only 48 points shy of Level 5, but he had no clue how to gain them quickly.
"System, how do I boost my experience?" he asked.
The response was blunt:
[Experience is gained by defeating opponents in combat or eliminating them.]
Charles frowned, leaning back on the bed.
"Fighting or killing, huh?" he muttered.
The word "killing" sent a chill through him.
He'd taken down the bull with his power, earning 374 XP, but he wasn't sure he wanted to repeat that with a human.
'Killing's not my thing…' he thought, recalling how it felt to see the bull collapse.
But then he remembered his earlier fights.
He'd beaten two guys in the alley and Nora in the rainy duel, all without killing, and those wins had given him decent experience.
'So I don't always have to kill…' he thought, relieved. 'Just win.'
Curious, he pressed further.
"System, how do the ranks in this clan work?" he asked, hoping for something useful.
The panel responded:
[In the Storm Clan, ranks are as follows, from lowest to highest: Aspirant, Novice, Warrior, Custodian, Mentor, Master, Grand Master.]
Charles's jaw dropped.
"Seven ranks?" he said, sitting up again. "That's it?"
Compared to ranking systems in novels he'd read, with letter grades from F to S or endless numbered levels, this felt… basic.
"It's like a budget RPG," he muttered, chuckling.
But then he realized something.
"And servants? Where do they fit?"
The panel flickered, as if processing, then updated:
[Correction: Servants are not an official rank but are considered below Aspirant in the clan's hierarchy.]
Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"What a dumb question I asked," he said, shaking his head.
But the rank list got him thinking.
He'd beaten two guys who, according to Lira, were Mentor rank.
'And to think those guys were weak…' he thought, recalling how they'd cornered him in the alley.
His duel with Nora was different; she was a Master, and though he won, it was only because he used his power at the last second.
'If I beat two Mentors and a Master, shouldn't I be Mentor already?' he thought, frowning.
"System, how do I rank up?" he asked, impatience creeping into his voice.
The response wasn't what he hoped:
[To advance in rank, you must participate in official combats supervised by clan superiors and receive their approval. Each rank requires a specific number of victories and demonstrations of skill.]
Charles groaned, flopping back onto Lira's bed.
The lavender-and-leather scent enveloped him, but he barely noticed.
"Official combats, approvals… isn't there a way to skip all that?" he said, frustrated. "This is such a waste of time."
To his surprise, the system replied with a question:
[Why worry about ranks if your goal is to escape the clan?]
Charles froze, eyes wide.
"What?" he muttered, bolting upright. "How do you know I want to escape?"
His heart started pounding.
He'd never told the system he wanted to flee the clan.
He'd thought about it, sure, especially after seeing the TV and news of the outside world. But those were thoughts, not words.
'Did I say it out loud without realizing?' he thought, racking his brain.
"System, when did I say I wanted to escape?" he asked, voice tense.
…
Silence.
The blue panel didn't move, didn't flicker, didn't respond.
It was the first time the system had flat-out ignored a direct question, and it gave him a bad feeling.
Charles felt a chill run down his spine.
"What the hell?" he muttered, staring at the panel. "Why aren't you answering?"
…
Nothing.
The panel stayed there, displaying his stats, but added no more.
Charles ran a hand through his hair, nervous.
'Maybe I said it without noticing,' he thought, trying to calm himself. 'Or maybe the system can read my thoughts. It's an AI, right? Maybe it's designed to pick up stuff like that.'
The idea wasn't comforting.
If the system could know what he was thinking, what else did it know?
What if it wasn't just a tool but something more… aware?
Charles shook his head, trying to laugh it off.
"I'm getting paranoid…" he said softly. "It's just a system. It's not gonna stab me in the back. It's helped me so far, hasn't it?"
But the doubt lingered.
The system had guided him, given him skills, but it also had limits—like not finding animals or answering certain questions.
'What if it's holding something back?' he thought, eyeing the panel with suspicion.