Lowe did his best to ignore Karolen and Preece’s whispering, closing his eyes and taking a breath that felt heavier than it should.

His stat sheet was still open in front of him, the glowing notification blinking obnoxiously at the centre of his vision. Roll with the Punches. Since his Classtration, that had been his absolute lifeline. Quite literally. It was a Skill that had let him survive any number of absolute pastings during his year of exile and, more recently, it had been the basis for both of those new Skills he had somehow developed: Medic! and Mental Fortress. And now it had reached Level 50 and, what, had become available to ‘rank up’ to a level he’d never thought he’d see on a stat screen?

Mythic.

He stared at the word as it pulsed redly on his screen.

People like him didn’t get access to Mythic Skills. He didn’t even think Latham, for all of his other considerable attributes, had anything of that level. If you had enough gold, then bringing all your skills to Legendary was entirely possible. That was how, after all, he currently had access to a who could work near miracles with a rolling pin. Mylaf’s previous employer, the High Priestess of Gravalk, Gianna d’Avec, had ensured her former nanny had access to the very best of Skill upgrades that money could buy. But even she – with access to almost limitless funds – hadn’t been able to bring her Skills to the Mythic level. It wasn't an upgrade you could gain through normal means. It was a reward, apparently. And yet the key emotion Lowe was feeling right now wasn’t triumph. It felt . . . like fear.

The offer to upgrade remained there, waiting in front of him like a trap with its jaws wide open. His instinct, obviously, was to accept it, to take the power and hold it close to him. But something—something deep inside him—held him back.

He glanced over towards Karolen and Preece again, both of whom were now watching him closely, though trying not to make it too obvious. Karolen was ostentatiously sharpening her blade, but he could see her looking at him from the corner of her eye. Preece, meanwhile, was pretending to fiddle with his own stats, but the tension in his shoulders gave away his own interest in what was going.

They were worried about him, which he appreciated. Maybe not openly, but the flickers of concern were there. And he had a momentary pulse of satisfaction at actually having people in his life who showed such care for his wellbeing. Add them to Arebella, Latham, Hel and maybe even Staffen . . . well, he certainly wasn't the lone wolf anymore.

Lowe flexed his hands, remembering the feeling of that first punch he had tried to deliver after his Classtration. He had been reduced to nothing—stripped of his Class, his identity, all of his Strength. Sure, Slugger had still been able to come through in a pinch, and Grid View was always helpful as a memory aid, but Roll with the Punches had been the Skill that had kept him tethered to something. It had evolved as he had adapted, becoming more than just a passive Skill to him. It had been the difference between being found dead in a gutter or still standing here, glowing on and off like some absurd beacon of uncertainty.

But to upgrade it to Mythic? That was a whole world of difference. Like a doorway to a world he wasn’t sure he wanted to step through.

Mythic. That word echoed in his mind, growing heavier with each repetition. Mythic quality Skills weren’t just stronger versions of what came before—they were game-changing. They twisted the rules, rewrote the laws of how Classes worked, how abilities functioned. They closed the gap between humans and the gods . . . People who had developed Mythic Skills were rare enough in Soar, but Lowe had seen one or two in action to sense such abilities were as much a curse as a blessing. Power like that didn’t come for free. And when those with Mythic Skills broke, they broke bad. He had, for example, a pretty vivid memory of Arkola descending from their home at the top of the Celestial Temple to bring a particularly appalling Mythic-inspired rampage to an entirely abrupt conclusion.

Did he really want to be in possession of a power that put him on Arkola’s ‘to squash’ list?

Thoughts of that god led Lowe’s gaze to flick to the side, towards where his <<>> title glimmered faintly at the edge of his stat screen. That title had been hanging over him like the spectre at the proverbial feast ever since he had gained it, and yet it was the key that unlocked this upgrade. Without it, he wouldn’t even have this current choice. <<>>. The name felt almost mocking. Lowe had broken no restrictions—he had been trapped by them, nearly broken by them. And yet, and yet, and yet . . . In all the reading he’d done since Latham had opened his eyes to Essence Transmutation Theory, he'd never come across mention of anything like it. In fact, if he had to put money on it, it occurred that this title might have been some sort of reward for his efforts in the d’Avec case from the supreme being in Soar. Which was an absolutely brain-shredding thought to contemplate . . .

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Especially considering the consequence of that title, was – apparently – the option for this upgrade. Which had the potential to change who he was. Again. Gritting his teeth, Lowe scrolled through the options that he was being offered, each one leaving him more overwhelmed than the last.

Roll with the Punches (Mythic Upgrade):

1. Indomitable Flesh (Mythic)

Your body becomes a conduit for damage absorption, converting all incoming damage into health regeneration at a rate of 50%.

- Side Effect: All healing is delayed by 10 seconds, forcing you to endure accumulated pain before it dissipates.

- Cooldown: None.

2. Unyielding Spirit (Mythic)

Damage heals 75% of lost HP immediately, while your Intelligence fuels a defensive aura that negates 25% of all magical damage.

- Side Effect: For every minute spent under attack, your Wisdom slowly drains, reducing your ability to resist mental effects.

- Cooldown: None.

3. Blood of the Phoenix (Mythic)

When HP drops to zero, you will be revived with full health after a five-second delay. This can only happen once per encounter.

- Side Effect: After resurrection, you lose all regeneration abilities for the next hour and cannot receive any form of healing.

- Cooldown: One use per battle.

He stared at the three options, the flavour text glinting with both promise and threat. Each upgrade came with enormous potential—but also carried commensurate risk. Certainly, it was the consequences of each upgrade that stuck with him. Indomitable Flesh would apparently let him tank practically any hit, but the idea of accumulating pain, stacking it up until it burst through his body in one agonising wave . . . well, that reminded him too much of his Classtration. Of the way the pain had built and built until it consumed him. He wasn’t sure he would be able to relive that, even in short bursts. Unyielding Spirit, on the other hand, was more tempting, offering not just healing but protection from magical attacks, which would be certainly useful against the Dungeon Core. But the thought of his Wisdom draining over time felt dangerous. He had spent too long shoring up his mental defences after the Classtration, fortifying his mind against the creeping despair that came with being stripped of his identity. And then there was Mental Fortress. For that to lose its potency? To have it slowly chipped away in the heat of battle? After everything that this case had shown him about necrotic slime, that terrified him.

Finally, there was Blood of the Phoenix. Resurrection. A second chance right when he would need it most. The ultimate backup plan. But the cost in the aftermath? Losing all regeneration for an hour meant he’d be wholly vulnerable. Defenceless. A sitting duck once that miraculous revival wore off. In a protracted battle, that hour could mean the difference between life and death. A second life at the cost of being unable to defend the first one . . .

Lowe clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of the decision. Any of these upgrades would fundamentally change how he approached being 'him'. They were all game-changers, and the pressure of picking the right one pressed down on him like one of Latham’s meaty shoulder taps. He looked again over at Karolen, still sharpening her blade with deliberate, rhythmic strokes. Preece was still pretending not to pay attention. Each of them was both moving forward during this Dungeon, both gaining levels and becoming more of who they had the potential to be. But Lowe wasn’t like them anymore, was he? He didn’t have a Class. He didn’t really have a future. Not one set in stone, anyway. This choice wasn’t just about which Skill would keep him alive longer. It was about who he wanted to be.

Lowe tried to calm his thoughts, but his mind was replaying every battle he’d survived, every scrape that had brought him this far. Each time, Roll with the Punches had been there, absorbing the hits, healing his wounds, giving him a lifeline. But it had also been a crutch. A safety net. Maybe that’s why he was hesitating. He wasn’t sure he wanted that safety anymore. He wasn’t sure he wanted to keep patching himself up, just to survive the next fight. He wanted more than that. More than just getting by. The blinking message was still there, waiting for him to make a decision. The glow from his body had dimmed, but it was still there, pulsing faintly, a reminder that this moment mattered.

Lowe scrolled back to Blood of the Phoenix. A second chance. A burst of life when everything seemed lost. It wasn’t perfect. It came with a downside in that golden hour following his return. But maybe that’s what he needed. Something with risk. Something that didn’t just keep him going, but gave him the chance to rise when all seemed lost.

He pressed down on the option, feeling the weight of his choice settle into place.

<<<< Roll with the Punches has been upgraded to include Blood of the Phoenix >>>>

The glow around him intensified for a moment before fading completely. He felt it settle into his bones, an odd sense of peace washing over him. He had made his choice.

Karolen glanced over at him, eyes sharp. “You done?”

Lowe nodded. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“Time to move on?”

“Sure. Let’s roll.”

But as they continued down the corridor toward the Dungeon Core, a small, quiet thought lingered in the back of his mind, whispering: What have I just become?