Asthea strode to the exit, a bounce in her step, her wet, silver hair trailing behind her.
Logan stalled until she’d entered the hallway before taking out a huge bucket from his spatial storage and depositing it on the ground. Crouching in front of the purple stream, he filled the bucket to the brim. Without a lid, he was worried it would slosh over the sides once he returned it to his collar, but as soon as he willed it inside, he knew it would remain intact like it was in a sectioned-off cubicle. This might be a waste of time, but if he knew anything, that purple cough syrup was some kind of drug that made you forget your worries—and for all he knew, he’d have a use for it in the future.
It was just like the chains and the tiger guard dog. He might not have a chance to enter the trial again, so he might as well grab whatever he could.
Logan glanced down at his body and winced. Although his welts and his raw skin were starting to heal, and according to the System message, he should be whole soon enough, blood covered him as if he’d stepped into a vat of red paint. His hair had to be standing on end, bald patches on his scalp. The least he could do was make himself look less like a barbarian.
Taking a rushing leap, he jumped into the stream, holding his breath and being careful not to get any water in his eyes. Just as quickly, he jumped out before the syrup could start seeping into his awareness. From one dip, he already felt mellow and ready to take a nap.
That was some powerful shit.
Logan glanced at the door to make sure Asthea wasn’t in view and then removed a towel from his spatial storage and gave himself a rub down. There. His skin was red like he had the worse sunburn in the world, his swim trunks had a rip in the waistband, and his hair was a bird’s nest, but at least he didn’t look like a slab of raw meat anymore.
Lastly, Logan took out the Dexterity Pure Grit Ring, holding his breath as he put it on his ring finger. As soon as it touched his skin, he felt an immediate surge of euphoria. Flexing his wrists, he had the overwhelming need to do something that required complex movements, like throwing the kitchen knives inside his spatial storage and juggling them in the air.
As the feeling faded, Logan clenched his fists, feeling jacked up and ready. The guards would be hostile—he had no illusions that he’d be given a warm reception, but it would be how he handled it that would be the difference between hostile glowers and escalation.
Before Logan joined Asthea, he needed to do one more thing.
Review his full stat sheet.
Name: Logan Hart [Hidden Name: Idiot]
Rank: 38 out of 6,019,010,812
Level: 34
Class: None
Grade: F3
Species: Human
Skills:
* Idiot’s Paradox Lv. 27
* Idiot’s Inspect Lv. 4
* Deepwater Explorer Lv. 3
* Life Cycle Master
* Regenerate Lv. 4
* Mimicry Armour Lv. 2
* Universal Language
* Undead Stamina
* Liche Siphon Lv. 2
Titles: Eager Beaver; Mass Murderer; Audacious Corpse; Run Until You Drop; Malicious Meat Sack
XP Progress: 32,000/68,000
Karma: 660/660
Intelligence: 110
Constitution: 46
Strength: 182*
Agility: 242*
Dexterity: 192*
Endurance: 441*
Perception: 35
Wisdom: 85
Luck: 55
(*Pure Grit Ring)
Free Attribute Points: 0
KarmaCoin: 302,600
Logan’s stomach dropped to the floor in shock. Not from the attribute increases—he’d expected that—but from his rank.
Rank 38 out of over six billion people. Holy freaking shit. How was that possible? That number didn’t compute. Out of all those people, he was ranked that high? On a stat screen, it didn’t seem all that much, but when he mentally translated six billion people into relatable physical buildings, he was gobsmacked.
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Logan had always been good at math.
Take a sports stadium.
Let’s say it held 100,000 people. For six billion people to fill up stadiums, you’d need 60,000 stadiums.
That was 60,000 stadiums worth of people. 60,000!
He was on top of the world, on top of the frigging world.
Sputtering, he blinked, not believing his own calculations. There had to be impossible things happening back at home—the continuing decline in population was evidence of that—and yet he’d still managed to surpass everyone who must be fighting monster swarms. This trial had rocketed Logan up the ranks, put him up in the stratosphere. And even more amazing was that he truly had to be a ‘stealth player’ as Asthea defined it. To obtain the same number of attributes through leveling, he’d have to be…
Logan gulped.
He’d have to be E Grade.
As it was, anyone who looked at his level would underestimate his abilities. And that was only after the doubling effect of the True Grit Rings. Imagine where he’d be if he managed to win the fifth ring and the tripling effect skyrocketed his attributes. Logan suspected that he’d be ranked in the single digits, even first.
First in the world.
It was too colossal to contemplate.
Pacing, Logan pinched his nose and then blew out a breath.
Well, he’d need to be that high ranked to save the world.
Save the world. Until now, he hadn’t had a chance to think over the responsibility. He was ranked higher than six billion people, but he had six billion people to save.
That meant he’d have to placate Asthea’s guards, grab whatever advantage he could in this mysterious army trial, and then get out of here. The ticking clock from the perception trial continued, only this time it was timing his ability to get back to Lara and the kids.
If he couldn’t find a way to push the group along, they’d take days to go through the army trial, and in the meantime, Lara and the kids would meet him at Richton’s Tomb and Logan wouldn’t be there. He hated contemplating what kind of position that would put them in; either Lara would try to find a canoe or a kayak on her own and make her way to the cabin in monster and undead infested waters, or they’d head back to the city—to who knows what.
No, Logan needed to get out of here.
That meant forcing the Silverdagger Clan to speed up the trial.
But how?
Logan left the chamber behind and followed Asthea into the hallway. He left the Pink Sock inside his spatial storage for now, since although it sounded useful, he didn’t have time to experiment jumping around like a fool. That could wait until after.
He briefly contemplated offering it to Asthea in exchange for her True Grit Perception Ring, but Asthea wasn’t stupid. He doubted she’d give him a ring that would complete his set. It would make him more powerful. Plus, she’d agreed to complete the trial in the first place to obtain the ring so she could show it off to her mother and clan. A Pink Sock was laughable in comparison.
Asthea quirked an eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “Took you long enough.”
“You didn’t have to…”
The guards were gone.
Logan glanced up and down the corridor. That noxious reek of decomposing flesh had disappeared, and the bodies were nowhere to be found. “What happened to your guards?”
Asthea shrugged. “According to Arsen, this always happens at the end. They’ll meet us alive and whole back in the clearing, but they won’t be there until we leave together.”
Logan hesitated, images of all three guards rushing at him with their weapons deployed filling his mind. Would they even give him a chance to talk before cutting him down?
Asthea frowned. “The Silverdagger Clan is a principled clan. My guards might rough you up a bit…” Her gaze drifted to the door, her eyes faraway. “They hold grudges. But they won’t tear off your head unless you attack them first.”
Tear off his head? Fun. “What about you? You don’t want to tear off my head?”
Asthea gave him a careful glance, her lips flattening. “I know what you’re up against. The first week of System Integration! Your family at risk, everyone dying around you. I can’t imagine the pressure you must feel. If it were me… if my own clan was at risk and my performance in this trial was the difference between getting stronger and giving them an advantage or dying? I would have employed tactics much worse than yours. Plus, you’re a tricky man, but a tricky man who suffered through torture in my stead.”
Glancing from Logan to the corridor, she slanted him a smile and then led the way out. “Don’t worry, I’ll help smooth things over.”
***
Asthea’s POV: A Tricky Off-Worlder
The off-worlder was strange. As a member of the Collective and a member of the royal family, Asthea had encountered different aliens, from the Rokardoni people, who turned pain resistance into an artform, to the Akaldanz people, who treated everything contradictory to her own—a frown was a smile, a laugh was an insult. But even dealing with the Rokardoni and Akaldanz people hadn’t prepared her for a man who came across as a buffoon but was a wolf in disguise.
Someone from the Silverdagger Clan would have never entered a System dungeon so unequipped, so… scruffy. The human wore no clothing other than a pair of orange underpants, his legs and chest bare. Asthea knew that he had an armour skill, but that didn’t explain his lack of modesty.
The Silverdagger Clan prided themselves on their appearance. Appearance was everything. Their hair had to be pristine, the lengths carefully groomed and taken care of. To show up with anything but well-groomed, long hair was an insult.
The off-worlder had taken it to the extreme. Short, ugly hair. His head full of bald spots, as if a bird had plucked out strands for its nest. Asthea knew that some of those patches had been earned in the perception trial, but even before, his hair had been an insulting disaster.
But that appearance disguised a willpower as strong as a sword.
Asthea couldn’t figure him out. At times, he seemed like the true idiot that the System had named him, and at others, he had an instinct for figuring things out that would seem impossible for a regular Silverdagger man.
He never stopped, always pushed, and achieved results that should have put him down for the count. Back in the trial, if Arsen and Asthea hadn’t insisted that they rest, the stealth player would have gone forward without any sleep. Performing non-stop in a 24-hour trial!
Preposterous!
She couldn’t help admiring him, but she also feared what was to come.
At level 34, there was no way he should have been able to outclass her guards. Her guards were the cream of the crop, selected not just because they were family, but because they performed. It should have been inconceivable that the off-worlder had beaten them in not just one trial but four. It defied belief.
Either the human world was full of these contradictory powerhouses, or Asthea had just been lucky to encounter this one. Or rather, unlucky. Although she’d won the perception trial, she had no illusions. Mother wouldn’t be happy. A princess hadn’t lost the strength or agility trials and gone on to rule in generations.
The Silverdagger Clan would have an advantage in the Test of Mettle Trial, but despite her air of confidence, in actuality, a trickling doubt ate into her thoughts. The Silverdagger Clan should be able to pummel Logan into dust in a warrior trial!
But she had thought the same in the attribute trials.
Asthea sucked in a deep breath. They needed to perform. They needed to beat him.
At this rate, Asthea would be lucky to rule the clan by the time she turned a hundred.