“Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me.”
“It was no issue,” she replied. “I have not needed to visit any of the other realms for some time. Using one of my Obelisk teleports was a simple thing.”
Trisroa Vel-Winteridge, or Roa as she preferred to be called, watched the blonde-haired man in front of her curiously as they both sat down in chairs opposite each other. It had been quite the surprise to receive notice from the Adventurer’s Guild that Efratel Vadel wished to meet her again, after three months of no word from him. Especially considering the… Archmage incident. She gestured to him.
“You look to be in good health, so I take it you and your cousin have been safe and well?” she asked.
He nodded with a smile. “Indeed. That issue has been… mostly resolved. In fact,” he continued, “My request has something to do with that as well.”
Hearing that, she narrowed her eyes, but the man opposite her held up his hand and shook his head. “It’s not related to Merkenia Alichanteu. I’m not going to try to involve you with an Archmage.”
That made her feel more relaxed, and she nodded. Although it was a mystery what sort of discussion he could want that would be related to the Permafrost Glacial Abode trip but not the Archmage. She supposed she was about to find out.
Then he said something absurd.
Efratel pointed at himself. “You see, Marellen got sponsored like you suggested, and I’m his private manager now.”
She couldn’t help but stare at him for a while. She… had suggested that but never once had she thought it would happen. She could agree that Marellen was talented, but to be a sponsored mage of a noble meant you needed both talent and connections, and she remembered that Marellen had explained he wasn’t even an heir, and that both of them came from a Major Kingdom’s Barony. And who would even accept the political risk of their situation anyway?
Efratel grinned. “It’s rather funny to see you looking so shocked.”
She blinked when she realised what expression she was making and coughed. “Apologies. That is… very surprising.”
“Quite. I’m still struggling to accept the fact myself,” he said with a strange expression. He shook his head and continued speaking, “It occurred purely due to a series of coincidences, so Marellen and I are currently trying to work a few details out about this ‘sponsorship’ thing.”
“And so, who is this new sponsor of yours?” she asked curiously.
He hesitated. “Ha… well…” He frowned slightly and rubbed his head. “I’m not sure how to go about explaining this.” He gestured to her. “Have you heard the rumours of there being a new Aurelian Commission Head?”
“The Adventurer’s Guild in the Beast Realm is a branch of the Mystical Realm’s Adventurer’s Guild, so yes, I have received that particular piece of interesting information.” She realised what he meant and very slightly raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me you were sponsored by the soon-to-be Honorary Count of the Commission themselves?”
“A fact I am still trying to reconcile in my mind, yes,” he replied with a nod.
“I suppose that might explain why you haven’t been chased after by any hostile water Archmage from Alichanteu,” she said after a moment. “Alichanteu is a County under the Commission, after all.” Then she sent him an odd look. “Although hearsay says the Commission Head is not the real authority behind the scenes.”
“Apparently the situation is mostly intentional and on the Head’s behalf, but I’m still trying to work out just what exactly the power dynamic within the Commission is,” he muttered. Efratel sighed with a shake of his head. “It seems to be safe for Marellen and me. The Commission Head’s aide personally affirmed that we would be protected as if the Commission Head had all the power.”
“Intentional and on their behalf…” she mused. “Interesting. And I assume this is not something to be revealed to just anybody then.”
“I doubt many would believe you if you said the Commission’s four Counties were listening to a juvenile new leader anyway.” He paused with a strange look on his face. “Have we just discovered the reason why the Commission Head is pretending to be a false leader? Making people underestimate them?”
“Ensuring the rest of the Empire’s nobility doesn’t see them as a threat perhaps,” she considered. “And so, how does being sponsored relate to what you wish to speak about today?”
He smiled. “Well, I’ve been asked to offer you the Commission Head’s sponsorship as well.”
She returned to staring silently at him for a while, but she didn’t care. She had just heard something extremely confusing, shocking, and unbelievable. “Me.”
“You,” he confirmed with a nod.
“They want to sponsor me.”
He just waited as she sat there, stunned. She rubbed her temples and frowned slightly. “I’m… not sure how to respond.” She glanced at him. “Perhaps I should first ask why they would want to sponsor me?”
“The Head mentioned it would be worthwhile to sponsor a member of the Snow Elf bloodline,” he replied.
That answer made her rather unhappy. “So, this is about my bloodline?”
For some reason, he hesitated. “Maybe, but… the Head seemed to know of you before receiving news of our party if I interpreted things correctly. Your full name was stated.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “My history with the Vel-Winteridge Duchy of Glenheim may contain many undesirable aspects, but I am not that infamous.”
The blonde-haired man just shrugged. “Sorry, but I don’t know. Maybe you can ask the Head yourself if you accept the sponsorship.”
She frowned at his response but realised there was another important question she needed to ask. “But who is the Commission Head? That particular detail has been slow to spread to the Beast Realm.”
Efratel grinned. “Well, this was why I said the sponsorship was very coincidental. It was pure luck.” Then he gestured to her. “In fact, you’ve heard of them as well.”
“… how do you know I’ve heard of them?” she asked dubiously.
“Because we’ve spoken about them to you,” he replied with a smile.
She tried to figure out what he meant. Considering he had used ‘we’ he must’ve been referring to the time spent with the two mercenaries, Marellen and him, but they had discussed many topics then, so selecting one mentioned individual from all of it was a rather hard task to do…
The blonde-haired man smirked and decided to give her a clue. “The Commission Head is a girl.”
A girl? But who could- wait.
Her eyes widened incredulously. “Don’t tell me you’re referring to that woman who we persistently and futilely tried to persuade Marellen was not a time traveller for the entire Permafrost Glacial Abode trip?”
“That’s the one,” he said with a wide grin. “Lucille Goldcroft. The new Head of the Aurelian Commission.”
“… that is a coincidence beyond the mind’s imagining,” she replied, flabbergasted.
“And also the reason why we got her support to enter the Academy.” Efratel nodded. “Although, she also wanted to know what exactly happened with the Archmage back then. It sounded like she was taking her job as the Commission’s new Head very seriously.”
She blinked as he gained a strange expression. “But not that seriously. She hid her identity when we met again so she could see my reaction when she revealed herself as the Commission Head.” Then he scowled. “She also never signed the letter requesting my presence on my debut invitation with her name, so Marellen and I were panicking over what would happen to me when I went to Headquarters.”
“So, still as much an interesting character as I’ve heard?” she replied, amused.
“Yes.” He sighed. “In fact, when she revealed her identity to the Commission’s nobility, she slid down the staircase handrail.”
“… are you certain this sponsorship offer isn’t some elaborate prank she decided upon?” she asked with suspicion.
“Feeling less certain after this conversation, that’s for sure,” Efratel muttered. He shook his head with another sigh and gestured to her. “Anyway, if you accept her sponsorship, I’ll be your manager too. She’s suggested I allow you to work with Marellen, however, if you wish, you will be sponsored through the Adventurer’s Guild rather than become a mage of All-Aeon Athenaeum.”
“Hmm.” She pondered over the idea of being sponsored, and what that would mean for her life from thereon after. “I do not desire to join the Athenaeum, that is true…” She looked at him curiously. “What would the Commission Head wish for Marellen and me to do?”
“She has mentioned sending you both to outer planes as expeditionary researchers,” he explained. “Old Era planes specifically. It would be no issue to give one of the non-factioneer exploration slots to you with the Commission Head’s status.”
Exploring Old Era planes sounded… very interesting. Investigating ancient ruins and fallen cities to find powerful artifacts and lost magic of times gone by was the archetypal idea of every magic user’s dream. But being sponsored by a Count of the Aeternus plane… and the Commission Head didn’t have the same status as just any Count.
The finance available to the Aurelian Commission was second only to the Eternal Duchies, and they held a position most recognised as equal to the Marches. She was bound to get caught up in politics eventually if she accepted the offer, and if her family heard word of it… she didn’t want to have to deal with them. She had been enjoying living as just ‘Roa Winteridge’.
“I think… if I accept this offer, that I will wish to eventually meet the Commission Head in person,” she finally replied.
The blonde-haired man in front of her nodded in understanding. “I assumed so and even mentioned this to her. She said she intends on inviting Marellen and I to Headquarters sometime next year, and I expect that will include you too if you accept.” He hesitated and gave her a sheepish grin. “But if you accept the sponsorship, can I ask that you don’t tell Marellen who the Commission Head is? I may or may not be trying to keep her identity a secret from him until he meets her.”
She smiled. “I am sure his reaction will be interesting to see when that happens. I will endeavour to avoid revealing this if I happen to accept this offer.” She tapped her fingers against the armrest of her chair thoughtfully for a while and then looked up. “Can I request that I reveal my answer in a week’s time? I believe this requires more thought.”
“Certainly,” he said with a nod. Then he smirked. “Although, I know of one more important factor you may want to consider while thinking this over. The Commission Head is in charge of a very rich organisation. Please keep in mind that she now has full authority over the Founder’s vault, containing the accumulated donations of thousands of nobility over the past fifteen centuries. And she has permitted you and Marellen to have no budget.”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
… she certainly needed to consider this offer further. “I will make sure to consider this offer carefully.” Then she hesitated. “But… what would happen when it comes to my family?”
He frowned slightly and held his chin. “Well, she’s willing to sponsor you, which means she’s not afraid to deal with any political issues. You’re not a direct bloodline member of the Duchy either, so I doubt it would be too big of a problem if they discovered you working for her.” She nodded in agreement as he thought over it. “I’ll ask the Head through a letter, and I should be able to get back to you by the time you’ve decided things on your end.”
“Then I suppose we agree to meet here again at the same time next week?” she replied.
He nodded. “That sounds acceptable. Now, I believe that was all I needed to talk about with you today…” He looked down at his watch, then looked at her and grinned. “But it would be a shame if we ended our discussion so soon, wouldn’t it? I’m interested to hear how things have gone for you these last few months.”
She was slightly surprised but happy to continue her relationship with the young noble. Her party members had been interesting people. “Of course. I myself am curious to know how your interactions with the new Commission Head proceeded.”
“Yes, well, she is… interesting, that’s for sure,” Efratel said with a chuckle. He smirked. “And Marellen wanted me to ask you a few more questions about your ice-fire magic.”
She shook her head wryly. “That would be like him. Then, let us leave the complicated questions for later, and I will discuss how my last few months have been….”
----------------------------------------
“-competition will test your ability and push you to your limits, and the Commission will support you the entire time. With the lucky winner getting my permission to implement my plans-”
In an enormous, large hall, a dark-haired girl was speaking to an audience from a balcony. She had been relaxed and easy-going, and she was smiling cheerfully as she continued speaking for a while longer. She had clumsily stumbled over her words a few times while doing her speech and didn’t carry herself with the seriousness and calm attitude most would have when talking in front of such a large congregation. The girl made a show of looking down to read the rest of her speech off a piece of paper and looked up to finish. She gave them a wide smile.
“-The representatives and I all look forward to seeing the results of the first round in two days. As the Aurelian Commission Head, I thank you for coming today, and wish you the best of luck.”
With that, she turned around and walked through the pair of doors behind her, a spring in her step. A blonde and blue-haired man stepped forward to take over her spot and began speaking to the audience. The instant she stepped through the doors, her cheerful smile faded to become a calm one, her open body language was erased and changed to controlled meticulous movements, and her steps became measured and steady. There was no trace of the happy-go-lucky girl from before.
In the room on the other side of the doors, Vincent stared at her with a strange expression.
“I can still never get used to seeing you do that,” he stated. “It’s like I’m looking at a completely different person.”
“That is the intended purpose of my act, you know,” Lucille replied, sitting down on a couch. “If you think that way, then it means I’m doing something right.”
“Your ‘act’ goes far beyond the normal definitions of the word,” he said, sitting down on a couch opposite her. “Your tone changes so utterly that it takes me a few seconds for me to register that it’s you speaking.”
“Ah, you mean when I change my voice?” Lucy gestured to her neck. “This was a skill I developed because I needed to make my illusions more realistic. That changed when I finally became capable of creating illusory sounds. I can also ‘throw my voice’ as ventriloquists do.”
She had actually learnt those skills on Earth. Consistently and successfully running away from her great uncle all the time required unique skills.
He regarded her with mild bemusement. “I suppose that’s one more strange fact about you to add to the list.”
“One of quite a few, I assume?” she asked wryly.
“You could say that.” He sighed and shook his head. “Anyway, after this, the first round begins. The rest of the Gold Dome Hall western sector is almost prepared for the different categories, they just need a few more hours and then very little setup will be required tomorrow.”
“Glad to see everything is on track,” she said. “Depending on the success of this event, this might become a yearly occurrence.”
He gave her a curious look. “Yearly occurrence?”
She nodded as she watched Artair through the large windows on either side of the double doors continue to explain the event to the audience. “The Commission doesn’t have any event unique to itself, which is unusual for a large Faction, even if the Commission isn’t a normal Faction. Turning this competition into an annual thing will increase cohesion and sense of Faction loyalty among the members,” she explained. “It would also serve as a way for nobility to identify promising individuals to support, which enables less talent among the Commission’s members to go unseen.”
Vincent nodded thoughtfully. “And if we increase the scale of the event, the Faction would have a truly special celebration that would strengthen connections between the Counties’ nobility and outside. We could also invite guest judges from other Factions and the Institutions to facilitate good relations with them.” He glanced at Artair. “But if we do that, I’ll be worried about the attention the Coalition and Athenaeum will give us.”
“As this is the first year the Commission has done this, I’ve been lax with the restrictions for proposed projects,” she replied. “But if this is well received, I will ensure any magic or magic technology proposed must be firmly within the confines of a suggested product to sell or business to invest in, so we don’t infringe upon their yearly events.”
Lucy raised her arms above her to stretch. “And I think we’ll be ignored this year because the final round makes it so they have to suggest it as a business idea, as the separate categories are removed by that stage.”
“I suppose we just wait to see how well this goes,” he said.
She and Vincent were in the Gold Dome Hall, the largest event venue in Gilded Seat. The Headquarters didn’t have the facilities to hold all the participants, and so the Commission used a wing of the hall instead. The next year, when the external debut would occur, the entire Gold Dome Hall would be used to contain all the Empire and inter-realm representatives. Currently, the opening ceremony of the competition was occurring, where Artair was explaining the rules to the audience below.
The actual event was fairly simple. Different parts of the facility were set up for the different categories, such as magic engineering and product concepts, where the participants would have booths to showcase their ideas. The judges, members of the Commission who elected to stay for the competition as well as the debut, were to go around and evaluate everyone’s ideas.
As nobility, she expected there would be a fair amount of corruption and bribery going on, which was why the commoner sections would be judged purely by Headquarters’ Commission staff, who had a greater quantity of commoners among them. Corruption would still be present there too, but to a lesser extent. No noble would be able to threaten a commoner into ensuring their own child’s proposal is given a pass, as they were separated.
She was thinking of turning the competition into a type of business conference and expo. It would enable her to better use the ‘Commission’ part of the Aurelian Commission, making use of the Faction’s status to double as both a corporation and a proper government organisation, possible only because of the structure of the Empire.
Of course, politics being what they were in a feudal society, she would have greater restrictions than a government organisation on Earth, but lesser restrictions in some cases too. Such as legally being able to destroy other Factions, conquer planes, and kill things in general.
She was sure it was only the all-powerful System that stopped the Empire’s society of 304 billion residents, excluding the unranked planes, from descending into chaos. Status screens were very useful for controlling the lives of hundreds of millions of commoners when you were a Titled noble.
While she could continue musing about how an all-encompassing incomprehensibly powerful non-physical entity managed to keep a feudal-level war-mongering Empire from instantaneously falling to ruin when they hadn’t even developed airplanes yet, Artair was finishing up his speech, so she returned her attention to her present location.
The blonde and blue-haired man gave the crowd a wave, turned around with a confident smile on his face, and then walked towards the doors. The instant they shut behind him he slumped.
“That was tiring.” He sighed. “How many times did you say I have to do this again?”
“Before and after each round, and then at the closing ceremony, so that will be about seven times,” she replied with a smirk.
He gazed wearily at her and then walked over to an armchair to sit down. “Surely seven speeches is a bit too much?”
She tilted her head innocently. “But if you become the Count, you’ll have to make far, far more speeches than just these.”
He stared at her for about two seconds before frowning at the ground. “Maybe I should give up the succession after all?” he muttered.
She shook her head wryly as Vincent spoke up, “Please don’t. The other Counties would prefer to see Alichanteu survive beyond only one more generation.”
“Yes, if I had to meet Arwen any more frequently than I already do, I would instantaneously pass off the Faction inheritance token to the first person who asks,” she added.
Artair glanced between them both hesitantly. “… I thought you’ve said you weren’t going to get involved in the Alichanteu succession fight?”
“Oh, I’m not,” she replied with a nod. “But I am perfectly happy to express my opinions about who I would not support for the next Count.” She pointed at him. “That’s because nobody will care about the words of the ‘puppet leader’, the other Counties have a no-interference rule, and only the vassals of Alichanteu have the real decision-making power here. Which,” she continued, “lies mostly in the hands of the neutral faction you discussed the other day.”
“Well, I suppose…” Artair considered with a strange look on his face. “But… if you say you’re staying neutral about something, aren’t you supposed to not tell anyone your real thoughts?”
“That is how most nobility would typically proceed regarding something like this, yes,” Vincent replied dryly. “In case you haven’t worked it out, Lucille is unique.”
She narrowed her eyes at her aide but magnanimously elected to ignore what he was implying. “I also happen to not officially be a noble yet,” she pointed out.
“You have about a month until you do though, as the Empire’s end-of-year banquet is soon,” Artair responded. “Speaking of which…” He glanced at Lucy. “Am I supposed to call you Count or Countess?”
“Count. It would be Countess if I was married to a Count,” she told him. “But considering my title would only be used when I’m at official Empire events, I doubt you’d have to call me that very often. I’m the Faction Head first and foremost here.”
“On the topic of marriage…” Vincent spoke up with a slight grin, “Have you realised just how many marriage offers you’ll be getting once you finally step into the central Empire?”
Her expression went flat. “Burn them.”
“…I think you might have some problems there when it comes to the marriage offers of the Marches and Duchies…” Artair added hesitantly.
Lucille gestured offhandedly to her aide. “And that is when he needs to exercise his power as the ‘real’ Faction Head to step in and ignore them all for me.”
Vincent smirked. “But what if I accept?”
She slowly turned to stare at him. “Then that is when I will exercise my power as the real Faction Head to step in and ignore them all for me.”
He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll save you the effort and decline them all beforehand.”
“I am truly grateful from the bottom of my heart that I have such an extremely capable aide,” she stated dryly. She shook her head and pulled out her pocket watch to check the time, and then gestured to them both. “I believe it may be time for us to end our conversation here, as I’m sure we all have plenty of work to get back to.”
Vincent nodded while Artair just groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me. And Arwen’s tag-a-long won’t even do anything to help.”
She smirked. “But if you become the Count, you’ll have to do much more work than this.”
He slowly raised his head to gaze wearily at her. “Are you sure I can’t give up the succession?”
“Absolutely. Because I might end up having to erase Alichanteu if you do.”
…
After some time, she was finally released from all her work to take a break. Deciding to go for a walk, Lucy used her perception field to avoid people so no opportunistic nobility would find her. She navigated her way through the wing of the Gold Dome Hall, past the extravagant vases and paintings that decorated the rooms, past windows behind expensive curtains and-
She paused when she saw a very… unusual scene occurring in one of the rooms that had just entered her perception. With a slightly strange expression, she changed her path and walked towards the room. She stuck her head around the corner, looking at the visage of Viscountess Margaery Femidela in the room, who had her back turned. The woman paused for a second and turned around to see Lucy there, and then smirked as she spread her arms.
“Oh dear. It seems I’ve been caught.”
Lying there on the ground around her were four dead bodies, three of them male, and one female. One was slumped against the side of a couch, and there was a fair amount of blood covering all of their clothes. Two of them had strange puncture wounds, while the other two seemed to have died from poisoning. The carpet was stained red, and some sections of Viscountess Femidela’s outfit of dark trousers and shirt seemed to be suspiciously darker than the surrounding cloth. The curtains of the room were torn in places, and there was also blood smeared on some of the walls. The ceiling chandelier was hanging by only half of its fixings.
“Hmm.” Lucy took a step into the room and observed the surroundings with a mix of morbid interest, slight curiosity at what caused such a situation, and mild bemusement. “I’m not entirely sure the curator will appreciate the new change in décor.”
The Viscountess chuckled. “Really? But I worked so hard to find a new shade of carpet that he might find appealing,” she replied, gesturing to the stained carpet.
“Perhaps the members of the Evernight March may enjoy it,” Lucy told her. She tilted her head as she looked at the four bodies on the ground. “Which force were these from?”
“Oh, both Olden and Radical,” the Viscountess said, giving her a casual shrug. “It seems a little conflict occurred between the two groups, so I decided to step in and resolve the situation for them.”
“And the identities of these people in particular are…?” Lucy asked.
Viscountess Femidela pointed to them. “Two of the men were participants, while the other two here were some of the Commission’s staff.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow. “They just happened to chance upon each other in this room, then began fighting?”
The woman in front of her let out a light laugh and shook her head. “There may have been a few letters planted by me requesting them to come here, all under the disguise of it being their faction’s orders.”
“I see.” Lucille took another glance around the room. “Considering their bodies haven’t disintegrated, I’ll take it that they’ve already used their last resurrections. Will you send for someone to remove them?”
“No need. I’ll take care of it myself,” Viscountess Femidela replied. The brown-haired woman snapped her fingers as a white 2-dimensional disc appeared in mid-air, and she plunged her arm within it. When she withdrew her hand, held within it was a small vial filled with a grey liquid of some kind. She walked over to each body and dripped several drops on them. As Lucy watched, the bodies and their clothes melted away, steam rising from where they were. The liquid they turned into quickly evaporated, and the Viscountess returned the vial to her dimensional skill.
“The Grey-Bloom Dissipation poison is a particularly hard poison to synthesize for one that’s Rare-ranked,” Lucy remarked once she was done. “Was that your own work?”
“It was, yes,” the Viscountess said. She gave Lucy a curious look. “You have experience with it?”
“Not so much when it comes to using it on dead bodies,” Lucy replied, although she had used it for that at one stage, “However, I was once interested to see how its alchemical properties worked when infused with a specific fire-type spiritual plant of the Heavenly Realm.”
“And the outcome of that experiment?” Viscountess Femidela asked with interest.
“It changed the poison from one requiring physical contact to a form of gas,” Lucy told her with a strange expression. “And the spiritual properties it gained meant the poison became a soul dissipation poison instead. That was one biohazard I regret creating.”
“Well, I however am very interested to know what spiritual plant you used.” The poison master smirked.
Lucy grinned. “I’m sure you are, but the problem with the poison was not the fact it was a soul dissipation poison. My issue with it,” she explained, “Was that it tried to dissipate my soul as well, and ignored all protective measures I had in place. If you wish to die while using the poison on your enemies, then I’m willing to give you the recipe.”
The woman blinked. “Ah. That would be an issue. No, I suppose I’ll pass on your offer in that case,” she said with a smile.
Lucy took another glance around the room. “Were those the only ones you needed to deal with?”
The Viscountess smirked and shook her head. “They weren’t, but besides the ones I’ve already dealt with, the others I will deal with another day. I’ll send for some of the Commission’s staff to clean this up now.”
Lucille nodded and then took out her pocket watch to check the time. “It appears to be time for lunch in only half an hour, so it would be best to deal with this before then.”
Viscountess Femidela gave her a nod. “Then I will bid you goodbye, Faction Head.”
They both left the room and separated, going different ways. As Lucy walked away from the room, she ruminated a little on what had just happened.
That was a slightly strange event to come across. I haven’t been involved in a situation like that for several months now.
She slowed her steps for a second and then sped back up.
Although, maybe that fact is the stranger one. Having to live such a normal day-to-day life for an extended period is leaving me feeling a little… off. That, combined with my soul shock and dealing with the merged consciousnesses for a while… I’ve been trying to wait until the stages, but…
She shook her head and looked out of a window she was near.
Oh well. I can’t do much about it. I should focus on the reason why I took a walk in the first place.
She sighed and used her spiritual energy to imbue her mana with the mental imagery of illusion mana. The illusion mana in the environment, attracted to mana that had taken on its characteristics, became drawn to her, where she was able to use her spiritual energy to surround herself with the illusory energy. Painting the imagery of blending into her surroundings over herself, her elemental manipulation made her invisible, and so she opened a door set in the wall to step out onto a balcony overlooking the open area below.
There, the contestants of the competition event could be seen, with crowds of people viewing all the proposals and items. It seemed the event was quite popular, which was good, however, that wasn’t why she had stepped out.
She removed her mask from the right side of her face and glanced at a random person below.
[Status: ]
Name: Gil Bramwell (Lvl. 231)
Class: Molten Engineer – Rare (Tier: VIII)
Age: 27y
Race: Human
HP: 5900/5900 {+76.81/1m}
MP: 19850/19850 {+3200/1m}
Stats:
Free Stat Points: 4
STR: 89
CON: 118
AGI: 90
DEX: 642
INT: 397
WIS: 320
[Origin Skill: Smouldering Iron Hammer | Type: Crafting/Realm
Desc: [Collapsed]
Subskills: [Collapsed]
Awakening: 22% ]
She… could see Statuses.