Quintin laid awake with the trials of Sozzelrift replaying in his mind. The number of enemies had increased to around seventy-five throughout the night. Many were in bad shape as they rejoined the others around campfires or inside beast skin tents. The state of them now made him wonder how many would never return. Their remains were left behind to feed the beasts and other more ungainly futures.
He may not have a level to show in his [Class] or [Job] recently, but almost all of his [Skills] saw progress. A great deal of his enthusiasm to check them out came with each [Level UP], as nothing much changed about them outside a few numbers. However, what the system showed now made him change that mindset entirely.
[Skills]:
[Compression Grip] Lv. 9=>15
[Sinisphere||Evnvision] Lv. 8=>12
[Mitochondrial Efficiancy] Lv. 4=>17
[Path of the Lotus] Lv. 8=>9
[Material Integration] Lv. 1=>10 [Body Modifications]:
[Pneumatic: Legs/Feet] Lv. 8=>10
[Pneumatic: Hands/Arms] Lv. 8=>10
[Pneumatic: Core] Lv. 1=>10 [General]:
[Concentration] Lv. 8=>12
[Meditation] Lv. 6=>8
[Pain Tolerance] Lv. 6=>11
[Deflection Mastery] Lv. 4=>5
[Impact Resistance] Lv. 7=>11
[Identification] Lv. 4=>6
Nearly every one of his [Skills] noticed significant growth. Not only that, but level ten demarcated an upgrade to some of his most used abilities. [Body Modification] passives went from granting [Grade: 6 Uncommon] protection, up to [Grade: 9 Uncommon] or high-tier. It was the same for [Compression Grip], which now allowed him to crush and store that rarity grade of items as well.
Then there was [Mitochondrial Efficiancy], [Material Integration], and [Pneumatic: Core]. Each of them had developed by a flourishing amount. These leveled side-by-side during his unconsciousness streak down in the guts of Milowix's Finger. The extent to which his biological needs could go untended, he didn't know. But so long as he gave even the barest thought to gather supplies, he would have no problem surviving.
The potency on [Material Integration] went up by 2.5% per level. By level twenty, he would have a hundred percent of the original material strength again. The time limit also went up by one minute per level, or ten minutes now. He tested the duration with basic stones he collected on the way up, much too afraid to use the [Corruption] units for such a silly reason.
Along with the protection upgrade, [Pneumatic: Core] also gave him an extra storage per level. Which added up to a capacity of 110 currently. As for [General Skills], they were all vague and without number values. The one outlier being [Identification], which allowed him to see an eleven-level gap in strength at this time. Based on that, he figured the increases were small, or at least not game-breaking in nature.
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Some [Skills] had intervals in-between their power spikes, while others, a flat percentage gain for development. The biggest question mark being what those numbers really meant. He had no clue what the base damage of an [Intruder Wolf Claw] even was. It dealt with his enemies though, and that became the only barometer of potency he cared about. If a time ever came where it stopped doing so, he wouldn't hesitate to find new weaponry.
For the first time, he could imagine a future in the upper echelon because of the limitless potential his abilities revealed today. He only worried if one day the [Pneumatic] improvements dried up, would there be a way to make a breakthrough.
With the thought of [Level 100] and all the associated advancements that entailed, he let sleep take hold. A smile tugging up the corners of his lips.
+***+
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Vissitri woke him from his pleasant dreams a few hours before sunrise. A coating of dense fog hung above the foothills, sprinkling the bandit camp in slumber dust. He took a deep breath of the refreshing mountain air, tasting the fine wine for his lungs.
After fully embracing consciousness, the friendly neighborhood [Barrier] mage got to work. He didn't doubt Vissitri when he said the whole process would be dull, though he found the prickling sensation agreeable enough. He attempted to maintain [Meditation] throughout the ordeal. It dropped every couple of minutes, making it level faster with the added difficulty.
[Meditation] Lv. 8=>9
[Meditation] Lv. 9=>10
As time flew by, the string of magic being cast on him grew longer. The incoming effects stacked one on top of another. They formed an incomplete array of barriers when being put together and made him look like a blurry mirror from the outside. Two and a half hours later, the final piece flowed into the meshwork of absolute protection. The completion of the spell clarified his image; no longer an oil-streaked pane of glass. Crystal clear, vibrant, and prismatic all defined his likeness under the soft rays of dawn. His status also updated itself to mark the occasion and signal success.
[Status]:
{Prismatic Shell of the Unassailable Body}
*Impervious to all physical, mental, and spiritual damage.
*Tied directly to the caster's mana.
*All damage is tripled and taken from the caster's mana.
*Effect ends when caster's mana is depleted or the desired end.
{Stainless Self} |=> (Opaline Core of Purity)
{Negative Social Impact ++} |=> (Title: Walking Calamity)
{Positive Social Impact +} |=> (Savior's Shoulder-Cape)
Quintin never felt better than he did right now. His spirits were pumped up, way up in the stratosphere. He could take on anyone, overpower even the most stalwart of defenders. Blazing soul-fire shot from his eye and nothing should try to stop him now.
"LET'S GO!" he could barely contain his voice as the power flowed through him.
Vissitri gasped for breath as he replied, [YEAH! Go out there and let them give you Hel!]
Quintin had the fire and the power, just a ball of nerves itching to use it. "HELL YE-- Wait, what was I supposed to do? O-oh yeah, I guess that was the plan, wasn't it?"
[Si-Si-Si. Don't let all that power go to your head. We're trying to crush their spirit to gather the intel you need for the quest, remember?] Vissitri held a paw over his mouth to contain his laughter.
Quintin somewhat deflated but looked up with hope in his eye. "C-can I crush one skull at least?"
Vissitri softly chided like he would a small child. [No little brother. Bad little brother.]
Quintin pouted, utterly defeated.