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All Saturday, Peter slept. He woke only to walk the dog and ate only a granola bar. It was due to the massive influx of stat points, his body needed the rest to process the change. On Sunday morning, knocking on the door woke him at nine. In front of the room, the Alchemy teacher, frowning at him.

"It was convened I'll walk the dog today," she said deadpanned. "I expected you'd bring the pup to me."

"Sorry… moment." Peter rushed to grab Shredder, who was sleeping. The pup yelped, protesting while the man put the leash on him in a hurry.

That's how cultivators are… lazy and bossy.

"You have been exercising," the woman said pensively, sweeping her eyes over Peter's body. There was a sudden change in her aura… a sultry vibe.

Peter swallowed a lump, realizing he was wearing only his boxers. "A b-bit."

"I'll keep the dog for the day," she said, snatching the leash from Peter's hand. "Come to get it at nine." Her index's long and sharp red nail rested for a second on Peter's pectoral. Retracting her hand after a short descending motion that sent a shiver up his spine, she left.

"Fuuuuck," Peter whined, resting his back on the door, eyes closed, banging the wood with his fist.

"Today. Tomorrow, it will be somebody else… She does Jack, from time to time, and the sports teacher… some of the girls too… Fuck…"

"She is… for her age… whatever that is. But I don't want to ruin my chances with Regina…"

"I don't know," Peter shook his head while dressing. "Alchemy slept with Jack way before the break-up. Normies have to live with things like this. Cultivators don't have the same ethics…"

"Ew!"

Going to the bathroom to take a shower, Peter couldn't stop from looking in the mirror at his new muscles. Not huge, but well defined. And his gray eyes had specks of gold.

Sometimes, it was better to ignore the System, so Peter summoned his stats.

Peter Hillden, age: 21, Class: Impulse, Lvl. 11

Body 51 Mind 20 Spirit 20

Skills: Impulse*, Influence * Sneak, Loot.

* Impulse and Influence have advanced from Novice to Apprentice tier. Impulse and all the skills it activates will have a 10% cost reduction. Influence will have a +10% chance of success.

Peter scratched his chin. It itched, because of his two days beard.

"May I see my Mana Pool values?"

"Why?"

Peter met his own eyes in the mirror, the eyes of someone who had to kill to survive. Did seasoned mean he needed to kill more people? There were no regrets about the man he shot. He felt angry, the world has gone to shit and monsters in human skin were allowed to roam free and kill at will.

"System… a question… If you take over, will the world be a better place?"

However, if I take control today, life quality on Earth will improve by ten percent instantly, growing by one percent each year until it will be fifty percent above what it was before the Awakening. That's the upper limit. However, ask yourself: did any politician or regime on Earth ever achieve that? The answer is no.>

"I know…"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The rest of the morning passed fast, busy with chores. First, Peter had to clean the inner slot that had held the assassin's corpse. There were limits to what a dimensional storage could do. The backpack extended a leathery compartment outside. There was still a lot of blood and bits of bone and brain and Peter washed and rinsed the compartment in the bathtub for half an hour.

The second task was to go to the Laundromat and discreetly wash the fake cop's clothes. They were made from Cultivator fabric and offered enhanced Magic or Spirit Damage protection. There were ways to sell them on the Black Market.

For the third duty, the System asked Peter to manually grind the assassin's core. The Alchemy lab was free and after an hour of hard labor, using a hammer to break the core in two and various files, all that remained was a fine powder. It was mixed with different ingredients and flavors, to easily remind their properties by taste and color. Blueberry, chocolate, and mint were the strangest ones. The final result was three hundred small pills, now let to cook slowly in the lab's oven, at low heat.

the System said.

"I won't put those in my mouth, no matter what," Peter said decisively.

"How come I didn’t get any skills related to Alchemy? I did this class for a year."

"By the way, how many HPs—"

Packing the pills into three similar boxes on which he attached colored labels, Peter went to the Cafeteria to eat lunch, he had skipped breakfast. After that, he went home to pick a blanket and set himself for a siesta on the main lawn, under a majestic oak. All was peaceful and quiet, and he dozed off until a weird feeling put him on alert and he opened his eyes.

There was a clap of thunder so loud that all windows around trembled, followed by blinding lightning. The air was still crackling with electricity when a man appeared in the middle of the lawn. He looked in his early thirties, with long white hair and robes, the classic cultivator look. Electricity sparks ran under his skin.

"Grand Master Li has arrived," a voice spoke without the visitor moving his lips, almost as loud as the thunder before. A Qi message.

"Intruder!" a voice screamed. "Hands up!"

In an amazing display of stupidity, Kostel was running toward the Cultivator, fumbling to unholster his gun. The long-haired man raised an eyebrow and a wave of qi pressure erupted toward the guard. It was unidirectional, making ripples in the air, yet even sixty feet away from the brunt of the wave, Peter felt his stomach churn.

Nevertheless, Kostel persisted. He vomited and fell on his belly, eyes rolling empty, but he managed to press the trigger thrice. Click, click, click, the revolver said before the guard collapsed unconscious. The weapon was still empty.

What an idiot!

Floating down from the sky in a gentle glide, the Alchemy teacher landed and knelt in front of the cultivator. "Grand Master Li.".

"No need for etiquette, Melinda my child. Raise," the man said. Even the sound of his voice gave Peter the creeps. "Last night, one of my best bloodhounds was killed in your town while taking a side gig for fun. 'Every weed can grow to be poisonous if left unattended,' was his motto. He was well into the sixth stage of Body Cultivation. "

Six, not three?

"I have nothing to do with it," the teacher rushed to say.

"I know, my child. I know," the man said, patting her head like she was a pet. "I examined myself the scene. No qi residue. There were traces of a silver bullet… yet he should have resisted such a crude weapon…"

"You want me to investi—"

"The police concluded it was a cartel's job. Those pests have money and can hire the best. I don't have the time to go on a wild goose chase. However, a wild magician capable of taking out a stage six Body Cultivator is worrying news. We're accelerating the program. Starting Wednesday, every student on Earth will start to train on floor three."

"But, Grand Master, they're not ready…" the woman complained. "We have only one Body cultivator who broke into the second stage."

"I'm not asking, Melinda," the man's voice became harsher. "It's an order. Get it done. I'm discombobulated by how far behind your little project is… and yet you surround yourself with idiots." The man turned his eyes toward Kostel, now on all fours, but struggling to get his Taser out, nevermind the Cultivator had arrived on a roll of thunder.

A reversed lightning shot out toward the sky, traveling through the faraway clouds, and the visitor was gone. The booming noise came later and distant.

That's a high-rank cultivator, right? Peter thought. How am I supposed to fight something like THAT?

Meanwhile, the Alchemy teacher had walked to Kostel, pulled him to his feet, and slapped him abundantly until he woke up.

"Mini-master Melinda, are you all right?" Kostel mumbled.

"It's Journeyman Master Melinda, you moron, and the one you tried to shoot was my boss. You're incredibly lucky to be alive."

"Sorry," Kostel lowered his eyes.

"Look at me!" she yelled, pulling the guard closer by the lapel. "I know you're Resistance."

"Advanced Master Melinda, I swear I'm n—"

"Journeyman! Do you think I didn't notice the manuals stolen from my library? Every time you came pretending to dust the books, only to stare at my boobs, like the idiotic monkey you are?"

"I'm sorry…" the man whispered. "I can't help it, you're too beau—"

Goodness, he's suicidal!

"I don't care. What I care about is who took out a stage six Body Cultivator. Where were you last night?"

"I was in the Campus all night, Journeyman Melinda… And he told us he was only stage three."

What did you expect?

The Alchemy teacher stared at the guard like she was trying to strangle him with her eyes. The man's will collapsed. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, I didn't mean to do wrong," Kostel started, fidgeting his fingers. "We have a club… of people who fight for better conditions. Me, Garcia, the pizza restaurant owner, the one who organizes protests, and a masked girl who saves monster cubs. I don't know her real name."

"Which of them killed the assassin? Garcia or the girl?"

"Neither. There were two guests, a policeman, and a biker, helmet on, didn't see his face. Very tall, broad-shouldered, tattoos everywhere."

"Cartel tattoos?" Melinda asked.

"I think so… Words in Spanish, for sure. Muerte, suerte… And BAM!" Kostel clapped his hands. "The cartel guy shoots the policeman in the head. I restrain him and—"

"Don't even bother," the teacher interjected.

"He shows us the policeman's phone… The dead guy was a serial killer... he had photos with his victims… kids, elderly… horrible stuff… The biker takes the body and goes away, and I ran back here. Miss… please… will Garcia be in trouble, because of me?" Kostel tried to make puppy eyes, only succeeding to look constipated.

"Tell him to keep out of trouble," Melinda said, letting the man free. "You'll let me know if you ever see the biker again, or you're fired."

She walked away shaking her head. "A gun?" Peter heard her say.