UH CH 17 (Patreon)

“Let me get straight to the point. You don’t have to come to the training center starting tomorrow.”

Hearing the same words for the third time made them hurt far less.

I was more focused on calming down my beating heart.

My body was fully healed or rather was in a state where it never received any damages in the first place and yet, I could still vividly remember the pain of slowly dying while losing all my blood.

Let's do our best to die as little as possible.

A chuckle escaped me and the Manager who was still talking immediately stopped.

"Cain, are you alright?" She looked truly worried. Perhaps she thought the shock was too much for me?

"Don’t worry." I waved my hand. Now that I think about it. The reason I was being fired was twofold.

For one, my hidden class had yet to reveal itself even after years of hard work.

Secondly my stats were constantly decreasing, to the point I reached a physical level no different from an ordinary person.

The first and only I rank hunter in all the history of Earth.

The Weakest Hunter

Thinking about it, it was truly a wonder it took them eight years to finally fire me.

"Well...if you say so. Ahem. As I was saying, we won't just throw you out with nothing. 50% of your contribution will be sent back to your bank account in a few days."

"I..." I closed my mouth immediately after I was about to tell the truth, I was about to tell her that there was no need to fire me.

It wasn’t because of childish reasons such as not working with people who ditched me.

I did not hate the guild.

Of course there were a few people I truly despised or people who looked at me like I was an eyesore but I was truly thankful to the guild.

The Queen's Army raised and trained me for 8 years with nothing to show for it outside of a bad reputation and a crippled trainee hunter.

So what should I do?

Should I reveal my new class or a part of it?

Or should I hide for now?

What advantages would I get by hiding or showing my skills?

I turned around, preparing to leave.

"Caïn."

"There is no need to worry. I understand your position. I need time to think a little."

Just as I reached the door, an idea struck me.

"Hey...About those 50%, mind giving me a small advance now? Gotta pay rent."

***

Walking out of the office, I was received with the same curious look and harsh words as last time.

The only difference was that, this time, I felt nothing.

I was more preoccupied with how I would spend the new funds I gathered.

Forty thousand dollars.

I obviously had absolutely no intention to use this money for the rent I owed. Not now at least.

I needed to use it more effectively and I knew the perfect person that could help me with that.

Iron Fist.

***

My destination was once the market. Though one day earlier than last time.

Unlike the time, I was still wearing the clothes from the training center. The Crown on the right side of my chest was very conspicuous but it was intentional.

I could feel a few hostile gazes immediately vanish once they paid more attention.

Gangs were more active at this time of the day and while my face was mostly known in this zone, it was better to have a clear "don't fuck with me" message.

Making my way through the winding market alleys, I walked down the alley, my steps hesitant.

The walk to the bar felt almost surreal.

A walk that should have only taken 10 or so minutes ended up taking 40 minutes.

Logically, I knew that everything would be fine. I traveled through time after all, I could even temporarily stop it now.

My second death was the final confirmation I needed to know that this wasn't a dream.

So, he should be alright.

There was no reason for him to not be alright.

Right?

And Yet...My heart keeps beating fiercely, accelerating to an almost painful degree.

The closer I approached the door of the cafe, the more hesitant I was.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

It was almost deafening.

Visions flashed in my mind. His lifeless body helplessly falling down like a puppet with its string cut.

Even in his very last moment, he never turned his back, never tried to escape. Despite being a marksman, he fought in the front to protect us.

To protect me.

And he died for it.

“Ugh…” My stomach lurched, I felt like throwing up. Nausea rose up, and my feet wobbled beneath me.

My chest tightened like a vice, every breath shallow and ragged. My vision narrowed until all I saw was that last image again — his body dropping, strings cut, eyes already empty.

My hands shook and my lips curled into a bitter smile. I realized that I was having a panic attack.

I thought that I was already used to death. I had already seen so many bodies 8 years ago. But clearly, I had somewhat overestimated my own mental strength.

“Freeze.”

The world froze. Noise cut out. The heartbeat in my ears was the only sound left.

I bent forward, clutching my knees, forcing air into my lungs. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Again. Again. It took a full minute before the weight on my chest loosened and I could breathe without choking on it.

I was getting tired, but it seemed that, as long as I did not move, I could keep the time stop longer.

This realization helped me distract myself.

The terror didn’t vanish completely . But at least, in stillness, I could wrestle it down until my hands steadied.

I straightened, wiped the sweat from my brow, and willed time forward again.

I knew it was an irrational reaction. But trauma and fear were rarely logical in the first place.

“How long are you going to stay in front of my door? You're scaring people away with your uniform.”

His gruff voice reached me through the door, making all my earlier fear vanish like a lie.

I let out a shaky breath, the pounding in my chest fading as if someone had flipped a switch. His voice had that effect, steady, solid, like the sound of boots planted firm on the ground.

[The Silent Watcher believes this is a strange analogy.]

My stalker was back again and like always, I ignored him.

“Iron Fist,” I muttered under my breath, more to steady myself than anything else.

The door creaked open a fraction, enough for his scarred face to peek through. His eyes scanned me up and down, landing on the crest stitched on my chest. He snorted.

“Thought so. Get in before some idiot decides you’re worth the risk.”

I didn’t argue. My feet carried me inside, the familiar smell of alcohol and old wood wrapping around me like a blanket I hadn’t realized I needed. The dim lighting, the scratched tables, the dented counter. It was nearly all the same.

But I wasn’t.

Last time I’d walked into this bar, I was broken, desperate, drowning in failure. This time, I still carried the weight of it all, but behind it was something new.

The second difference was that this time the bar was filled with people eyeing me warily. They were mostly part of the gang. A few of them were bandaged, reminding me that the Iron Fist gang recently fought against the Viper.

“Sit,” Iron Fist grunted, already reaching for a bottle behind the counter. “You look like hell, man. What happened?”

“Bad training as usual.” I shrugged. I wasn’t about to say I got fired with all those people present. Gang members or not, I trusted none of them. At least not enough to announce that my biggest backer did not have my back anymore.

I slid onto the nearest stool, forcing a smirk. “Good to see you.”

He gave me a strange look, but seemed to chalk my low mood to my stats. Still, his eyes lingered a fraction longer than normal, sharp and measuring, before he slid a bottle of juice and glass across the counter.

Even now, with all the stress gnawing at me, I refused to drink. Now more than ever, I need all my mental strength.

The chatter around us hadn’t stopped. Gang members were pretending not to stare, but I felt the weight of their attention.

Everyone here was on edge, and my appearance in training center colors only added fuel. Perhaps for some, I was even provoking and mocking them.

Iron Fist poured himself a drink, downed it in one gulp, then leaned in. His voice dropped low enough that only I could hear.

“Bad training, huh? You don’t look like a man fresh from drills. You look like someone who just walked out of a graveyard.”

I almost chuckled at the accuracy, but instead let the glass spin slowly between my fingers.

Why did I come here?

One reason was of course to check up on Iron Fist and make sure that he was indeed alive.

As for the other reasons?

“I need your help,” I said quietly, eyes still on the crowd.

His gaze flicked toward the tables, then back to me. A short nod.

“Truth is,” he muttered, scratching at his beard, “I need to get my gear checked up too. So might as well. What do you need?”

“Mana Bombs.”

All sounds vanished in the bar. I am sure they were looking at me like I was crazy. I smiled, holding my two fingers together to show how many I needed.

“Just a few.”

I was going to explode that fucking necromencer to high heaven.

***

[The Silent Watcher is letting out an undignified laugh.]

Long story short.

I was kicked out of the bar and went back home.

I mean, I understood why. My words were quite explosive, to say the least. Bombs control in America was no joke.

During the Dark Era after superpowers became common, America went through a long period of terror.

Nowadays, all bombs are strictly regulated to the point of obsession.

In my case, I didn’t need much. I had some basic knowledge about their structures and once I got a few powerful ones in hand, I could replicate them to some degree.

I truly needed only three or four or perhaps five.

Sadly, Iron Fist was not interested in getting the Feds at his door.

“Well, at least he gave me the address.”

I looked down at the password, written on a slip of paper carefully tucked in my hand.

Iron Fist did not deal with Mana Bombs directly. But he knew a place that did.

The Black Market.

There was nothing that couldn’t be bought in that place and nothing that couldn’t be found. If you failed to find what you wanted, it just meant that you didn’t have enough money.

At least that's what they said.

While there was clearly some embellishment, I was sure that getting a few powerful bombs should be possible there.

It was a dangerous place. One where anything could happen and this is why I needed to become a little stronger.

I needed to increase my stats. I came back home, just for that. Using Freeze for the first time in front of people had admittedly not been my smartest move. This time I wanted to be more careful when testing new things.

The Landlady came once again to bother me but I simply made her understand I would pay her back soon. Since she did not know that I was fired this time, she did not insist.

“Its time.”

I took a deep breath.

Karma Points: 1851

“Increase Mana by 1.”

[System Notification: Mana increased from I-5 → I-6]

[Cost: 50 KP]

[Remaining KP: 1801]

I felt it immediately, a faint rush, like cool water flooding into a dried-out pipe. My chest loosened as the pool inside me expanded, a little deeper, a little fuller.

My eyes sparkled. In the grand scheme of things, it was an almost negligible increase. Nothing but small steps.

But this small step was revolutionary for me. It was the ultimate proof that I could finally overcome my destiny.

Karma Points weren’t just numbers, it was power I could carve into myself, one point at a time.

And I was going to need every drop of it.

“Increase mana to I-9.”

[System Notification: Mana increased from I-6 → I-9]

[Cost: 300 KP]

[Remaining KP: 1501]

The growth came in steady jolts. Each upgrade hit harder than the last, a pulse of heat, a surge of weight, like someone kept pouring buckets of water into a cracked basin and daring it to hold.

I leaned against the wall, laughing under my breath. Not because it was funny, but because the sheer difference was intoxicating. After years of scraping by with nothing, every drop I gained felt like a feast.

But this wasn’t enough. Not yet. The gate to H-tier loomed ahead, heavier than the steps before it.

I looked at the panel again, my hands still trembling with the rush.

“Increase mana to H-10.”

A new grade. The next milestone.

[System Notification: Mana increased from I-9 → H-10]

[Cost: 500 KP]

[Warning: Mana Circuit is Corrupted. Rank transition costs +25%.]

[Final Cost: 625 KP]

[Remaining KP: 876]

The rush nearly knocked me off my feet. It felt better than anything I ever felt in my entire life. It was different. A new Grade means a new realm. A new level of power.

I closed my eyes and centered myself. I could feel mana flow in my veins and pooling in my heart.

If before it was just a little puddle. Now it was a slightly bigger puddle.

The worrying thing was this 25% penalty. It seemed to apply only when I crossed a rank for now. So at least not everything was bad. But the remaining points were hard to spread.

876 points remaining, huh.

Going from I-6 to I-9 cost me 350 points and the rank increase was 500 points if I didn’t take the penalty into account.

A total of 950 points.

What should I do now?

More points in mana? Or perhaps speed now? What about Endurance? The higher my endurance, the longer I could potentially move in Time Stop if my intuition was right.

I groaned a little then decided to save the points for now.

Either way, I lacked the points necessary to reach G rank and unlock the skills shop.

But, it was not a problem.

Tomorrow morning , the perfect occasion to test my new abilities and farm points will present itself.

“Status.”

[Strength: I-5

Speed: I-5

Dexterity: I-5

Endurance: I-5

Mana: H-10

Resistance: SSS-159

Combat Capacity: ???]

I grinned.

The numbers were small to anyone else, a joke compared to real hunters, but to me? They were proof. Proof that I wasn’t chained anymore. Proof that I could claw my way forward, one stat at a time.

This day was starting in a beautiful way.