The humid evening air still clung to Alex as he huddled in the shadows beneath the pedestrian bridge. His world had shrunk to the glowing blue panel of the Gacha System, pulsating before his eyes.
"[QUEST: ASSIST THE PROTAGONIST]" it blared. Below it, a shimmering promise: "[REWARD: 1x RANK 3 GACHA TICKET]."
His breath hitched. A Rank 3 ticket. He'd only seen Rank 1s before. A Rank 3 was significant; it could be a true game-changer. He imagined pulling something incredible, gaining a real edge in this terrifying new reality.
But then, cold logic slammed into him. "Assist the protagonist." Issei Hyoudou was about to be killed by a Fallen Angel, Raynare. His mind flashed back to the goblin dungeon, the frantic struggle for survival. He was still weak, still new to this. Facing a supernatural entity felt like signing his own death warrant. He wasn't some hero; he was just Alex. His basic earthbending felt woefully inadequate.
A tremor ran through him. The thought of dying again, of being snuffed out before he'd even truly started his second chance, sent a chill deep into his bones. What if he was reborn as a Devil, bound to some demon lord? That was a fate he absolutely wanted to avoid. His newfound life was too precious to gamble on someone else's fate.
The allure of the Rank 3 ticket dimmed, overshadowed by the stark terror of self-preservation. His jaw tightened. He wasn't a hero. He was a survivor. With a heavy clench in his chest, he forced his finger to select "I REFUSE."
The panel flickered, then faded, leaving behind only the darkness of the night and a hollow ache in his gut. The silence felt deafening, amplifying the echoes of his choice. He had refused power, refused a path to strength, all out of fear. A cold, nagging regret began to burrow into his mind, an insidious whisper reminding him of what he'd just given up. He shook his head, pushing it down. He had to survive first. Power would come later.
He then stealthily made his way back to Motohama's house, his disheveled state a testament to his ordeal. He needed a believable story. A fall during club activities. Yes, that would work.
. . .
The next day, after the torturous hours of school, Alex wasted no time. The events of the previous night, the chilling glimpse into the supernatural world, the stark refusal of the quest—it all fueled a desperate, burning need to train. He practically ran to the forest, his heart hammering with a newfound urgency. He needed to be stronger.
He bypassed the popular paths, venturing deeper until he found a secluded clearing. He scanned the treeline, listening for any rustle, any distant voices. He needed absolute solitude. This was his sanctuary, his proving ground.
He immediately began to rigorously practice his Earthbending. The lessons from the Goblin's Lair were burned into his memory: precision over brute force, efficiency in energy usage, and creative applications. He closed his eyes, centering himself, breathing deeply. He focused on the subtle vibrations of the earth beneath his worn sneakers, feeling its steady, deep hum. He extended his will, not with a sudden, forceful burst, but with a slow, deliberate coaxing.
He started with the basics, refining his control. He envisioned a small, flat stone near his foot, then willed it to rise smoothly. It hovered for a moment, then gently settled back down. He repeated the motion until the stone rose without a tremor. Good. Control.
Then he moved to practical applications. He imagined an enemy charging, and with a subtle shift of his weight, caused a barely perceptible rise in the ground, a trip hazard. The dirt rippled, forming a fleeting ridge before sinking back into place. He practiced this over and over, making the movement smaller, faster, less noticeable.
Next, disarming. He picked up a fallen branch. He extended his perception to the earth beneath it, and with a focused tremor, made the ground vibrate violently. The branch shuddered, then clattered to the dirt. He tried it again, visualizing a weapon, then a target's grip. Vibrate. Not a big quake, just enough to loosen a hold. He aimed for efficiency.
He experimented with temporary, localized shields. He imagined a small, focused impact, then drew up a thin, dense layer of compressed dirt to deflect a blow. It wasn't a solid wall, but a fleeting, dynamic barrier that rose and fell with his will.
The Cloranthy Ring proved to be an absolute game-changer. Its subtle warmth, a constant, comforting presence, constantly replenished his stamina. The familiar burn in his muscles, the crushing exhaustion he'd felt after the dungeon, was replaced by a manageable, almost pleasant fatigue. I can actually keep going!
He even picked up the Goblin Chieftain's Crude Club. Its unwieldy weight was a surprising contrast to his more refined earthbending. He swung it clumsily at first. But then, he started to think: How could I combine this? He imagined embedding the club in a larger chunk of rock, making it a truly formidable, earth-shattering hammer. Hours melted away as he pushed his limits, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows. He felt his connection to the earth deepen with each successful maneuver, a growing confidence blooming within him. The forest now felt like an extension of his own power.
. . .
As evening fully descended, Alex was drenched in sweat. Yet, thanks to the Cloranthy Ring, the debilitating exhaustion was absent. He felt only a manageable tiredness, a pleasant ache in his muscles. He collapsed onto a mossy patch, breathing heavily but steadily, a sense of accomplishment warming him.
He took a moment to rest, his gaze sweeping across the darkening trees, the distant city lights twinkling. His mind kept drifting back to Issei's impending fate, to the chilling reality he had chosen to ignore. If even a normal guy like Issei can be targeted by Fallen Angels, then what about me? I have this power now… that just makes me a bigger target, doesn't it?
He realized, with chilling clarity, that he couldn't act solo indefinitely. He needed to become significantly stronger, strong enough to face threats far beyond goblins. And perhaps more importantly, he needed to find allies. The thought of facing more supernatural threats alone filled him with cold dread. He was out of his depth.
He mentally chastised himself for not having a higher-ranked gacha ticket yet. Why didn't I get a better pull? The regret from earlier flared again. A Rank 3 ticket… what could he have gotten? He still didn't know how to reliably earn more tickets.
Just as he was pondering his next steps, a piercing, desperate scream echoed from an abandoned house further up the hill, a sound that tore through the quiet evening like a knife. It was a cry of pure terror, undeniably human.
Immediately, the familiar blue panel of the Gacha System materialized before him, bathing the clearing in an eerie, ethereal light. His heart hammered.
[QUEST: ELIMINATE STRAY DEVIL] it declared, ominous and foreboding. Below it, the reward: [1x RANK 2 GACHA TICKET].
A Stray Devil. He had no idea what that meant, but the urgency in the scream, combined with the grim quest title, told him it wasn't good. This was it. A chance to get a better ticket, a step up from the basic Rank 1s, a chance to get stronger. But a Stray Devil… what even was a Stray Devil? And could he, alone, actually fight it? The terror was back, but this time, it was mingled with a desperate need to gain power. He was no hero, but he also couldn't just stand by, when he got a rather low rank gacha ticket compared to the yesterday one.