Charles trudged out of Lira's room, shoulders slumped, his body screaming for rest.
The wooden door shut behind him with a dull thud, cutting off his half-sister's final words.
"One week, Rian," Lira had said, her voice still shaky from their fight. "Prepare as best you can for the matches. Now get out."
He stood in the hallway, her words echoing in his head.
One week.
Seven days to get better, to understand his power, to avoid ending up a slave—or worse, dead for being accused of using magic.
'Great,' Charles thought, rubbing his face with one hand. 'As if this body on the verge of collapse wasn't enough.'
The hallway was nearly empty, lit by torches casting long shadows on the stone walls.
The air smelled of dampness and burnt wax, the silence broken only by the faint echo of footsteps somewhere in the building.
Charles took a deep breath, trying to ignore the ache in his muscles and the hunger gnawing at his stomach.
'First, I need to eat something,' he thought. 'Or at least find my room to crash for a bit.'
He muttered under his breath, "Status window."
The blue panel appeared before him, clear and steady, though the flickering torchlight made the letters shimmer slightly.
The data unfolded in the air:
Name: Rian Cole
Element: Lightning
Level: 4
Stats
Health: 5/100
Energy: 0%
System Intelligence: 2
Control Level: 1
XP: 368/800
Available Upgrade Points: 2
Charles frowned, eyeing the numbers with a mix of curiosity and frustration.
"Level 4, huh?" he muttered.
He'd leveled up again, probably from beating Lira, but his health was dangerously low.
'Five out of a hundred…' he thought, shaking his head. 'If someone bumps into me, am I done for?'
The zero energy was no surprise, given how he felt.
But the two available upgrade points gave him a sliver of hope.
Maybe he could use them for something useful.
"What about the update?" Charles said, recalling he'd invested a point in System Intelligence earlier. "System, how's that going?"
The blue panel flickered, and a new message appeared:
[Update in progress… 98%]
Charles let out a sarcastic chuckle.
"98%? Seriously? You're updating now, like some old phone?" he quipped, hoping the system would cough up something helpful.
To his surprise, the panel shifted immediately:
[Update complete. Applying changes…]
Charles blinked, eyes wide.
"Wait, what? Done already?" he muttered, staring at the panel in disbelief.
But the stats didn't change.
Health, energy, control level—everything stayed the same.
No new data, no extra perks.
"Nice one, system, all that hype for nothing," Charles grumbled, running a hand through his damp hair. "At least tell me where my room or the dining hall is. Can you manage that?"
The panel flickered again, and a new message appeared:
[Searching for location…]
Charles waited, tapping his fingers against his leg.
A few servants passed by in the hallway, giving him sideways glances, but he ignored them.
Finally, a bright blue arrow appeared in front of him, floating in the air like a video game waypoint. It pointed left, toward a darker corridor.
"Well, that's something," Charles said, his stomach growling loudly. "Take me to the dining hall first. I need food, even if it's just a crumb."
He paused, realizing how late it was.
'The dining hall's probably empty,' he thought with a sigh. But he had nothing to lose.
The arrow moved, guiding him through the hallway.
As he walked, Charles mulled over the system's messages, especially those annoying "authority" warnings for attacking.
Against Toren Vask's sons and early on with Nora, the system had stopped him, but with Lira, it eventually granted permission.
"What was that about?" he muttered, glancing at the blue arrow. "System, why do you sometimes block me from attacking? What's this authority nonsense?"
The panel reappeared with a familiar message:
[System level too low to answer that question]
Charles let out a dry laugh.
"Really? You're useless, aren't you?" he said, shaking his head.
For a moment, he considered using one of his upgrade points to boost System Intelligence again.
If he did, maybe he'd get clearer answers.
But then he checked his experience: 368/800.
Leveling to 5 would take twice the XP of the previous level, and he didn't know how much tougher it'd get after that.
'Better save the points for now,' he thought. 'I don't want to waste them on a system that just gives me loading bars.'
The arrow led him to a wider hallway, where the scent of bread and soup began to waft through the air.
Charles's stomach roared, almost like a caged beast.
The dining hall was close, and the thought of food made him pick up his pace.
But when he reached the entrance, the guard gave him a nasty look.
"Where do you think you're going, Rian?" the man growled, blocking the door.
His eyes carried the same contempt Charles was starting to loathe.
"I want to eat," Charles said, trying to stay calm. "It's been a long day."
The man let out a low chuckle.
"Eat? There are still people inside, and you know the rules. Servants like you wait until everyone's done. Beat it."
Charles clenched his fists, frustration bubbling in his chest.
"Seriously? Not even a piece of bread?" he asked, his voice tight.
"Get lost before I kick you out," the man said, crossing his arms.
Charles cursed under his breath, turning away.
'This place is hell,' he thought, following the blue arrow now pointing in a new direction.
"System, take me to my room," he muttered, resigned.
If he couldn't eat, at least he could sleep and recover some energy.
The arrow shifted, guiding him through narrower, darker corridors.
The Storm Clan's building was a maze, and without the system's help, Charles knew he'd be hopelessly lost.
As he walked, he thought about his fight with Lira.
She'd said his power seemed like magic, something forbidden. But he was sure it wasn't magic.
The lightning came from his body, like it was part of him.
'If the clan doesn't get that, that's their problem,' he thought, though Lira's warning about execution made him uneasy.
Finally, the arrow stopped at an old wooden door, cracked and splintered.
Charles pushed it open, and the smell of dust and mildew hit him immediately.
The room was tiny, barely a closet with a wooden bed that looked ready to collapse. A thin, tattered blanket was folded at the foot, and that was it—no desk, no fridge, not even a window.
Compared to Lira's room, with its comfy bed, big desk, and little kitchen, this was a cruel joke.
"Seriously?" Charles muttered, laughing without humor. "This is a damn broom closet."
He approached the bed and touched the blanket, rough and reeking of dampness.
'At least no bugs,' he thought, though he wasn't entirely convinced.
Charles collapsed onto the bed, which creaked under his weight.
The mattress was so thin he could feel the wooden slats beneath.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the hunger and muscle pain.
'Just need to rest a bit…' he thought. 'If I get some energy back, I can figure out how to win those fights.'
But the room's stench—a mix of mildew and old clothes—kept him from relaxing.
Charles opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, speckled with dark stains.
"This place sucks," he growled, dragging a hand over his face.