"Aiden-kun, that lightning arrow you shot just now was…?"
After hesitating a bit, Hayato couldn't hold the question back.
Everyone had seen it clearly—light bursting from Aiden's palm.
A literal supernatural skill.
Of course they were jealous.
But since Aiden hadn't brought it up, no one dared to pry—until Hayato played point man. The others pretended not to care while quietly pricking up their ears.
"It came from a skill scroll," Aiden said evenly. "Monsters sometimes drop items like that when you kill them."
"And to be clear—anything you 'luck into' still goes to me."
"That's only fair," Hayato muttered with a rueful scratch of his head.
It wasn't as if he minded. Without Aiden, they would've been wiped by the Hunter.
Know your debts.
If he actually pulled a drop, Hayato wouldn't begrudge handing it over.
Aiden swept a glance across the group.
Empty flattery was cheap.
Just now—under the Main God's witness—every last one of them had signed a Proof Blood Pact.
It only binds when all signers fully, willingly agree. With the Main God as guarantor, these students were locked to his three conditions—and if they lived to exit this scenario, they'd also owe him all the personal points they'd earned inside.
"Rest up. We move in ten."
While they caught their breath, Aiden stepped to a corner and brought up his system panel.
The earlier slaughter had netted a fat stack of points—and pushed his Elite Blade Work through its ceiling.
[Elite Marksmanship — (46/50)]
[Elite Blade Work] → [Master Blade Work — (0/200)]
[Note: average normal human = 1]
[Skills]: (Magic — Arc Lightning Arrow)
[Equipment]: —
[Attribute Points]: 621
Before, two level-ups had nudged +0.1 Strength and +0.1 Perception.
But pushing Elite → Master in blade work had spiked everything:
+2.0 Constitution in one go, with +1.0 to Strength, Agility, Perception, and Spirit.
For a heartbeat, it felt like a body molt—shedding the old, stepping into a new frame. The rush of unseen power was far louder than numbers on a screen.
He clenched a fist; joints clicked.
The surge through his palm told him plainly: even bare-handed, he could shred common infected now.
Skin that had been fragile now felt like it wore an invisible cuirass. Against routine bites, it might not even break.
A step—light as a gust.
Agility made even turning and lifting move like silk, no drag at all.
Just minutes ago, he'd needed tight, cautious reads against the Hunter.
Now? Double that speed and he still liked his odds—dodge, punish, finish.
The best part was Perception and Spirit.
Where ten meters had been a fuzzy bubble, now the faint scrape of a zombie's limb at the far end of the hall and the hush of leaves outside the window fed him in crisp detail.
The world had cranked its detail slider.
And Spirit—his thinking was knife-clear.
Ten foes at once? He could chart the optimal kill order in a blink.
"…Time to test what Master Blade Work really means."
Smothering the grin, Aiden's eyes fell to a bent metal pipe by a wall, knocked loose by the infected. He picked it up.
The cold metal touched his palm—and understanding flooded in.
No longer the "move list" memory of Elite.
This was the intent behind the blade.
A light roll of the wrist—
the pipe spun, left a ghosting arc, and brushed the edge of a desk.
Shriiip.
The solid wood parted with a clean, machine-perfect seam—like it had met a true edge.
That was the terror of Master.
You stop relying on the weapon's sharpness.
You fuse your power, your speed, and your comprehension of cutting into one.
Even a pipe in his hands could bite like a military knife.
More—this wasn't just "how to swing." It was a whole-body rewiring. Every strike and slice naturally avoided dead zones in his muscles. Power transfer jumped by half again.
Where ten chops once brought on burn, a hundred now only warmed the arm.
He named the side-effect Blade Intent.
While he wore it, Perception climbed again—opponents laid bare, like a butcher seeing the seams.
Even with empty hands, he could mimic bayonet thrusts—or map other weapons into a "blade" in use.
The output was nasty.
It felt a bit like that earlier flow state, but… sharper. Taught.
"Aiden-kun… what is that?"
Across the room, Hayato had caught a glimpse—and his pupils snapped tight.
Aiden had just lazily moved a pipe, but the pressure of it felt like it could cleave the air in the next breath.
Colder. Heavier. Maybe even more oppressive than when he'd gunned down the Hunter.
Gulp.
Hayato swallowed, a chill spidering up his spine.
At last he understood—Aiden's strength wasn't just the gun, or the thunder arrow.
That strange blade art alone could crush them all.
Aiden let the pipe rest and a thin smile cut across his face.
Before, Elite kept him from losing up close.
Now Master gave him license to plow through a horde.
Stack that with swollen stats and Arc Lightning's crowd control—
the road ahead looked cleaner and cleaner.
Soon, ten minutes were up.
"Break's over."
He faced the group. The voice wasn't loud, but it carried iron. "Pack it. We move now."
"From here on, any monsters we meet—I take the kills. You cover yourselves and haul supplies."
Last hits were his. Every zombie's finish belonged to Aiden.
"Roger, Aiden-kun!"
The answers came quick. In their eyes, respect had a new shine—teetering on fervor.
(End of Chapter)
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