The portal spat them out into the prep chamber just past four in the afternoon. The automated system chimed its usual acknowledgment. A different assistant manned the log station now, a young woman with glasses who barely glanced up as they passed.

The walk back across the academy grounds was quiet. The afternoon sun had softened into something golden, casting long shadows across the paths.

Students moved between buildings in loose clusters, their conversations fading in and out as Damon and Sera passed.

A few heads turned, and a few whispers followed.

Damon didn’t acknowledge them.

"You know," Sera said, her staff slung across her back, "a month ago, those whispers would’ve been about the guy with no system."

"I don’t care what they think."

"Liar."

He glanced at her.

"You do care," she said. "Not about their approval, exactly. You just care that they see you’re not who you used to be. It’s this petty kind of caring, like you want to show off and prove them all wrong."

"You’re close."

"Hmm. Then maybe you just want to prove you’re better than everyone who used to ridicule you."

"Closer."

"You’re pettier than I thought."

"And I’m proud of that."

They stopped at the junction where the path split, one fork leading towards Sera’s dorm, the other toward the support-track equipment and the alchemy labs.

"I need to check in with Lena," Damon said. "Let her know I didn’t die."

"I need to sleep for about twelve hours." Sera rolled her shoulders until the joints popped. "But before I do..."

Her system window flickered into view. She tapped a skill without hesitation, and an instant later, a notification appeared before Damon’s eyes as well.

[LIGHTNING LANCE (ACTIVE) — C-RANK (LEVEL 2/3)]: Fires two concentrated bolts of lightning. High single-target damage. Damage scaled with MAG. Cost: 35 Mana.

"You upgraded your skill?"

"You got the same notification?" She smiled, tired, but satisfied. "That class of yours really is overkill, but I don’t mind as long as it benefits me too. Goodnight, boss."

"Goodnight, Sera."

She headed toward her dorm, and Damon turned toward the alchemy labs. The walk was familiar now. He’d made it dozens of times over the past month, usually to pick up potion batches or drop off empty vials.

"So my skills update in real time whenever my subordinates level up theirs. Good to know..."

Lena’s lab, B-3, was the same one she’d been trapped in during the Banshee breach. She’d refused to transfer out of it, despite everything.

He found her exactly where he’d expected: hunched over a bubbling flask, her hair tied back in a messy knot, a pair of goggles pushed up onto her forehead.

The air in the lab smelled sharply of crushed herbs and something vaguely metallic.

"You’re alive," she said without looking up.

"Disappointed?"

"Relieved." She killed the flame under the flask and turned to face him. Her eyes did the same quick sweep they always did, checking for injuries, cataloging his condition. "How many potions did you use?"

"All three recovery draughts. The stamina draughts are still in my pack. Didn’t touch the antitoxin."

"Good. That means no toxic spores." She leaned back against her workbench, crossing her arms. "How was the run?"

"Productive. Killed a lot of wolves. Hit level four." He said.

Lena pushed off the workbench and crossed to a cabinet on the far wall. She pulled out a fresh satchel, smaller than the one she’d given him earlier, and began filling it with vials.

"More potions?" Damon asked.

"You said you used all three recovery draughts. I’m restocking you." She slotted four vials into the satchel’s padded pockets. "These are from the same batch. Tested and stable."

"You don’t have to—"

"I know I don’t have to." She turned and pressed the satchel into his hands. "Prep work, remember? You agreed to let me handle this. It’s better than having you come all the way out here every run, it saves you time, doesn’t it?"

He looked down at the satchel, then back at her.

"It does."

"So let me do it." She stepped back, adjusting her goggles. "Now get out of my lab. I have three more batches to finish before midnight, and you need sleep. You look terrible."

"Thanks."

"It’s a compliment. You looked worse this morning."

Damon slung the satchel over his shoulder, the vials clinking softly. At the door, he paused.

"Don’t stay up for too long."

He left before she could respond.

***

His dorm room was exactly as he’d left it.

Damon set the new satchel beside his pack and sat on the edge of the bed. The exhaustion he’d been holding off all day finally settled over him, heavy and insistent.

His ribs ached, his eyes burned, and his mana pool was a shallow puddle.

But he had one more thing to do before he slept.

He opened his status screen.

[SYSTEM STATUS – RESONATOR: DAMON PERSIVAL]

[CLASS: SOVEREIGN]

[LEVEL: 4]

[STR: 20]

[AGI: 25]

[VIT: 19]

[MAG: 26]

[STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 3]

[TRIBUTE: 88]

Three points.

He’d been allocating reactively so far, AGI after the Matthew fight, MAG when he picked up Lightning Lance. But now he had four borrowed skills, two subordinates, and a growing sense of how his class actually functioned.

Speed was his greatest asset. It kept him alive, let him control engagement range, and enabled everything from melee strikes to spellcasting.

But his last allocation had gone to MAG, and he’d felt the difference: more Lightning Lances, stronger Static Fields, bigger returns for Sera and Lena through the bond.

The question was balance.

He could push MAG further, strengthening his ranged options and his subordinates’ buffs. Or he could invest in AGI, widening the speed gap that made him untouchable in D-Rank content.

VIT would help him survive the hits he couldn’t dodge, and STR would make his sword strikes more lethal without relying on Sovereign’s Strike. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

In the end, the decision came down to what he’d need next. More portal runs meant more wolves, more goblins, and eventually, higher-rank content.

C-Rank portals were on the horizon. B-Rank enemies like Matthew had shown him how wide the gap still was.

He needed to be faster.

Ranged options were good, but what if he was fast enough to drive a lightning lance point-blank into a monster’s stomach, or any other vulnerable spot?

That was far better than just spamming MAG and hoping for the best.

[AGI: 25] → [AGI: 28]

The screen pulsed.

[STATS UPDATED]

[STR: 20]

[AGI: 28]

[VIT: 19]

[MAG: 26]

[STAT POINTS AVAILABLE: 0]

Twenty-eight agility. Most C-Ranks didn’t hit numbers like that until level ten or higher. And even if they did, it was only for their primary stats.

With most of what he’d set out to do finally finished, it was about time he got some sleep.

***

The next morning, Damon woke to sunlight streaming through his dorm window and a communicator buzzing insistently on his nightstand.

He grabbed it, squinting at the screen.

Kara: Heard you got Solo Authorization and killed an Alpha solo.

Kara: Matthew’s been in a mood all morning. Thanks for that.

Kara: Also, Uncle wants to see you. Something about C-Rank authorization.

Damon sat up.

C-Rank authorization. He’d had Solo Authorization for exactly one day, and Voss was already considering bumping him up. Either the professor was impressed, or something had changed.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and typed back.

Damon: When does he want to meet?

Kara: After class. You know how he is.

Damon: Got it.

Damon: But one question, how did you and Matthew know about all that?

Kara: Uncle wouldn’t shut up about it.