Arion sank into a comforting sea of darkness—a feeling he hadn't tasted since his days as the "Lord of Kingdoms," dozing off on his keyboard after a 48-hour gaming marathon. But this peace didn't last. His awareness returned slowly, not because of an annoying alarm, but because of an overwhelming surge of power. It felt like every cell in his body—once screaming in pain—was now throwing a wild festival.
He opened his eyes slowly. He wasn't lying on the cold guild floor but on the softest bed he had felt in both his lives. The room was luxurious, with high ceilings and windows overlooking Arcadia's rooftops.
"Where am I?" he muttered, sitting up abruptly. No pain. No exhaustion. He looked at his hands, then at his body. He felt like he could punch through a wall and walk away fine. "Is this how real heroes feel? Or did they drug me with something strong?"
As always, the system was the first to greet him on his new day.
Ding~
> [You have fully recovered consciousness!]
[You have 15 unassigned stat points.]
[You have items in your system bag: Ability Elixir (x1), Random Skill Book (x2)]
"Fifteen points!" Arion's eyes sparkled. "That's more than I've ever gotten in this miserable life!" He wasted no time. Priority was always survival—or at least the ability to run away faster.
"Strength is important, but agility keeps me alive. And intelligence... that mysterious thing that gives me more mana for my silly tricks. Balance it is."
He decided firmly:
6 points to Strength — so his punches wouldn't just tickle monsters.
5 points to Agility — so he could flee from the trouble he caused.
4 points to Intelligence — more mana meant more fake auras and intimidation sparks.
Ding~
> [Points distributed successfully!]
[Current Status:]
Name: Arion
Level: 3
HP: 300 / 300
Mana: 220 / 220
Strength: 16
Agility: 12
Intelligence: 15
Titles: Survivor, [New Title Unlocked: Fang Harvester]
"Fang Harvester?" Arion read the new title. "What a joke. I didn't harvest anything—I stole them like a cheap roadside bandit!"
A soft, polite knock at the door. Before he could answer, it opened slowly to reveal Serena, the guild attendant, carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and a cup. The moment she saw Arion standing, she almost dropped the tray.
"S-Sir Arion!" she gasped, her face flushing. "You're awake! By the Light, you worried us all!"
"I'm fine." Arion said coolly, trying to hide the fact that he was trembling inside from the sudden attention.
"Of course you're fine!" Serena said enthusiastically. "Guildmaster Valerius said your energy drain was enormous after defeating three A-class beasts by yourself! No one believed you'd wake up this fast! You're really... a human monster!"
"A human monster? Me?" Arion thought miserably. "If you'd seen me fleeing from a squirrel, you wouldn't say that."
She set down the tray and handed him a large, heavy leather pouch. "Here's your reward, Sir. 1,000 coppers for the main quest. And Guildmaster Valerius decided to buy the extra two flowers for the guild's alchemy division at 1,500 coppers each! That makes 4,000 coppers total!"
She leaned closer, whispering near his ear. "He paid double. That was my idea, hehe."
Arion nearly choked on air, not even noticing how close Serena was. "Four... thousand... coppers?" For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. That amount could buy a small house—or a mercenary band to wipe Malakai and his family off the map.
"Yes, Sir." Serena beamed. "Also, this—You've been exceptionally promoted to Rank A. You're now one of Arcadia's top adventurers!"
At that moment, Arion felt no joy—only pure dread. "Rank A? Me? The guy whose main skill is quietly crying in bushes? I'm doomed. Expectations will kill me faster than monsters ever could."
After Serena left, bowing so deeply she almost hit the door, Arion sat on the bed, staring at the money pouch. "Well, at least I'll be rich when I die a horrible death."
He decided to open his other treasures before a panic attack hit. "Skill books. Please, cursed system, give me something useful this time. Ice spear, real fireball, anything!"
He grabbed the first book.
Ding~
> [Do you want to use "Random Skill Book"?]
[Yes]
Blink-blink...
> [You acquired Skill: Perfectly Spiced Stew (Rank C)]
Description: You can cook a perfectly spiced, delicious stew using any ingredients—roots, old boots, anything. It will always taste amazing.
Mana Cost: 5
A long silence filled the room. Arion stared at the window, expression blank.
"...Stew?" he finally whispered. "I fought three Fang Beasts... for a cooking skill? Is this my punishment? Does the system want me to run a food truck?"
Crushed, he opened the second book without hope.
Ding~
> [You acquired Skill: Basic Telekinesis (Rank C)]
Description: You can move objects at a distance with focus. Max weight: 1 kilogram. Heavier objects move slower and need more focus.
Mana Cost: 2 per second.
"Great. Now I can pass the salt at dinner without moving. Truly the strongest adventurer in Arcadia." Arion sighed bitterly.
In a fit of frustration, he glared at a pillow across the room. He focused with all his might. "At least let's see how pathetic this skill is!"
Whoosh~
The pillow slowly lifted into the air, as if an old ghost was trying to pick it up. It hovered shakily, then dropped to the floor.
At that exact moment, the door burst open. Guildmaster Valerius and Knight Robert entered to check on him. They froze at the sight: Arion sitting calmly on the bed, staring ahead coldly, while a pillow across the room rose and fell on its own.
The two men froze in place.
"Did... did you see that?" Robert whispered, eyes wide.
Valerius nodded slowly, eyes gleaming with deep respect. "A man like this... the control..."
What Arion saw as a pathetic failure was, to Valerius and Robert, something entirely different. They saw a man who didn't bother moving—who used sheer will to handle the smallest tasks around him. They didn't see a weak skill—they saw a demonstration of absolute power and indifference.
"He doesn't just use magic for battle," Valerius whispered. "He weaves mana into every part of his life. He doesn't 'use' power—he 'lives' it. Such confidence... I've never seen anything like it."
Arion turned to them, clueless about what they'd just witnessed. "Guildmaster," he said quietly.
Valerius stepped forward, his sharp eyes filled with fatherly pride. "Sir Arion. I see you've fully recovered. And it seems you've grown even stronger."
"What? No, I failed to lift a pillow!" Arion wanted to scream but kept his cold mask on.
"No need for false modesty." Valerius smiled. "What we just saw surpasses what most mages can dream of. Precise control is true strength—not big explosions."
Arion stood frozen, desperately trying not to let the shock show on his face. He'd done it again—turned his humiliating failure into yet another proof of his legendary genius.
"Well," Arion thought in utter despair. "Looks like I'm stuck being this 'mysterious genius' for a while. At least I have a perfect stew skill to comfort myself with."
After Valerius and Robert left, shaking their heads in awe, Arion sat alone with his new fortune and depressingly useless skills.
"Four thousand coppers... a cooking skill... and the power to steal spoons remotely," Arion muttered with bitter sarcasm. "I'm now a rich, lazy chef. This isn't a hero's tale—it's the story of a man who'll retire by thirty."
But he knew retirement wasn't an option. His new reputation—a legend he hadn't asked for—was now a gilded cage. He sighed deeply, gathered his "possessions" (a heavy coin pouch, an elixir, and two empty books). He had to face a world that now believed a living myth walked among them.