Of course, the way he said it made it clear he wouldn’t give it up easily.
Herace found it strangely exhilarating.
‘He plans to get stronger and come for me afterward, doesn’t he?’
That defiance was perfectly suited to a protagonist.
In this kind of world, Protagonist monopolized all good things for themselves.
Fighting back against the villain?
It was just as it should be.
Perhaps curing Luke’s mana insensitivity would lead to an inevitable showdown.
This could work.
‘Looks like I’ve found my next exit strategy.’
The classic villain, punished for underestimating the protagonist and letting their ambitions overreach.
The only change is dying at the hands of the protagonist instead of a chimera, so it’s not all that different from the original script.
The fact that an extra-character outsider is lingering longer than expected means more causality points spent, but that’s unavoidable.
After all, this is the first long-term dispatch in a thousand years.
Surely the Dimensional Management Bureau had accounted for this much.
‘Why are you so quiet again?’
The restless protagonist, unable to wait even a moment longer, began picking at Herace’s nerves again.
Inwardly, Herace clicked his tongue.
Sure, it’s still early in the story, but the protagonist can’t hide his emotions at all.
If this were narrated in the novel, would it be framed as the bold protagonist who never backs down, even against villains?
“Can you stop rushing me? I already feel like I’m going to die from how much it pains me that thing ended up in your hands.”
“Then go ahead and die.”
“If I die, how do you plan on reading the status window?”
“……”
Luke fell silent for a moment but then slowly crept closer to Herace.
“So, when are you going to read it for me? Those scribbles over there. I can only make out the numbers.”
Protagonists never give up, no matter how many times they’re rebuffed.
Herace just leaned back against the cave wall.
Luke immediately sidled up next to him.
Herace’s pale, long fingers traced the status window.
‘Can you see this?’
* * *
Name: Luke Clayton
Lv. 3
Strength: 20
Agility: 15
Stamina: 13
Intuition: 10
Skill List
1. -System (Passive)
2. – Rewards (New!)
3. – Quests (New!)
* * *
“I can see the text, yeah. And the number 3 next to it.”
Numbers and punctuation are universal in any fantasy story.
Letters can vary by region or continent, but if those changed, even the author would get confused.
“This means your level is 3.”
“What’s a level?”
In a medieval world without video games or universal status windows, terms like “level” wouldn’t be common knowledge.
“It’s an objective measure of your strength.”
“So, you’re saying I’m only as strong as a 3?”
“Level 1 is about average civilian strength. A level 3 is actually quite high.”
‘Don’t give me that crap. How is 3 high?’
Fixated on the number, Luke angrily tapped the status window.
The translucent, blue glass-like panel floated undisturbed in the air.
“What do I gain from lying? You should be glad you know where you stand.”
“Why do you always have to talk like that?”
“Who started picking a fight first? Should I stop explaining?”
“I didn’t say to stop, damn it! Only level 3? That’s ridiculous. Then what’s this?”
Luke pointed at the stats section: Strength, Agility, Stamina, Intuition.
At least those were all above 10, so maybe he found some comfort in the idea that they were better than his level.
Even without sensing mana, Luke had trained relentlessly to earn his father’s approval.
To see all that effort summed up as a mere level 3 was understandably infuriating.
Still, it’s always more satisfying to watch a protagonist rise sharply from a low level.
“Those are your specific stats as Luke Clayton.”
“Don’t call me Clayton, damn it.”
At first, he had insisted he was the eldest son of a count, refusing to act like a slave.
Now that life had improved slightly, it seemed he hated the family that sold him into servitude.
Understandable.
“Luke Clayton.”
“You just never shut up, do you?”
“No need to overreact. It’s written right there. What do you want me to do about it?”
Herace’s finger tapped the “Name: Luke Clayton” section.
Luke ground his teeth in frustration.
“They threw me out of the family, so what does it matter? Damn it.”
“Then get stronger and take revenge later.”
“You don’t need to tell me. I’m going to.”
“Sure, sure.”
Of course, Herace already knew.
That was part of the original storyline.
He had only brought it up because it made for good foreshadowing.
“Strength, agility, stamina, and intuition—in that order.”
“My strength is 20? Based on what? What kind of system is this, splitting me into pieces and analyzing me?”
“Ah, don’t ask too many questions about that.”
It’s just a cliché.
Questioning it would only lead to convoluted answers.
That’s how it’s always been done, so that’s how it’s done now.
“I can’t even ask? And what am I supposed to do with this terrible feeling?”
“…Endure it.”
Being scanned and evaluated by the status window is just a rite of passage for protagonists.
In exchange, they gain the opportunity to grow stronger.
“Be grateful you even have the chance to get stronger. If you’re so unhappy, I could kill you right now, assuming you don’t want a new life.”
“Yeah, right. I heard you. You can’t kill me. Go ahead, try it!”
Luke mockingly presented his sturdy chest as if daring Herace to stab him.
Contrary to his intent, Herace found himself a little moved.
It was such a minor detail, yet it was rare for things to go as planned lately.
“Yes… You remembered.”
Trying to suppress his happiness, Herace bit his lip as he answered.
Luke gave him a suspicious look.
“Hey, you….”
“What?”
“Ah, nothing.”
Luke quickly turned his head away.
Herace considered pursuing the thought but decided it would be strange for a villain to try and analyze the protagonist’s emotions.
Best to let it go.
“More importantly, what’s the scale for these numbers? Don’t tell me 20 out of 100 is all I’ve got.”
“That’s exactly it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Luke’s immediate outburst made Herace laugh.
Caught off guard, he was briefly embarrassed but quickly justified it.
After all, a villain laughing only makes them more infuriating.
Herace’s airy laughter echoed through the dark, grim cave, still marked by the chimera’s corpse.
“…You like this, huh? You’re really getting on my nerves.”
“What can I do? It’s funny. You fell for it so easily.”
Luke’s rage hit its peak, and he swung a fist.
Herace effortlessly leaned away to dodge.
“You’re such an annoying bastard.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
Herace felt oddly proud of how well he was playing the villain.
“I don’t know the exact criteria either. I’ve only heard about it. You’ll figure it out as you go.”
A lie, of course.
Herace had read ‘The Black Sheep Swordsmanship Genius of a Magical Family’ in its entirety.
He knew all the details.
A stat of 10 marked the threshold between civilians and combatants.
By that standard, Luke’s strength was double that of an ordinary person.
If the “ordinary person” benchmark was based naively on an average adult male, then Luke was considerably stronger than most.
“You’re bluffing. If you slack off, I won’t give you any skills later.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be groveling with gratitude eventually.”
Herace casually dismissed the threat and reexamined the status window.
Something felt off.
It wasn’t quite the same as before.
“Ah.”
Luke’s agility stat was higher than in the original—15 instead of 13.
It was such a minor discrepancy that he noticed only now.
Herace, despite knowing better, rubbed the window as if to wipe off a smudge.
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