Kenji leaned back against the deep comfort of the living room couch, the warmth of a ceramic mug pressed between his hands. He took a slow sip of the coffee, a ridiculously expensive blend he'd acquired from the Ritz Family's private stock, well, his stock now, before his eyes refocused on the glowing stat screen hovering before him. He finally understood what had been bothering him when the Rank Up button appeared so silently.
For the last two Rank Ups, the system had always given an unmistakable alert: "You've reached max stats. Rank Up available."
But this time? Nothing. Just the button. The lack of notification was what set him off. The System was subtly informing him that while he had reached the requirement for rank up, he had not reached the Tier 7 limits, indicating a new, hidden requirement for progression beyond merely meeting the baseline 100 required for the prompt.
He frowned, leaning forward to place the mug on the coffee table. "So it wasn't complete yet…" He idly brushed a hand through his golden-brown hair, a slight motion of annoyance.
To test his hunch, he allocated a single free point to Strength. The number immediately shifted, 101.36. It was instantaneous proof that the Tier 7 cap wasn't a hard 100, but that the System allowed a bonus increase.
Kenji grinned, the discovery confirming his system-gaming intuition. "So I was right."
The Rank Up option had appeared when he had technically maxed out the current tier's potential. The immediate question wasn't just what the new upper limit was, but what tangible benefit did pushing those extra numbers actually provide beyond simple brute force?
Like what he meant was sure the peak he'd seen for others was 100, but let's say he was 111 in strength stat, technically he would still be a high class, a tier 7 to his system, but does that mean that in the supernatural world he would still be high class, and if so, then what does the increase add.
He recognized the flaw in thinking that a raw number dictated rank for others; he'd known opponents like Rias, who were High-Class despite having lower speed than Kiba, proving specialization mattered more than full distribution for everyone else. As it shows, one doesn't need all the stats to reach the peak of your class, just one to far surpass the expected baseline.
That was his core advantage, though. He didn't just min-max, he balanced. Always even. This habit, since he was a kid, always liked when his stats were even out in video games, now meant that he was a complete monster to those of similar class.
His evenly distributed power meant he had no exploitable weakness, a tactical edge against specialized opponents who relied on their singular focus. He wasn't just High-Class in one stat but all. He was, by all means, the paragon of the High-Class tier.
He decided to test the utility. He added ten points to Intelligence. He didn't feel his total mana pool increase at all. Frowning, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair again, the lack of immediate feedback and waste of free stat annoying him.
He tried again with another ten. Still nothing.
Then, he summoned a ball of raw mana, and his eyes widened in genuine awe.
The difference wasn't in quantity, the mana pool was the same size.
No, it was quality.
His mana was sharper, denser, and had a strange weight to it now. It felt impossibly pure, like liquid light solidified, shimmering with a gold and slight purple-tinged layer.
"So that's it… potency." The extra stats helped condense his energy, increasing the damage and effect of every spell he cast, rather than just the total amount he could store.
It was a massive jump in magical efficiency. His ability to mold the energy into a flawless sphere with absolute control indicated that every spell he cast would now hit harder, penetrate deeper, and consume less energy for the same effect.
He ran more experiments to find the true cap. Strength, Speed, and Endurance were the first to stop moving, capping at 120.
This 20% overage suggested the physical body had a finite limit for continuous, points-based refinement before the next tier's evolution was absolutely necessary, likely because physical matter itself has rigid limitations. The increase meant his raw output was 20% higher than peak High-Class, granting him speed and resilience rivaling lower Ultimate-Class figures.
Intelligence and Wisdom went further, finally stopping at 150. The mind's potential for growth, refinement, and magical throughput was clearly higher than the body's.
This meant his thinking speed, spell calculation, and mana handling were now fifty percent better than the 'max' of the High-Class tier. He could process combat scenarios faster, manage multiple complex Nen threads simultaneously, and mentally weave spells with greater complexity and speed.
Wisdom gave the clearest, most immediate effect. When he released a small pulse of mana, it refilled faster than ever before. His mana recovery speed had skyrocketed, effectively granting him near-infinite endurance for low-to-mid-level spells, a powerful advantage that negated the need for constant caution in combat.
The recovery was so fast it was almost unnerving, creating a sensation of constant fullness, like an eternally recharging battery when using small spells.
Charisma, the stat of presence and influence, oddly didn't budge at all, remaining steadfast at 100, proving that certain aspects of power were locked to the fundamental Rank Up itself.
He was just about to test more, pushing the physical limits by trying a small Stat Shift maneuver, when he caught movement at the edge of his senses, someone passing by outside the living room door. He quickly canceled the mana, the energy vanishing without a trace. "Forgot I was still in the living room…" he muttered, picking his mug back up and taking another sip to mask his activities.
Still, the discovery left him thrilled. If the stat caps rose with each Rank Up, then even beyond raw power, he'd be enhancing everything, energy, body, and mind.
Just then, the notification finally appeared, confirming his success:
[All Stats Maxed(TierLimitReached).RankUpAvailable.Proceed?]
[Yes] or [No]
"That's more like it." He tapped Yes.
The change was quick. A sharp, electric sting lanced through his body, not painful, but intense, like a complete system overhaul. It felt like his consciousness briefly left his body as his entire physical and energetic framework was rebuilt, upgraded, and reinforced.
The sting settled into a rush of absolute peace. His aura rippled outward, briefly shaking the surrounding air with immense power, but unlike previous ranks, it immediately snapped inward, drawing into a perfectly contained, quiet reservoir.
[Congratulations.[Tier6Achieved].]
Kenji exhaled slowly, a triumphant grin tugging at his lips. "Ultimate Class, huh? Not bad at all." He felt the true weight of the power now, a sense that reality itself might become subject to his will. The difference between High-Class and Ultimate Class was like heaven and earth.
This was the class that the gods started. A human had made it to the level of gods, even if it's just a minor god as of the moment.
He decided to see the rewards he'd gotten.
The rewards appeared. He liked the tailored suit, "The Don's Authority," which promised not only good defense. The other rewards he just dismissed.
Then his eyes landed on what mattered most: Random Boxes, and Gacha Tickets: x3.
Now he had a total of Random Boxes: x3 and Gacha Tickets: x7.
He clasped his hands, rubbing them together eagerly. "Time to pray to the gacha gods again. I need a new weapon." His current sword wouldn't hold up anymore, Ultimate Class enemies would treat it like glass. He needed something with more cutting power to face beings who could wipe out entire cities with ease.
He first used all seven tickets. The results were immediate, materializing with the cruel mock fanfare of a cosmic joke that seemed designed to test his patience.
Minor Healing – Heals paper cuts instantly.
Night Vision – See in dim light. 'Redundant.'
Basic First Aid – You can put on a bandage.
A Used Tissue – It's slightly damp, 'really,' he sighed.
Jar of Dirt – "You've got a jar of dirt!" 'ha ha ha, very funny'
Mysterious Liquid – It's definitely not water. Might be mildly radioactive. 'A passive threat requiring active management.'
Broken Remote– The batteries are dead.
Kenji stared at the floating list, his expression flat, his eye twitching. "Most useless haul ever." The sheer pointlessness of the haul was a personal offense, a cruel joke played by the omnipotent System.
He sighed heavily and moved on to the first random box.
Light saber Hilt(Star Wars)–The crystal is cracked. It flickers weakly.
He dragged a hand down his face, fighting the rising feeling of injustice. A broken, non-functional piece of technology from another universe, requiring immense resources to repair. He tossed it into his inventory, another monument to bad luck.
Opening the second box, he held his breath. The item materialized, a slim, straight-bladed chokutō sword. The system identified it, Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi.
It was a beautiful, highly durable blade from the Naruto world, as the description says, a step up, certainly, capable of slicing chakra and holding an edge against incredible forces.
It has incredible powers and an inherent resistance to magic. However, it lacked something he needed.
"Not what I wanted, but I'll keep it," he muttered, letting out a long, suffering sigh. It was a high-quality tool when he needed a legendary key.
But he wasn't done yet. His MSC balance sat at nearly 39,000 points. While that wasn't enough for the truly high-end Diamond or Platinum pulls, it was more than enough for three shots at the Gold Gacha (10,000 points per roll). Gold Gacha had a non-zero chance of pulling a Platinum-level item. He didn't even hesitate. He needed a transcendental weapon, and this was his last, best bet. He spent 30,000 points.
The three gold rewards materialized with a blinding, hopeful golden flash, each item feeling heavier and more potent than anything before, signaling a massive spike in his luck:
A Single Dragon Ball (Dragon Ball) – It's the 4-star ball. A powerful artifact, granting him one-seventh of a wish from a cosmic dragon. A valuable goal to chase.
Yoru (One Piece) – Mihawk's black blade. A high-quality sword, capable of turning any cut into a formidable slash.
Yamato (Devil May Cry)
Kenji's heart slammed against his ribs as the final weapon gleamed in his hands. He let out a loud, joyous laugh and actually reached up to gently pull at his own hair with both hands in sheer, unadulterated relief and joy. He couldn't believe his luck had turned so dramatically.
"Finally!"
He carefully reached out and grasped the hilt. The katana was a masterpiece. Its blade was a flawless mirror that seemed to drink the light around it, giving a dangerous authority.
The scabbard was jet black, intricately carved with cryptic demonic script, an aesthetic that perfectly matched the gravity of its function. He drew the blade a few inches, the shing sound was less metallic and more like a tear in the fabric of space. He swung the sheathed blade once, and the air around it felt strangely fractured, as if the movement had subtly divided the very space it occupied, leaving behind a subtle, lingering distortion.
The legendary sword, capable of dimensional slicing, separating man from demon, and cutting through concepts, not merely flesh, was now his. It was the perfect tool for a dimension-hopping Ultimate Class warrior.
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