[System Notification.
Practice match completed.
Boss defeated as per the time requirements.
Calculating free goods given by the system to player as the player is a bit poor.]
Reever stared at the floating panel in front of him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then he snorted.
"Even the system has evolved enough to insult me directly now," he muttered. "And I am not that poor. Well, not that poor." He paused, then shrugged. "Still, I will never refuse free gifts. I just hope it is not disappointing."
He rubbed his metallic hands together as the next set of notifications appeared. No matter how many times he told himself to stay calm around rewards, the excitement always crept in. The system rarely gave things without a reason, and that alone made every gift suspicious. Still, suspicion never stopped curiosity.
[10,000 water bullets gained.
Passive healing skill on grounds with high concentration of moisture.
A Mystique weapon gained.]
Reever blinked once. Then twice.
"Cool." He nodded slowly. "My bullets are restored. Losses covered." His lips curled into a grin. "The system feeds me too much. I feel like a chicken being stuffed before getting slaughtered during the holidays."
He scratched the back of his head, the metal making a faint sound. "But nah, it is fine for now. I am already a dead man. Getting killed later might just be me repaying karma to the system."
His gaze lingered on the last line. A mystique weapon.
That one refused to leave his mind.
He swallowed and tapped the panel, opening the detailed information.
[Tehom: a mythical trident used by the mafia boss and a king of the deep to summon his henchmen to do his bidding, whether they liked it or not.
Ingrained skills found.]
"Like what the…" Reever stopped himself mid sentence and laughed. "This is too much. Even for someone who sometimes does not bat an eye at bribery."
He leaned closer to the panel, eyes scanning every word. "A mystique weapon. That is just insane." His grin widened, equal parts disbelief and excitement. "Does the system steal these things or what."
A mystique weapon was not something one casually obtained. Those were weapons reserved for masters. True monsters who had survived countless battles and crawled out of impossible situations. Weapons tied to legends, not training grounds.
And yet, here it was, handed to him as if it were a spare tool.
Reever hesitated for a brief moment. Just a brief one.
The rank he needed to reach to finally break free from this nightmare was the same rank that could wield such weapons properly. The system giving him this felt wrong. Too easy. Too generous.
But hesitation never lasted long with him.
He exhaled and tapped on the next option.
"What are ingrained skills anyway," he muttered. "Are they different from system skills given to elite players or something." He tilted his head. "I guess I will have to check that later at the library."
The panel expanded, lines of text stacking neatly in front of him.
[The Summoner: this skill allows the wielder to connect to aquatic beings lower than their rank and command them to act. Summoning range is one kilometer.]
Reever's eyebrows rose slightly.
"So basically slavery with extra steps," he murmured.
[The Defender: within water range, the trident calls upon the ocean to protect the wielder from attacks. If the connection is deep, the ocean itself takes the damage, preserving the wielder's life.]
His smile faded a little.
"That explains how that guy survived so much," he said quietly.
[The Mauler: the ocean fights alongside the wielder. Water bullets and water spears are formed based on connection strength. A giant water monster can be created temporarily to protect the wielder.]
Reever let out a low whistle.
[The Annihilator: the trident gathers massive amounts of water into powerful vortexes and sends them skyward. Giant spears are formed with destructive power capable of erasing battlefields. Strength and number depend on the wielder's rank.]
His jaw tightened.
[The Savior: injuries and damage are washed away by the ocean, rejuvenating the wielder and allowing continued combat in water domains.]
Silence followed.
Reever read the list again. Slowly. Carefully.
Then again.
"These are not skills," he finally said. "These are cheat codes."
For the first time since entering the training center, Reever did not joke. He did not smirk. He did not curse. He simply stood there, staring at the panel with an expression that bordered on disbelief.
He shook his head and let out a quiet breath.
"If the mafia king was even a little stronger," he said softly, "I would not be standing here right now."
The truth sat heavy in his mind. The skills written before him were proof. Proof of how thin the line had been between survival and death. He had not dominated that fight. He had escaped it.
Barely.
"Man," he sighed. "I feel like I could be a bot forever."
The words left his mouth before his brain could stop them.
His eyes narrowed.
"Wait." He frowned. "Was that the point."
He glanced at the system panel again, suspicion creeping back in. Was the system doing all this to prove something. To show him that bots were its favored children. That it would do anything to protect them, arm them, strengthen them.
His grip tightened.
"Even if you give me a divine weapon," he said firmly, "I will still choose freedom."
A sharp notification sound cut through his thoughts.
[Warning.
The weapon is not an inbound weapon.
Upon death, the weapon can be looted permanently.
Become an Elite Pro to convert the weapon into an inbound weapon.
Due to low rank, only the Savior skill is currently available.]
Reever stared at the warning.
Then he exploded.
"Screw that," he snapped. "I curse for a bit, reject your offer, and now you put limits on me. Do not be petty, system."
He crossed his arms. "I will reconsider your offer. Maybe."
Inbound weapons were something he had learned about in the library. Weapons that bonded with their owners. Weapons that stayed with them even through death. Weapons that could not be stolen.
This trident was not one of them.
Which meant one thing.
Anyone strong enough to kill him could take it.
And that made his skin crawl.
A mystique weapon. A master level weapon. Something even masters struggled to obtain. Walking around with this without protection was like painting a target on his back.
He sighed deeply.
Negotiating with the system was pointless. It always had the last word. Still, this was not a complete loss. Even without the locked skills, the weapon itself was absurdly durable. Just swinging it would be deadly.
"All I need is practice," he said, nodding to himself. "A bit of time."
He imagined himself wielding the trident properly, movements smooth and natural instead of clumsy. The thought alone steadied him.
Without wasting time, he exited the training center. The world shifted, and the familiar surroundings of his lobby materialized around him.
The battle was over.
The rewards were claimed.
And whether he liked it or not, Reever had just stepped into a much more dangerous stage of the game, where he had to protect a weapon he nearly died for.