Morning came quietly over Arcania.
Soft light filtered through the hotel curtains, painting the room in pale gold.
Arthur stretched, yawned, and rolled out of bed.
After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he stepped into the shower. Warm water cascaded over his head and shoulders, washing away the last traces of sleep.
By the time he stepped out, he felt clear and awake.
He changed into training clothes—simple black athletic pants, a fitted dark gray training shirt that hugged his frame just enough to show definition without being too tight, and lightweight combat shoes designed for high-mobility movement.
His hair was still slightly damp, falling across his forehead in messy strands.
Phone in hand, he made his way down to the hotel's Awakener training facility.
The entrance was guarded by a mana scanner and a sleek terminal.
Arthur first tapped his hand as the scanner identified him as an F-ranker.
Then he tapped his phone against the pad, paid the fee for using the traning facility, and watched the confirmation light turn green.
He pushed the door open.
The training facility was massive.
Weighted mannequins lined one side.
Combat rings, elemental chambers, treadmills enchanted for speed and gravity adjustment—everything an Awakener could need was there.
The moment Arthur stepped inside—
The noise dropped.
Sparring slowed.
Conversations stopped mid-sentence.
He walked a few steps in.
Then he realized it.
Everyone was staring at him.
Eyes followed him from all directions.
Men.
Women.
Some froze mid-punch.
Others paused mid-stretch.
Arthur frowned slightly.
'…What the hell?'
Their looks weren't hostile.
They were… mesmerized.
A group of girls broke away from a corner.
One walked straight toward him, cheeks slightly pink.
"Hey," she said, smiling shyly. "Um… do you maybe have a number I can contact you on?"
Another girl slid in from the side.
"Are you free tonight?" she asked boldly. "We're going out after training. You should come with us."
A third grinned.
"I'm training tomorrow evening too," she said. "If you want… we can spar together and then have dinner?"
Arthur's eye twitched.
'What the hell… is this—'
He barely had time to process that before several boys approached too.
One of them scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"Bro, you free later?" he asked. "We've got a private practice group, maybe we can… y'know, hang out after?"
Another smirked.
One even licked his lips sending a chill down arthurs spine.
"Are you new here?" he asked. "We should grab a drink sometime."
Arthur froze.
His brain stalled.
'Is this… a mind control ability? Are they being controlled?'
He took a half step back.
"Hey, what the hell is going on…" he muttered under his breath.
'Are they under some kind of influence?'
The system's voice suddenly rang in his head.
[ Oh boy… oh boy… I made a mistake. ]
Arthur's eyebrow twitched.
'What did you do,' he thought.
[ Just go back to your room now. ]
"Why?" Arthur hissed under his breath. "What the hell is happening?"
[ I will tell you after. Just hurry, before they start fighting over you. ]
That was all he needed to hear.
Arthur turned around.
"Sorry, I just remembered something urgent," he blurted, slipping through the crowd.
Questions followed him.
"Hey, wait—"
"At least give me your name—"
"Do you have a girlfriend—"
Arthur tore himself free, weaving between Awakeners, practically sprinting toward the exit.
He burst out of the training facility, heart pounding.
He didn't stop until he reached his room.
He shoved the door open, slammed it shut behind him, and locked it.
"Huff… huff…"
He leaned against the door, catching his breath.
Then his expression darkened.
'You better have a damn good explanation for what just happened, you idiotic system,' he thought.
Silence for a moment.
Then:
[ Host, do you remember how I told you when we first met that I didn't come with many useful features like other Systems, aside from stealing? ]
"Yes, I remember," Arthur said aloud. "What, do you want me to feel guilty because you're a weakling?"
[ Would you listen to me first. ]
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Alright. Speak."
[ The thing is… ]
The system's tone turned awkward.
[ In exchange for not having flashy combat modules or growth shortcuts like other Systems, I was given something else—no conventional limits. ]
Arthur stilled.
[ For example: the Charm stat in most Systems cannot exceed 99. That is considered the mortal limit. ]
[ Luck also cannot be increased. It remains the same as the day the host is born. Other Systems are bound by these caps. ]
A pause.
[ Now… do you see where I am going with this. ]
Understanding slammed into Arthur.
"My Charm stat… is 110," he said slowly.
Cold sweat rolled down his back.
Veins popped on his forehead.
He forced a smile.
"Why," he asked through gritted teeth, "didn't you tell me that yesterday?"
[ I… may have forgotten in the excitement, ] the system admitted. [ And by the time I remembered, you had already raised your Charm beyond mortal norms. ]
Arthur's jaw clenched.
He inhaled.
Exhaled.
For a second, he was about to explode.
Then he stopped himself.
He dragged a hand down his face.
"…Let's calm down," he muttered. "There is always a solution for every problem."
He took a deep breath.
Another.
'First problem of the day,' he thought dryly.
'Figure out how not to get mobbed to death by horny admirers.'
------
Arthur sat on the bed, still replaying the disaster at the training hall. His hair clung slightly to his forehead; frustration simmered beneath his calm expression.
The system's voice broke the silence, sounding hesitant but upbeat.
The room was silent for a moment then~
[ Look on the bright side host. ]
Arthur stared blankly at the ceiling. "What bright side in all this you bastard."
[ Now every girl wants you... you lucky duck. ]
Arthur's eye twitched. He sat up sharply. "Did you forget the boys licking their lips too?"
A pause.
[ I'm sorry. It will never happen again. Please Just look over it. (>.<) ]
Arthur exhaled slowly and rubbed his face. "Forget it. I was also an idiot for increasing that stat without thinking about the effects."
The system spoke again, its tone turning thoughtful.
[ Why don't you use an artifact to reduce your Charm stat? There should be many in this world's artifact shops. ]
Arthur blinked, then nodded slightly. "You're right... that's actually a good idea. I'm surprised you though if it."
[ What does that mean. ]
Arthur ignored the system.
He took out his phone and started scrolling through online marketplaces that specialized in magical artifacts.
Opening his shop interface, he filtered through hundreds of available items, narrowing the list to those affecting Charm. After a few seconds, one item drew his attention.
{ Bracelet of Disfavor (E-Rank)
Type: Artifact (Cursed)
Effect:
Charm −20
Description:
Those near the wearer feel instinctive unease. Persuasion and seduction become significantly harder, and Charm-based effects fail.
Curse:
Once equipped, it cannot be removed by the user himself. }
"Twenty thousand dollars for this?" Arthur muttered, eyebrow twitching.
He clenched his jaw, sighed through his nose, and pressed purchase. "Whatever. Better than being hunted by walking hormones."
Half an hour later, his phone rang.
"Sir, your delivery has arrived at the front desk," an attendant said politely.
Arthur threw on a jacket put on a mask on his face, descended , and signed for a small black package. Returning to his room as if he was running, he tore it open.
Inside lay a simple matte-black bracelet etched with faint gray cracks. Its surface was cold — too cold — almost as if rejecting warmth itself. The instant it touched his wrist, a faint pulse rippled through the air. The atmosphere thickened; an invisible pressure settled.
Arthur's breath hitched. It really did feel cursed.
"So... I can't remove it by myself, huh?" he whispered, lips curling faintly. "Doesn't matter. I'm not planning to anyway."
"Show my Charm stat."
A translucent window materialized in front of him.
Charm: 110 (−20) ]
"Good," he said simply.
He stood, straightened his collar, and left the room quietly. His steps echoed in the hallway as he returned to the training facility, far more cautious this time.
When Arthur entered the wide hall again, a few people naturally turned their heads. But unlike before, no one approached like hungry animals on instinct.
They stared a few seconds — curiosity, surprise, maybe lingering interest. Girls who met his gaze flushed and looked away; boys scoffed under their breath.
"Tch. Damn pretty boys," one muttered.
Arthur sighed in relief. "Good... people didn't turn into zombies this time."
He walked straight to the training-bot section.
Rows of humanoid combat units lined the walls — sleek, rune-inscribed, their alloy frames humming faintly with compressed mana. A control panel stood at the center, illuminated with adjustable settings:
{ Rank: F → S
Styles: Boxing, Kickboxing, Swordsmanship, Spear, MMA, etc.
Level: 1–10 — Higher levels define greater speed, coordination, and tactical awareness.}
Arthur scanned the menu. "Let's try... F-rank, Level 5. Style: Kickboxing. Let's see how I'll do."
[ Don't you only know boxing? ] the system asked.
Arthur smirked. "My coach taught me boxing... but he was a kickboxer at heart. He only gave me the basics about kicking though."
[ And the rest? ]
He chuckled. "I learned it watching him practice alone so the rest I picked up myself."
The console beeped.
{ Configuration accepted. Initializing F-Rank training bot: 1 unit level-5. }
A single bot's eyes glowed blue as it activated, its stance crisp and balanced. The floor panels vibrated as it readied itself.
"Begin," the facility system announced.
Arthur watched closely — relaxed stance, breathing steady. The bot surged forward with a jab aimed at his face.
'I can see it...' Arthur thought, gaze sharpening. 'Unlike last time, when that purple-haired girl planted her fist in my gut... this time, I can see it.'
He slipped his head aside. The jab brushed past, harmless.
Arthur's right fist lashed out instantly, twisting through the motion. His knuckles struck the bot's stomach.
BOOM.
The bot's body launched backward, crashing into the reinforced wall, sparks exploding across its torso.
The match timer froze.
"Combat concluded. Winner: Participant."
Arthur blinked at the sparking wreckage. "Did... it just get defeated in one punch?"
[ What did you expect, Host. ] The system's voice carried a teasing note. [ Your stats are higher than an F-ranker's. ]
Arthur scratched his chin. "You're right. Let's try something stronger."
He returned to the console. "This time, E-rank. Difficulty Level 7. Number of units... five."
The console beeped again.
{ Configuration accepted. Initializing five E-Rank training bots. }
All five bots activated — their alloy exoskeletons slightly bulkier, energy cores humming brighter. They surrounded him, forming a half-moon formation.
Arthur rolled his shoulders, exhaling. "Alright... let's go."
"Begin."
The bots charged simultaneously.
Arthur dodged the first jab, deflecting a cross — but a second bot's low kick slammed into his shin. He grit his teeth and checked the blow, redirecting it with a counter low kick.
"Gh—"
A third bot rushed from his flank. He slid sideways, brought his leg uptight, and slammed a kick into its temple. Sparks flew as it staggered. He grabbed its head and kneed its torso.
One down.
Another bot swung a head kick; Arthur ducked low, pivoted, and threw a roundhouse to its ribs. The metallic clang echoed across the hall.
The remaining three attacked together — jabs, hooks, and flying kicks. Arthur intercepted, blocking with tight guardwork, weaving in close and countering with precise strikes. Blow by blow, he read their rhythm.
A crossed punch.
A counter-hook.
A knee to the gut.
A kick to the mid section.
And a roundhouse kick to the face.
And all five fell.
{ Match concluded. Winner: Participant. }
Arthur blew out a breath, chest rising and falling. "Five E-rank Level 7 bots... Not bad."
The noise had drawn attention.
Other Awakeners drifted toward the observation glass. Wide eyes and hushed whispers spread like fire.
"Who's that kid?"
"Check his rank."
A staff member glanced at the terminal. "F-rank. That's what he showed during registration."
An awkward silence lingered. Then—
"F-rank?!" someone blurted. "He's fighting E-rank Level 7 bots like that?"
Conversations buzzed alive.
"Has he signed with a guild?"
"Doesn't seem like it."
"Then maybe we should get to him first."
Several Awakeners exchanged ambitious glances.
---
The training hall doors slid open.
A woman walked in.
Her hair was a soft, pastel pink that fell to her shoulders in loose waves, framing a flawless face with sharp, cool gray eyes.
She wore a black sports bra and fitted high-waist training leggings that hugged a lean, toned figure—every line of muscle defined without being bulky, every movement confident and fluid.
The nearby staff scrambled immediately.
"M-Miss Yuna! You should've told us you were coming earlier!"
Yuna's cold gaze flicked to them. "Why would I need to inform you guys," she asked coldly, "to step into my own hotel's training facility?"
The staff paled instantly. "N-No, Miss, we didn't mean—"
But she wasn't listening anymore. Her gaze followed everyone else's—to the combat some of the traning facility.
"What's going on there?" she asked, voice icy but curious.
"A boy at F-rank is fighting E-rank bots," one employee answered. "And he's... holding his own."
Yuna scoffed lightly. "Holding his own against one E-rank training bot? Hardly impressive."
The staff shook his head nervously. "It's not one, Miss. He's fought five at once and defeated them all. All set at Level 7."
That made Yuna stop. "Five... Level 7?"
She stepped toward the glass.
Inside, Arthur reset the console.
"Alright," he said, rolling his neck. "I've adjusted to it. Increase the number... to seven."
{ Configuration updated. Initializing seven E-Rank units. }
The ground vibrated faintly as two more activated, joining the five still standing. The bots spread around him, encircling him from all sides.
{ Begin } said the mechanical voice.
'His footwork is decent,' she thought. 'Guard's a bit raw, but his instincts are there. For F-rank, this is… interesting.'
The bots attacked together — flanking patterns overlapping.
Arthur met them head-on.
He dodged the first hook, parried two strikes—but a low kick slammed into his thigh. He grunted, twisting and counterattacking with a sidekick, but another punch connected from the rear.
A spinning roundhouse kick caught his ribs—pain exploding through his torso.
He rolled with the impact, hitting the mat, trying to rise—but a follow-up barrage overwhelmed him.
In perfect sync, all seven bots swarmed, delivering a rain of strikes.
Blows hammered his ribs, arms, and guard before one slipped through—cracking against his jaw.
Arthur dropped to his knees. The a voice chimed:
{ Match concluded. RESULT : Loss of the Participant }
He lay flat on the floor, chest heaving. "That... was a bad idea," he groaned weakly. "Ahh... I'm going to feel it tomorrow."
Through the observation glass, many Awakeners laughed good-loudly but without any malice.
"He's nuts," one said, grinning.
"But damn, that's some reflexes for an F-rank," another replied.
Yuna's gray eyes softened just slightly. Watching Arthur wipe sweat from his brow, she smirked. "A cute and vicious one, huh."
Her expression turned intent. She pulled out her phone.
"All three of you," she said coldly when the line connected, "come to the hotel training facility. Right now."
A pause.
"Be a minute late," she added flatly, "and you'll get 3 times of extra training."
She ended the call with a soft click, eyes never leaving Arthur.
In the ring, Arthur pushed himself up, clenching his sore jaw.
Completely unaware—
He had already caught a predator's eye.