Chapter 6: Initial Assessment (6)

The novice mage’s cheeks burned with indignation as the other two ignored her completely.

One was a rare priest, the other a strikingly handsome man—neither someone she dared to cross.

So, she spun on her heel and fixed her glare on SlightlyChubby, her voice dripping with venom.

“What are you staring at? You’re useless, like a pig!”

SlightlyChubby, now composed, let out a cold chuckle and said, “Got some kind of misunderstanding about me, huh?”

Su Luo, who’d pegged SlightlyChubby as a pitiful pushover, froze at her words.

She turned to look at her, curiosity piqued.

Without warning, SlightlyChubby placed her hand on the novice mage’s head.

Nothing happened.

The mage let out a shrill scream and asked, “What did you do to me?!”

When no calamity followed, the mage burst into mocking laughter and said, “Just trying to scare me, huh?”

SlightlyChubby only smirked and replied, “You’ll see soon enough.”

Su Luo’s brow furrowed.

Her gut told her SlightlyChubby wasn’t bluffing—she’d done something to the mage.

Before she could press further, the tank’s bellow cut through the air from across the battlefield.

“Quit chatting! DPS, heal, now! We’re barely holding on!” Su Luo’s expression hardened.

Personal grudges would have to wait.

She snapped her focus to the fight.

Attacks landed with precision—-14, -21, -20—as the boss’s health bar dwindled under their relentless assault.

Suddenly, the boss retracted its writhing tentacles.

Before Su Luo could question it, the blue-robed woman shouted, “The boss is about to unleash its big move!”

Su Luo’s heart lurched.

Her eyes locked onto the towering creature.

The boss leaped, soaring to blot out the sun before plummeting with terrifying force.

Su Luo’s breath caught as she realized its trajectory—straight for the novice mage.

The mage, who’d once been a campus bully picking on the weak, had never faced anything like this.

Her accidental discovery of a basic talent skill had briefly made her the center of attention, inflating her ego to reckless heights.

She’d never imagined her life could be at risk.

Now, as the boss descended, she stood frozen, rooted to the spot in terror.

A veteran mage nearby moved to shove her out of harm’s way, but the novice’s legs buckled, and she collapsed, screaming, “Help! Save me!”

The veteran cursed under his breath.

“With that kind of cowardice, no one can save you!”

It was too late.

Su Luo watched, helpless, as the boss’s steel-like mass slammed into the mage.

A critical -20 flashed, and her health bar vanished.

She was gone in an instant.

Su Luo stared at the empty spot, stunned.

A single boss move could obliterate a newbie?

This was madness!

“Don’t just stand there! Hit it with everything you’ve got!” someone shouted.

Su Luo snapped back to reality.

No time for shock—killing the boss was priority one.

Her hands moved on instinct, casting skills, but her mind raced.

The boss’s leap had landed exactly on the novice mage.

Thinking back, Su Luo couldn’t shake the memory of SlightlyChubby’s earlier move.

Was it a coincidence?

She doubted it.

Among the newbies, only SlightlyChubby hadn’t gasped when the boss struck.

Her talent skill had to be involved—but what was it?

No time to dwell.

The boss was nearly down, its health bar a sliver.

Tension gripped the group as everyone vied for the final blow.

“Flame of the Fire God!”

“Vine Whip!”

“Wind Blade!”

Skills rained down on the boss.

Even Su Luo, unnoticed in the chaos, tossed out a basic skill, hoping for a stroke of luck.

‘OK.’

In a flash, the boss’s health hit zero.

It dissolved into specks of white light, vanishing before their eyes.

Su Luo muttered to herself, ‘Acting all weak earlier, but you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve, huh?’

She glanced at her task log—unsurprisingly, incomplete.

Lifting her gaze, she scanned the group to spot who’d landed the killing blow.

These were veterans, though, and their faces betrayed nothing.

Even Su Luo, sharp as she was, caught no hints.

Wait.

Her eyes landed on Number Ten, lurking in the shadows.

Something about his expression was… off.

He noticed her stare and met her gaze.

‘[Dungeon nearing completion. Countdown begins.]’

She saw Number Ten’s lips move.

‘5.’

What was he saying?

‘4.’

‘3.’

‘2.’

‘1.’

“Ji Hei.”

“My name.”

‘[Dungeon complete.]’

‘Congratulations, players, for passing the initial trial. Now calculating rewards.’

‘1. Defeat all monsters (mandatory) – Completed.’  

‘2. Personally defeat five regular monsters (mandatory) – 5/5. Reward: Health +1.’

‘3. Achieve 200 healing output (mandatory) – 200/200. Reward: Health +2.’  

‘4. Personally defeat one elite monster (optional) – 1/1. Reward: Health +3.’  

5. Personally defeat the dungeon boss (optional) – 0/1. Reward: Health +4 (unclaimed).’  

‘Total Rewards: Health +6, Attribute Point +1, Points +20, Stamina Potion ×2, Health Potion ×2.’

‘Please allocate your attribute point freely.’

A wave of dizziness hit Su Luo as forgotten memories flooded back.

“Congratulations, you possess a talent skill. Please report to the capital airport by this Friday to join other players on the Player Continent.”

Su Luo sighed, a bitter edge to it.

An orphan like her had found some semblance of safety on this continent, but the Player Continent?

That was a death sentence waiting to happen.

Decades ago, some people began awakening skills at eighteen, forced into monthly dungeons.

Some returned.

Others vanished without a trace.

Eventually, the government funneled these “players” to the Oro Continent—now called the Player Continent—and built a system to stabilize it.

Su Luo pulled up her interface, studying her stats:  

‘Health: 15 (15)’  

‘Strength: 7 (10)’  

‘Speed: 12 (10)’  

‘Spirit: 14 (10)’  

‘Endurance: 10 (10)’

‘Charm: 12 (10)’  

‘Talent Skill: Divine Redemption (Legendary) – Instantly teleport one person at full health to any location the skill’s owner has previously visited. Usable once per dungeon.’

The human limit was 15, with the numbers in parentheses showing the average for players.

Talent skills ranged from Common to Elite, Master, Grandmaster, Epic, Mythic, and Legendary.

Once she reached the Player Continent, the initial dungeon would assign her class and first skill.

Glancing at her stats, Su Luo figured she’d likely end up a mage.

Back at the orphanage, she packed her meager belongings.

There wasn’t much to take.

A sharp “knock, knock, knock” broke the quiet.  

Su Luo turned and opened the door, revealing, as expected, the orphanage’s Mama Dean.

As Mama Dean stepped inside, her eyes fell on the small, battered suitcase in the corner—a pitiful thing, barely able to hold much at all.  

She’d come to see if Su Luo needed help packing, but the sight of that tiny case answered her question before it was asked.

Her eyes welled up, a faint redness betraying the ache in her heart.  

“Luoluo,” she said softly, her voice trembling, “when you get there… you must take care of yourself. Be cautious, don’t trust too easily. You’re a sensible girl, and all I want is for you to be happy.”  

Su Luo felt the warmth of Mama Dean’s sincerity.

Memories of her time at the orphanage flooded back—moments of joy and comfort that had enveloped her, despite the taunts of children from beyond the orphanage walls.  

She’d once dreamed of earning enough to give the other kids here a better life, but that future was slipping away.  

Those who went to the Player Continent rarely returned.

Only the elite, those who climbed the leaderboards, ever made it back.  

“Mama Dean, I can’t repay—” Su Luo began, but Mama Dean cut her off, her voice firm yet kind.

“Repay? Don’t talk about repayment. You’re heading into a place where life and death are uncertain. All I ask, Luoluo, is that you survive. That’s the greatest gift you could give me.”  

Mama Dean asked if Su Luo wanted a farewell party, but Su Luo gently declined.

Mama Dean was already stretched thin running the orphanage; there was no need to burden her further for someone who might never return.  

Su Luo sank onto the edge of her bed, her mind adrift.

Awakening a talent skill was rare, a possibility she’d never considered in her life’s plans.  

And now… well, here she was.

With a sigh, she began to grapple with what lay ahead.  

Her talent skill, Divine Redemption, was Legendary—a rare and potent gift.

Though limited to one use per dungeon, its potential was undeniable.

A perfect escape tool, it could whisk someone to safety in an instant.

The possibilities were vast, if she could learn to wield it well.