10-Exploring the System

"Doms, I'll be in the bathroom," Arthur says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I glance up just in time to see him pulling off his shirt. My gaze lingers for a second too long, drawn to the sight of his chiseled torso. Six-pack abs and an athletic physique—he looks like he stepped out of a fitness magazine.

I can't help but wonder what kind of training regimen he follows to maintain a form like that. Strength training? Magic-enhanced workouts? It has to be something intense.

"Doms?" His voice, tinged with impatience, breaks through my internal musings.

Crap. I was caught staring.

"Just… just go to the bathroom," I mumble, hoping my tone doesn't betray the embarrassment I feel creeping up my neck.

Arthur raises an eyebrow but doesn't press further. He nods, disappearing out of my room and leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts.

I let out a sigh and slump onto my bed, letting the weight of the day wash over me. So much has happened, yet one thing keeps resurfacing in my mind—the Gun Arts Manual.

I'd almost forgotten about it in the whirlwind of everything else. But now that I have a moment, I need to figure out how to access it. The holographic screen only seems to appear sporadically, usually when there's a quest.

I sit up and scratch my head. How does one even summon a holographic screen? Waving my hands like some sorcerer seems silly, but… might as well try.

"Uh… I summon thee, holographic screen thingy…" I say awkwardly, half-expecting nothing to happen.

Greetings, Master; how may I help you?

Oh. It worked.

Before me, a shimmering holographic screen materializes, its soft glow illuminating the room. The display is simple yet futuristic, awaiting my next command.

"Alright," I mutter to myself, sitting up straighter. "Time to ask some questions…"

I take a deep breath, trying to organize the flood of questions racing through my mind. I have a lot of questions that need to be answered.

"What are… you, exactly? What do the Stat Points I've been receiving truly mean? And most importantly, why am I forbidden from revealing your existence—or my true identity?" I ask aloud.

I am the System, Master. I am here to display your stats, track your progress, showcase your skills, and assign quests with rewards upon completion. However, due to your Manaless condition, your access is limited. You may only view your stats, progress, and quests.

Stat Points can be used to enhance your attributes. As for why you cannot reveal my existence and your true identity—those are commands from… him.

The explanation is straightforward but frustrating. While the System offers valuable tools, the limitations imposed by being Manaless make it feel like I'm using a dumbed-down version of something incredible.

But it's the mention of "him" that catches my attention. A mysterious figure pulling the strings?

"Who is him?" I ask, trying to dig deeper.

I cannot reveal that to you, yet.

The cryptic reply stirs intrigue and frustration. As if to confirm my suspicion, the System offers one more unsettling revelation.

Yes, I can read your mind, Master. If you need me, you can mutter or think of 'System.'

Great. Now I've got a mind-reading companion. I make a mental note to avoid thinking anything too insulting.

Yes, you should be careful, Master. If you trash talk, I might leave you and find a new Master.

I laugh nervously. The idea of being abandoned by the one thing keeping me alive is enough to keep my sarcasm in check.

"Okay, okay," I say, raising my hands in mock surrender. "No trash talk. Now, about the Gun Arts Manual… can I have it?"

Yes, Master.

Before I can process what's happening, a book materializes out of thin air, hurtling toward me at an alarming speed. Instinctively, I throw my hands up, catching it just before it smacks me.

"Seriously?" I mutter, eyeing the book suspiciously.

Eager to see what secrets it holds, I flip it open. But instead of diagrams or instructions, the pages are completely blank. Page after page—nothing.

"What the…"

Annoyance bubbles within me as I flip through the empty book. Did the System just troll me?

"System, you sca—"

Before I can finish, a sudden torrent of information floods my mind. It's like a dam has broken, unleashing an overwhelming surge of knowledge directly into my brain.

"Ngh!"

The pain is immediate and sharp, forcing me to clutch my head as the onslaught continues. Techniques, movements, stances—all of it downloads into my mind at once, each detail searing into my consciousness. The sensation is so intense it feels like it might split my skull.

The influx continues for what feels like an eternity—but is likely only a few minutes. When it finally subsides, I slump forward, gasping for air as the pain ebbs away.

As my vision clears, I realize something incredible: I know the techniques. I don't just understand them—I feel them. It's as though the knowledge has been hardwired into my muscle memory.

"So, it's like I just absorbed the information," I murmur, testing the realization. "And now I know the Gun Arts techniques without ever reading them."

I sit back, letting the weight of this new skill settle over me. The possibilities are endless, and the System… well, it's more powerful than I imagined.

Info

Name: Dominic Eñerforte

Age: 15

Title: None

Stats

Strength: 20 (E-)

Endurance: 19 (E-)

Agility: 51 (E)

Speed 49 (E-)

Mana: 0 (F)

Luck: 402 (C+)

Instinct: 747 (A+)

Charisma: 362 (C)

Stat Points: 10

Manual Arts

Basic Gun Arts (D+) – Beginner (0%)

Basic Gun Arts encompass many basic combat techniques involving firearms from range to melee. This art form requires physical dexterity to shoot and maneuver accurately and a deep understanding of the firearms themselves—maintenance, bullet types, and the physics of shooting.

A new revelation dawns as I notice an update to the System's interface—a Manual Arts section, showcasing my newly acquired knowledge of Basic Gun Arts. The description explains its versatility, encompassing everything from long-range shooting to close-quarters combat. The addition solidifies just how significant the System's capabilities can be in this world.

Master, you should also use your Stat Points and choose a specific stat to increase.

The System's gentle reminder pulls me back to my stats, something I had momentarily set aside in favor of more pressing concerns.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that."

Looking at the numbers, it's clear where Dominic's strengths and weaknesses lie. Strength and Endurance are relatively low, which feels glaringly apparent next to my unusually high Agility and Speed. At least Dominic didn't entirely skip leg day, considering his impressive mobility stats.

But then there's my Mana—completely nonexistent, an F rank. My instinct is to allocate points there, considering how vital Mana is in this world.

"System, add 10 points to Mana," I command.

Master, I can't do that.

Confused, I furrow my brow. "What do you mean you can't?"

Increasing Mana is beyond my current capabilities at the moment. However, as you strengthen and complete more quests, I can unlock additional features and capabilities for you.

The response is disappointing but logical. The System is still limited, though it promises more features as I progress. That's something to look forward to, even if it doesn't help me now.

Since I can't depend on the System to fix my Mana issue, I'll have to pursue the Manaficial Ritual instead. It's something I vaguely recall from the web novel—the protagonist used it to help someone regain their Mana, rediscovering a lost process that everyone else had long since forgotten.

The ritual requires three ancient artifacts hidden in dangerous temples across Verdant Haven:

• The Mirror of Lysandra from the Greenwood Region.

• The Scepter of Binding from the Emerald Coastline.

• The Chalice of Merging from Misty Peaks.

The temples are rife with lethal traps and powerful guardians, making them some of the most dangerous places in Sylvestria. I could go tomorrow, but rushing in unprepared would be a death sentence. I need to train and gather the proper resources first.

Another layer to this secrecy: in the novel, one of the protagonist's closest "friends" turns out to be a spy for Umbrascourge, a dark organization bent on infiltrating Verdant Arcanum. That "friend" eventually uncovers the Manaficial Ritual and uses it for villainous purposes, becoming one of the series' major antagonists.

If I get the artifacts first, I can empower myself and eliminate a potential future threat.

Of course, there's always the modern alternative: the Modern Manaficial Procedure. A straightforward option that doesn't require risking my life in booby-trapped temples. But the cost is astronomical—1 billion Camilliums. There's no way I could ask André or Celine to pay for that, especially since I've already taken Dominic's place in their family.

My parents in my previous life fell into crushing debt to support me, and I won't make that mistake again.

For now, I will return my focus to Stat Points. If Mana is off the table, I must address my physical shortcomings. A more balanced build will give me the endurance and strength to survive longer battles.

"System, allocate five points to Strength and five to Endurance," I say decisively.

Strength: 20 > 25 (E-)

Endurance: 19 > 24 (E-)

As the adjustment takes effect, a subtle yet undeniable change ripples through my body. It's as though my muscles become denser, my frame slightly more grounded. The sensation isn't unpleasant; it leaves me feeling sturdier and more robust—like my body is just a little better equipped to take on whatever challenges lie ahead.

An idea suddenly sparks in my mind, wild and ambitious. What if I max out a single Stat and become ridiculously overpowered?

Imagine it: me, the Manaless boy everyone underestimates, casually strolling around with [SS] rank defense, shrugging off spells and attacks as if they're mere inconveniences. The disbelief on their faces would be utterly priceless.

Apologies, Master, but that's beyond my capabilities. I can't allow that.

"What?!" I exclaim, incredulous. "Even that's off the table?"

Yes, Master. However, once you reach [D+] rank in Strength, Endurance, Agility, and Speed, you'll unlock a new System feature to lift your spirits.

My frustration simmers down as curiosity takes its place. A new feature? That's intriguing.

"Wait," I say, narrowing my eyes at the holographic screen. "What kind of feature are we talking about here?"

That information is classified until the feature is unlocked, Master.

Of course. Typical System cryptic nonsense. But even so, the promise of new abilities or tools is motivating.

"Fine," I mutter. "Guess I'll have to grind my way to [D+] rank across the board."

As I sit back, the potential implications hit me. If the System has this much more to offer, then there's no telling how far I could go. I need to focus on training, quests, and preparing for the Manaficial ritual. I'll eventually get the edge I need if I'm patient and strategic.

-Creak!

The door opening draws my attention, heralding Arthur's return from his bath. His appearance is striking—water droplets gleam on his torso, catching the light as they trace his chiseled physique, while a towel hangs loosely around his waist.

"Welcome back. How was your bath?" I ask, striving to maintain an air of normalcy despite the unconventional situation unfolding before me.

Arthur shrugs nonchalantly, his casual demeanor suggesting that being half-naked in front of me—or rather, Dominic—is nothing unusual for him. Maybe this is normal between them, but it's... not for me.

He makes his way to one of the drawers, rummaging through its contents with practiced ease. Every movement feels fluid, like this is routine for him as if he's done this a hundred times before.

"Doms, where did all your bigger clothes go?" he asks, breaking the silence and catching me off guard—not so much by the question itself, but by the realization that I have no idea what Dominic's wardrobe contains.

"Uh… just keep looking," I reply, trying to sound helpful even though I'm as clueless as he is.

Arthur resumes his search with focused determination until, after a few moments, he pulls out what he needs: a black shirt and a pair of shorts that look a bit larger than Dominic—or I—would typically wear.

What happens next almost makes me choke on my thoughts. Without hesitation or the slightest hint of self-consciousness, Arthur drops the towel to the floor and begins changing into clothes.

Instinctively, my gaze snaps upward to the ceiling, a silent protest against the sudden and unwelcome display.

What the hell is he thinking? The question ricochets through my mind as I struggle to process the situation. Does he not care about privacy? Or is this just a testament to how close Arthur and Dominic are—or were?

I risk a glance downward, only to immediately regret it. Yep, he's completely unbothered, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

I sigh inwardly, doing my best to remain composed. Maybe this unrestrained casualness is normal for them, a sign of how close their bond is. But for me, it's a level of openness I'm not used to.

Even so, I can't shake the thought: This is weird.

"Hah!" Arthur's heavy sigh fills the room, cutting through the silence.

I sneak a glance his way and see that he's finished dressing. Without a word, he walks toward me—and before I can react, he slumps against me, his weight pressing down unexpectedly.

"OOF!" The air is nearly knocked out of me.

"Arthur, get off!" I protest, wriggling under the unexpected pressure, but it's like trying to move a boulder.

"Doms, I'm tired," he mumbles, his voice carrying a weariness that's more than just physical.

"Tired of what?"

"My father," he replies simply, and the confirmation of my suspicions about his family hits me harder than I expect.

Arthur continues, his tone heavy with emotion. "He's always busy—business meetings, Stargate Raids… it's like he doesn't have time to care about me." His voice wavers slightly, a hint of sadness creeping in. "I got sick of home, you know? That's why I always look forward to school."

I don't interrupt, sensing that he needs to let this out.

"At first, I had a hard time making friends because I'm not good at socializing," he says, his voice quieter now. "People came to me, wanting to be my friends. And for a while, I thought they really cared. But I found out they were only interested because I'm the heir to our guild—and because of my family's money."

The mention of his family owning a guild is new information, but I keep my mouth shut, letting him talk.

"Saddened by that, I started avoiding people. I was alone for a long time," he says, pausing for a moment. "Then one afternoon, I saw this boy with black hair and blue eyes crying because he was being bullied."

That boy has to be Dominic. His recollection paints a clear picture of how their friendship began.

"I realized you were Manaless after that," Arthur continues, his tone softening with the memory. "But I didn't care. We spent years together—making memories, laughing, doing dumb things."

The fondness in his voice makes me feel an unexpected pang of guilt. Dominic was important to Arthur; here I am, an imposter pretending to fill his shoes.

"I have Light attribute magic," Arthur muses. "But my life before meeting you was dark, which is ironic. We're almo—"

"Okay, Blud," I cut in, shifting uncomfortably. "Just get to the point."

Arthur's emotional vulnerability is touching, but the sheer depth of the conversation makes me squirm. While heartfelt, I can't help but feel uneasy about what he's trying to say.

"Fine," Arthur says, standing up slowly. He positions himself directly before me, his hands resting firmly on my shoulders. Too firmly.

"Doms," he says, his tone sharp now, "I hate it when people hide things from me—especially people I'm close to. So, tell me: where did you get the guns?"

The question hits me like a splash of ice-cold water. Of all the things I thought Arthur might confront me about—confessions, accusations, maybe even a dramatic outburst—this wasn't it.

But maybe it should have been.

The lie I told earlier wasn't convincing, and I knew it at the time. Arthur's sharp, and I should've realized he'd put the pieces together.

I meet his gaze, my mind racing for a way out. How much do I tell him? And how much can I afford to keep hidden? How can I lie through this?

Let me help you, Master. Analyzing optimal response…

The System can help with this now? Crafting lies? That's a new one. But why now, of all times? It could've helped a dozen situations ago. Still, I can't deny I need it now more than ever.

"Doms?" Arthur's voice snaps me back to the present. His grip tightens slightly, his sharp gaze cutting through me like a blade. "You okay?"

"Uh…"

The System hasn't finished yet. I mentally urge it to hurry up, but Arthur's scrutiny is suffocating. His eyes seem to demand answers, the kind you can't just squirm your way out of.

Answer complete! Suggested response: Tell him you found the guns on the road while walking to school. You hid them in your pockets with no time to store them safely.

I stare at the text, baffled. That's it? That's the "optimal" response? Seriously? This feels like a setup for failure.

But there's no time to argue. Arthur's patience is wearing thin, and the longer I stay silent, the deeper his suspicion grows.

"Doms." His tone sharpens, and his eyes flicker with concern. "What's going on?"

Pinned in a corner, I have no choice. I go with the System's suggestion, no matter how ridiculous it sounds.

"I… uh… found them on the road while I was walking to school," I blurt out, the words spilling from my mouth faster than I can think. "I didn't have time to find a safe place to store them, so I just… hid them in my pockets."

Arthur's expression hardens as he studies me. His intense gaze feels like it's peeling back layers of my mind, and I can't stop gulping.

He's not going to buy this. There's no way—

But then, to my shock, his grip loosens, and his shoulders relax. He exhales a long breath, nodding slowly. "I see… That makes sense."

Wait… what?

"You've got to be more careful, Doms," Arthur continues. "I thought some shady guy handed you those guns and told you to deliver them to someone even worse."

My brain short-circuits. He… believed me? He actually believed that?!

Arthur's not stupid. If anything, he's one of the sharpest people I've met. Does he trust me that much? Or rather, does he trust Dominic that much? It's not blind belief—it's confidence. Confidence in his best friend, in the person he's spent years with.

That realization hit harder than I expected. He's not naïve—he's loyal. He's trusting me, and I'm exploiting that trust with a flimsy excuse.

"Y-yeah," I stammer, forcing a sheepish grin. "Guess I should've told you sooner. Didn't mean to worry you."

Arthur narrows his eyes as though weighing my words. But then the corners of his mouth curve into a faint smile.

"Next time, don't make me corner you like this," he says, his tone lighter now. "We're supposed to look out for each other, right?"

I nod quickly, the guilt swirling in my chest almost unbearable. If only he knew the truth. But for now, this fragile thread of credibility is all I have, and I can't afford to break it.

"Right," I reply. "We've got each other's backs."

Arthur smiles, but a flicker of doubt lingers in his eyes as he turns away—a subtle crack in his otherwise unwavering trust. And I can't help but wonder: how long until he sees through me?

"Hah!" Arthur flops beside me, stretching out with a thoughtful expression, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. It's like he's still turning over every word I said, dissecting my flimsy excuses.

"But why didn't you take them to the police, Doms?" he asks calmly, though his unrelenting curiosity has me on edge.

"Uh… well…" I stall, scrambling for an answer. "I guess I was… fascinated by the guns?"

It's another awful excuse, and I know it. My brain screams at me to develop something better, but it's too late—the words are already out there.

Arthur raises an eyebrow, and I brace myself for the inevitable interrogation. Instead, he bursts into laughter, his chuckle warm and genuine, defusing the tension.

"And you decided to keep them instead? That's so unlike you, Doms. Hahaha!"

His laughter, disarming as it is, carries a subtle edge. He knows my answer doesn't add up, but he's letting it slide. I force a laugh to join his, though it sounds awkward even to my ears.

"Uhh… yeah," I mutter, trying to sound natural.

The silence that follows is thick with unspoken thoughts. I fix my eyes on the ceiling, signaling I'm done with the conversation. Arthur seems to pick up on it, leaning back and letting out a deep sigh, his questions finally ending—for tonight, at least.

For now, I've dodged the storm. But I know Arthur isn't the type to forget. His curiosity will return, sharper and more focused. I'll need to be better prepared next time.

"Srnnk!"

The sound of Arthur's soft snoring breaks through the quiet. How does he fall asleep so fast? It's like he has a switch that shuts off his mind instantly.

I glance at him, sprawled out beside me, taking up more than his fair share of the bed. Sharing this cramped space all night? Not happening. I need room to breathe.

"Hmph!" With a determined grunt, I nudge him—not too gently—with my foot.

-Thud!

Arthur crashes to the floor in an unceremonious heap.

"Ouch! What was that for?!" Arthur's voice is groggy, and his annoyance is clear as he sits up and rubs his side.

"Get your own bed," I reply, completely unapologetic.

"What? But we always sleep in the same bed during my sleepovers!" he argues, his indignation growing.

Always, huh? So the original Dominic and Arthur were close enough that this was normal for them. But I'm not him, and I'm not feeling generous tonight.

"You can sleep on the couch," I say firmly, clarifying that this isn't a negotiation.

Arthur blinks, clearly taken aback. "Wha—? The couch? Seriously? Doms, you're being unreasonable!"

"And you're being a bed hog," I counter, folding my arms.

Arthur narrows his eyes at me, clearly weighing his options, before letting out an exaggerated huff. "Fine. But I'm taking your blanket."

"Not a chance," I reply, yanking the blanket around myself before he can make good on his threat.

After muttering something, Arthur finally retreats to the couch, dragging a spare pillow with him. I stretch out across the bed, savoring the newfound space and the small victory.

"Goodnight, Doms," Arthur calls out begrudgingly across the room.

"Goodnight," I reply, already drifting off, grateful for the silence—and the solitude.