Skill

Max flexed his fingers, testing the strength in his hands. His body, which should have been aching and broken, felt unnervingly intact. There was no sharp pain, no lingering wounds—just a dull soreness, like he'd woken up from a rough night instead of nearly dying.

"Demon got me good," Max muttered, running a hand over his chest where the worst of the damage should've been. "But my body seems... good as new?"

Gerry, still perched beside him, exhaled a thin stream of smoke and held up a small glass vial filled with a thick, shimmering red liquid. The glow of the potion flickered in the dim light, casting crimson reflections on his fingers.

"High-power health potions," Gerry said, rolling the vial between his fingers like a gambler playing with dice. "Damn things cost a fortune, but hey—figured you were worth the investment."

Max groaned, shifting slightly in the bed. "How much...?"

Gerry smirked, leaning back. "Let's just say if you were planning on buyin' me a drink, you owe me the whole damn bar now." He set the potion down on the bedside table with a soft clink. "Not that I expect you to pay up anytime soon. Just don't go dyin' on me next time, yeah?"

Max exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Dying was not on the to-do list," he said. "Didn't expect a demon running around in the dungeon, though."

Gerry let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he took another slow drag from his cigarette. "Yeah, funny how life likes to throw curveballs, huh?" He exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it swirl toward the ceiling. "F-rank dungeon, my ass. Somebody screwed up big time lettin' a demon slip in there."

Max shifted slightly, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. "So… was it just bad luck, or is something bigger going on?"

Gerry tapped the ash off his cigarette, his expression turning thoughtful—more serious than usual. "That's the million-credit question, ain't it?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Demons don't just wander into F-rank zones for fun. Either someone let it in, or something's messin' with the dungeons." His gaze flicked to Max. "Either way, kid, you got caught in the middle of some nasty business."

Max frowned, staring at the ceiling as his mind raced. The way the demon had chased his 'family' in that twisted nightmare, the shifting realities, the whispers—none of it felt like an accident.

Gerry smirked, but there was a sharpness behind it. "Welcome to the real world, Max. Where things do try to kill you, and sometimes they succeed." He gestured toward the potion bottle still sitting on the bedside table. "You got lucky. Next time, don't count on luck alone to pull you through."

Max grimaced. "Tell me about it… Don't think I'll move on from that moment soon… or ever."

Gerry let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, if he didn't wanna play with you… you would've been fucked. Like, fucked fucked. Like giving an orc three Viagra pills and throwing you and him in a room together alone for six hours level of fucked."

Max stared at him, deadpan. "Woah. That is the worst possible analogy you could have come up with."

Gerry shrugged, completely unbothered. "You lived. I'm allowed to joke." He took another drag of his cigarette. "Besides, if you're still alive after facing a demon, you gotta learn to laugh about it, kid. Otherwise, this hero thing will eat you alive."

Gerry let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as he flicked the ash off his cigarette. "Yeah, that's usually how it goes," he muttered. "Ain't nobody climbs the ranks 'cause they want to. It's always somethin' pushin' 'em forward. Duty, desperation, or just plain ol' survival."

Max exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling. His body still ached, but the weight pressing down on his chest had nothing to do with his injuries. "Feels like no matter what I do, I'm getting dragged toward it anyway."

Gerry studied him for a moment before leaning back in his chair. "Kid, lemme give you a little advice." He took a long drag from his cigarette before pointing at Max with it. "If you're gonna get pushed into the deep end, might as well learn how to swim before you drown."

Max turned his head toward him, brow furrowed. "So you're saying I should just accept it?"

Gerry smirked. "Nah, I'm sayin' make the damn choice before someone else makes it for you. If you're gonna be forced down this path, at least walk it on your own two feet. That way, when shit hits the fan, you're the one holdin' the umbrella."

Max scoffed, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "That's a weird way to put it."

He took one last drag of his cigarette before smashing it against the ashtray with a lazy flick.

"Since you were a good boy and survived, the higher-ups decided to buy your silence." Gerry's smirk widened. "Congrats, kid. You're officially hush-money material."

Max raised an eyebrow. "How gracious."

"Oh, you'll love it. The payoff's solid—one E-rank skill or two F-rank skills. Not bad for almost getting turned into demon chow."

Max sat up straighter, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. 

'Skills?!' Max thought. 

Gerry, noticing the change in Max's expression, let out a small, knowing chuckle. "That got your attention, huh?" He said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the shift in the younger man's demeanor. "I've got a tablet with the skills ready for you to pick. They'll give you a little boost—help you survive longer next time you're out there. I'll be back in a sec to show you what's on the list." Gerry stood up, his movements casual, almost as if he had all the time in the world. His cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth as he turned and walked out of the room.

Max sat back in the bed, his eyes fixed on the door, his mind still buzzing with the options that had just been presented to him. 'Two F-rank skills could be a better bang for your buck,' he thought. He wasn't sure if he should go for a single, stronger skill or load up on multiple, smaller ones. The latter option would give him more versatility, but would it be enough to make the difference?

He was so caught up in his internal debate that he didn't hear Gerry return until the door creaked open. Gerry stepped inside, holding a sleek tablet in his hand. The old man's expression was unreadable as he walked over to the bedside, placing the tablet gently in Max's lap.

"Alright, kid," Gerry said, his voice casual but with a flicker of something serious behind it. "This is your chance. You know the drill. Pick what works for you."

Max looked at the tablet in his hands, his fingers hovering over the screen. The list of skills appeared before him again, and his mind raced, emotions swirling as he skimmed through the options. The decision he was about to make would change things.

Gerry, leaning casually against the wall, flicked the ash from his cigarette and took a slow drag. The smoke curled in the air, and his eyes never left Max, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. He wasn't rushing Max, but the weight of the moment hung between them.

Max scrolled through the list of skills, his brow furrowing as he considered each one. Some were about defensive abilities, like Mana Bubble, which created a shield that could withstand hits based on your mana reserves. But Max quickly dismissed it. His mana was too low for it to be worth much. 'Mana-based skills aren't going to save me right now…' he thought with a twinge of frustration.

He moved on, flicking through more options. Dash caught his eye next—an offensive skill that surged the user forward at their opponent with great speed. A solid move for someone who wielded a weapon, but not Max. That wasn't for him either.

"Even the lowest-rated skills are powerful..." Max muttered to himself. His mind was a flurry of thoughts, considering his options, calculating the risk of each choice. The truth was, he wasn't just looking for power. He needed versatility. 

His finger hovered over the screen, and with a deep breath, Max made his decision. He selected two F-rank skills, each one designed to fill gaps in his arsenal.

Gerry raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curving into a smirk. "Two skills, huh? Most folks just pick one and hope for the best. You've got more tricks up your sleeve than I thought." He leaned further back against the wall, his casual posture betraying none of the gravity of the decision Max had just made. But his eyes were sharp, and the seriousness behind his words didn't escape Max.

"You sure about that?" Gerry asked, his tone light but with a flicker of curiosity. His eyes were sharp, studying Max's face as if gauging the weight of his decision.

"Yes," Max replied, his voice steady, though a bit of hesitation still lingered beneath the surface. He was certain about his choices, but it wasn't like picking skills was ever a simple thing.

Gerry grinned, glancing down at the tablet. "Let's see…" He tapped the screen, and the list of Max's selected skills appeared. "Shadow Step and Winner's Mentality."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Good picks, huh?"

Gerry hummed thoughtfully as he read the descriptions of each skill aloud, his voice a mix of admiration and intrigue. "Shadow Step—Silences your steps completely. That'll be useful if you're trying to stay unnoticed. And Winner's Mentality—Your mind does whatever it takes to win in whatever your goal is."

Max nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Yeah, the Winner's Mentality caught my eye. I mostly plan on using it to study when I don't want to." There was a faint smirk on his lips, the kind that said he wasn't entirely serious.

Gerry raised an eyebrow. "Right…" His voice was slow, as if he wasn't sure whether to believe him or not.

Max rolled his eyes. "C'mon, that bait was barely believable."

Gerry chuckled, shaking his head. "Scared me for a second." He gave a playful nudge to Max's shoulder.