O.C. Saar
patreon
Omega Release | Chapter 19: Let’s Talk about Levels and Stats
🕑 Added 2025-06-06 18:01:02 +0000 UTC“Hold on, before that, let me get some food. I’m too hungry to think.” I cut him off before he went on a rant.
I put the [NutriBloc] in my domestic fabricator, pressed the optimize option on the screen, and splurged for the three-course-meal flavoring. My credits would all be gone soon enough anyway. A tiny slot opened, and I placed my finger in. A second later, a green light flashed, and I removed the finger. It still freaked me out how they could extract a drop of my blood like that without me noticing.
A minute later, I removed the nutrient bar from the fabricator and bit down on a tiny portion. The food expanded in my mouth, tasted like, and had the texture of cheesy garlic bread with bacon bits on top. Delicious. I collapsed on my couch and pulled up as many windows as I could handle.
“Alright, begin by explaining my status page and why I’m suddenly an RPG character with levels, XP, and attributes,” I said between bites, sipping on a can of root beer I grabbed from the fridge on the way to the living room.
“Very well. As I mentioned before, the gem has the capability to assist in physical and intellectual growth. The attribute numbers show where you are in relation to other people, with 100 being average.”
“Then why the hell is my wisdom so low?” I said, feeling insulted. “I get average Strength and above average Dexterity, and even my Endurance being a little below average. I haven’t exactly been super active the past few years, but 60 Wisdom?”
I heard him chuckling in my head. “Didn’t you just recover from a fight against a priest? A fight that happened because you decided to steal from a place that had twelve Priests in it? You haven’t exactly made the best decisions lately.”
“That’s…” I paused for a moment, trying to find what to say. “That’s… fair, I suppose,” is all I had.
Hob broke out in laughter. Hearing him in good cheer was so good that I forgot the insulting number for a moment. “I was merely jesting, sir. Perhaps it might be better if I explained the status window from the top?”
I shrugged. “Alright, fine.”
“Your name is self-explanatory. Your class is more complicated. The standard classes on the rings are [Child], [Vagrant], [Citizen], [Cardinal], [Priest], [Bishop], [Arch-Bishop], and finally [Prophet].” Hob said.
The last part caught my attention, and I sat up. “Hob, did you get this information directly from the gem?”
I don’t know how, but I had the vague feeling that Hob nodded. “That is correct, sir.”
“By Terra’s silence,” I slumped back into the couch, my blood running cold. “So the [Prophets] are real.”
“Yes, sir, but let us focus on the present, shall we? Our time left in this habitation unit is limited,” he said, returning me to the present.
I nodded wordlessly.
“Largely, Classes are used as a way to identify authorization levels. A child with the [Child] class cannot purchase or use firearms or ingest alcohol. A [Vagrant] is not allowed to enter certain high-quality establishments or get certain services.”
“So what does [Rust Reaver] give me access to?” I asked.
“Your [Rust Reaver] class is not like the rest. Your permissions remain at [Citizen] level, and even after you lose access to your home, it won’t change to [Vagrant].”
“Well, that’s pretty helpful,” I interjected.
“Indeed! That is because the class granted by this gem exists outside the standard structure and has a unique function. It guides your growth. This brings us to levels and XP, the mechanisms of said growth!” said Hob, with the tone of someone explaining their favorite hobby.
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. I gain XP when I kill things or complete missions. Fill out the bar. Ding. New level.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, sounding mildly perturbed. “That is the simplistic version of it. In reality, what happens is that as you gain combat experience or complete various tasks, the gem will analyze your movements and how you use your body. These points of data are what I decided to call these data points ‘Experience Points.’ The more difficult the task, the more data can be gathered. Once enough data has been gathered, you get a new level. With that level, the gem will improve your body according to your class, automatically allocating attribute points. You will also gain attribute points to distribute freely.”
I looked up at the ceiling with a chuckle. “So this is really like a game. What’s the level cap?”
“I have structured the ‘System’ to act in that way, yes. After all, gamification theory has proven that presenting growth milestones in this way has a positive impact on motivation!”
“Did you just call me lazy?”
“No, sir. Just unmotivated.” I could hear the bastard’s smirk in his voice. “As for the level cap, it is 100. However, in the ‘System,’ level 1 represents your state upon integration. Level 100 represents the theoretical limit of improvements that the gem can perform on your body without you resorting to more drastic measures.”
“More drastic measures?”
“For example, limb replacement, sir.”
I looked at my new metallic arm, holding it up and examining it in the light. “Heh, right.”
“Higher levels also represent finer improvements to your body and mind. At first, the gem will detect big issues and areas of improvement, but as you grow in levels, the areas of improvement will lower in size but grow in depth. So expect an exponential increase in the XP requirement.”
“Right, that’s all standard. What about Health Points and Mana Points? Do I suddenly have magic?” I smirked at my joke.
“Of sorts, sir. Your Health Points are how much damage your body can recover from. If your health reaches zero, you have no more healing left, so all wounds will be permanent until you regain Health Points. Losing limbs will temporarily reduce your maximum HP, as the gem will dedicate a part of its healing to regenerating your limb.” Hob explained.
“So... I can get shot in the head and recover from it?” I asked, incredulous.
“Theoretically, sir, yes. But currently, a shot to the head would cost significantly more HP than you will have for the foreseeable future. Thus, unless you are extremely lucky, it will be fatal. But as you gain levels and you level up your endurance, you will be able to recover from more wounds and more quickly.”
I scoffed, half with incredulity, half with excitement. The idea of recovering from headshots sounded outlandish, but Hob wasn’t in the habit of lying to me.
“Now,” Hob continued, “your MP is slightly more complicated. As I understand it, activatable sub-routines have certain costs associated with them.”
I nodded. “Yeah, subroutines in armor and weapons are powered through energy cells. The more extreme the effect, the more power it requires. Usually, you only get an activation every few minutes at best unless you carry power banks with you or the equipment has dedicated high-density power cells.” Like the ones [Overdrive] had. Poor thing. I barely had it for a few hours, and I destroyed it. Silver was going to kill me.
Hob didn’t let me dwell on my imminent death for long. “Well, the gem has its own power source and can store huge amounts of energy. Energy that you can use to power your subroutines. The mana points measure how much energy you have available!”
That took me off guard. The implications were… Staggering. “So I could use the Mana Points to repeatedly activate sub-routines that would normally need minutes of recharging?”
“Pretty much, yes. Although you will be unable to use subroutines that would cost more mana points than what you have.”
“So you’re saying I need more attributes?” I asked.
“Indeed,” Hob replied. “In particular, Intelligence and Wisdom. Intelligence governs the quality of the energy produced, and the Wisdom attribute is an indication of how much energy the gem can hold.”
I nodded my head. “Wisdom is about how big my mana pool is, and Intelligence is the speed of mana regeneration. Gotcha.”
“Exactly. As for the rest of your attributes, Strength primarily dictates muscle fiber density. Dexterity affects synaptic pathways and specialized neurons dedicated to fine motor control. Endurance increases the efficiency of your cardiovascular system, increasing stamina and healing speed.” He continued expositing, and my eyes started crossing from the information overload.
“Alright, alright.” I held my hands up in the air. “I don’t need the nitty-gritty of how it works. Just the effects are fine.”
“Very well, sir.” He said, sounding unbothered. “Perception is about how much information your mind can process, the speed at which it processes information, as well as information filtering.”
“So… if I gain too much Perception, I’ll see the world in slow motion?” I asked, sounding worried.
“No, sir. From what I understand, you will be able to control how much and what kind of information and the processing speed at a subconscious level.”
I nodded slowly, impressed. “I have to hand it to you, Hob. The system you created makes it easier to understand what is going on.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said, sounding chipper.
I stood up, went to my shower, and started cleaning off, the water soothing against my skin, “Alright, so, Titles. I assume I do certain things, and I get certain titles. Kill 100 Shardmaws to get the Shardmaw Slayer title, right? What rewards are there to titles?”
“You are more or less correct. Titles are earned through achievements. Achievements provide various rewards, including stat bonuses and titles. Titles carry special effects such as…” Hob’s voice cut off momentarily before returning, sounding slightly annoyed. “Unfortunately, the gem prevents me from discussing anything considered ‘beyond your level,’ so until you start collecting titles, this is all I can tell you about them.”
I finished up my shower and took a deep breath. Damn it, I was going to miss this bathroom and how spacious it was. I grabbed my toiletries and moved to the bedroom, letting the water drip off me. I started getting dressed, pulling out a suitcase from the back of a wardrobe, and putting in my favorite clothes and knick-knacks.
“Alright, it all sounds simple enough. Gain experience points, gain levels, gain achievements, gain titles, and get stronger.” I nodded to myself, putting on an unaugmented leather jacket. “The rest we can figure out as we go along. I do have one question, though.”
Hob perked up at that. “What question would that be, sir?”
I closed the suitcase, anything I truly cared about keeping in it. “Why? Why does the gem have these functions? What is the purpose of all of this?”
Hob hesitated. “I am not sure, sir. But if I were to hazard a guess, this prototype gem is meant to allow priests to grow in strength.”
I shivered at the thought of Priests growing even stronger. “I can’t let this gem fall into their hands, can I?”
“I believe it would be a bad idea, sir.”
I nodded to myself. “I’m not keeping myself cooped up either. I guess my only option is to get strong enough that nobody can take it from me.”
Hob chuckled. “You seem quite excited about it.”
I grinned widely, the possibilities of this new opportunity filling my head. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Hob sent me the vague impression of someone rolling their eyes while smirking good-naturedly. “I wonder. We don-” he cut off.
Alarm bells started ringing in my head. “Hob? Everything okay?”
“You just received two messages, sir. One text and one video.” Hob said, sounding serious.
“What? What messages?” I said, now on full alert as I gave a once-through of my hab one final time.
“The text message is from Sister Silver. The video is from Kornok.” The sense of déjà vu was palpable.
“No message from HUMAN this time?” I said wryly. “Open Silver’s message first.”
The window that opened before me made me freeze, my blood running cold.
[Message]
[From: Sister Silver]
Raziel, I’m sorry. They used two black tokens. There was nothing I could do.
You’re on your own.
I’m so sorry.
Numb, I opened the second message and gave it my full attention.
The video opened to a nearly unrecognizable Kornok tied up in a chair, wheezing. His head hung down, but I could see several crooked teeth missing. He looked up straight at the camera, and I took a step back. His face was in ruins. His nose had been broken beyond recognition. Strips of skin had been peeled off his face, exposing the muscle beneath. One of his eyes had been gouged out. I could have mistaken him for a corpse if not for the wheezing breaths whistling out of the gaps in his clenched jaw and the baleful glare he leveled at the camera.
Between shuddering, labored breaths, he spoke. “Raziel, you son of a fucking whore. I know you are alive, you worthless sack of shit. Look what you did to me. Where are you?” I heard a low male chuckle as a hand appeared from off-screen, holding a cigarette. Whoever that was, he put out his cigarette right onto one of Kornok’s exposed facial muscles. Kornok shrieked in agony. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”
The chuckling man dropped the cigarette. It bounced off Kornok’s heaving and spasming chest, landing on his lap. Kornok looked at it in horror, then back up and to the left, where the man must have been standing. I heard a click, and Kornok started babbling. “No, please, boss. I’m sorry. I made a mistake, I’m sorry. No, no! I’m sorry! I can get it back! NO! PLEA-”
His last word was cut off as his head exploded with a shower of gore.
A man in a three-piece suit entered the frame. His shoulder-length, tawny hair was swept back. His angular face and piercing periwinkle eyes above a strong nose gave him a predatory look. He dropped the shotgun he was holding and lit another cigarette, taking a long, slow drag from it as Kornok’s lifeless body slumped behind him.
I held my breath as he exhaled slowly and gave the camera a polite, business-like smile. “Greetings, Mr. Ibicas. My name is Ignatius Toriklas. You will refer to me as Mr. Toriklas. You have something that belongs to me. I know you are alive. I also know you are not in the custody of those abominable Priests or Elisa the Beautiful.”
He slowly started walking to the right, and the camera followed him. “I am not a man who is moved to anger easily. In fact, you will find that I am quite generous to my friends and allies.” He chuckled. “I will admit, I do have the tendency to be rather ruthless to those who fail me or make an enemy of me and those whom I represent.”
He stopped next to a large object covered in a black satin sheet and turned to the camera, his smile turning cruel. He grabbed the sheet and threw it off. Under the sheet was a chair. A chair with an unconscious young boy tied to it. A boy with bleeding cuts all over his body. A boy with familiar, curly brown hair and only one leg.
“So. Let’s make a deal.”
