Transcended. Not a Business Card.
…….
Chark!
A balisong danced wildly along Clara's pale fingers.
The girl shook off the blood clinging to the blade with a spin, then clenched her palm with a click! to lock it into form.
She thrust it forward in a flash.
No mercy in her strike.
Clara drove the blade into her opponent's vital spot without a hint of hesitation.
And for the things trying to rush into the tunnel, she didn't spare them a glance—merely pulled the trigger without remorse.
"Grrrk…!"
The opponent frothed at the mouth, blood bubbling from his lips as he desperately clutched the hole in his throat.
Even after dropping his weapon to the ground, he had no spare attention for it.
The girl finished him off by swinging her pistol like a club—thwack!
With that done, she hopped back.
"You little rat bitch!"
Boom!!! The spot where Clara had stood shattered under the brute's fist.
The hulks with sturdy prosthetic arms—one on each side—were definitely the beastkin brothers Rohan had mentioned.
Mm, yeah… these two are the last ones.
Clara ignored the criminals' curses and intimidation completely.
No need to show any social graces here—she kept her ears and mouth shut.
She just took in the information she needed.
Click!
Landing atop the tunnel, the girl confirmed the brothers' prosthetic arms transforming into guns.
No reason to be surprised.
Clara didn't stop, fluttering upward like a butterfly.
Weeeeng!!! Tududududu—!!!
She dodged the barrage from the two machine guns like a squirrel.
While checking her remaining mana and reading the battlefield.
Should I use Arachne one more time? But then my mana…
The cleanup was taking longer than expected.
She knew impatience had no place in battle, but still, the girl pondered.
Because Rohan was fighting the boss inside the tunnel.
Of course, Rohan would win. But Clara wanted to lend a hand for a victory without wounds.
The reason it was dragging on was simple.
Each enemy was no slouch. They were leagues above the humans they'd met during that first job with Rohan.
The rotten vibe was the same, but individually, they showed real power earned from eating knife-meals in the shadows.
Even if she could kill with one strike, with over ten swarming like mad, it wasn't easy.
Shiiiik…!
The brothers' machine guns on their prosthetics overheated and ground to a halt.
They'd burned through all their ammo—even fiddling with the arms just produced empty clicks.
Thud!
Clara seized the opening, closing the distance in an instant.
The path she'd carved through the swarming underlings was now clear.
"Fuck! This bitch is fast as hell!"
"Just hold out till we reload!"
The brothers flinched in panic, raising their sturdy prosthetics as shields.
Clara poured mana into her blade, aiming to sever their lifelines in one blow.
The moment the girl floored the accelerator to end it—
Pfuk!
A single arrow sliced through the flow, flying in and plopping harmlessly to the ground.
"…?"
A short arrow out of nowhere from the tunnel.
Familiar to the brothers guarding Doberman, but the utter lack of mana felt alien.
"No way, the boss…"
The brothers stared warily at the figure emerging from the tunnel.
Clara halted her aggressive thrust and glanced that way too.
"Not even toys. What am I supposed to do with this crossbow?"
The voice of the approaching figure. Clara's face lit up.
The brothers recoiled in shock.
Rohan had sheathed his used sword on his back, holding the crossbow as a trophy in one hand.
In the other, he dragged Doberman's corpse by the collar.
……
……
"Clara. Good work."
"O-Oppa, you too…! You okay? No injuries?"
With Rohan joining, the bulldog brothers were wrapped up quickly.
They were fated for Clara anyway, but Rohan's help made it even smoother.
"Just some scratches."
Seeing part of Rohan's shirt stained red, Clara nibbled her lip.
Thankfully, no direct arrow hits—just grazes.
"And you, Clara?"
"Mm, I'm fine…"
Rohan smiled reassuringly at the girl showing off her borrowed outfit, unscathed, turning this way and that.
And barely a second later—
A notification window popped up right in front of him.
Reward acquired.
The rippling air in front of him demanded attention, urging him to claim the quest reward: a random point pouch.
But Rohan was more curious about another reward.
The Transcendence? How does that get delivered?
With that question lingering, he eyed the rippling air for another sign.
"!"
As if telling him not to rush.
Another notification appeared right on cue.
——Fwaaah!!! Light flashed before his eyes.
And Rohan faced a familiar place, even at first glance.
Not the tunnel littered with corpses.
This is…
Somewhere flames and blades whirled in fragments.
They claimed to be the Industry Mirror, reflecting Rohan's form all at once.
"!"
His image reflected from all directions. Standing there, Rohan felt it.
The satisfaction of finally finding what he'd desperately sought his whole life.
Was calling this pure emotion right?
The tangible sense of his soul growing abundant.
The fullness filling his heart defied precise words.
Crack!
It shattered. Obeying the natural order.
The brief observation ended, and space flowed away.
The original world filled Rohan's vision.
Attacking targets with Weakness Infliction now has a low chance to apply debuffs. Debuffs share levels with Weakness Infliction.
Shop skill refresh timer accelerated.
Caster unaffected by flames of Heavenly Sun Holy Judgment Sword.
Amazing.
Rohan clenched and unclenched his fist, savoring the overflowing energy.
And read the notifications.
Transcendence boosted physical abilities and mana as baseline options. Plus, it evolved his unique skills in one go.
With three unique skills, the growth was massive.
……
Transcendence proves I'd been a total business card lightweight till now.
Max of six Transcendences.
Now he'd claimed the first. More paths and means to grow.
"Oppa."
"Ah, yeah?"
Clara's voice pierced his ears.
Rohan snapped back, shifting his gaze as the girl asked.
"Oppa. What do we do now?"
"Got something in mind."
Rohan approached Doberman's tossed corpse, rummaging through his pockets to find an antique leather pouch.
From it, two pitch-black coins.
No time to farm every body, but he had to grab these for later.
Probably needed one more at the end.
To take the first step toward Doberman's grand dream and goal, you needed at least three of these coins.
Some called them 'baptism.' Others dubbed the metal lumps 'grace.'
Those collecting them used all sorts of names.
But the true name: Judas's Silver. Black as they were.
Good.
Pity he couldn't loot every wallet.
Rohan checked the time on his smartphone and headed to the tunnel piled with vehicles.
Clara trailed close behind.
Rohan approached the black sedan turned open-top by Clara's trap.
Used the swiped keys to start it and popped the trunk to glance at the stacked weapons.
"Front's a bit crumpled, but no biggie. Hop in."
"Oppa… you can drive too…?"
"Obviously. We'll just take it to the entrance. Let's go for a drive."
"D-Drive…!"
Rohan patted the passenger seat from the driver's side, and the girl hopped in quick.
He turned on the seat warmers and pulled out of the tunnel.
"Might be chilly with no roof or glass."
"I'm warm, it's fine! Let's go quick!"
Clara proudly showed off Rohan's jacket draped over her.
Rohan smiled warmly at her cuteness and checked the time.
Coming soon.
He wanted to rescue Sion fast too—that was urgent.
But separately.
In Abyss City, failing to kill Doberman in time triggered a natural disaster.
As scripted, a small dimensional rift would soon tear open nearby. Dozens of monsters would pour out.
Monsters always hungered—they'd sniff the blood and swarm greedily. Cleanup of the bodies and mess? Leave it to them.
If we get caught… well, nothing for it.
Having to give convincing testimony afterward would be a hassle, but nothing to feel guilty about.
Vroom!!!
Finishing his thoughts, Rohan floored it.
……
……
Diing—!!!
As Rohan parked the car near the ruins and stepped out, a message arrived.
Red exclamation mark again.
Perfect.
His memory held true. And with time passed, it was detected.
Satisfied with the ideal outcome, Rohan moved with Clara.
"The location in this message. Near where we just were."
"For real!?"
"Lucky us. Things always go smooth with you around, Clara."
"R-Really…?"
Chatting as Clara startled at the message, they pushed inward.
Sion cleaned this area periodically.
Battle traces and useless monster remnants everywhere.
As they delved deeper.
Clara sensed something, whipping her gaze to one side.
Rohan halted, impressed by her senses.
"Oppa. Just now, mana from up there…"
"Yeah. I know. Sion's there."
The building with Sion and the elf elders.
Eyes watching from there. Some observation skill.
Let's try it.
Elf elders from old Tigrova—prioritized bloodlines over power.
Not ability. Born into ruling blood sat them in seats.
Battle experience? Near zero. But cowards, so security against intruders was tight.
Thus, getting inside meant half the win.
So Rohan had pondered long.
How to enter that building? Only brute force like in Abyss City?
He mulled, schemed, worried.
Piling thoughts over time bore fruit.
Rohan's answer veered impossible in the game.
"Clara."
"Yeah!"
"From now on, follow the vibe. If it's iffy, just stick behind me."
"…?"
To the puzzled girl, he asked for a blank expression.
Then strode toward the building.
Mana churned around, like something might pour out any second.
Rohan ignored it, opening with haughty arrogance.
Contempt and high pressure essential.
"Elder Levin Maxwell!"
His booming voice echoed through the ruins.
"Come out now and heed the Reverse Praise Society's command!"
Rohan flashed the black coin swiped from Doberman.
The path he'd chosen to break this quest.
Impersonation.