What the Hell Kind of Ability Is This?

"What the hell kind of ability is this...?"

I recalled even losing consciousness as my mana vessel shattered. 'Now there's really nothing left.' I wondered how I was even still alive, but more than that, realizing that even my F-grade mana affinity of 1 was gone now brought a hollow emptiness crashing over me first.

But that feeling didn't last. My body was overflowing with vitality, too energetic to just slump in defeat. It was like my mood was trying to sink, only to be forcibly refreshed.

"Huh, what is this?"

Sensing something off, I checked the mirror in the bathroom and saw myself looking perfectly fine. No—better than fine. My face, which used to appear in the middle of the mirror, was now up near the top. The dark skin from constant outdoor activities had turned into healthy, glowing flesh tones. My muscles, overdeveloped to the extreme but naturally shaped in an aesthetically unpleasing way, had reshaped into something like a physique competitor's—perfectly sculpted. And with my typically Asian proportions—short legs, long torso—now shifted to near-perfection, even I felt a stranger staring back at me.

Recognizing the external changes, I started feeling a power surging inside me next. Looking inward, my body—which I'd abused with insufficient mana, carrying constant injuries—felt reborn, pristine. And there was this intense energy I'd only vaguely sensed before, now flowing vividly through me.

Mana. Mana was overflowing. I could feel dozens of times more than before coursing through my entire body. Mana was everywhere—on my skin, in the air I breathed, even in the semen inside the onahole I'd used yesterday.

For someone with F-grade mana affinity, this was a sensation I'd never experienced. It was exhilarating.

"It's not like I underwent some shedding of bones and exchanging of tendons ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or anything..."

But had I? Nothing else explained these changes. I recalled my last memory before blacking out again. More clearly now, I remembered seeing something like a message window. If my memory was right, it was definitely a status window.

And seeing a status window outside a dungeon, in reality, led to one hypothesis. Half-doubting, I uttered the word everyone knew by heart.

"Status Window."

It was the status window. At first, I thought I was seeing things. But there it was, clear as day. A skill you couldn't get even in dungeons—only by making contact with the Tower, proof of qualification. How the hell had I obtained it?

I didn't know why, but the contents were what mattered. My physical stats had skyrocketed impossibly. Strength, vitality, agility—all up by 5. And mana, from 1 to 0, then to 10.

Mana 10... exactly ten times my original amount. Mana stats weren't just capacity—they encompassed control, affinity, and more. That's why things invisible at 1 were now crystal clear at 10.

Seeing it hit 0 confirmed my mana vessel had indeed shattered once. So why had it not only recovered but grown nearly tenfold?

The answer was right there in the unique ability slot.

"Unique Authority, Onahole Master?"

Something felt off from the start, but I decided to read the description first.

No matter how I looked at it, this wasn't combat-oriented. And EX grade? I'd never seen that before. Weren't skills maxed at S-grade? It said "authority" instead of ability—my unique ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ability had evolved into a unique authority. The phrasing about my rank being "severely insufficient" suggested it was a higher concept than a unique ability.

I wanted more details, but the low-grade status window wouldn't show them.

As the description said, only basic info for now. To see more, I'd need to raise its grade. But the hint was there: created by the Tower's gods with "authority." Maybe authority was the power gods wielded?

"But fuck, why does it have to be this kind of authority?!"

The curse burst out loud. EX-grade? Authority? Power of the gods? What good was any of it? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It was still just an onahole-related ability. The active functions screamed production-type. If it made weapons, I could brag somewhere. But onaholes? How the hell was I supposed to use this?!

Was I the god of onaholes in a past life? Oh world, what the hell did past-me do to curse present-me like this?

Authority... did a god intervene? Before passing out, that week of compulsive masturbation felt like mind control. I wasn't that sex-crazed, and no one could jerk off nonstop for a week. Even an awakener would exhaust their vitality and die in days.

Maybe it was all a god's prank. It was absurd, incomprehensible. Like the day my parents died, it felt like the world was tormenting me.

But I'd learned one thing in life: accept what happened and act accordingly.

Either way, I'd awakened a unique authority—seemingly superior to a unique ability—and my physical stats had nearly doubled. Good results. Now I faced another reality.

"Guess I should clean the house first?"

Amid the absurdity, I'd forgotten: I'd used hundreds of onaholes nonstop for a week. Meaning hundreds of semen-filled ones, fermenting since at least a week ago, were scattered everywhere, reeking. Dried cum crusted the floor. The mingled stench—fishy beyond words, like rotting squid—was assaulting my nose like rape.

This... cleaning would get rid of the smell, right?

Using my transformed body, my first task was mopping up my own semen. Self-loathing hit hard, but worse was the smell during cleanup. Wiping with a wet mop released waves of aged, metallic cum-stink at its peak.

Enduring the stench, it took a full day to finish. Dozens of trash bags for cum-soaked rags and tissues, over five bottles of bleach. Even with bleach, the house still faintly smelled. So I threw open all windows and decided to crash at a nearby motel until the air cleared.

"This is exhausting..."

What kind of cleaning was harder than dungeon runs? Knowing it was all my own cum amplified the mental toll. I collapsed on the motel bed on arrival.

"Sniff sniff."

Even my hands smelled like cum. Shuddering at the memory, I lay there sorting things out calmly.

First, I'd unlocked a unique authority—higher than a unique ability—and my physical stats had nearly doubled. Plus, my lifeline, Survival, jumped from 2nd Grade to 1st Grade.

It had saved my life countless times in dungeons, but I'd never formally trained it. To me, Survival was instinct—a sixth sense for danger, pure survival drive. It leveled up automatically each time I survived crises by gut.

Probably the same here: my mana vessel shattered, I died and revived, so it ranked up for surviving the crisis.