SSS Rank

Counted step by step, the grades running from F to SS came to eight: F, E, D, C, B, A, S, SS. It looked more complicated than the one-to-five star system, and the gaps seemed wider, but in practice they weren't all that large. From F through B there was nothing special about the difference—it was almost entirely skill damage—and the stretch where a grade actually started handing out real benefits began at A.

The reason players hunted for A-rank skills and above was simple.

Special options.

The same special options that clung to classes clung to skills. The one difference was that a class received the right to grant a single special option starting from one star, whereas a skill had one special option attach at random starting at A-rank. An S-rank skill carried two. An SS-rank skill carried three. As I'd already seen with classes, that gap was heaven and earth. No need to spell it out.

"Simple example. Even with the exact same Fireball, people say the difference between a B-rank Fireball and an A-rank Fireball can run as high as double, if you exaggerate it."

Set the special options aside, and the skill damage that crept up in little bites from F to B still jumped nearly twenty percent the moment you went from B to A. You could sneer and call it only that, but once you remembered that gamers would burn tens of millions of won just to get one percent stronger, it was not a number you could ignore. And piled on top of that were the special options that attached at random.

"Mm. I'm using an A-rank Fireball right now, and the special option I rolled is '20% chance on hit to trigger an extra explosion at 50% damage.' It works out to about another ten percent stronger."

"Ooh."

Lim Sarang's explanation went ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down easy. Honestly, the skill system was complicated, and I still hadn't really understood it back at the learning stage—but once I'd actually learned one, parts of it were simple. Higher was just better.

And the skill I'd learned was SS-rank, a skill hung with three unique options, and because those synergized with my class's unique options, it had turned into an SSS-rank skill.

"Oh. Looks good."

"..."

"Looks usable. What do you think?"

"...Is that Meteor?"

Lim Sarang surrendered and shared her skill window.

"This is cheating, Siwoo..."

Put side by side, the difference was obvious.

"So SSS-rank is the good one."

The gap showed from the skill damage alone. If I had to scrape up a single downside, it was the mana cost—except mana cost wasn't much of a problem for me. My class unique option already carried a 78% reduction to mana consumed, and the skill itself had another −50% on top. Unfortunately, it wasn't additive. The skill's own cut landed first, dropping the cost by half to 20, and then the class unique option applied and brought it to 4. The math said something like 3.xx, but the system didn't seem interested in rounding down in my favor.

"Hmm. The mana option feels a little disappointing. I'd rather it had rolled as a damage option."

"...Right. Normally this would be an insanely good option too. High-rank skills are great across the board, but if you had to name one flaw, it's the mana cost climbing with them. Mages can stomach it to a point, since they're raising magic power anyway, but other classes actually pray for a mana reduction to land on a unique option because of their mana problems. Even though it's a loss."

Anyone watching the stream already knew my specs from one end to the other. There wasn't a single thing I hadn't shown on broadcast. And so Lim Sarang stroked her chin, turning it over.

"I should probably reroll it, right?"

"Huh? You can reroll this too?"

"Of course. In Haven, there's nothing you can't do."

Changing a skill itself was possible with currency and materials inside Haven. A skill's unique options, though, worked the same way as changing a class or a class unique option: Windy Pay.

"Wow. This really is a pay-to-win game."

"You'll be even more shocked once you see the price."

I hit the recycle button beside the skill's unique option and nearly jumped.

"Did I read that wrong? This has to be Haven money, right?"

"...It's a level 1 skill, and this is way too expensive. Because it's SSS? Then later, high-level skills would..."

The viewers were shocked too. Just in case, I tapped the change button on the four-star option as well—only to look.

Unlike class unique options, it didn't seem to get more expensive the further down the list you went. Whether that counted as a relief was another question. It was expensive, but whatever. Grateful I could reroll at all, I pressed it.

"How much more am I going to have to burn before a decent option shows up."

Still, the other unique options were juicy enough that I was looking forward to it. If anything looked all right, I'd take it.

"Oh? This is pretty good, right?"

"...I want to go home."

It felt like the skill had been wrapped up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clean.

Fwoosh. A blazing Fireball took shape.

I'd discarded the mana-cost special option, so forming a single cast ate 8 mana—still less than it took to make one F-rank Fireball. A user started with 50 mana, plus 5 mana for every point of Magic Power, which meant I could spit out around fifteen of them at once.

Fwoooosh. Four more Fireballs formed on its heels. Penta Casting, and Dragon Speech on top of that. The fact that they assembled on their own, without me even having to recite the skill's name, was genuinely uncanny. And behind the fireballs already there, four more identical ones bloomed into being.

"The proc rate's honest."

"..."

"They really built this game well. It can read even my thoughts and cast for me."

Controlling nine Fireballs one by one was a little awkward, first time and all. Bundling them together and sending them off, though, wasn't hard. Small mercies.

Honestly, I'd been a little annoyed. I wanted to hurry up and hunt. Today I'd really wanted to keep it simple and feel that pleasure of growing, little by little. Even the money exchange had been fine. When it came to learning the skill, I'd half considered putting those feelings off—but the moment I was paid back for the time, the fun hit several times harder.

"God game. Haven Online."

"Hey. Sarang. Why are you donating when you're sitting right next to me..."

"I'm depressed."

She pouted, dropped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into a crouch, and buried her face between her knees. Cute. I crouched down in front of her and stroked her hair.

"Ah—sorry. My bad."

It wasn't something I'd done after thinking it through. She'd just looked so cute that my hand moved before I noticed. Fortunately—or maybe because the sense of loss hit harder—Lim Sarang never lifted her buried face, and stayed like that for a good long while.

I'd just poured oil on an already furious crowd, and I didn't have the spare attention to deal with that any further.

"Okay, okay. Shh. Enough! Guys. It's not over yet, remember?"

That's what they said, but the viewer count had cleared a hundred thousand a long time ago.

"All right. Revealing it now."

Ice Arrow, honestly, didn't come with huge expectations. Fireball had landed too hard an impact for that. I figured it would probably be good on roughly the same level. And the prediction hit.

"Oh. This one didn't roll a mana-cost option, so I can just use it as is."

The viewers' groans only sank deeper.

Not that it was my problem.