Stronghold (1)

Stat points.

The alpha and omega for heroes from Korea.

Heros from Korea usually gained experience by saving people or achieving some kind of 'feat'.

And that experience gain led directly to level-ups and stat increases.

In other words...

...cases where separate stat points were granted like this were extremely rare.

Rumors had it you needed to pull off a pretty massive 'feat' to get that kind of reward.

Still, there was one thing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that nagged at me.

'...When I stopped the Director, it said I'd 'greatly' changed a part of the past. But nothing like that this time.'

The Status Window message was different from the last level-up.

Well, the Director's appearance had been pulled forward a bit because of me.

And I'd thwarted his plan for the first time, so yeah, that counted as a big change.

But...

'Eclipse... hasn't anything even started yet, right?'

That natural question started creeping in.

Of course, it wasn't something I could answer right now.

So first things first—I needed to decide where to allocate the stat point.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ 'Hmm... Strength, agility, intelligence, or mental— which one?'

Strength was obviously low priority.

It was low to begin with, and my fighting style didn't rely on it anyway.

Next up, agility.

Honestly, that was the one I'd be tempted to pump first.

Seeing the future didn't mean shit if your body couldn't keep up.

But would bumping agility by one really change much right now?

I could make up for the speed gap with gear.

And even now, it was grueling, but I could barely follow the trajectory of Future Predict.

So agility could wait a bit.

Intelligence was iffy too.

From what I'd heard, it was key for magic users.

Something about formula calculations or mana control.

But my power wasn't magic.

Not super useful to me.

Which left the perfect choice for me.

'Mental.'

Of course, jacking up this stat wouldn't suddenly make my will stronger or my head clearer.

Stats didn't change your personality or thought patterns.

But mental stats affected the neural load when using powers.

That searing headache from chaining Future Predict.

The pain like claws scraping the inside of my eyes.

The overload feedback when my senses outpaced my body.

If this could delay that even a little, it was more than enough for me right now.

With stats allocated, next up was set.

"Eclipse is coming, so let's at least make it look decent, Hope."

"Yeah, guess we should."

My strategic stronghold-to-be.

Not like I could dream of something like Times Square Tower, obviously.

Might get a shot later, but right now? That'd be biting off more than I could chew.

"This'll do for now. Gotta be satisfied with it."

In the end, we looped back to an abandoned factory in the Queens industrial zone.

Separate from Hope's old workshop, naturally.

That place was purely for crafting, so it lacked in every other way.

Building cost three million dollars—already haggled down—and another million for mods and new gear.

Wouldn't have gotten a normal building for that price.

Pipes were rusty, electrical half-fried in spots.

No clue what they made here before, but the basement still reeked faintly of oil.

Any normal investor would've passed.

But that worked in my favor.

Plain and simple, the place was rundown.

Meaning I could gut and rebuild anywhere without raising eyebrows.

"Replaced all the walls now. And the perimeter fence is electrified—no easy break-ins."

"Hm. Legal issues?"

"Slapped on alarm sensors and warning ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠signs. Anyone who touches it is a dumbass."

This basically meant Hope could tinker with every inch freely.

"Good. But the first floor's empty—no gear?"

"Testing space for equipment. Planning dust-proof and blast-proofing too."

"Garage down there?"

"Yup. Big shutters for vehicles—who knows what we'll build, so high ceiling."

"Basement's the maintenance room, then."

"Spot on. Got the new gear you bought, moved most of my old stuff too."

"Don't go getting yourself hurt all willy-nilly, got it? We've got tons to do together."

"...Sounds good."

"Second floor's temp ops room! Just a few monitors and comms gear now, but closed network—no hacks.

Unless someone physically yanks the cables."

"...Huh."

"Rooftop gets antennas, drone relays... Oh! Heliport! Let's add a helipad! We might fly choppers later, right?!"

"No helos now. Don't even know how to fly one."

"Prep ahead! Life's unpredictable."

"...Heli later. Antennas and drones first."

"...Fuck, killing my dreams."

Seeing Hope this hyped proved it was a solid pick.

My choice felt plenty rational.

'Physical security and gear are solid— just need time.'

But this was science territory.

Couldn't settle with mages and mage groups out there.

"Why'd you leave that spot empty, though?"

That's why I'd cleared one area.

"Hm... About time he shows."

"What?"

"The one who messaged me earlier."

"That gender-ambiguous mage?"

"Woman. Older than me, too."

"Hey, hey! Who're you calling older?!"

It was Eclipse, right on cue.

"Isn't it true?"

"Hell no! I'm eternally twenty!"

"Sure, let's say that."

"And how'd you know I was already here? That Future Predict really only triggers on life-or-death?"

"Prediction based on experience and data so far.

Your hero work's mostly stealth and sabotage over solo rampages anyway."

"...So you figured I'd come here?"

"Exactly."

Hope stared at Eclipse like she'd lost her mind.

"...My sensors picked up jack shit."

"Duh, scrap metal can't detect me."

"Scrap metal?"

"Be grateful I didn't call it moving trash."

"This bitch totally nuts? I'll make her magic-ass useless."

"Try it. You're a muggle anyway."

And so began the pride clash between two hotshot experts.

"...You handle different fields, right? Both valuable pros—let's not."

I wedged between them, prying shoulders apart, and kept talking.

"Hope on physical security, Eclipse on magic. Mutual respect. We're not Pax."

"...Fine, whatever."

"That psycho bitch started—"

"—Hope."

"...Got it, got it."

I reined them in, then pulled out the finished contract from my inventory.

Handed it to Eclipse.

"Our contract terms."

"...Heh."

"No using your name, looks, gender, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or image for promo.

Stronghold defense range adjustable by mutual agreement.

You can terminate anytime, no info to Pax on this place.

That's the big stuff."

"... ."

"Nice gig, huh? Treated like royalty."

"Jealous? I'm premium talent."

"Yo, Jun. Add shock clause if she keeps yapping."

"...Why would we?"

Short spat over, Eclipse scanned the place.

Her eyes swept the interior, landing on the empty spot.

"...That's my spot."

"Yes."

"... ."

Eclipse pondered a beat.

Her gaze shifted to the space itself.

Cracked walls, stray cables, faint oil stink on the floor, gear crates scattered.

Not fancy or polished.

Objectively? Dirty, worn, crude.

But.

"...Here."

Eclipse murmured.

"No Pax."

"......"

"No logos, no cameras, no damn manager dragging me to daily events."

She pointed at Hope, then eyed me.

"That scrap-fetishist sticking around?"

"Hope, you mean?"

"Obviously I'm staying! So much to do!"

Hope shot back matter-of-factly. Eclipse pursed her lips.

Then, quieter.

"...Me too."

"Pardon?"

"I'll stay here too."

Unexpected.

I looked at her a moment.

Eclipse averted her eyes, nudging a cable with her toe.

"You bought this to keep Pax away, right?"

"Yes."

"Hate it there."

"......"

"Gotta keep pretending I'm not me."

Eclipse swallowed, pausing.

"At least here, they won't put me on display."

I couldn't reply right away.

...Not the answer I'd expected.