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The stat window was simple and to the point.
Max's eyes went straight to the part that really mattered—his level.
A+. Designation: Nation-Breaker.
As he expected, the system's assessment lined up with his own. He really did have the power now to wipe a country off the map in a short burst.
The ranking chart of the All-Things Compendium popped into his mind. From lowest to highest, it went like this:
F, E, D, C, B, A, S, SS, SSS…
Each stage carried its own title:
Ordinary, Elite, Block, Town-Buster
City-Crusher, Nation-Breaker, Continent, Planetary
Star-Buster…
And within each, there were fine gradations.
Take the Nation-Breaker tier, for example.
A- meant bottom tier.
A was solid middle.
A+ was the top of the top.
So yeah—right now he was sitting at A+, meaning even among nation-level monsters, he was one of the scariest.
Nice. That was a huge step closer to the Star-Buster domain.
Satisfied with the clearer picture of his strength, Max couldn't help smiling, mood lighter than ever.
He stood and walked to the full-length mirror.
"…Handsome. Again."
He wasn't even surprised by the reflection staring back.
Compared to before his transformation, his features hadn't shifted much—just more balanced, more natural. Not a single flaw to be found.
Beneath his clothes, his body was lined with power—muscles that were defined yet not bulky, long and lean like a bamboo stalk standing proud.
The real change wasn't looks, but presence.
Noble, sacred. Mysterious, commanding.
Like a god descending to earth, untouchable by mortal eyes.
He radiated a warmth like sunlight on a winter's day—drawing people close, but dangerous to approach too far, as if you might melt away.
His eyes gleamed, crystal clear. And if you leaned close, you'd catch the countless flecks of multicolored light in his deep blue pupils, like staring into a starry sky.
Max adjusted himself, pulling his aura back.
The noble godlike presence faded, returning him to his pre-transformation self.
His control now was razor sharp. Holding back his power was child's play. Even the strength to shatter mountains with a flick of his finger could be contained to the tiniest detail.
Heavy felt light, light felt heavy.
No risk at all of accidentally bringing his house down.
After steadying his excitement, Max grabbed some clothes and headed for the bath.
He might now be close to divine, but old habits die hard.
With his perfected body, filth couldn't cling to him. Even if it did, his inner force could scour him clean instantly, leaving not a speck of dust.
So, really, he never needed to bathe again.
But a habit's a habit. And he wasn't about to change it.
When he finished soaking, Max stretched out on his bed, switched off the light, and closed his eyes.
Whether or not he actually slept was just a matter of choice now.
It was already 2:30 in the morning.
Night slipped away in a blink.
By ten, sunlight was streaming through the blinds in sharp golden stripes.
His phone lit up suddenly, the ringtone breaking the stillness.
Without even opening his eyes, Max groped under the pillow, found the phone, and swiped at the screen by feel before lifting it to his ear.
"…Yo."
His voice was lazy, barely a word.
"You little brat, don't tell me you're still in bed."
A girl's voice, familiar enough that he didn't need to ask who it was.
Eyes still shut, he smirked. "Congrats, Xiaojing. You guessed right. But sorry—no prize for you."
Her full name was Hiratsuka Shizuka, straight out of My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected.
They'd met by chance about a year and a half ago. A few run-ins later, and they'd gotten close.
Meanwhile, inside a flashy red Aston Martin, her phone was sitting on its holder, call on speaker.
At his cheeky nickname, Hiratsuka's expression darkened.
"Brat, who are you calling 'Xiaojing'? It's Shizuka-sensei to you."
"Sure thing, Xiaojing. Whatever you say, Xiaojing."
"…You little—!"
A vein twitched at her temple.
She paused, then asked seriously, "So… you handled it?"
"Handled."
"Good."
She exhaled in relief.
A few days ago, Max had suddenly taken time off, claiming he was down with the flu.
Worried, she'd called him right away. She even thought about visiting, but he'd refused, saying he didn't want to infect her.
Of course, Hiratsuka wasn't the type to worry about that. She'd stormed over after school anyway, food and medicine in hand.
Only, he wasn't home—off wandering around hunting for ways to deal with an evil spirit.
When he learned she'd come by, Max was half exasperated, half touched, and could only come up with another excuse.
Said he had some business to take care of, so he'd be away for a few days.
She clearly knew he wasn't telling her everything, but she didn't push. Just told him to call if he needed backup.
Now, hearing that everything was settled, she felt the tension ease from her chest.
A smile tugged at her lips. "Since you're free, come out. Someone's buying lunch."
"Someone, huh…"
Max, still sprawled on the bed, finally opened his eyes. Didn't take much to guess who she meant.
"Now?"
"Of course."
"You gonna pick me up?" he asked, glancing at the sunlight slipping between the blinds.
"Nope."
She let out a huff.
"Che. Stingy. Fine, text me the place. Hanging up."
He sighed, a little disappointed, but ended the call. Then he got up and went to wash.
Twenty minutes later, dressed and ready—
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
"…Huh?"
Eyebrows raised, Max checked the video screen by the door. When he saw who it was, his lips curved into a grin.
He headed downstairs and opened the front door.
"Xiao—"
Hiratsuka Shizuka had just opened her mouth to say something when she saw him.
And froze.
Her words caught in her throat as her eyes widened, shock plain on her face.
She just stared at him.
Amused, Max chuckled. "What's with the blank look? Don't tell me my good looks have you stunned?"
That snapped her out of it.
Her gaze locked on his face, brow furrowing with suspicion.
"…Brat. Don't tell me the big 'business' you had to handle was… plastic surgery?"
She'd noticed it instantly. He looked better. A lot better.
Almost like a different person.
And yet, undeniably him.
If last time she'd have given his looks an 88 out of 100, now he was at a 99.
She deliberately kept back the last point—no way she'd let him get too smug.
Still, the guy in front of her was dangerously perfect, exactly her type. Her heart skipped, beating faster than she'd like to admit.
Her face warmed.
Some quiet little sprout of emotion inside her grew, though she hadn't noticed it yet.
Max, on the other hand, just rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You think I need surgery to look this good?"
"…Then how the hell did you get hotter?" she muttered, brows knitting tighter, suspicion mingling with curiosity.
"....."