[System Notification: By mixing work talk into your date, you achieved unexpected results. You've built a deeper bond with the Type-B girl. Extra reward granted.]
[Reward Unlocked: Throwing Knife Technique (Master Level)]
Just as Luke got home from his date, the system chimed in with a new reward.
Seriously?
No quest announcement ahead of time, just a random skill shoved at him afterward?
This system was something else. Stingy with stat boosts—never granting them unless he risked his neck doing dangerous stunts—yet endlessly generous when it came to nudging him into romantic entanglements.
It really was dead set on steering him toward a playboy lifestyle.
As the throwing-knife mastery downloaded into his mind, a wave of déjà vu surged through him.
Suddenly, he had thirty-plus years of grueling practice at his fingertips—starting from childhood, honing knife-throwing day after day.
Until mind, eye, and hand became one.
Where thought guided sight, sight guided aim, and the knives flew like lightning—never missing.
But mastery didn't mean he stopped training. He kept sharpening his technique, shaving off every impurity until only the purest skill remained.
One stormy night in memory, he stood sixty meters away from a swaying red lantern shielded by a rain cover.
The wind howled. Rain poured. The lantern swung violently.
Yet his focus didn't waver.
He flicked his wrist—three knives shot forward in graceful arcs, slicing through the curtain of rain, scattering droplets into mist.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
All three hit the target from different angles, shredding the lantern into pieces.
The light vanished, leaving only darkness.
When Luke's eyes cleared, he was back in the present.
"This skill is ridiculously overpowered…" He couldn't hide his excitement.
Of course it was. System rewards were always premium.
Compared to his earlier master-level swordsmanship, throwing knives were on another level.
Sword skills were strong, but outside of a movie set, they weren't practical. It wasn't like he could walk around New York with a longsword strapped to his back.
Sure, if he found a stick on the ground, he might improvise. But empty-handed, even a sword master was just another guy.
Throwing knives, though? That changed everything.
Compact, concealable—he could carry a few without anyone noticing.
And the range? Insane.
A standard handgun might claim a 50-meter effective range, but hitting accurately beyond 30 meters took serious training.
For most people, even 10 meters was dicey.
But Luke could nail a moving target at 60 meters in a rainstorm—throwing three knives at once.
That was assault-rifle territory.
By sheer killing power, master-level knife throwing blew swordsmanship out of the water.
In a city with sketchy neighborhoods, if a thug pulled a gun on him, old Luke would've had no choice but to run.
Now? He had real insurance.
The system had come through big time.
And it wasn't finished.
[System Notification: You've established intimate rapport with the Type-B girl. Attribute cap increased.]
Wait—already?
So deepening his bond with Yuffie counted as "intimate rapport"?
He had assumed the system required… well, adult-level intimacy. Apparently not.
This meant one of his physical stats—Strength, Agility, or Constitution—could finally surpass the level 15 cap.
What would happen if he kept stacking points beyond human limits? How far could his body evolve?
But only one stat could break past the ceiling for now.
So how would the others catch up?
…Don't tell me he had to bond with different "types" of girls to unlock those?
The thought made him wince. The system was basically baiting him into being a womanizer.
Still, he shoved the thought aside.
Right now, his priority wasn't women. It was Jurassic Park III.
Landing the lead role had already cost director Joe Johnston his network connections and forced Mr. Eisen to put him through the wringer.
If the box office tanked, the studios would brand him a failure. Second chances in Hollywood were rare.
On top of that, the system had given him a mission:
[Mission Step 1: Star in a Hollywood movie and surpass the global box office of The Mummy Returns.]
He'd nailed the starring role. Now he had to beat $443 million worldwide—a top-ten hit of its year.
The pressure was suffocating.
Luke could still see director Sommers sneering in his mind's eye:
"My movie will never star a actor."
"I'd cast a Black actor before I'd ever use an Asian."
That wasn't just a jab at him—it was the reality of an industry wall built on prejudice.
A wall that seemed solid, immovable.
But every wall had weak points. Find the crack, push hard enough, and it would crumble.
Jurassic Park III carried that weight—the chance to smash through, to prove himself, to change the rules.
And tomorrow, he would step onto set and begin filming.