Meanwhile, James was steadily making his way down the sidewalk back toward the game store, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.
Maybe he could still manage to squeeze in a solid session and grind out a few quick levels before the place closed up for the night.
"She was pretty weird," he muttered to himself with a casual shrug.
Then again, everyone in this city seemed to have their own bizarre quirks.
That girl was clearly some kind of sheltered, ultra-rich kid out of her element. Well, whatever floated her boat—he had his own life to worry about, and he didn't care enough to overthink it.
A cool autumn breeze swept down the avenue, blowing through his dark hair. The air tasted crisp, strangely pure, refreshing his lungs with every breath he took.
"I should probably buy some proper snacks for those crows next time," James mused, a faint smile touching his lips.
It was turning out that his newfound ability to communicate with animals was surprisingly unique.
Aside from Luna, he hadn't met a single person who was a confirmed wielder of beast-speech.
Though, if he was being completely honest, he'd bet his soul that Selene possessed that power too.
Before he could even finish that thought, however, he froze mid-stride, remembering Caius's stern warning about binding contracts and pacts.
Pacts were deals anchored in the very fabric of nature or bound between souls, and they sounded alarmingly easy to initiate.
Caius had mentioned that magical beings were usually the only ones capable of establishing them.
Normal humans typically couldn't trigger a binding oath, and after giving it some critical thought, James finally understood the underlying mechanic dividing the two.
The distinction between the magical and the non-magical was ridiculously simple: one group possessed active mana flowing through their veins, and the other didn't.
If James were a betting man, he'd guess the reason a verbal oath never stuck for a regular human was because when an ordinary person spoke those binding words, there was zero magical energy involved to anchor the agreement.
There was no internal mana for nature to latch onto, mold into a contract, or use as leverage against the speaker if they broke their word.
"Unfortunately... I'm magical now, too," James muttered, letting out a heavy, tired sigh. He was going to have to be ridiculously careful with his phrasing from here on out.
A sudden wave of restlessness washed over him. He really, really wanted to test out his magic.
He felt like a impatient toddler with a shiny new toy, itching to see what he could actually do.
But the moment the urge hit, Thane's stark warnings echoed in his mind, rapidly backed up by the sheer volume of terrifying cautions he'd received over the past month.
He longed to practice spellcraft, but the vivid mental images of what would happen to him if he got caught misusing his power flashed violently through his head.
A sharp, icy shudder ran straight down his spine.
The nightmare imagery of himself strapped down in heavy, runic chains—getting repeatedly gutted day after day so some dark sorcerer or ruthless syndicate could harvest his blood and organs for rare alchemical potions—terrified him to his core.
With his accelerated hybrid regeneration, he was effectively an infinite, self-replenishing resource.
For the first time in his entire life, the terrifying reality of his situation made him feel utterly helpless.
Just as the creeping fear was about to spiral out of control, a fresh, sharp gust of wind blew across his face, snapping his focus out of the dark spiral.
Instead of dwelling on the gruesome thought of getting skinned alive in a basement, his attention shifted back to the world around him.
Nature really was strikingly pretty.
He paused near the intersection, taking in the view.
The jagged skyline of the city, the warm setting sun casting a gorgeous orange and violet hue across the glass windows, and the steady hum of cars driving up and down the boulevard created a vibrant picture.
The city was noisy and chaotic, but it was profoundly alive. Vendors down the street were opening up their evening stalls, and the world felt deeply lived-in.
Even the tiny creatures beneath the surface were buzzing with activity.
Through his heightened senses, he could feel the ground vibrating as some insects retreated into their burrows for the night while nocturnal species began to crawl out into the cool dusk.
Squinting toward the distant, darkened forest line bordering the city, his enhanced vision cut through the shadow of the trees effortlessly.
Miles away, he watched a wild wolf stalk and strike down a rabbit in a burst of predatory efficiency, ending the small creature's life in a second before carefully carrying the fresh kill back to its waiting pups.
James looked down at his own calloused hands, flexing his fingers.
Right. I have a pack now. He had people he could actually place his trust in. But having a safety net didn't mean he was content to stay weak and defenseless.
If there was one fundamental truth about James, it was that while he could tolerate a lot of hardship, he absolutely despised feeling helpless.
He had been weak and at the mercy of circumstances far too many times in his past, and he hated every single second of it.
Living by his late father's personal motto, James resolved never to put himself in a position where his life depended on someone else's grace or mercy.
He wanted options. He wanted power, control, and absolute adaptability. The sooner he built up his strength to secure those options, the better off he would be.
It was a real shame he couldn't openly practice his magic...
James paused mid-step, his eyes widening slightly as a sudden realization hit him.
Wait a minute. He couldn't freely practice magic without drawing unwanted attention, but a werewolf's physical transformation wasn't classified as spellcraft.
He had thoroughly researched the topic. Shifting forms did not rely on active spell formulas.
Granted, when a werewolf underwent a transformation, a massive surge of residual ambient energy was released into the surroundings, but that wasn't because the physical shift itself was inherently a spell.
That energy blast was merely a side effect of raw, unrefined power bursting outward due to a lack of proper internal control.
From the technical breakdowns he'd read regarding his new biological species, the transformation was entirely physiological.
The excruciating, agonizing pain he felt when his bones shattered, elongated, and re-aligned was horribly real.
Shifting mass and altering cellular structure demanded a massive amount of metabolic energy, which meant his body required a ridiculous caloric intake to sustain it.
After all, energy couldn't just be created out of thin air—it had to come from somewhere.
A slow, determined smirk began to spread across James's face as he continued walking toward the shop.
He couldn't cast spells in the open, but he could certainly train his body to master the brutal biology of the beast.
The cool October evening air bit at James's cheeks as he pushed through the double glass doors of the 7-Eleven, the bright fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
Browsing the aisles with a quick, practiced eye, he bypassed the usual array of candy bars and salted crisps, settling instead on a large, resealable bag of raw, unsalted nuts.
He chuckled under his breath, thinking of his featherbrained crow friends waiting back near the park.
After tapping his phone against the payment terminal and pocketing the bag, he stepped back out into the encroaching twilight.
By the time he reached the familiar storefront of Retro Relics & Media, the sun had dipped completely below the skyline, painting the clouds in bruised shades of violet and indigo.
The streetlamps were just flickering to life, casting amber pools of light across the pavement.
James pushed open the shop's heavy glass door, triggering a light, brassy clink-clink from the vintage bell mounted on the frame.
The air inside was instantly recognizable: a warm, nostalgic mixture of aged paper, worn cardboard, faint furniture polish, and the ozone hum of warm electronics.
Rows of meticulously organized shelves stretched back into the dim interior, stacked high with retro console cartridges, classic optical discs, and collectible figurines resting under glass displays.
Near the central counter, an old wooden desk littered with retro hardware was being tended to by the store's owner, Artie—a graying man in a faded flannel shirt and wire-rimmed glasses.
He held a soft microfiber cloth, carefully buffing away fingerprints and dust from the glossy casing of a vintage 90s gaming system.
Artie paused his rhythmic wiping, turning around as the bell finished echoing. His eyes crinkled behind his spectacles as he recognized the tall, broad-shouldered teenager.
"Kid, you're back," Artie said, setting down the cloth and leaning his hands against the wooden counter. "It's been a while."
James unzipped his dark jacket, stepping over to the wooden coat rack near the entrance to hang it up.
"Yeah... I had family stuff come up," James replied honestly, giving his heavy shoulders a brief stretch.
Artie nodded with easy, paternal understanding. "I get it. Life gets busy." He picked the cloth back up to polish a corner of the console's glass screen. "I see your friend isn't with you today."
James rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a dry smirk touching his lips as he thought of Michael's effortless, aristocratic progress in the game.
"Yeah, he's got rich family stuff to handle today."
Artie chuckled softly.
"He's been coming in pretty often lately while you were out. Checked in on the physical servers, picked up a few expansion logs."
"Yeah... I'm here to catch up," James said, his determination shining through. He had a solid window before his morning Physics class at 8:50 AM, and he intended to make every single minute count.
Artie offered a warm, knowing smile, gesturing toward the shadowed hallway past the retro arcade cabinets.
"Well, I'm not gonna keep you standing around talking. The high-spec PCs are in the back, all primed and ready. Have at it."
"Thanks, Artie," James said, offering a grateful nod as he headed deeper into the shop.
The owner watched the young man walk past with a light, confident spring in his step, heading straight toward the glowing LAN setup hidden behind the heavy velvet curtain at the back of the store.
Artie let out a soft, nostalgic sigh, turning back to his polish and cloth. "Ah... to be young again," he muttered under his breath with a fond smile.
In the dedicated gaming nook, the ambiance shifted.
The space was lit by ambient neon LED strips tracing the edges of deep mahogany desks. Heavy, plush leather gaming chairs sat lined up in front of massive, curved monitors.
James pulled out the center chair, the smooth leather creaking softly under his weight as he settled in.
He slung his backpack over the armrest, reached into his hoodie pocket, and pulled out the crisp, pristine case of Genesis of Nightbound.
With a satisfying mechanical clack, the PC tower beside his desk powered on, its internal cooling fans humming to life in a soft, low cadence as the dual monitors illuminated his face in cool blue light.
James pressed the physical eject button on the optical drive, watching the disc tray slide out with a smooth, motorized glide.
He unclipped the game disc, carefully holding it by its outer edges, and laid it neatly onto the tray.
Bzzzz-click.
The drive retracted.
The computer whirred as it read the heavy optical media, and a sleek, gothic title logo flared to life across the dark screen: GENESIS OF NIGHTBOUND.
James adjusted his headset around his neck, cracked his knuckles, and clicked "Launch Game." It was time to grind.
Time Skip
James sat glued to the monitor, watching his experience bar fill up as his character's rank surged, climbing all the way from Level 17 to Level 25.
Yeah, he knew—that was a massive jump for a single evening session.
It wasn't that the requirements between early ranks were particularly small, but the true nightmare experience grind didn't hit until past Level 100 or so.
Still, the first major hurdle sat right at Level 50.
To jump from Level 49 to 50, a player needed to collect as much raw experience as it had taken to get all the way to 49 in the first place.
That might not sound like much when considering Level 1 to 2 only required around a hundred points, but by Level 30, the required totals swung into the high thousands—and James calculated that by Level 40, you were easily looking at millions.
He double-checked his mental math. Yup. You literally needed all the experience from Levels 1 through 49 combined just to cross the threshold into 50.
Though he supposed it made sense from a design standpoint. He'd unlocked his base class back at Level 15—going with the Fighter path, naturally—and he still had about six more levels to grind out before selecting a specialized subclass.
At Level 25, he received a major class milestone choice, but Level 30 was where he could branch into a secondary class or double down on his primary path.
So as things stood right now, he was playing a core Fighter—not a Berserker, because as fun as pure chaos was, he preferred the balanced versatility of the base Fighter.
And speaking of reaching Level 25... it was finally time to see what milestone options were waiting for him.
The game interface glowed softly against the dim, neon ambient lighting of the shop's back room. James leaned in, his eyes scanning the fresh prompt on the screen.
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]
Congratulations! You have reached Level 25.
Class Milestone Reached: Select One (1) Primary Trait.
Finally. Now we're getting to the good stuff.
[ AVAILABLE TRAITS: FIGHTER CLASS ]
Blade Mastery (Uncommon)
- Increases damage dealt with edge-based physical weapons by 15%.
- Reduces stamina consumption during weapon swings by 10%.
Iron Body (Rare)
- Permanently increases base physical defense by 20%.
- Reduces incoming blunt-force kinetic impact by 10%.
Aether Infusion (Epic)
- Allows physical weapon attacks to channel raw class mana, converting 15% of physical damage into non-elemental magical damage.
Adaptability (Legendary)
- A unique, evolving trait. Increases overall EXP gain by 25% from all combat and non-combat activities.
- The user gradually builds permanent resistance to damage types and abnormal status effects upon repeated exposure.
- Accelerates mastery over newly acquired physical and magical mechanics.
James stared at the screen, completely stunned.
He hadn't expected much—this game was notorious for being unfair, with milestone traits usually generated entirely at random. If you got unlucky, you were just screwed for the rest of your build.
He skimmed through the first few options, quickly discarding them.
He didn't even use physical weapons; playing as a werewolf in Genesis of Nightbound made his character a raw physical juggernaut, shredding through boss health bars with clashing claws.
Combined with his passive racial regeneration, he could tank ridiculous amounts of incoming damage.
He was already ridiculously strong. Then, his gaze landed on the final option at the bottom of the list.
"Damn! I got insanely lucky!" James muttered under his breath, practically giddy. A Legendary trait! He was definitely going to sink more hours into grinding now.
He didn't hesitate for a single second before clicking his selection.
Adaptability was fundamentally broken for long-term progression, especially since the experience curve at higher levels turned into a brutal slog.
He didn't even know what the absolute level cap was in this game—he just knew it scaled far past Level 200. This trait would save him dozens of hours of grinding.
The moment he confirmed his choice, the interface updated instantly.
[ TRAIT SELECTED: Adaptability (Legendary) ]
Updating Character Record...
[ CHARACTER PROFILE ]
User Tag / Character Name: Wild Boy
Current Level: 25 [ 5% ]
Primary Class: Fighter
Secondary Class: Unlocked at Level 30
[ VITAL STATUS ]
Health: 100%
Mana: 100%
[ CORE STATS ]
Strength: [ C++ ]
Endurance: [ C+ ]
Speed: [ C ]
Senses: [ B- ]
Magic: [ D ]
Intelligence: [ D ]
Wisdom: [ E ]
{Available stat points:30}
[ MAGIC AFFINITIES ]
Shadow Magic (Primary)
[ ACTIVE & PASSIVE SKILLS ]
Basic Physical Combat (Mastery Level 3)
Enhanced Senses (Intermediate)
Shadow Stride (Basic)
Adaptability (Legendary Passive - NEW!)
{Click to see more}
[ RACIAL TRAITS: WEREWOLF FACTION ]
High-Speed Regeneration: Passively heals minor physical wounds over time.
Wild Instinct: Enhances environmental perception and alerts the user to incoming critical threats.
Mental Fortitude: Grants high resistance against mental attacks, illusions, and low-tier charm/hypnosis spells.
Apex Muscle Mass: Physical stat investments yield double value. (Example: 10 points allocated to Strength yields an effective value of 20).
{Click to see more}
[ RACIAL WEAKNESSES ]
Fire Vulnerability: Takes 2x additional damage from all Fire-based attacks and environmental burns.
Silver Toxicity: Direct contact with Silver bypasses physical defenses and suppresses natural regeneration.
Combined Threat (Silver + Fire): If struck by Silver prior to taking Fire damage, overall defense is stripped, resulting in a stacked 4x total damage multiplier.
Wolfsbane Poisoning: Exposure to Wolfsbane severely weakens physical stats, reduces movement speed by 80%, and nullifies racial traits until cured.
His overall stats were looking solid, and the werewolf racial bonuses were absurdly strong.
His Strength was sitting at a comfortable C++, though he'd learned the hard way that raw attributes were difficult to raise.
Base human characters started with E-rank stats across the board. As a werewolf, he had started with several attributes already in the C and D range.
It took roughly 10 allocated stat points just to push a stat from E to D, and the cost scaled dramatically with every rank.
Even with his passive racial multiplier helping him out, pushing a stat to B-rank would require an investment of 50 points.
If he were playing a human character, he'd need a staggering 100 points for the same push.
The stat economy was brutal. You only earned about 5 stat points per level-up.
While you could technically train your attributes through repeated in-game actions, the overall balance made it clear: if you were playing a weaker race, you could never win a pure stat-versus-stat head-on fight against a supernatural build.
That was where gear came into play. Relics, enchanted armor, and legendary weapons were designed to bridge the stat gap.
A human player's best strategy was to farm top-tier gear, because they were never going to out-stat a werewolf or vampire through raw leveling.
Case in point: at Level 25, James's werewolf character currently possessed higher raw physical attributes than a Level 40 base human player.
However, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.
The racial debuffs were an absolute nightmare.
Silver and fire were his character's worst enemies.
His passive healing factor—something that usually kept him alive during tough boss encounters without needing health potions—was instantly shut down the moment silver or wolfsbane hit his system.
Getting ganked by a squad of Level 10 NPC hunters packing silver gear had been a humbling experience, to say the least. James still felt a flash of irritation just remembering it.
Who the hell dumps a Boston Tea Party-level amount of Wolfsbane into a lake just to catch one wandering werewolf off guard?!
He could still vividly picture his character standing there paralyzed in the water—20 NPC hunters surrounding him with weapons drawn.
Before he could even trigger an active skill, 50 silver bolts lit up his health bar while a barrage of fire spells rained down from above, triggering the dreaded red death screen.
James forced himself to shake off those lingering, traumatic memories.
Focusing back on the new milestone benefits, a final notification popped up on the display:
[ NEW SKILL UNLOCKED ]
Adaptive Defense (Active/Passive - Rank 1):
Upon taking damage from a single element or weapon type, the user temporarily gains a 10% damage reduction against that specific source for 300 seconds. Stacks up to 3 times.
Now that is an awesome passive.
James stretched his arms over his head, leaning back in his seat. The game was absurdly addictive, and he was already looking forward to grinding out more levels tomorrow.
Glancing over at the corner of the monitor, his eyes caught the system clock.
12:00 AM
"Oh, shit!" James gasped, snapping upright.
He had been sitting in the shop grinding continuously from roughly 7:00 PM to midnight. That was five full hours of non-stop gaming. He'd completely lost track of time.
Quickly navigating to the main menu, he manually saved his character record and initiated the log-out sequence.
Standing up from the terminal, he rubbed his tired eyes, grabbed his jacket, and headed out into the night—he needed to get home, crash, and somehow wake up in time for morning classes.
A/N...3.5k words, this is the most you wll probably see of this game for a long ahh time, i do plan on using it to show the gap between James and other people, 25/70 in Michael case, In Luna case, I wonder what her level would be her, ahh gap Michael and James by a mile.
I spent to much time on the gaming aspect, but oh well, did you like it or nah.
If there is anything you would change, what would it be?
Also changed my schedule a bit, the first upload will be a big one, with 3k+ words, but the second will be 1.5k+ words.
That will be it.
And don't forget to vote with powerstones.