Chapter 39: Suddenly An E-rank
The rusted hinges of the bedroom door whined as it swung open.
"Tyler, I swear, if that television is still loud enough to—"
The words ceased. The sound was completely deleted from the air.
His aunt stood perfectly rigid in the doorway. She wore a faded yellow dress, her long black hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail. Her hands gripped a white plastic basket piled high with freshly washed sheets. But her brown eyes were blown wide, staring blankly past the doorframe.
Tyler sat cross-legged on the floor, ten years old, clutching his knees. The heavy CRT television hummed in front of him, casting a flickering blue glow over his short black hair and wide blue eyes.
But the frayed carpet beneath him was gone. The peeling wallpaper was gone.
Everything past the wooden threshold of the bedroom door was erased into a suffocating absence. The void held no temperature, no pressure, no texture. The space was simply, violently missing.
A violent, involuntary tremor racked his aunt’s body. Her knuckles turned white against the plastic basket. She stared at the impossible drop, her mouth slightly parted. Her fingers went entirely limp.
The basket tipped. It slipped past the wooden doorframe and tumbled downward into the endless expanse. The white sheets shrank smaller and smaller, falling forever without a single rustle of fabric or crack of plastic. Total, deafening silence.
A heavy, crushing panic squeezed Tyler's tiny chest. The sprawling emptiness felt too big, too wrong. His breathing hitched. He scrambled up, tossing a toy aside, his bare feet pushing off the edge of the nothingness.
"Auntie!" he cried out, launching himself toward the doorway.
Mid-step, his foot hovering over the sheer drop, he blinked.
The rough, scratchy fibers of the carpet bit violently into his heel. The cramped, stuffy air of the bedroom rushed back into his lungs.
His descending foot caught hard against the thick black power cord stretching across the rug. The television lurched off its wooden stand, tilting forward, and smashed glass-first into the floorboards with a deafening crash.
Tyler hit the floor, scraping his knees.
At the door, his aunt jumped, clutching the laundry basket tightly to her chest. The sheets were still inside.
She stood there, blinking rapidly, her chest heaving beneath the yellow dress. She looked around the cramped, perfectly normal bedroom, a deep frown carving into her face. Her hand fluttered up to her collarbone. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, a cold sweat clinging to her neck. She didn't know why. The terror was completely wiped from her mind, but the physical remnants of the panic still screamed through her veins.
Her brown eyes darted to Tyler, then to the shattered glass of the television.
That raw, unexplainable fear twisted instantly into boiling, irrational anger.
She marched across the carpet, her footsteps heavy and loud. Before Tyler could even sit up, her hand swung down. The slap cracked across his cheek like a whip.
"You clumsy, useless—!"
Tyler gasped, his eyes snapping open. His lungs heaved, pulling in ragged, desperate breaths as he stared up at the familiar, stained wooden ceiling. He tried to swallow, but his throat was like sandpaper, coated in a dry, metallic film of old blood.
He lay there for a second, realizing he was shirtless, the cool air of the room brushing against his bare skin. Bracing himself for an agonizing spike of pain, he pushed himself up to sit. His muscles tensed, shifting under his skin, but... nothing.
*What happened to me?* he thought, his brow furrowing.
Then, it all rushed back in a violent, sickening flash. Activating the skill. Pushing his body through the brutal, unrelenting grind of training all day. And then, walking home when the aftereffects finally hit, the sheer, blinding wall of agony that had torn through his system.
The way his body had just given out. Vomiting a thick puddle of his own blood, right onto little Heather's bare feet.
*The skill... it almost killed me*, he thought. He raised his left hand, slowly squeezing his fingers into a tight fist, feeling the joints pop before releasing it. *But I'm completely fine.*
There was no lingering ache, no torn fibers screaming in protest. It was as if his body had been entirely reset.
"Did I get healed?"
He shoved the heavy blanket aside and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. The soles of his bare feet met the biting chill of the even stone floor. Taking a breath, he stood up. He expected his knees to buckle, but the motion was unnaturally easy. The heavy, sluggish feeling he usually carried in his limbs was just gone.
*I feel so much lighter.*
"Whoa," he whispered, looking down at himself.
The definition of his core stood out sharply in the dim light of the room. He ran a hand down his stomach, his fingertips tracing the hard, raised ridges of his abdominal muscles.
It was firm, smooth, and entirely unyielding. Moving his hand up, he realized his chest had grown slightly broader too, the pectorals packed with a dense, hardened layer of new muscle.
His entire physique had fundamentally shifted, the fibers knitting back together thicker and tougher than before.
"This is all because of the training," he muttered to the empty room, his voice raspy.
"But did I level up?"
As if waiting for the thought, a translucent blue System panel flashed to life directly in front of his face.
[CONGRATULATIONS. THE USER HAS UNLOCKED AN ACHIEVEMENT: TRAIN TILL YOU'RE DEAD.]
[+ 10 EXTRA POINTS.]
*Ten extra points?* Tyler thought, genuine surprise cutting through his lingering grogginess. *Wait, an achievement came up right before I passed out that time. It gave me ten points as well. I should... pull up my status and check.*
The familiar text overlaid itself perfectly across his vision
SPECIES: Human
NAME: Tyler Evans
RANK: E
LVL: 20
CLASS: Craftsman
HP: 92/92MP: 92/92
STR: 72AGI: 82
DEF: 68 STM: 71
SKILLS: Weapon Craft-Lv1, Armor Craft-Lv1, Accessory Craft-Lv1, Alchemy-Lv1, Rush Lv2-MC20
PASSIVE SKILLS: Weapon Mastery-Lv1, Assimilation
Extra Points: 20
Tyler's eyes widened, and he quickly clamped his right palm over his mouth. I'm an E-Rank. Beneath his hand, a massive, irrepressible grin spread across his face. He chuckled lightly, the sound muffled by his fingers.
"I'm actually an E-Rank," he whispered once more, pulling his hand away. Tracing the mental text, he did the math in his head.* Every single base stat had jumped by twenty points. It's like I've leveled up ten times.*
His gaze tracked lower, falling to the skills section. He blinked. Listed clearly next to his old abilities were Accessory Craft-Lv1 and Alchemy-Lv1.
*I even got new skills?* He paused, remembering a past conversation. *Right, James said that when someone ranks they gain a skill. Or if they became a plus.*
Then, he noticed his old buff. Rush was now listed at Lv2.
*It leveled up?*
"Was it because I pushed it?" he murmured.
His eyes finally drifted to the bottom of the screen. Extra Points: 20. With a quick, focused thought, he began allocating the unused points into his base attributes, watching the numbers seamlessly shift in his mind's eye.
HP: 92/92MP: 92/92
STR: 82 AGI: 82
DEF: 72STM: 77
With the new stats settled into his system, he looked down at his right hand and squeezed it into a tight fist again. He rotated his arm and flexed the muscle in his shoulder. Beneath the skin, the deltoid visibly bulged, dense and hard, a singular thick vein raising itself along the contour of his arm.
"Wow. My physique has totally changed."
A warm, unfamiliar sensation bloomed in his chest. Pride. It was a genuine feeling of accomplishment and self-worth that he had never, in his entire life, felt before.
The quiet moment was suddenly broken by the muffled sound of voices out in the hallway. Footsteps approached, growing louder against the floor until they stopped just outside his room.
"I thought I heard something, I just want to check," James's voice drifted through the wood.
The doorknob turned, and James pushed the door open.
He was dressed simply in a white tunic and brown pants. As he stepped into the room, his jaw dropped, his eyes widening in absolute shock as he saw Tyler standing perfectly fine in the middle of the floor.
Tyler smiled, the pride still swelling in his chest. "James, you won't believe this, I jus—"
The sharp, deafening crack echoed through the small room. James had whipped his hand forward, slapping Tyler across the face with so much force that it violently turned Tyler's head to the side.
Tyler froze. The stinging heat bloomed instantly across his cheek. His eyes widened, staring blankly at the wall as his brain failed to process what had just happened.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" James yelled, his voice raw and cracking with uncharacteristic fury.
"What?" Tyler muttered, turning his head slowly in shock. The smile had completely vanished.
"You almost died! Do you have any idea what you've done? I trusted you to go there, train, and come back. The next thing I know, you show up at death's door. I can't take my eyes off you for a single second."
"James, I'm sorry, I..."
"You fell right on top of my daughter," James said, his voice dropping into a trembling, terrifying register.
Tyler's eyes widened even further, a cold pit dropping in his stomach. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"Of course you didn't. You're so reckless and stupid. We had to call a healer to heal you, and she almost couldn't do it! You were passed out for four days straight."
Tyler's new, stronger heart rammed violently against his ribs. The realization of the lost time and the horrific image of vomiting blood onto Heather crashed into him all at once. He stayed completely silent, his throat tightening.
James slowly shook his head, looking at him with a mixture of anger and deep exhaustion. "What the hell happened?" he asked.
"I was training, and then activated my skill. I had no idea it could lead to this. If I knew, then I wouldn't—"
"Stop." James interrupted. "You're either lying, or you're really just that stupid." I already told you if you use skills like that, it can have severe effects on your body. Did you not listen to a word I said?"
"I'm sorry."
James paused. He let out a long, heavy sigh, the fight suddenly seeming to drain out of his shoulders. He looked away, staring at the blank stone wall. "Lisa doesn't want to see you here anymore. Because of what happened."
James slowly turned his gaze back to Tyler. "And to be honest, neither do I."
Tyler looked at him, his vision blurring as his eyes glistened, heavy tears threatening to spill over.
"Listen. I'm just going to give it to you straight." James said, his voice quieter now, weighed down by a crushing fatigue. "We spent half a gold coin on that healer."
"What?" Tyler exclaimed, the sheer magnitude of the cost hitting him.
"Yes," James said, a deep frown carving lines into his face. He looked down at the floor, shifting uncomfortably, as if he was deeply embarrassed by his own confession. "We don't have money, Tyler. We used so much from our savings. Just to bring you back. Well... to be honest, I did. Just because I couldn't let you die."
He sighed once more, running a hand over his face.
"I'm afraid this is the end of the line. I can't help you anymore. You will need to find someone else." James turned away, his hand reaching for the doorknob. Without looking back, he said, "If I let you stay, I'm afraid you'll just keep taking from us."
The sentence felt like a physical, final punch to Tyler's gut. The air rushed out of his lungs.
"James," Tyler pleaded, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
"Listen, kid, there's nothing you can say that can—"
James’s breath hitched. He stopped in the doorway, staring downward.
Tyler had dropped straight to his knees. He folded his body forward, pressing his forehead flat against the cold stone floor. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached, his shoulders violently trembling as the tears finally broke, spilling hot and fast against the stone.
It was not the first time Tyler had heard those words, but James was the last person in the world he ever wanted to hear them from. As the heat of James's slap still burned on his cheek, the memory violently bled into the present. He remembered his aunt. Just a few years ago, she had slapped him with that exact same fury.
‘All you do is take and take. And you don't give nothing in return. You disgust me. You want to take my sanity as well?’
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't think, I..." Tyler’s voice broke into a muffled cry. He squeezed his eyes shut, his tears spilling over and dropping against the cold stone floor with soft, wet taps.
"Tyler," James said, completely turning to face him and taking a step forward.
"You're right," Tyler sobbed, his voice strained. " I've done nothing but take from you since I got here." He lifted his head, his neck stiff, and looked up at James with red, glistening eyes. "But please. Just give me a chance. I'll pay you back. I promise."
James felt a heavy, uncomfortable ache of pity in his chest. He had expected Tyler to feel hurt, or at least get angry and defensive, but he had not expected this. He hadn't expected to see a grown man break down.
"Come on, stand up," James said softly.
Tyler pushed himself up, sniffling wetly and dragging his arm across his nose to wipe the snot away. James sighed, reaching out and gripping Tyler’s right hand, using his rough, calloused palm to pull him the rest of the way to his feet. "You're a grown man, you shouldn't cry like that."
Tyler hastily wiped the remaining tears off his face, a flush of hot embarrassment creeping up his neck.
"Listen," James said, his tone turning serious again. "Lisa and I are leaving in four days. That's how much time you have. If you really want to repay us."
"I will," Tyler said, his throat still tight and raspy.
James ran a hand through his own hair, exhaling a long, heavy breath as he looked away. *What the hell am I going to tell her now?* he thought. *I don't think she'll listen to a word I say.*
He looked back at Tyler and said out loud, "Tyler, you can't sleep here tonight. With what happened..."
"I understand," Tyler said, nodding slowly.
James paused, studying him. "You're going to need to sleep at an inn. It doesn't cost much. It's one silver per night. You have silver on you, don't you?"
"Yes," Tyler breathed out.
"Alright. I'm sorry, but... you're gonna have to leave now."
Tyler paused, the reality of the eviction settling in. He turned and walked over to the small bed where the white tunic lay. He picked it up, staring at the fabric, hesitating.
As if James had read his mind, he spoke up. "You can keep them. They don't fit me anymore."
"Thank you," Tyler said softly, pulling the tunic over his head.
James turned and opened the bedroom door. As Tyler followed, he lifted his right leg into the air, and a black leather boot instantly materialized onto his foot. He stepped down, lifting his left foot, and the second boot materialized seamlessly over his toes, capping his heels with a soft thud against the floorboards as he walked.
He followed James out into the living room. Near the center of the room, Heather was standing up, quietly playing with a small rubber ball, bouncing it rhythmically against the floor.
As soon as she caught movement and her eyes met Tyler's, she gasped. The ball slipped from her fingers. She scrambled backward, sprinting behind James's legs. Her tiny hands reached out, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed the fabric of her father's pants, hiding her face against his knee.
Tyler inhaled sharply. His chest squeezed. *She's afraid of me.*
James forced a small, tight smile, trying to ease the tension. "Come on, Heather, it's okay. Don't be scared." He reached back, gently trying to detach her from his leg, but she just scrambled around to his other side, hiding herself completely from Tyler's view.
"No!" she squeaked out, her voice trembling.
"Go to your mother," James finally said softly.
Heather didn't need to be told twice. She fled instantly toward the other bedroom, her rapid footsteps fading away. Behind her, the rubber ball was left on the wooden floor.
James rigidly avoided eye contact with Tyler as he walked over to the front door and pulled it open.
They stepped out of the yard and into the cool night air of the empty street. An awkward, suffocating silence stretched out between them. Tyler kept his gaze firmly locked on the uneven cobblestones beneath his boots, while James stared straight ahead.
Tyler hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides. "James, I..."
James looked over. Tyler met his eyes for a split second before quickly looking away again, staring nervously down the long, empty road stretching out in front of them.
"I became an E-rank," Tyler blurted out.
James stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened. "An E-rank?"
Tyler stopped a few paces ahead and turned back. "Yeah."
"What level are you?" James asked, his voice laced with sudden disbelief.
"I'm a level twenty."
James paused for a second.
"So you really are an E-rank," James exhaled, the shock completely overwriting his previous anger. "Tyler, you mean to tell me you leveled up six times?"
"Yes," Tyler said. He confirmed it, but his voice was flat, completely lacking the enthusiasm he had felt back in the bedroom. He looked up at James, the weight of the last ten minutes still pressing down on him.
"Does that mean I can become a hunter?"