Unholy Player

While all 12 cities buzzed with chaos—news channels streaming live footage from Shelter City 8, forums erupting with theories about the PTF and the mysterious third-generation mutants—Adyr stepped slowly out of the simulation chamber.

"Just as I thought... upgrading talents to level 4 is harder than expected," he muttered, a faint frown crossing his face.

But the issue wasn’t merely reaching level 4. The real problem was proving it.

Especially after increasing his [Sense] stat, he believed his Observer talent was ready to evolve. Yet the simulations at Player Headquarters weren’t enough. Despite offering up to 75% realism, they still fell short. For the system to truly recognize a level 4 talent, simulated conditions weren’t sufficient. It needed to be real—an authentic situation, observed under authentic pressure.

And this wasn’t his only concern.

After raising all his talents to level 3, his energy reserves had dropped to the 700s. Maintaining the Mother Tree alone required a daily tribute of 30 crystals, not to mention the steady cost of feeding his Sparks. At this rate, he’d need to replenish his reserves soon.

"I’m getting stronger... but power comes with more obligations," he chuckled dryly, already calculating possible solutions.

Then, a sharp beep from his wristband pulled him from his thinking process.

When he checked the digital display on his wristband, he saw the caller’s name: Henry Bates.

"Mr. Bates," He answered, offering a slight smile to the elderly man on the screen.

"Adyr, I’ve been trying to reach you for the past 2 hours. I figured you were busy with simulations." Henry smiled, but the tension beneath his facade was easy to spot.

"Yeah. I’m working on my talents," Adyr replied plainly. "What’s up?"