The proctor's words hung in the air of the transport truck, colder and sharper than any goblin's knife. "Explain this."
Every orphan turned to stare. Their expressions were a mixture of awe, suspicion, and simple, dumbfounded surprise. Mike looked at Jack with wide, proud eyes, completely missing the danger in the situation. But Jack saw it. He saw the female proctor's gaze, analytical and sharp. It was the look of a predator that had just noticed something out of place in the herd. This was a threat far greater than any F-rank monster.
Jack's mask of mediocrity snapped into place. He deliberately widened his eyes, a practiced look of confused panic. He hunched his shoulders slightly, making himself seem smaller.
"I... I don't know," he stammered, pitching his voice to sound unsure. He rubbed the back of his neck, a classic tell of nervous embarrassment he had practiced in front of a mirror countless times. "I just... fired where they were moving. I was just trying not to get hit. Guess I was lucky."
He then played his trump card: his own weakness.
"My talent is just E-rank," he said, the words sounding pathetic even to his own ears. "My mana pool is tiny. I knew I only had a few shots, so I just... aimed for the middle. That's all."
Better to be underestimated than investigated, he thought. The lie was a layer of insulation. A shield made of pity and low expectations.
The female proctor's eyes narrowed. She didn't buy it. Not completely. She unclipped a standard-issue combat knife from her belt and tossed it to him. The metal was cold and heavy in his hand.
"There's a knot on that tree, fifty feet out," she said, her voice flat. "Prove your luck."
This was the real test. Passing it meant hitting the mark. But succeeding meant failing his mission. He had to fail the test to pass. He gripped the knife, his mind a whirlwind of calculations—wind speed, rotation, release angle. He knew he could pin a fly to that tree from this distance.
Therefore, he made a deliberate error.
He threw the knife. It spun through the air with what looked like a decent amount of force, but he had intentionally put too much rotation on it. It struck the tree with a solid thud, the blade biting into the bark. Two inches to the left of the knot. A good try for a panicked amateur. A clear miss for a prodigy.
The proctor stared at the knife, then back at Jack, her expression unreadable. The concrete-jawed male proctor finally spoke up, his voice a low grumble.
"He's a forgettable kid with a bit of luck, Sarah. Let it go. We have a report to file."
The female proctor, Sarah, held his gaze for a moment longer before giving a curt nod. The immediate danger had passed, but Jack knew he had not fooled her. He had only postponed the investigation. He had made a note in a file. He would have to be more careful.
On the return journey, the System notifications finally appeared. A small trickle of XP flowed into him, barely enough to register. But it was enough.
[You have reached Level 2.]
[+5 Stat Points have been acquired.]
[3 points have been randomly allocated.]
[+1 Agility, +1 Perception, +1 Vitality]
[You have 2 free points to allocate.]
He felt the minuscule increase in power, a single drop of water in an empty well. It was pathetic. But it was a start. He mentally allocated his two free points into Mana, desperate to expand his shallow reserves. A moment later, his reward chest appeared in his inventory. It was an F-rank wooden box. He opened it. Inside was a single, low-quality healing salve.
Trinkets for children, he thought with a flicker of internal contempt. The real economy will be mine.
"You saved my ass back there," Mike whispered, nudging him. He was still buzzing, oblivious to the silent interrogation Jack had just endured. "That shot was amazing. You're way better than you let on, man."
Jack just gave a dismissive shrug. "Like I said. Lucky." He had to preserve the asset's perception of him.
"Yeah, well, your luck is pretty awesome," Mike said with a grin.
As the proctors finalized their report, Jack overheard a quiet exchange.
"He's forgettable," the male proctor said. "Let it go."
"Forgettable boys don't land every shot," Sarah replied, her voice low. "I'll be watching him."
The truck rolled back through the orphanage gates. Jack felt the exhaustion in his bones, but his mind was sharp and clear. The static was gone. The factory had a foundation. He had fresh data. And he had weathered his first external threat. He had won.
He collapsed onto his thin mattress in the dorm, the noise and nervous chatter of the other survivors fading into a dull hum. He just wanted a moment of silence to begin his real work, to plan his next move.
Mike, however, was still talking, recounting the raid to a few other boys. "Man, that was insane. Tom's parents are gonna be devastated. I heard that David kid went missing too, you know, the quiet one? Guess some people just aren't cut out for this. A few of the guys who got F-rank talents are talking about quitting the orphanage program and trying to make some quick cash clearing out Slime nests on their own. Total suicide, right?"
Jack's eyes snapped open. He turned his head slowly on the lumpy pillow. The desperate. The foolish. The weak who were about to make a stupid decision.
A faint, ghostly white notification flickered in his vision.
[Dungeon Population: 0/6. Awaiting tenants.]
He closed his eyes again, a thin, cold smile touching his lips.
Suicide? No. Raw materials.