I didn't run the last stretch.
I opened the Warp tab.
The system pulled up a short list of available points:
– NY North
– NY East
– NY South
– NY West
– NY Center — Base
I tapped the last one.
Warp Activated — NY Center — Base
The shift snapped into place instantly. No flash, no sound. Just a quiet transition.
I landed in my hallway, soft and steady.
The Assassin transformation unraveled with a single thought.
[Class Card: Assassin — Deactivated]
Mana drain halted. HUD quieted.
I let out a slow breath and leaned against the wall. Muscles ached just a little. Not fatigue—just tension bleeding out.
Then the HUD pinged.
[System Notification]
Cultural Vandal
+100 CP awarded
— Action: Removed 1000+ clay containers from museums, galleries, and public institutions.
— Method: Quiet entries, faster exits, and zero explanations.
— Casualties: Security systems, interior layouts, and several priceless display labels.
— Impact: Triggered largest "invisible looting incident" in NYC archival history.
Official statement: "Unclear if theft or spontaneous pottery migration."
One museum staffer described the day as "an archaeological Rapture."
[System Notification]
Assassin's Tempo
+100 CP awarded
— First signs of subconscious alignment detected.
— Movement patterns, mental filters, and thought pacing now match 87% of expected Assassin-Class baseline.
— Class compatibility improving.
You didn't even stop for a snack.
I stared at the first reward a little longer than I meant to.
Cultural Vandal.
I rubbed my face with one hand and let out something halfway between a laugh and a wheeze.
"A hundred points for stealing flower pots," I muttered. "Sure. Why not."
I slid down the wall and let my head rest back against it.
Not even actual loot. Not magical artifacts. Just—ceramics. Decorative. Fragile. Mostly empty.
And apparently significant enough to register as a "myth-level anomaly."
"An archaeological Rapture," I repeated softly, and immediately lost it.
Full-on grin, shoulders shaking.
Because of course—if it was a Rapture, only the worthy would ascend.
Which raised uncomfortable theological questions about the jar I saw with googly eyes and glitter glued to its lid.
I exhaled hard through my nose, still grinning.
"…Some curator's gonna lose sleep over that one."
The second ping caught me slightly off-guard.
Not the sync itself—sure, I'd been moving sharper. Quieter. Cleaner.
But 87% baseline alignment? Already?
This wasn't Fate-specific mimicry. It wasn't about cosplaying some named heroic spirit.
It was just… the Assassin archetype. Silent. Decisive. Invisible.
And if this was how alignment worked — not as a stat you picked, but a direction you moved in, lived into — then the ceiling wasn't in the thousands.
It was in the tens of thousands.
Maybe more.
Every shift in instinct. Every tactical nuance.
Maybe even the way you walked into a room.
Each one its own thread.
A whole multiverse of roles — branching not by franchise, but by function.
Not mimicking a class, but walking far enough down the path that the system started recognizing your footsteps.
Until it stopped treating it like a costume.
And started treating it like baseline.
"Play the part well enough," I said softly,
"and the system gives it a name."
I glanced at the CP total. 500 on the dot.
"…Alright, RNGesus. Let's see if you feel generous this time."
Spell Draw
Name: Psychic Abilities - Cyberpathy (Read-Only Mode)
Source: World of Darkness: Sorcerer
Chapter: Magitek
Cost: 100 CP
"In the World of Darkness, psychic abilities and mythic sorcery are, at first glance, completely different. However, both manipulate the same powers, albeit in very different ways, and are both considered forms of linear magic..."
Effect: Grants the ability to psychically read the contents of visible digital devices—text, images, program structures.
Cannot access encrypted data. Understanding takes 10–15 minutes of concentration without mundane computer skills.
(CG Note: Requires Psychic Abilities – Cyberpathy (Analyze Structure) to unlock full functionality.)
I exhaled through my teeth.
"Okay, sure. Psychic Google Glass.
Not useless. I mean, being able to read a computer's files just by looking at it—without turning it on?
That's actually kind of great."
I tilted my head at the description.
"Still… 'Read-Only Mode'. No decrypting, no interaction, and apparently I need a whole other psychic install just to make it do anything more."
I sighed and flicked the reroll button.
"Next."
Spell Draw
Name: Gift of Flight
Source: Lyrical Nanoha
Chapter: Domain
Cost: 100 CP
"Who needs a Device? You can fly just fine on your own! You have a natural talent for using mana to lift yourself up to levitate or even fly, moving at roughly your personal running speed. This can be draining if used excessively, but with time and enough energy, you'll find the skies open to you."
I blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…Huh."
That was… actually solid. No weird requirements. No hidden prerequisites.
Just flight. Straightforward, no strings attached.
I read the description again, just to be sure.
Levitation. Full flight. Mana-based. Same speed as my running. Bit of drain, but nothing unmanageable.
"Okay, yes. That. I will take that."
I hit confirm without hesitation.
My HUD flickered briefly—no ceremony, just quiet integration.
I leaned back on the couch, feeling the edges of a grin.
"Still no actual offensive spells, though," I muttered.
"Not that I'm ungrateful, system.
But next time, maybe throw in a fireball or something."
I stood there a moment, watching the HUD fade.
Flight. Not bad. Not what I was looking for, but still—flight.
I rubbed at my face and headed back to bed, limbs heavier now that the adrenaline was gone.
By the time I hit the mattress, the room had gone quiet again.
And that's when it came back—
the thought I'd had before the rooftop sprint, before the stars, before all of it.
I still hadn't asked.
I pulled up the HUD again and opened a direct query.
Query:
"What are the requirements to leave this world?"
The HUD flickered.
A new prompt unfolded with quiet weight.
Celestial Grimoire Response:
Alternate Exit Conditions Detected. Displaying Extended List.
──────────────
[1] Event Resolution: Magneto Protocol
Become a direct participant in Magneto's strategic plan. Must reach resolution through either:
– Support and secure his success
– Sabotage and stop him entirely
"Pick a side. Change the board."
[2] Grimoire Contract Completion
Fulfill all hidden objectives assigned by the Grimoire (undisclosed). Progress: 37%
"You're already in it. You just didn't know."
[3] Manual Override
Find and unlock an Anchor Gate. There are three known in this world. Locations unknown. Keys unknown.
"Figure it out the hard way."
[4] Catalyst Triggered Exit
Guide another character (named) to their full potential or breaking point. Candidates detected: [Redacted]
"Change one life. Escape with it."
[5] Dimensional Integration
Fuse this world into your personal domain.
Requires mastery of high-tier dimensional magic, spatial anchoring, or large-scale control spells.
Grants unrestricted access and the ability to bring others with you permanently.
"Why leave a world when you can take it with you?"
I scrolled through the list, pausing between each line.
Apparently, I could come back no matter how I left.
Good to know.
Made the gold grab feel almost redundant. And the CDs, too.
Just me, though. Solo access.
Didn't mind. I didn't plan on running a tour group.
[1] Magneto Protocol.
Get involved. Help him finish what he's cooking up—or shut it down.
I didn't even need to think about this one.
I was already tangled in that mess.
If I kept showing up around his people, odds were I'd end up doing something big.
One way or another.
[2] Grimoire Contract.
The vague route. "Hidden objectives."
Progress bar at 37%, which meant I was apparently doing fine… somehow.
No idea what the rest of it involved.
Might be easy.
Might involve punching a Sentinel in the face while on fire.
Hard to say.
[3] Manual Override.
Find and unlock an Anchor Gate.
No info, no hints, no map.
Classic Grimoire move.
This was the "wander until you get lucky" option.
Filed under "maybe someday."
Still, if I found one…
I could bring people with me.
[4] Catalyst Triggered Exit.
Push someone to their peak… or their breaking point.
Trigger a full awakening or total collapse.
If you succeed, you can bring them with you.
Candidates not listed, but let's be honest—
If it wasn't Jean, it'd be someone orbiting close to her.
Problem was, pushing someone that far meant getting close.
Not exactly my strong suit.
And truth be told… no one here really pulled me in.
The X-Men were too wrapped in ideology.
Big speeches. Endless hope. Mutant MLK energy.
The Brotherhood? Mostly self-centered jerks with god complexes.
Nobody in that mix exactly screamed "future friend."
Honestly, even if I wanted to train or break someone, these people weren't the kind you could manipulate without… complications.
Unless I forced them, pushed them hard, maybe even tortured them — if it came to it, I would. It just wasn't my strong suit.
[5] Dimensional Integration.
Bind this world to your own. Make it part of your domain.
Requires: high-tier dimensional magic, space-locking spells, or full control-level anchoring.
Complete this, and you can leave, return—and bring others with you, permanently.
Basically: steal the whole place.
Nice in theory.
Shame I wasn't a dimension mage.
Yet.
I let the list sit open a second longer.
No countdown. No commitment.
Just options. Routes in and out.
I didn't have to pick one.
This wasn't a "choose your destiny" moment.
Complete one, leave.
Come back later, complete another.
The door stayed open—at least for me.
Convenient.
I closed the menu with a flick.
Back to work.
Except, not immediately.
I shifted under the covers, eyes already drifting half-shut.
The last pulse of adrenaline had burned out somewhere between the last warp and the three-hundredth stolen museum vase.
The HUD dimmed to standby.
Just a quiet room, a basic apartment, and way too many jars in my inventory.
I let my eyes close.
Sleep felt earned.