Morning sunlight streamed through the fluttering curtains, spilling over Lucas's face.
Outside, birds chirped in the trees, their melodies blending with the summer cicadas into a lazy, rhythmic chorus.
Lucas woke slowly, eyes unfocused, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling above. For a few long seconds, his mind was empty—then thought returned like a tide.
He glanced toward the clock on the wall. Almost nine.
"…Guess yesterday took more out of me than I thought," he murmured.
He tossed off the thin summer blanket, pushed open the window, and inhaled the cool, crisp air of early morning. Then he stretched long and hard, joints cracking in relief.
"Ahh…" He sighed contentedly. "Nothing beats sleep. Thank the gods I'm not the insomniac type."
Through the swaying trees outside, Babel Tower pierced the horizon. Even from this distance, he could almost feel the bustle at its base.
"Well, time to check on my little garden crew."
Spotting the lively greenery in his small yard, Lucas grinned, slipped into a tank top and shorts, and stepped outside.
He grabbed the watering can and got to work at a leisurely pace, humming under his breath. When he paused to rest, his gaze drifted to his left arm.
The pain had dulled to almost nothing—hardly comparable to the sharp agony from the day before.
"Damn… healed this much overnight? Back on Earth this would've taken months, and here it's just—poof, all patched up. This world's biology is insane."
He flexed his fingers experimentally. Smooth motion. No sting.
"Unreal," he muttered, genuinely impressed.
He went back to watering, cheerfully humming as he absentmindedly flicked the "switch" of his Magic, pulling up his Status Panel just to admire it.
"Hmm?" His brow furrowed.
First glance—everything normal.
Second glance—still normal.
Third glance—wait. No, something's off.
"…That's weird."
He froze mid-motion, water still pouring onto the same flowerbed spot as he stared at the glowing display only he could see.
Line by line, he scanned through the numbers, searching for what felt wrong—until his eyes stopped dead on one thing.
[Level]: Lv.1+
And it was blinking.
"…Huh?"
"What the hell?"
"Why's it flashing? Did I miss something?"
Heart pounding, Lucas dropped onto the stone bench in the courtyard and focused on the glowing plus sign.
A notification popped up:
[Level]: Lv.1
[Great Feat achieved. Upgrade available. Confirm Level Up?]
Lucas just… stared.
Speechless. Utterly blank.
"I—wait. I can level up? Now? When did I achieve a Great Feat? Isn't that supposed to mean, like, slaying a dragon or soloing something impossible?"
Then it hit him.
He scrolled down, eyes locking on a familiar Skill.
Proof of Transmigration
· A trait that defies logic and common sense.
· Allows free allocation of experience points, or breakthroughs using sacrificial offerings.
· Significantly reduces the Excelia required for leveling up.
His gaze fixated on that last line until it burned in his vision.
"…So that's what it means."
A second later, realization dawned—and Lucas shot to his feet, laughing like a madman.
"Hah! Hahaha! Hahaha!"
It all made sense.
"That War Shadow—the special one I fought—it counted as a Great Feat! It nearly killed me, so the System must've flagged it as an equal match. Yeah… yeah, that tracks!"
Sure, the monster was only Level 1, but it was a special variant. For him, that was a life-or-death fight.
He grinned at the flashing plus sign, lips twitching like he was holding back a shout.
"Let's test it."
He focused again.
[Level]: Lv.1
[Great Feat achieved. Upgrade available. Confirm Level Up?]
[Confirm]
The System chimed.
Level Up failed: Requirements not met.
Reason: Stats below threshold.
"Figures," Lucas muttered, not even disappointed.
"So the Great Feat part's done, but my Stats still haven't hit D-rank minimum—five hundred plus." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Probably for the best. If I leveled with trash-tier stats, I'd get clowned by every newbie in Orario."
He leaned back with a sigh, setting the thought aside. There was no rush. Not yet.
For now, his real problem was still the same as always—raising his ceiling.
Which, as usual, came down to money and experience.
"…Wait." His eyes lit up. "That thing I picked up yesterday."
He went back inside and pulled out the small black "twig" from his desk drawer.
"The texture, the mind flow… The way it channels magic—it's crazy. No wonder it's top-tier staff material."
He turned it in his hands, thinking back to the shady guy he'd bumped into.
"That guy was definitely with Evilus. No question. Guess they've already started stockpiling restricted materials… makes sense. You can't move this stuff quickly, so better to start early."
Then a thought clicked.
"The commotion in the Dungeon yesterday… was just a distraction? So they could smuggle this crap topside?"
He rubbed his chin, expression darkening.
If I could find that warehouse they're using…
"Just one good raid, and I'd have enough material to forge my staff. Sell the extra branches, fund my upgrades, maybe even push my potential cap to high-tier."
The idea was tempting. Too tempting.
Then reality set in.
"Yeah, no. Even if I find their stash, I'm not strong enough to take it. Way too risky. Not my style."
He paused. Then smirked. "Though… maybe I could make it my style later."
A plan began to form in his head. Not for now, but for soon.
He exhaled, forcing the excitement down.
"Alright. Breakfast first."
A simple meal later, Lucas packed up his damaged gear, swapped into casual clothes, and locked the door behind him.
His narrow alley was shaded by thick green trees, sunlight flickering through the leaves onto the stone path.
Orario, perched at the continent's far west near the sea, basked in a mild summer breeze that carried the faint scent of salt and warmth.
Turning onto the main street, the world opened up—vibrant and alive.
The wide road was so spacious even four carriages side by side didn't crowd it. Shops lined both sides in neat rows, their colorful signs catching the light.
At the city's heart, Babel Tower rose like a sacred monument, surrounded by the chaos and brilliance of mortal life.
No matter how many times he walked these streets, the sight still struck him.
Compared to the steel jungles of his old world, this ancient city of gods and mortals had a charm that ran deeper—aged, enduring, alive.
Crossing West Main Street, Lucas made his way through the Babel Plaza, then veered northeast toward the Second District.
Orario was built in a perfect circle, divided into eight sectors radiating out from Babel Tower like spokes on a wheel.
The Second District, nestled between the Northeast and East Main Streets, was the industrial heart of the city—the birthplace of magic-stone technology. Countless workshops and forges filled the air with the rhythmic clang of hammers and the faint scent of smoke and metal.
And at its core stood the proud crimson landmark of the Hephaestus Familia, home to Orario's greatest smiths.
All around it sprawled dozens of affiliated forges and independent workshops under the same divine banner.
And today, Lucas was headed to one of them—to visit a familiar face.