Code Collector

[ Name: Allen Vermillion, Level 17: (210/1,700). ]

[ Stats ]

Health: 100/100

Strength: 8

Agility: 9

Endurance: 9

Damage: 12

Defense: 8

Just by raising a couple of units, Alled had improved himself by a lot. The state of his body was more than what it used to be by tenfold. He was thinking of investing more skill points in the Skill Altar.

When he was at Camp Donovan, he couldn't sell a lot of Codes in exchange for skill points. But now that he has so many, he can use as many of them at his disposal.

One Basic grade Code is equal to one skill point, one Rare grade Code is equal to three skill points, A Grand grade Code is nine, and the the succeeding grades will be multiplied to three by the preceding grade.

He has the damage, he has the speed, and endurance. What he lacked was the defense. Perhaps he was too careless considering his body can hyper regenerate, but it doesn't mean he could only rely on it.

At the moment, he currently have six extra Basic grade Codes. When he started hunting, it was euphoric for him when he got all the Codes easily. But as time goes by, he got bored of them. He wanted more powerful, higher quality Codes.

Because in hunting, the quality will always surpass quantity.

It was the next day, when the boy walked out of his room, looking around to see if Gary was outside. When he wasn't, Allen went to the Skill Altar.

The line was long, and the day was hot. It was only morning yet there were about fifteen people waiting in line. Since he had nothing better to do, might as well wait.

"Have you heard about the guy who assaulted at b*tch Felicia?"

He couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping the people in front of him. They were like the pair in line that waits side by side instead of front and back like normal people. They're usually couples or stubborn duos of friends that will take the most time in line.

The one on the left, the one who just spoke, had a mullet on. His clothes were denim like he was in the nineteen fifties or something. He has one of those pants that has like an upside down umbrella at the bottom that felt oddly uncomfortable in battle.

The other was more emo. His hair reached up to his shoulders, straight as hell. He was wearing a lot of black and piercings all throughout his body. With his black coat, his black thorned jeans, and boots, he might as well be a rockstar in the nineteen eighties.

"Malcolm, your voice is too loud," the emo guy said. Malcolm turned around and saw Allen looking at them. The latter was much taller than the other two, but these two were quite intimidating that Allen, even with his height, could only look away.

"There's no one here listening, Graham," Malcolm said, narrowing his eyes while glaring at Allen. "But listen, that b*tch deserved that. She was h*eing around the camp for months. When she finds someone her type, she would force him– or her, to be in bed with her."

"She's into girls too?" Graham, the emo one, asked. His eyes looked like they lit up in excitement after hearing this. "But didn't she sleep around a lot? That's too disgusting. I mean, I don't mind if my girl has more body count than me but she sleeps with married men too."

"Not just married men," Malcolm said. "Rich business married men. Old, young, almost dying. She don't choose as long as she can get money from them."

Allen couldn't help but snicker a this. Those girls really deserves what he did to them. They were having too much fun that they were stepping on other people just to get what they want.

Though at the first glance, Allen looked like he was doing the same. He was using other people for his own gain. But it was a lot different when you read between the lines.

He use people but helps them at the same time. What he was doing was business, so his client and him could rise together. Be it financially, emotionally, or with Codes. What he was doing was business, not just for personal goals.

It was almost his turn when the men in front of him continued their talk. They had been going around among which men Felicia and her twin had slept with, and Allen could barely take how many they are. From what he could count, it was more than fifty.

Their topic had finally landed on the culprit behind the incident. This was the part Allen was waiting for since the beginning of their conversation. He was waiting to hear their opinion on his alter ego and how much he can improve his popularity.

"I heard the man that assaulted those b*tches was a masked man and he escaped from Jeremy," Malcolm said. "This is the Jeremy Mr. Hot and Popular Cop himself. He escaped from that dude."

"This person must be strong," Graham muttered. "If he can escape from Jeremy, then he must be at least Level 55. That's almost enough for himt to ascend to Paradise."

To be honest, Allen got lucky when Jeremy was about to catch him. He had the Enhanced Instincts, and he had the upper hand in that scenario. If it was any other way, it was impossible to escape to a cop.

The minimum level requirement for police officers were fourty-five, and all their stats should not be lower than thirty. Allen wasn't even half of that. If he would make even one slight mistake when Jeremy encountered him, he would be done for.

"I know, right? It's so sick," Malcolm said excitedly. "Maybe we can have more justice with this guy. There's been a lot of crimes lately. There's an underground slave market that sells people, there's the illegal prostitution with kidnapped victims, and then there's the butchers."

Allen was glad that he decided to come to the Skill Altar that day. If not, he wouldn't have heard of all these rumors. Although he knew that there were a lot going on underground, he wasn't too sure on what it was or where it is.

But the two in front of him were talking about everything regarding these. This was like a oil reserve that he could use as fuel to launch his popularity.

Soon, the world will know the name The Wandering Trader.