SSSSS-Rank: Negative Leveling

Luthra sat alone in Silas's former quarters, his back against the headboard of the ridiculously oversized bed. The silk sheets felt wrong to be in, too expensive. Everything in this room screamed of excess and cruelty.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to the fight.

'I got lucky. Really, really lucky.'

The Sigil of Binding had been the only reason he'd won. Without it, Silas would have turned him to stone in the first thirty seconds. No amount of speed or strength mattered when your opponent could kill you with eye contact.

'If anyone finds out I used a magic item, they'll kill me. The Syndicate, Moria, hell even Misha and her crew. Nobody respects a cheater.'

The thought made his stomach turn. His entire reputation, everything that was keeping him alive right now, was built on a lie. He wasn't some unstoppable fighter who could take down B-rank hunters. He was just a guy with a weird system and access to impossible artifacts.

'I'm getting sloppy. Overconfident.'

Three months ago, he would have spent weeks planning the assault on the mines. He would have gathered intelligence, prepared backup plans, trained until his body couldn't take anymore. Instead, he walked in half-dead and relied on luck to pull him through.

'When did I start thinking I was invincible?'

The answer was obvious. Ever since he'd absorbed that rabbit thing, ever since his stats had jumped to inhuman levels, he started thinking like a protagonist in some story. Like the universe owed him victories.

'I need to get back to basics.'

His training routine had been pathetic lately. A few thousand push-ups, some chain work, maybe some meditation. Nothing like the grinding, methodical improvement that had kept him alive for years.

Back when he lived alone in that shitty apartment, he'd trained until he collapsed every single day. Twenty thousand push-ups was the warm-up. He'd practice with makeshift weapons until his hands bled. He'd run until his lungs felt like they were on fire.

'That's who I used to be. When did I stop?'

The answer was uncomfortable. He'd stopped when he'd started having people to save and protect. Rebecca, the freed slaves, even Misha and her crew. Somewhere along the way, he'd gotten distracted by other people's problems.

'Maybe I should just leave.'

The thought hit him suddenly. Why was he even here? These people didn't need him anymore. Misha could run the mines, Khorvash could handle security, Rebecca was learning to control her power.

What was keeping him?

'Where would I even go?'

Back to the city? To what? His apartment was probably rented to someone else by now. He had no job, no friends, no family that would acknowledge his existence.

'Maybe that's the point. Maybe I'm supposed to be alone.'

Every time he tried to build something, to connect with people, it went wrong. His family had thrown him away. Rebecca had almost died because he'd lost control. The freed slaves had nearly been slaughtered because he'd picked a fight he couldn't win.

'I'm a disaster magnet. Everyone around me gets hurt.'

But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't entirely true. Rebecca was stronger now, learning to fight for herself. The slaves were free. Misha had escaped Silas's control.

Maybe he wasn't completely useless.

'Still doesn't change the fact that I'm getting rusty.'

He stood up, ignoring the protest from his still-healing ribs. The room had enough space to move around, and the thick walls would muffle any noise.

He dropped to the floor and started with push-ups. Not the casual few hundred he'd been doing lately, but real ones. Arms perfectly positioned, back straight, each rep slow and controlled.

One thousand. Two thousand. His arms started to burn.

'This is what real training feels like. Pain, exhaustion and pushing past what you think you can do.'

Three thousand. Four thousand. Sweat dripped onto the carpet.

'I got soft. Started thinking I was special instead of just lucky.'

Five thousand. His form was getting sloppy. He forced himself to maintain perfect technique.

'Kane's coming tomorrow. Another B-rank hunter who wants to prove himself and I don't have any more magic items to save me.'

Six thousand. His vision was starting to blur.

'Good. This is where improvement happens. Where you find out what you're actually made of.'

The door opened behind him. He didn't stop or look back.

"Are you having some kind of breakdown?" Rebecca's voice.

"Training."

"On the floor? In fancy pajamas?"

Seven thousand. His arms felt like they were made of lead.

"Is this about tomorrow? With the scary guy who's coming to fight you?"

"Partly."

She sat down cross-legged in front of him, watching his form. "You're worried."

Eight thousand. He couldn't hide the strain in his voice anymore.

"Smart kid."

"You beat Silas. This Kane guy can't be that much worse."

'If only it were that simple.'

Nine thousand. His arms were shaking now.

"Sometimes winning once doesn't mean you'll win again."

"So you train until you're sure you will?"

Ten thousand. He collapsed to the floor, breathing hard.

"Something like that."

Rebecca was quiet for a moment, then picked up one of the ridiculous golden decorations from a nearby table.

"I knew someone who trained like you. Trained until he passed out. Said it made him stronger."

"Did it work?"

"For fighting, maybe. For everything else..." She shrugged. "He still died alone and hated."

'Well, that's depressing.'

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, wiping sweat from his face.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Maybe don't train so hard you forget why you're training in the first place."

'When did a ten-year-old get so wise?'

"And why am I training?"

"Because you care about people. Even when you pretend you don't."

She stood up and walked toward the door, then paused.

"Kane's not coming here to prove he's stronger than Silas. He's coming because you're making the Syndicate look weak. That's different."

"I know."

"The whole thing is basically because you scare them."

She left, closing the door behind her.

Luthra sat there for a long moment, thinking about what she'd said.

'She's right. This isn't about strength. It's about control. The Syndicate can't afford to let some outsider disrupt their entire system.'

He looked at his hands, still trembling from the exercise. Strong enough to kill a B-rank hunter, but only with help. Only with luck and only with a magic item that had cost him most of his points.

'I need to be better. Not just stronger, but smarter. More prepared.'

Tomorrow Kane would arrive, and there wouldn't be any Sigils to save him. Just his chain, his skills, and whatever plan he could come up with between now and then.

'Time to get back to work.'

He stood up and started his second set of push-ups. This time, he wouldn't stop at ten thousand.

Outside his window, the sun was setting over the Northern Wastes. Somewhere out there, another B-rank hunter was riding toward the mines, confident that he could succeed where Silas had failed.

'We'll see about that.'