> Performance Ranking: C
Arthur's brow furrowed. C? He clicked on the ranking, a new window expanding to explain the details of his performance.
> Host Performance:
- Successfully retrieved the briefcase.
- Sustained multiple injuries during the mission, including a gunshot wound and a shoulder injury.
Arthur clenched his jaw. He hadn't expected a high rank—he had made plenty of mistakes during the mission—but seeing it laid out like this stung. His mind replayed the events over and over again.
He was too weak, his stamina wasn't good enough and neither was his physical strength.
The phone buzzed once more.
> Performance Rewards Unlocked:
Base Payment: $500 → $2,000
Basic Combat Skill (Rank F) → (Rank F+)
Arthur blinked at the numbers. $2,000? That was more than enough to cover rent, food, and medicine for Charlotte for the next month whilst also splurging.
It wasn't just a payday—it was a lifeline.
Arthur stood in the sterile room, his mind still buzzing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. The boost to his combat skills—Rank F+—would surely come in handy down the line. But none of that mattered. What had struck him the hardest was the sheer reality of the mission.
He'd been sent to a critical point in history. A moment where the briefcase could have changed the course of World War II. If he had failed, history might have been rewritten.
But Arthur didn't care about that. His motivations weren't about saving the world or preserving the timeline. He hadn't been given any grand purpose, and he certainly didn't view himself as a hero.
The thought of being responsible for the fate of the world was a burden he had no interest in carrying.
As long as he and Charlotte survived, nothing else mattered.
Arthur sighed, rubbing his now-healed shoulder, a reminder of how close he had come to death. "Future missions," he muttered, his voice flat.
The thought of risking his life again didn't bother him—he was used to struggling against impossible odds.
Life had given him nothing, and if the system was offering him a way to claw his way out, he would take it. But the idea of being some pawn in a larger game? That was laughable.
"Who cares if the timeline changes? As long as I get stronger to protect us, it wouldn't matter." Arthur thought, his lips curling into a bitter smile.
His gaze hardened as the memories of his past flashed before him—the orphanage kicking them out, the cold looks from the people who were supposed to care for them.
The endless nights he spent working low-paying jobs while Charlotte lay helpless, suffering from an illness no one bothered to understand.
The world had abandoned them when they needed it most. So why should he care if he left it worse off?
He tightened his grip on the phone, his thoughts growing darker.
"Let history burn if it needs to. As long as I get what I need…"
There was no righteousness in what he was doing. No grand sense of purpose. If the system wanted to send him into another world to fight for survival, so be it.
He wasn't interested in who won, who lost, or what ripple effects his actions had. All he cared about was the reward at the end of it.
He stared at the phone in his hand, the display dimmed now but still casting a faint glow in the sterile room.
His heart hardened with the reminder that every mission, every risk he took, was another step toward ensuring Charlotte's survival.
He needed that money, those skills, the power the system offered. Not for glory, not for the greater good, but for his sister and for himself. If reality was altered in the process, so what?
Arthur's face twisted into a cold grin as the realization fully settled in. He wasn't some saviour. He wasn't here to protect the flow of history or preserve world events.
No one had ever been there for him, so why should he be there for anyone else?
The World Travel System wanted him to be a "Traveler"? Fine. He'd take on whatever mission it threw at him. But he'd do it on his terms. There was no allegiance here, no loyalty to anyone but himself and Charlotte.
"Performance Ranking: C," Arthur repeated, still thinking of the system's message. It wasn't a terrible ranking, but the hit to his pride was clear.
He had let those men get too close. He'd taken too much damage, and he was not careful with the phone ringing. He couldn't afford to let that happen again.
But the $2,000 and the increase in his combat rank made up for the embarrassment. It was more than he'd had this morning and more than he'd ever gotten from month's of work. Money to survive, skills to protect Charlotte, and the freedom to keep moving forward—that's all that mattered.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, the sterile room around him beginning to fade into irrelevance.
The world had dealt him a rotten hand, but now he had the chance to rewrite the rules, to take control of his own fate. If the World Travel System thought it could use him, it had no idea who it was dealing with.
"Reality?" Arthur scoffed silently. "Let it change. I'll bend it to my will if I have to."