Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

I Can Download Passive Skills Without a Limit

MangaGate
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
--
NOT RATINGS
155
Views
Synopsis
When Dio woke up in a desolate slum, trapped in the frail body of a 16-year-old boy with no memory of how he got there, he quickly realizes survival isn’t his only challenge. The boy whose life he now inhabits is drowning in debt to a ruthless collector, and the slum’s grim hierarchy offers no mercy. But Dio isn’t entirely powerless—his transmigration grants him a rare ability: the power to download passive skills from others, though such individuals are exceedingly rare, and the process comes with its own risks. In a world where magic breeds violence, Dio must avoid treacherous streets, dodging suspicion while uncovering the limits of his download ability. Two targets with Tier 9 passive skills—a dangerous gangster and a hidden criminal—became his focus, but getting close enough to download their powers brings danger. As the collector’s deadline looms, Dio devises a plan to delay the inevitable, but every move he makes uncovers deeper layers of the slum’s brutal reality. With time running out and his body pushed to its limits, Dio must decide: will he use his stolen passive skills to escape this pit of despair, or will he become another victim of the slum’s endless cycle of cruelty? No matter what, he must find people with passive skills and download them! Too weak? Download strength-based passive skills! Easy to die? Download hundreds of regeneration passive skills! In the end, Dio realized that he had become so OP that he had millions of passive skills in his body. "It's really lonely to be at the top..." Dio sighed.
VIEW MORE

Chapter 1 - Dio!

The first thing Dio noticed upon waking was the weight of his own body. It wasn't right—not how he remembered it. His limbs felt too long, too lanky. His ribs pressed painfully against his skin with every shallow breath. He dragged himself to a puddle, staring at the gaunt reflection of a boy with hollow cheeks, dark eyes, and matted hair.

His memories were also hazy with no recollection of anything.

"This isn't me…" The words came out cracked, as though his throat hadn't had water in days.

Dio forced himself to his feet, legs wobbling beneath him, and staggered through the crooked alleys of the slum. Filthy children darted past, snatching scraps from a vendor's stall. Feral dogs growled from shadowy corners. Every breath carried the stench of rot and desperation. Dio felt his damned stomach protest, a gnawing ache assaulted his little tummy.

'Damn it! Where the fuck am I!?'

Dio's began examining himself. Stripping down to his threadbare clothes, he studied every bruise and scar. He traced the faint discoloration around his wrists and ankles. Shackles? Abuse? His bony fingers brushed the back of his neck, feeling a strange ridge.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered.

The makeshift mirror—a shard of glass he'd scavenged from the trash—offered little help. It only reflected his haunted expression. He realized at this moment he might have transmigrated to another world. Dio realized that he needed to learn more, but first, he needed to fill his stomach with something, right?

Just like that, the slum revealed itself piece by piece as Dio wandered. He moved cautiously, head low, watching and listening. The vendors at the shoddy market hollered over each other.

"Fresh bread!"

"Meat sticks—three for a coin!"

"Medicinal herbs! Cure what ails ya!"

Dio lingered near the bread stall, watching as a small girl pocketed a roll with a sleight of hand so smooth he almost missed it. She disappeared into a nearby alley. Curious, Dio followed, keeping his distance.

The alley led him to an encampment—a gathering of the slum's forgotten. Hunched figures warmed themselves around a pitiful fire. The girl handed her stolen bread to an elderly man, who tore off a piece and handed it to another child.

'Is this how it likes to live in a slum?' Dio thought grimly. 'Why did I get transmigrated to a homeless boy of all people?' he sighed helplessly.

As Dio crept closer, he overheard scraps of conversation.

"The collector's coming tomorrow," a woman whispered. "If we don't pay, he'll take someone again."

A grizzled man cursed under his breath. "That bastard won't leave until he gets his due. We're all in his pocket."

Debt. The word struck Dio like a punch. The boy whose body he now inhabited owed someone dangerous. Dio couldn't ignore it—not if he wanted a chance to survive here.

He stayed hidden until the camp quieted. When the others slept, he approached the bread girl.

"Hey," he whispered. She started, clutching a stick as a weapon. She looked at Dio. "You again!"

'Again? This girl knows the original Dio?'

"Relax. I need information," he said, hands up. "Tell me about the collector."

The girl blinked for a moment. She was quite doubtful. How come someone doesn't know who they owe to?

Reluctantly, she explained. The collector worked for a loan shark who preyed on the desperate. He came every week, demanding payment or compensation—usually in the form of labor or flesh.

Dio gritted his teeth. "What would they do if I can't pay?"

The girl hesitated. "Well, I would likely find your body in the sewer."

"It can't be..." Dio clenched his fist unwillingly. Then he looked at the young girl. "Thanks for that. I'll go now."

...

Dio knew he needed food to think clearly. Stealing was the only option. He spent hours observing the marketplace, noting which vendors were distracted and which corners the guards neglected.

Finally, he spotted his chance: an overloaded stall with a distracted merchant haggling loudly. Dio feigned a stumble, knocking over a crate of produce.

"Oi!" the merchant shouted, scrambling to gather his wares.

Dio moved quickly, his fingers closing around a loaf of bread before he vanished into the crowd. His heart pounded as he ducked into an abandoned building, tearing into the bread like a starving wolf.

Satiated for now, Dio leaned back, wiping crumbs from his mouth. His first steps were complete: understanding his surroundings, his body, and the debt of the original body.

The next part was trickier. He needed leverage, allies, and above all, a plan. But first, he needed to find out who the collector was—and what it would take to get him off his back.