Before heading out, he remembered something—the random skill book he had acquired earlier. He pulled it from his inventory, feeling the rough texture of its mysterious cover. Unlike the first book, this one radiated an unpredictable aura, as if the skill within was entirely unknown until activated.
[Random Skill Book]
Upon use, grants a skill at random.
Charvet took a deep breath. It could be something powerful… or completely useless.
[Would you like to use the Random Skill Book?]
[Yes] / [No]
"No risk, no reward," he muttered, pressing [Yes].
The book burst into a swirl of glowing fragments, absorbing into his body. A system notification appeared immediately after.
[Congratulations! You have acquired a new skill: Telekinetic Grip.]
[Skill: Telekinetic Grip]
Allows the user to control objects with their mind.
Limit: Can control up to 5 objects at once.
Weight Restriction: Maximum total weight of 100 kilos.
Consumption: Uses MP per second based on weight and number of objects controlled.
Charvet's eyes gleamed with interest. A skill like this could be incredibly useful—especially in combat.
The battle was over, but its toll was undeniable.
Charvet barely felt the pain from his wounds—his focus was on Joanne. She was injured, her movements sluggish, her breaths uneven. Without hesitation, he stepped closer and scooped her up into his arms.
"Hey—!" Joanne stiffened, her face heating up.
"Save your strength," Charvet said, his voice calm but firm.
Joanne wanted to protest, but when she met his gaze—steady, unreadable—she swallowed her words. Instead, she averted her eyes, her voice quieter. "...The infirmary is that way."
Charvet nodded and carried her through the halls of Central University. Students stared as they passed, whispering amongst themselves. Some looked at Charvet with awe, others with curiosity, but he ignored them all. His focus remained solely on getting Joanne treated.
As Charvet carried Joanne into the infirmary, the scent of antiseptic and herbs filled the air. Several injured players were resting on beds, their wounds being tended to by volunteers and the medical team.
A middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor approached them—the teacher in charge of healing. She immediately noticed their battered state and gestured toward an empty bed.
"Set her down," she instructed.
Charvet carefully placed Joanne onto the bed, ignoring his own injuries. The teacher placed her hands over Joanne's wounds, a faint glow enveloping them as she used her healing skill. Joanne sighed in relief as the pain dulled, the worst of her wounds closing rapidly.
The teacher then turned to Charvet, frowning. "You too."
"I'm fine," Charvet said, but Joanne shot him a look.
"Sit down," she insisted. "You're bleeding."
With a sigh, Charvet relented. The teacher placed a hand over his wounds, her healing magic working quickly to mend the deeper cuts and bruises. Though the pain lessened, exhaustion still clung to his body.
Once the treatment was done, Joanne sat up and turned to a nearby student. "Go inform the faction leaders. Tell them there's an emergency meeting in an hour."
The student nodded and rushed off.
Charvet flexed his fingers, testing his strength. "That should do for now," he muttered.
Joanne, watching him, spoke softly. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"
Charvet's voice was cold, edged with determination. "He escaped. But next time, I won't let that happen."
Their eyes met, unspoken determination passing between them.
An hour later, the faction leaders gathered in a secured meeting room within the university. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of recent events pressing heavily on everyone's shoulders.
Joanne arrived, still bandaged but composed. Around the table sat the leaders of the university's strongest factions, their expressions grim. Some leaned forward, deep in thought, while others sat with arms crossed, their eyes sharp with focus.
Charvet chose not to attend. He wasn't part of their factions, and his voice held no weight in their decisions—no one would listen to him. Instead, he remained in the infirmary, allowing his body to recover.
Inside the meeting room, the discussion had already begun.
"We need to hunt Ned down before he disappears completely," one of the leaders said, slamming a fist on the table. "He's dangerous, and his experiments prove he has no limits."
Joanne nodded. "He turned his own people into monsters. If we don't act now, he'll do far worse."
Murmurs of agreement filled the room, but before anyone could respond, the door suddenly opened.
A hooded figure stepped inside—a Shadow Girls operative, belonging to one of the most elusive factions specializing in espionage and assassination. She moved silently to Lyka, their leader, and whispered something in her ear.
Lyka's eyes gleamed with satisfaction for a brief moment before her expression turned serious. She scanned the room sharply before rising to speak.
"We have urgent intel," she announced, her voice steady but firm. "Our scouts have located a level 20 boss."
The room remained silent for a moment after Lyka's announcement. Then, the discussions broke out all at once.
Joanne's expression hardened. "We need to be smart about this. A level 20 boss isn't something just anyone can handle."
"Agreed," Lyka said, her arms crossed. "Only the strongest among us—those who have unlocked their classes—should participate. Anyone who isn't strong enough will only slow us down or, worse, get killed."
The faction leaders nodded in agreement. This wasn't just a battle—it was a high-stakes gamble.
"We need to form a team immediately," Joanne continued. "The longer we wait, the higher the chance that someone—else finds it first."
Renzo adjusted his glasses. "A level 20 boss is no joke. We're pushing the limits of what we can handle. If we're not careful, we won't make it back alive."
Gordon smirked. "That's why we're only bringing the best. The six of us plus We can take more, but they need to be strong. No dead weight."
Jace nodded. "We need a plan. Do we know what type of boss this is?"
Lyka glanced at one of her faction members, who had delivered the report. "The boss was spotted two kilometers from the university, inside a hotel. It's not alone—it's controlling a horde of zombies and mutated animals."
Renzo frowned. "That complicates things. Fighting a level 20 boss is already a challenge, but if it has an army, we're walking into a death trap."
Gordon clicked his tongue. "First, we need to secure more vehicles to get to the resort. If we go on foot, we'll be exhausted before the real fight even starts."
Jace nodded. "We'll need durable vehicles, preferably trucks or SUVs. Something that can push through obstacles in case we run into trouble on the way."
Dario crossed his arms. "Fine. We split into two teams. One will gather vehicles, the other will focus on preparing weapons, armor, and supplies."
Joanne's gaze hardened. "And once we get there, we don't rush in blindly. We need a strategy to deal with both the boss and its minions."
Renzo adjusted his glasses. "Agreed. We'll analyze the battlefield once we arrive, but we should prepare for the worst."
Lyka smirked. "Then let's not waste time. We have a long night ahead."
One of the leaders hesitated. "What about Ned?"
Joanne's jaw clenched, but she shook her head. "We'll deal with him later. This boss fight comes first."
With that decision, the meeting shifted focus. A team was about to be formed—one that would face their greatest challenge yet.
The leaders exchanged determined nods.
The hunt was on.
After the meeting ended, the scout team dispersed into the streets, searching for usable vehicles. They moved cautiously, checking abandoned cars and testing engines, wary of any lurking threats.
Meanwhile, Joanne headed back to the infirmary, exhaustion settling into her bones. Her injuries from the previous battle were still fresh, and she knew she needed rest before facing another fight.
Joanne entered the infirmary, her steps slower than usual. She found Charvet sitting on a chair, sharpening his sword with a calm yet focused expression. Despite his injuries, he didn't seem bothered by the pain.
She sighed and took a seat nearby. "We found a boss."
Charvet glanced at her, interest flickering in his eyes. "Where?"
"A hotel about two kilometers from here. It's controlling a horde of zombies and mutated animals," she explained. "The faction leaders are forming a team to take it down."
Charvet nodded, taking in the information. "And?"
Joanne hesitated for a moment before saying, "I want you to join my faction. You're strong, and with you, our chances of success will be much higher."
Charvet stopped sharpening his sword and looked at her. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not joining any faction."
Joanne frowned slightly. "Why not?"
"I plan to create my own guild," Charvet said simply.
Joanne's shoulders slumped slightly, disappointment flashing across her