After enhancing his mental and physical stats, Rian stared at his system interface. Only one free stat point remained. But with just a bit more effort, he could max out all four of his core attributes.
He traded in 30,000 energy points to convert into stat upgrades.
Agility and Intelligence: 18 → 20
The moment the points were applied, Rian felt a searing jolt in his mind, as if his brain had been smacked with a brick. He blacked out.
But when he awoke moments later, he felt no pain. On the contrary, his mind had never been clearer. Every neuron fired in perfect harmony—he had become something akin to a living, breathing biological supercomputer.
A fly buzzed past his eyes.
Without thinking, his hand snapped forward.
Caught it. Midair. Instinctively.
Even he was stunned. The world seemed slower, as if time itself bent around him.
New Ability Unlocked: Time Bullet
A flashback hit him. Just before he blacked out, the system had issued a mission update:
Character Progress Mission Unlocked – Humanity's Pinnacle Is Not My Limit
The mission involved uncovering historical crimes hidden beneath propaganda and lies.
Rian donned a plain hoodie and jeans. Before his next move, he made a detour to a small lottery stand.
He casually bought several scratch-offs—not for luck, but for money laundering. The system's black market energy conversions were traced, so he needed legitimate-looking purchases to mask his wealth. Buying lottery tickets and antiques served that purpose.
He checked the scratchers: one had a delayed drawing—set for 8 PM tonight.
Leaving the stand, Rian pulled out his phone and called Amelia, an American journalist with The New York Times.
He gave her a location. Half an hour later, she showed up at a quiet café.
"Wow," she said, eyes lighting up when she saw him. "Rian, you've gotten even more handsome."
"Thanks," he said with a smirk. "I know you've been trying to cover the Prometheus Group incident."
Amelia nodded. "Yeah, but Homeland Security buried it. They blocked my interviews and confiscated everything under 'national security'."
"Well, I've got something else," Rian said, producing a stack of aged film negatives.
Amelia squinted, then gasped. "Wait… is this… Jinling Massacre evidence?"
In Futang, the massacre was denied by their government, even purged from textbooks. Internationally, few had seen real proof—photos were rare, grainy, and often dismissed.
Rian placed his hands on the table.
"Amelia, I'm not talking about ten pieces. I have over 3,000 film negatives—plus samples, blood-drenched uniforms, and even documents taken from dead officers who led the killing."
Amelia nearly fainted from shock.
"This… this could break international headlines. I need to see them all."
"I want the world to know," Rian said. "Everything."
They went to the Rose Motel. Rian retrieved the materials from his hidden storage. Amelia took notes feverishly, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of undeniable evidence.
When she tried to stand and thank him, her legs buckled. The tension had been so intense she hadn't noticed her muscles going numb. She fell—straight into Rian's arms.
Her hand brushed against his abs, and she froze. His physique was like something carved by a sculptor.
A hero. A machine. A weapon.
Later that night, Amelia filed the article.
The New York Times published the story under the front-page headline: "The Lost Blood of Jinling – Unearthed Proof of the Forgotten Atrocity."
The Futang Embassy in New York exploded with panic. Their ambassador was reading the paper with his morning coffee when he saw the headline—and the photos.
He froze.
"Alert Tokyo. Get the Lac Thanh Consulate on the line—NOW!"