novelraw Chapter 43 43: Not every protagonist reaches the end of their own story
Chapter 43 43: Not every protagonist reaches the end of their own story
[Vitality Reinforcement (Unclassified Skill) Tier – Adept]
[Description: A passive skill. Upon learning this skill, the user's Vitality is permanently increased by +20 points.]
"Ooh… that's actually pretty good," Leon murmured under his breath, still staring at the message. For the first time in a while, something close to genuine approval crept into his voice. Even with all of Essence Record's absurdity, a boost like this was simply useful, no catch, no activation conditions, no risk. Just raw stats.
Less than a second later, another simple prompt appeared.
[Do you want to learn Vitality Reinforcement?]
Leon didn't hesitate. He nodded quickly, as if the system could literally read the motion, and said softly:
"Yes."
The scroll in his hand broke apart almost instantly into motes of light that floated up and seeped into his body. For a split second, a strange abstract symbol flashed in his vision, something like a tree with branches spreading in every direction, then vanished as fast as it appeared, leaving behind a deep, heavy warmth spreading under his skin.
Leon clenched his fingers and slowly exhaled, feeling the new strength in a way that was completely different from gaining Strength or Agility. It wasn't readiness to move, or a sudden rush of energy, it was something more primal and stable, like his body had become harder to break, less vulnerable to fatigue and injury.
For a moment, he realized he hadn't even known skills like this existed, ones that raised pure stats so directly, without extra effects or conditions. Only now did it hit him how wide and unpredictable the range of "growth" could be in Essence Record's eyes.
His thoughts briefly drifted to Marek. Had he ever gotten lucky with a scroll like this, something that boosted Strength? Leon didn't believe for a second that his own Strength was lower than Marek's. If anything, he was convinced he'd surpassed him in raw stats a while ago. And still… watching a man handle that massive hammer in real combat remained impressive. A weapon that huge had to be terrifyingly heavy, even for someone strengthened by the system.
Pushing that aside, Leon finally stepped into the pharmacy. It was housed in a multi-story building, and the first thing he did was scan the interior thoroughly, checking corners, the back room, and doors leading deeper, before allowing himself even a moment of inattention. Experience had taught him that places full of resources were rarely empty for no reason.
Only after he confirmed nothing was going to leap out at him did he start packing methodically. Fever meds, cold medicine, stomach relief, muscle pain treatment, painkillers, vitamins, he didn't even read brands anymore. He worked by category and common sense. At this point, anything that reduced risk mattered more than labels.
After about ten minutes, his backpack was stuffed to the limit. But when he looked at it critically, he realized it still wasn't enough. He'd already given away his own meds, the ones he'd gathered on day one, and with this many people, demand would outpace supply fast.
So he scanned the pharmacy again, this time looking for plastic bags. When he found them, he started filling more, adding bandages, gauze, adhesive strips, alcohol, disinfectant, everything that could matter for first aid. He didn't skip syringes, and he even grabbed a few doses of morphine. He didn't want to think about the situations where they'd be needed, but he knew too well that in this world, pain and severe wounds weren't abstract anymore. They were routine.
A moment later, Leon looked over the pile, stuffed backpack, extra bags, and nodded to himself. Even if it still felt insufficient long-term, for now he'd done everything possible without inviting another pointless fight. Every additional delay only increased the chance that someone back in the gym would start getting worse for real.
That was when his gaze fell on a gray Gray Box he'd set on the pharmacy counter earlier while unpacking.
He stared at it for a beat, as if weighing whether random "rewards" were really the right thing to gamble on in a world already drowning in chaos.
Then he stepped closer.
The familiar prompt appeared.
[Do you want to open Gray Box?]
Leon nodded.
"Yes," he said shortly, then, almost immediately, he added in a whisper, like he was genuinely afraid Essence Record could hear him: "Anything… just not socks. Seriously. Anything but socks."
The box dissolved into gray light that spilled across the counter for a moment, then condensed, materializing into a perfectly ordinary pair of dark sweatpants. Simple. Plain. No symbols, no ornaments. The kind you could've bought in any sports shop a week ago.
Before he could even pick them up, the system window appeared.
[Reinforced Training Pants (Normal Grade)]
[Description: Durable athletic pants designed for unrestricted movement. Reinforced fibers subtly enhance physical output.]
[Effect: +4 Strength]
Leon looked at the description, then at the pants, and nodded with quiet approval. Nothing spectacular, nothing flashy, but it met one very basic requirement.
They weren't socks.
Without overthinking it, he changed immediately, testing how they felt as he moved. The fabric didn't restrict his steps; it was flexible and surprisingly light, and he could feel the difference the moment he shifted his weight.
Somewhere nearby, Valeria gave a soft whistle, clearly amused, but Leon didn't even look at her as another system message popped up.
[Equipment Effect Applied]
[Effect: +4 Strength]
He moved a few times in place, bent his knees, stepped forward, stepped back, then decided they were comfortable. And while four points of Strength didn't hit like the boosts from some of his other gear, it was still free stats. In this world, even small numbers could decide whether you stood back up after a fight… or didn't.
Valeria's eyes narrowed, just slightly, like she'd suddenly sharpened her focus.
At the same time, the ground beneath Leon's feet trembled.
Not enough to knock him off balance. But clear enough that he felt it in his knees and through the soles of his shoes, a dull vibration traveling through concrete.
Leon raised his head, frowning.
"What the hell…" he muttered, more to himself than to her, then walked to the pharmacy window and looked outside.
Several hundred meters away, between campus buildings, a strange dense column of steam rose into the air, pulsing slowly, as if something beneath it was breathing. Every few seconds the ground vibrated again, making windows and metal fixtures shiver with a quiet, unsettling rattle. The whole environment moved like it was responding to something huge, something not visible yet.
Buildings shook, not like they were about to collapse, but enough that Leon felt that familiar prick of unease.
This wasn't random chaos.
It was rhythmic. Heavy. Regular.
Like footsteps.
Footsteps from something that had no business moving through a place made for humans.
"Leon," Valeria said.
For the first time in a long while, her voice lost its playful edge. No teasing. No provocation. Just cold seriousness.
"You'd better get ready."
Leon turned toward her. She was watching him carefully, no smile, no joke.
"This might be your first real fight," she added calmly. "If you win… you'll become much stronger."
A short pause.
"If you lose…" Her tone stayed even. "Well. Not every protagonist reaches the end of their own story."
Hearing that, hearing Valeria speak without a trace of performance, Leon looked back out the window, this time far more carefully, as if trying to pull more than steam and shaking buildings out of the distorted view. If she sounded like this, then this wasn't a moment to ignore signals.
Without a word, he set the backpack and bags of medicine down by the counter, neatly, so nothing would spill, like it was routine work, not preparation for something he might not come back from.
Then he drew his two daggers and closed his hands around them, feeling the familiar weight of the blades and that slight tension in his wrists that always came right before a fight.
He looked toward the pharmacy exit. His face hardened, no anger, no fear. Just focus. The kind that arrives when all unnecessary thoughts vanish and only the next move matters.
He took one step forward, wet his lips as if clearing the last dryness from his throat, and said calmly as he headed outside:
"Alright then. Let's see what a real fight looks like."