Evangeline explained the concept of limits to Luke. It wasn’t exactly a level cap, but something tied to the rank of his race. Since they were both still at Rank F, the ceiling was clear: Race Level capped at 50, Class Level at 60, and Profession Level at 60. No matter how many monsters he slaughtered or how many acres of farmland he cultivated, he wouldn’t gain a single point of experience beyond that.

“This is bullshit!” He shot to his feet, pacing furiously across the room. “A damned limit!”

I doubt I would’ve been able to beat the Beast Lord in a duel without that trick, even if I’d maxed everything out.

Then a darker realization struck him. He slumped back down, scowling. Franky’s snake had only been the second Lord. There was still the third one, stronger than the last. And after that, the Witch… and finally, the King.

With a grimace, Luke pulled up his system interface.

Name: Luke

Level: 47

Race: Half-Demon

Rank: F

Class: [Demonic Predator (Lvl 57)]

Profession: [Guardian Botanist of Mother Freya (Lvl 60)]

Titles: [Dark Lord]

Bloodline: [Bloodline of the Dark Demon]

Health Points (HP): 3913/4130

Mana Points (MP): 4570/4570 (4620)

Stamina: 2547/2570 (2770)

Soul Fragments: 87/1000

Stats:

Strength: 658

Agility: 478 (528)

Endurance: 257 (277)

Vitality: 413

Perception: 434 (444)

Intelligence: 457 (462)

Free Points: 0

Class Skills: [Advanced Blade Handling (Uncommon)], [Profane Knife Throwing (Uncommon)], [Twin Blade (Common)], [Basic Dark Dash (Rare)], [Basic Blood Regeneration (Rare)], [Predator’s Mark (Rare)], [Demonic Blade Dance (Rare)], [Wraith Form (Ultra-Rare)], [Force Infusion (Rare)], [Advanced Stealth (Rare)], [Assassin’s Tracking (Rare)], [Mana Infusion (Rare)], [Basic Archery (Common)]

Profession Skills: [Herbology of Mother Freya (Ancient)], [Precise Extraction (Common)], [Basic Potion Crafting (Common)], [Corrupted Plant Growth (Rare)], [Plant Sensor (Uncommon)], [Botanical Bond of Mother Freya (Rare)], [Seed Conversion (Rare)], [Plant Manipulation of Mother Freya (Rare)], [Corrupted Blood of Mother Freya (Ultra-Rare)], [Thorn Mutation (Uncommon)], [Soil Analysis (Uncommon)], [Botanical Purification (Uncommon)], [Acid Blood Arrow (Epic)]

Race Skills: [Identify (Common)], [Demonic Perception (Uncommon)], [Dark Blood (Uncommon)], [Meditation (Common)], [Demonic Endurance (Uncommon)]

Bloodline Skill: [Servant of the Dark Lord (Unique)]

Servants: [Princess Charlie (Skeleton) – Lvl 28], [Servant Slot Available]

Looking over his levels, Luke felt a cold weight settle in his chest. He was practically brushing up against the limit. He was level 47, close to 50. His class already 57, creeping toward 60. His profession, maxed out. No more levels. No more new skills. Grinding further was pointless.

“There’s no way I can take on what’s coming by myself,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

Especially not with the Midnight Lord and the Midnight King as mandatory bosses in this so-called tutorial.

“I told you,” Evangeline said softly.

“Then tell me this. Can we evolve our rank? The cap applies per rank, right?” Luke asked.

Artemis remained silent. Evangeline already knew the truth about the talking necklace, but Luke asked mentally anyway. The reply came in her clipped, dry voice: ‘At my current knowledge level, I don’t have that information. Remember? They nerfed me intellectually.’

Which meant Luke was left in the dark.

“It is possible to evolve rank, and keep leveling,” Evangeline finally said.

“You know how?”

“It’s not about knowing how. The rank limit exists so our bodies don’t explode from too much power crammed inside. When you evolve to a higher rank, your body strengthens and adapts. It adjusts to handle the attribute boosts, the mana surge, and everything else.” She hesitated. “At least… that’s how I learned it, back then.”

Luke nodded slowly. It lined up with things he’d read in Samael’s library. “Our human bodies, every time the race level goes up, they get blasted with that wave of mana during instant regeneration. Plants do something similar, absorbing ambient mana and evolving into magical species. We’re just doing it with our flesh instead of roots and leaves. That regeneration bonus is how the body becomes magical.”

And then a thought hit him, sharp and dangerous.

“Wait. If we hit the cap, we lose that benefit. No more instant regeneration, because there’s no level-up trigger anymore.”

He went still.

“If I break bones… lose a limb…” His voice turned low. “That’s it. Game over.”

Or if my body got eaten away by the Beast Lord’s acid…

“Now you understand why I had to wait here all this time? Alone, there was nothing I could do.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “I had to wait for new people to show up, and most of them were just civilians. They’re terrified of leaving for the Wild Zone, let alone setting foot in the capital.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So I waited, hoping that once Marshall and Bartholomew killed each other, something could finally be done. Honestly, I was betting on Marshall. After he got his revenge, I figured that bastard and the other renegades would finally focus on getting out of this place.”

Luke weighed the information against what he already knew. “Do you think Marshall and the others hit their cap?”

“They spent years living like lunatics out in the forest.” Her tone hardened. “They could’ve planned to take down the Orc Lord or something, but they chose not to. So the Safe Zone would keep being attacked.”

She paused, almost grimacing. “I don’t know if they all managed to hit the rank limit, but at the very least they maxed their professions. After that, they tried to invade Bastion… and lost.”

Luke’s thoughts darkened. So Marshall had held back on purpose, just as he suspected. Their hatred was personal. Killing the Orc Lord would’ve weakened his small army, and Luke doubted the other cutthroats he recruited would’ve risked it. Only his core group, the ones who shared his grudge against Bartholomew, would have gone along. But that left Marshall trapped at a crossroads: lose his people in the second fortress, blow the capital’s gate too soon, or kill the Orc Lord and sacrifice his best men. Either way, Bartholomew would come out ahead.

As insane as it was, the strategy of letting monsters keep hammering the Safe Zone was clever. Marshall kept wearing them down, sabotage after sabotage, slowly cutting down Bartholomew’s soldiers. Then, when the Safe Zone was already weakened and the next great wave of monsters arrived, he struck the fortress. But Bartholomew defeated him. Obsession and short-sighted planning had led Marshall straight into ruin.

“So basically,” Evangeline said, “my plan to hitch a ride when Marshall and his crew decided to finish the tutorial went straight down the drain. Because Bartholomew won that little game instead.”

Luke gave her a hard look. “Then tell me. How do you rank up? From Rank F to Rank E. Do you know?”

“I do. When I hit level fifty with my race, I got a notification saying I’d already fulfilled part of the requirements. There’s a whole list of them for rank evolution. But one of them I’m still missing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Completing the tutorial.”

Luke let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “What a joke…”

“I imagine it’s supposed to be the easiest requirement. Back on Earth, everyone finishes the tutorial.”

“Except we drew the short straw and landed in this insane version. Which means we’re all stuck in the same sinking boat.”

So one requirement was completing the tutorial. But what about someone born from parents who already had the System? That person wouldn’t get sent to a tutorial at all. They’d just be born with their own System. Luke guessed the requirement probably didn’t apply in those cases.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Still, did Earth even have as many monsters, or opportunities to level, as this place? That question had been gnawing at him. This tutorial was special in a hundred ways, but one of the biggest was how fast it let people grow. He’d taken less than a year to reach his current point, right near the peak of Rank F. Sure, it helped that he’d been reckless enough to constantly throw himself into life-or-death situations, but more cautious people had still made it, just slower, safer. People like Bartholomew, or Kruger.

How many years would it take an ordinary person to reach the same level of strength?

Evangeline cracked open one of the cans of food and slid it across the wooden table to him.

“How long did it take you to hit the rank cap? I mean, aside from the Wardens, most monsters here are pretty low-level. I can’t imagine how long you’d have to keep grinding them just to max out.”

“I’ve been stuck in this place for eight years.” Her voice carried both weariness and defiance. “I hit the limit about two years ago. It was a mix of everything, clearing out dungeon creatures, and, yes, fighting humans who had crossed the line.”

She tilted her head, watching his reaction. “Did you know killing humans gives far more experience? At least at our stage of power. Race, class, and profession all at once.”

Her lips pressed into something closer to a grimace than a smile. “Honestly, I tried a bit of everything. I fought so much in this dungeon that I even managed to come out of it with a familiar.”

Six years. That’s how long it had taken Evangeline to crawl her way to the peak of Rank F. A painfully slow progression. Luke compared it to his own path. He’d taken mere months to reach the same point. Eight months, counting the time he’d wasted just exploring Haven, and later the capital, where he’d even allowed himself a short vacation.

Months for him. Years for her. The gap was staggering. The difference between the Luke who arrived in Haven and the one sitting here now was a chasm.

Which meant Kruger and Bartholomew had to be at least on par with him. That realization was worth more than gold. In terms of raw strength, he’d finally caught up. Sure, class styles varied, and each had their own tricks, but he’d reached what he wanted: equal footing with his enemies.

“Reaching race level fifty is a trap,” Luke said, his tone sharp with analysis. “The instant regeneration stops the moment you stagnate. If I were in your place, I would’ve considered holding back. Keeping a few race levels in reserve, just in case something went wrong.”

Evangeline’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Hitting the rank limit was my goal. It was the only way I had any chance of progressing in the tutorial. Back then, I thought maybe I could take another shot at the second fortress on my own. And if we really want to escape this hell, we’ll need as many people as possible at that level of power.”

“Even at the cost of losing complete regeneration?”

“The reward in exchange is power.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Attribute points?”

He knew the truth. Once you pushed past level fifty in both class and profession, attribute bonuses skyrocketed. That surge had been the single biggest reason he’d become so much stronger.

“Or is this where the epic skills you mentioned come in?” he asked.

She nodded.

“If you max out everything in a rank, you gain three powerful skills: one epic skill from your class, another from your profession, and a special rank skill once your race hits fifty. If each of us can secure those three, then together we’ll have the strength to face the final threats of this tutorial. And after that, we return to Earth.”

***

Jonathan stared at Landon’s corpse sprawled across the ground. In his hand, he held a mask of flesh, Scott’s face, stolen long ago with the help of his familiar’s power.

“You shouldn’t have ratted out Luke,” he muttered to the dead man. “I needed that bastard distracted a little longer.”

He shoved the body into his storage item, then let out a long, tired sigh. One by one, he swept the equipment off the table and stored that too. He’d been tracking Luke for days now, ever since the man reappeared at the second fortress after leaving the capital.

The moment Jonathan learned Ronan had crossed paths with Luke again, he rushed straight for the fortress of the second mechanism. He knew Bartholomew would never waste resources posting guards there. From what Jonathan had pieced together, only Kruger and Bartholomew knew the fortress’s location, and both were too paranoid to share it. Not even Bartholomew had told Jonathan, and he had kept pretending he didn’t know.

He only had that knowledge thanks to Luke and Allison themselves. They’d revealed the location back during Haven, on the night of the ant invasion, the same night Jonathan had lost Angelica. He’d scoured the region countless times since, searching for Luke. But once he learned Luke had returned, Jonathan knew exactly where he’d go. Either looking for Allison Rhiannon… or heading straight to the fortress.

Banking on that, Jonathan took the gamble and waited at the fortress. Bartholomew had no idea Luke understood the truth about the mechanisms. The so-called King of Bastion was too paranoid, too fearful of losing Kruger’s protection. He trusted no one, not even his allies, and his constant dread of death blinded him to certain dangers. That paranoia created the gap Jonathan needed. Bartholomew refused to spread word of the second fortress, refused to let anyone watch over it. He kept Kruger leashed at his side out of fear. And in that mistake, Jonathan found his chance.

When Ronan returned claiming he’d fought Luke, Jonathan went straight to the fortress. He spent an entire day hidden in a house nearby, until at last he saw him, his old “friend,” Luke, staring up at the stone walls. The man looked different now, his hair longer, his presence heavier. Jonathan watched him take down two crimson tyrannosaurs with nothing but a kukri throw, as casually as if he were slaughtering sheep. In that moment, he knew the rumors were true. Luke had become terrifyingly strong.

Jonathan marked him with a tracking skill and kept watch as he entered the fortress. That was when things grew interesting. Out of nowhere, a knight appeared at his side, Charlie. He could’ve sworn she was dead. Then he realized what had really happened: she hadn’t walked up to Luke, she had emerged from him. A familiar. Another secret, buried deep. Luke was hiding more than Jonathan had imagined.

He stayed hidden, waiting, observing. Hours passed before a woman in black, dressed like a ninja, appeared at the fortress’s entrance. Jonathan watched as she cursed out loud, eyes locked on the ground, on the tracks leading inside. She knew Luke had gone in.

And she wasn’t alone. A raven perched at her side, her familiar. Jonathan leaned forward, curious. Who was she? For a moment, he even wondered if she was one of Bartholomew’s assassins. He knew Kruger’s network well, yet something about her didn’t fit. He studied her all the same, suspicious, until the truth became clear.

When Luke finally emerged from the fortress and spoke with her, Jonathan understood. She wasn’t Bartholomew’s pawn at all. She was something else entirely.

He watched her step partway inside, then retreat into the shadows. Moments later, Luke emerged. And that’s when things got interesting. The ninja woman confronted him, robbed him clean, and he chased her down.

When they finally split paths, Jonathan noticed something else: Luke was still being tracked. The woman’s raven circled above, keeping its unblinking watch. Jonathan let them both get ahead, tailing from a safe distance. His mercenary tracking skill left him an edge, no matter how far the target ran, the mark left behind faint, glowing traces only he could see. Hours passed that way. It wasn’t easy. More than once, he thought he’d lost Luke entirely. The man barely left footprints, moved without sound, and sometimes sprinted with unnatural speed.

Jonathan’s saving grace was the raven. As long as he kept an eye on it, following became simple.

The trail led him to a ruined church deep in the Wild Zone. The bird lingered there for hours, staring at the structure, before finally vanishing, likely to alert its mistress. Jonathan never moved. He stayed outside, watching the church, the thought gnawing at him: walk in and kill Luke right then and there. But reason stopped him. Luke’s strength was no longer in question. Charging in meant certain death.

So he waited. Then something strange happened. The mark he had placed on Luke vanished. For a moment, panic flared. Had Luke died? But then Jonathan remembered. Kruger had pulled a similar trick once. The phantom assassin had stripped the mark away and even mocked him for it.

Why hadn’t Luke done it sooner? That was what unsettled him. The possibility that he had been lured here on purpose crawled beneath his skin. Hours later, Luke finally emerged from the church, but his hair was blond now, and an eyepatch covered his face.

The days that followed turned into a game of shadows. Jonathan tailed him relentlessly, keeping his distance but never letting him slip away. More than once, he considered tipping off Bartholomew, but the thought curdled in his chest. He didn’t want the King of Bastion winning every hand. No, he wanted all of his enemies to fall, every last one. So he kept Luke for himself.

Close surveillance turned personal. His familiar’s gift allowed him to swap faces at will. That trick let him shadow Luke up close, sometimes walking the same streets, even renting a room at the very inn Luke stayed in.

And one night, he pushed his luck further. He followed Luke into a tavern, only to find him laughing, competing in knife throws with a woman like some charming rogue. The sight made Jonathan’s blood boil. Angelica’s face flashed in his mind. He knew, he knew, that bastard must have used the same tricks on her. That’s how Luke had stolen her away from him.

Fury coiled inside him. Jonathan stepped outside, peeled away the disguise he wore, and reentered the tavern as himself. He was ready to confront him right then, to tear the mask away. But something in him hesitated.

Moments later, Luke left the tavern in a rush. Had he seen him?

For days afterward, Jonathan cursed himself, convinced he’d made a fatal mistake, that he had shown his hand and Luke would vanish beyond his reach again. But nothing happened. The man stayed. He kept his routine. He even picked up work as a lumberjack.

That was when Jonathan began to move. He watched Luke playing lumberjack, and under the face of Scott, he hired Landon’s services. Months of working with Kruger and leaning on his familiar had taught him plenty about Bastion’s underworld. With the skill to swap faces, Jonathan had infiltrated gangs, smuggling rings, even positions inside Bastion itself, always under their noses. It was through that network he learned that some Bastion soldiers ran their own criminal outfits, Landon being one of them.

His plan for Luke carried a double edge. He wanted to measure Luke’s strength, and more importantly, test the skills of his familiar, Charlie. That was why he brought Landon into it. On the day of the kidnapping, Jonathan was there, hidden in the forest, watching from a distance as Landon’s men captured Luke. He couldn’t risk getting too close, but he caught glimpses of Charlie in action. And what he saw confirmed it: if he ever intended to kill Luke, he’d first have to deal with her. She was dangerous. More than dangerous. She wore the helm and breastplate of a Midnight Warden. Jonathan had no idea how a familiar could equip something like that, but if she was humanoid enough, maybe it was possible.

Jonathan had planned to kill Landon afterward, once he’d gathered all the information he needed. But Landon ruined everything. He went and exposed Luke’s disguise as James. That wasn’t the outcome Jonathan wanted, though deep down he knew Luke would slip away somehow. He always did.

If time had taught him anything, it was that the bastard had a talent for survival. He’d once left Luke at the mercy of a Midnight Warden with nothing but scraps of power, and the man still crawled back alive.

Now, standing outside that dark house, Jonathan shoved Landon’s body into his storage item. Then his slime familiar spread across his face, molding into new skin. A different face stared back at him in the reflection.

“I’d wager things are about to get interesting,” Jonathan whispered, his voice now identical to Landon’s. This was his new mask.

He knew Luke would eventually activate the second mechanism. He had tried once before and failed for some reason, but when he succeeded, war between him and Bartholomew would be inevitable. And when that happened, while both sides were locked in their clash, Jonathan would be there. Close. Wearing a new face. Right where Luke least expected him.

“I’ll strip everything from him, right in front of his eyes.”

Allison. Charlie. Anyone Luke cared about, they would die. For now, he would remain in the shadows, waging his silent war. With a smile tugging at his lips, Jonathan walked away, already plotting how to weave his next plan into motion.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep