By the time I’d finished my meeting with Mr. Goldshanks, the quartet of strangers I wanted to follow had already left, and were long gone. I briskly walked outside and looked around, seeing that all of the tournament participants had left.

Go figure.

After letting out a sigh, I began walking towards my car. I walked down the sidewalk to the corner of the building where the road turned into the parking lot. The flat asphalt field was about half as large as the casino itself, with plenty of spaces for every kind of vehicle. Cars, motorcycles, even limousines! The tournament had brought in enough people that there were barely any spaces available by the time I got there this morning, even the reserved staff parking spots were usually almost completely full.

Just as I was about to turn into the parking lot, a semi-truck flew past me, hitting the curb and rolling over the strip of sidewalk I was about to step onto. It hit the stop sign, sending the metallic octagon and metal rod it was attached to flying several feet forwards.

No horn, no signal. The truck was maybe an inch away from my face. Looking at the deadly mass move past me brought forth a terrible memory, one that flashed and quickly disappeared as my head turned to see what absolute moron was driving the screaming metal death trap.

Curly, black hair. Pasty white skin. A button up shirt and a colorful striped tie.

The missionary sneered at me as he turned the corner without slowing down and continued down the street without lifting his pedal from the accelerator.

Da dum.

Da dum.

Da dum.

Breathe! I screamed internally as I forced air into my lungs and slowly exhaled it. It took me doing this several times before I could think again, and when I finally returned back to reality, I wished I didn’t have to.

Me being alive was a miracle. Wasting this gift was the last thing I wanted to do.

My hands tightened into a pair of fists I slammed onto my thighs.

I had to get back to grinding, I had to get stronger, I had to kill this son of a bitch. I had to do all of this before that maniac actually killed me!

So was it time to hit the gym again? I could call Shovon, and he’d make sure I was getting the most out of my workouts, or at least that I was putting as much as I could into each one so that the System gives more points the next time I leveled up. Which would be…

“Dammit!” I shouted out loud as I turned into the parking lot and began walking towards my car.

When was I even going to get my next level up for my workouts to actually take effect? And even when I did, how much stronger would I become? I already had sixteen points in Strength. It would take at least two more level ups before I could get to twenty, and that was only if I maximized the grind just right. Too bad that wouldn’t be enough.

Don’t get me wrong, twenty points put me at peak human capabilities. I’d likely break plenty of world records without breaking a sweat! But that wouldn’t stop that inhuman monster from ripping my head off.

I shook my head as I got into my car, gripping the steering wheel hard enough to leave an indent on the leather.

Hold on, attributes weren’t the only weapon I had. Sure, there were Skills too, but those were almost all non-combat related save for [Revenge] and maybe [Tinker] if I could build myself a weapon. Too bad those two were too low leveled to actually be of any use in a real fight, let alone against that thing.

No, I meant the Point Shop. There were only three things listed on there, and two of them were sex related, but I was sure that if I grinded it out to be able to see more of it, there would be something specifically made for fights. Something that could put the missionary down.

My mind wandered to Elsie. I had her phone number written down and tucked safely away at my apartment. I could head back, give her a call, and start building up more points. She was the only person in this world I felt comfortable doing it with.

It would be so simple, I’d finally be safe…

The smile of relief that was forming on my face quickly froze in place. I turned the rear view mirror to face me and looked into it, into my eyes.

“What am I doing?” I whispered to myself as my mouth began to curl into a look of disgust. “She’s a person, not a means to an end!”

The self loathing I felt at that moment was overwhelming. The only thing that saved me from it was a grand realization.

“That’s been his plan all along, hasn’t it?” I whispered to myself. Struck by a sudden inspiration, I turned on my car and began to drive it out of the parking lot and out onto the main road.

That missionary, he could’ve killed me already if he wanted to. He already exacted his punishment for insulting Ultarian the first time I met him, and all he’d been doing since then was taunt me. Taunt me that I wasn’t strong enough, taunt me into drinking again, into getting laid. Sure, he failed that second one, but was that actually his goal? No, it was something else.

He was challenging me. As if he wanted me to grow stronger so I could stand up to him. There was no way any normal human being could get strong enough to face him, but a System user? He worshiped Ultarian, he definitely knew about the System fairy tale. Did he know I was a System user too?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

But what would me getting deeper into the System do for him?

Memories of how Charisma turned me into a negging asshole came to mind.

“Yeah, that would do it,” I mumbled to myself as I made a right turn and pulled into a small parking lot.

He wanted me to get deeper into the System, deeper into the mental quagmire, and have me lose myself to it.

I hated that idea, and the realization alone made me ready to swear off the System for good.

But… I wasn’t an idiot.

It hurt to admit it, but I needed that god forsaken power source, at least to get through Goldshanks’ tournament. Let alone to not instantly die to a light slap from that missionary.

So I’d keep using it, but I wouldn’t lose myself to its negative mental effects. Strength seemed to be immune from them, as far as I could tell, so I could at least keep grinding that safely.

But as for actually killing that son of a bitch? Well, I hadn’t tried searching for his weakness yet, but I had a good idea of where to start.

I parked my car and slowly got out, before turning towards the church building and making my way to the front door.

“Why hello there, son,” said a robed man from inside. He was facing towards the massive sculpture of a quill in the back, but slowly began to turn around. “Service isn’t until later this week, but I’m sure I can-”

“Hello, father, I’ve come to repent my sins.” A single crocodile tear streaked down my left eye as Charisma fed me my lines.

The man froze in place. He looked at my face, drunk in my words, and shed a tear himself. Hook, line, and sinker. “I- Ultarian has truly blessed you by showing you the light. Please, please come in!” He briskly made his way to the front and ushered me inside to one of the pews.

We took a seat next to each other as he pulled out a copy of his holy book and placed his hand upon it.

“So tell me, my child. What made you realize the truth of our lord?”

“Well, I met one of your exemplar missionaries who helped convince me,” I replied. “I didn’t get his name, but he had curly, black hair and a really colorful tie.”

“Missionaries? I’m not sure I follow…”

“The man going around in the white button up shirt? Spreading the good word door to door to bring others into Ultarian’s gentle embrace?” I looked into the priest’s eyes, and frowned when I saw that he genuinely looked confused.

“There… is no need for such a role, at least not these days, as the whole world collectively worships Ultarian.”

Even with the beyond-human levels of glib provided by Charisma, my face still strained at being confronted with a dead end.

The priest noticed, and quickly backtracked. “Although the role you describe sounds very familiar to me, I believe I’ve heard of it.” He patted the book on his lap.

My eyebrows rose, and he took that as a signal to continue.

“Some of my favorite recollections within the scripture are a very old myth, about Ultarian’s greatest servants. The Fatewatchers. Long ago, in the earliest days of our faith, the Fatewatchers were talked by Ultarian himself to spread his influence throughout the world.”

I nodded along, listening intently.

“The cults were far greater in number and power back then, but the Fatewatchers proved more powerful. They were the heralds of Ultarian’s will and words, truly the most blessed of his creations. Using great strength and guile, they carried wings, haloes, and the holy book to defeat the cults and bring their ranks into our own. I could write down where to find their tales in the scripture.”

The old man held such a genuine smile, that it made me start to feel guilty about my own false one. But that feeling was undercut by a much stronger one.

Fear.

“That would be wonderful, father,” I replied. Du Dun. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” Du dun.

The old man took out a loose piece of paper and began to write onto it with a pen.

DU DUN.

I had no reason to be this scared from just a story, especially when I’d already experienced the real deal up close and personal. But I knew what that missionary, this Fatewatcher, was.

It was an angel.

And so help me, I was going to kill it.