Sigmarus stared blankly at the notification for a few seconds. He did expect some sort of benefit from physical exertion, but not something so instantaneous. Apparently, the tattoo quickened the entire training process. If not that, then he couldn’t think of any other reason for the rapid recovery and the stat increase.

Cold water poured over his shoulders as he contemplated his next actions. Caution prevented him from running off to the Red Street gym right away. For now, he decided to continue his exercises at home for a week before risking the dangers of Red Street. Extra stats would increase his confidence in case anything unexpected came up.

Today, however, he alternated between exercise and the meditation state of his cultivation technique. The latter of which improved multiple times in efficiency thanks to increased perception, allowing him to sense everything within ten millimeters. The effect made him come to the conclusion that increasing his perception stat could give him a form of sixth sense.

When he returned to work on Monday, he discovered how much his stats affected him. Two days of cultivating with the aid of the Universal Apparatus allowed him to work just as efficiently as his best coworkers. The other foundation melders were stunned by his quick improvement. Luckily, they chalked it down to him finally figuring out how to do his job right.

For the next week, he continued the same activities and slowly accumulated more stats. Every time the numbers improved, he couldn’t help but smile. When the next Sunday arrived, he finally felt confident enough to visit the gym run by gangsters. On his way there, he couldn’t help looking at his boosted status for the umpteenth time since he could feel the extra spring in each of his steps.

Personal Info

Name: Sigmarus Grayson

Race: Human (Earth)

Spirit Root: Attributeless Freeform

Approximate Cultivation Grade: Fighter (Yellow)

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Attributes

Level: 1 Exp: 4/100

Strength: 15 Endurance: 17(+1) Dexterity: 12 Agility: 11 (+1)

Intelligence: 6 Wisdom: 10 Perception: 21

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Stat Points: 0

Ability Points: 0

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Equipment

Gen-1 Meld-Suit (Ordinary), Old Running Shoes (Trash), Ragged Boxers (Trash), Worn-out socks (Trash)

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Skills

Universe Apparatus Lv.1, Freedom Technique Lv.2, Freedom Palm Lv.1

The improvements compared to when he first saw the status screen were massive. The Freedom Technique had even reached level two! He had taken the first step toward becoming an Immortal, whatever that meant. Still, raising his stats this much without even an actual level-up excited him. It fostered high expectations for leveling up in the future.

Rubbing his chin, he wondered whether or not he would be able to find anything that could help him increase his level. Unfortunately, areas outside cities were either protected zones or irradiated zones. Killing people might work, but he didn’t want to do that.

Sighing, he raised his gaze toward the upper sectors. The tallest buildings could only be seen from main streets like this one. Other areas were blocked off by the enormous foundations built by companies like the one he worked for. Walking along the main streets like this sometimes made him wonder if those companies left such sections open to the sky in order to mock the muskrats trapped below by giving them a false hope of climbing to better areas. His eyes darkened at the thought.

After walking in silence for a few minutes, he finally saw the red glow shining from the neon signs everyone on Red Street used for their businesses. Compared to the dimly lit main roads, it stood out like a sore thumb. No one knew whether the street was called Red Street because most of the businesses used red neon signs or used red neon signs because it was called Red Street. The closer he got to the entrance, the more people he saw streaming in from all directions. Voices echoed in the background, growing louder with each step toward the place.

Red Street itself stretched out for more than a kilometer beneath the shade of one of the oldest foundation blocks in Haze City. It was a hub for all sorts of shady business, debauchery, gang activity, and who knows what else. Honestly, it was a pity that the only decent gym around here could be found in one of the numerous side streets connected to Red Street.

Upon turning the corner onto Red Street, Sigmarus pressed his lips together. Compared to the one time he visited this place in the past, it looked far busier. Every inch of free space along the sidewalks had been claimed by people trying to sell anything they could to make a few extra credits. Scavengers peddled trinkets or gadgets they likely found somewhere in the countless unlit areas of the underground. Others set up stalls to sell malformed fruits or vegetables. Some even sold freshly killed animals such as dogs, cats, or rats. Many of those animals showed signs of mutations, not that anything could be done about it. Meat was meat. Nutrition bars passed down by the government from above could only go so far in filling the stomachs of millions of muskrats.

Sigmarus couldn’t help wrinkling his nose at the stenches of body odor and rotting carcasses floating in the air. His ears rang due to the clamor of voices he wasn’t accustomed to. His eyes stung due to clouds of cigarette smoke condensing around the area. If it wasn’t for the sake of improving his strength, he would have given the entire street a wide berth.

Wholly ignoring the pleas from these makeshift stall owners to purchase their wares, he kept his eyes peeled, double checking every side street in order to jog his memory since he couldn’t recall the exact location of the gym. Using his newfound perception, he avoided bumping into a single person among the crowd. Although he could only sense movement twenty-one millimeters away from his body for now, it was enough to avoid someone trying to hack his wrist-com to steal some credits.

After passing more than a hundred stalls, he reached the area where most of the brothels were located. Bawdy scents tickled his nostrils to the point of making his stomach churn. Still, he continued checking the side streets, frowning all the way. A few of the showgirls whose job was to pull in customers called out to him, but he ignored them. They couldn’t increase his stats, after all.

Around the time he finished checking the third side street since reaching the brothel area, a comparatively quiet and youthful voice spoke from directly behind him.

“Excuse me, sir.”