The better part of an hour or so had passed since Camille had begun her vicious assault on her boxing bag. The room which would have otherwise been silent was punctuated by the striking of fists and ragged pants of a peculiar dissonance to it. While hard to notice should one not be paying attention, a closer listen would lend one to realize something almost quaint. For whatever reason, there was, one could spot certain lilts throughout each of her breaths. Lilts of a nature most odd, they were sounds that upon inspection gave a impression most unusual.

Because for all intents and purposes, it was almost as if Camille was laughing.

A final strike shot from her right fist straight into the bag. Content, for the time being, she took a moment to collect her thoughts. There was no real need for her to pause, of course. Should she have wished, her body could sustain much more. The issue then was not a matter of physical endurance but mental.

"Heh. Guess I still have it in me." The woman's lips curled into a smile as her eyes burned with pride. A sheen of sweat stuck to her forehead, she wiped it off without thinking.

You have acquired the Skill [Fistwork]

For an instant, Camille was unsure what to think. Immersed in the realm of martial arts, it was as if the very idea of her video game ability had been removed from her brain. And yet, evidently, presented in a quaint blue box before her, it was not.

Having been silent at this acquisition of power, Camille was unsure of how to voice her grievances.

At first, she wanted to denounce it. The idea that she could be granted some magical ability was not one that was inherently vile. The time it had taken to acquire it, on the other hand, was.

In the first place, Camille never considered herself to be one of talent. Resigned to the fate of being chaff, Camille had long accepted that power would never come onto her. Obviously, that was no longer the case. Now that her whole existence had been rewritten to become a video game character, Camille had reached the apex of talent that she never would have.

An apex of talent that came through pure chance and fortune alone, Camille heart waned at that thought.

It was not bothersome to the point where she would reject it outright of course. She wasn't that stubborn. It was just that to some degree, Camille felt that it was undeserved.

Let's not overthink it...

Swallowing her pride, she clicked the ability.

Fistwork: You gain +2 post-mitigation damage while using fists.

Two extra points of damage? Hell yeah.

Camille's hopes lifted at the familiar sight of numbers and power.

Without hesitation, she equipped the passive skill.

The woman who had been in deep contemplation only a few moments prior had now abandoned her woes in their entirety. Convinced of the validity of her judgement, a smile had now been grafted onto her face.

Now onto the topic of 'Fistwork' Camille had one question in particular.

How many hitpoints do people have anyway?

Assuming that the average person had ten or so meant that she, at the bare minimum, could kill someone in five hits. Given that it was post-mitigation, and hence a value that removed the question of defence entirely, wouldn't that suggest that Fistwork was true damage?

Hmm. Killing someone in five hits.

On further introspection, five hits wasn't that impressive. Whether you were a fighter or not, a single punch to a weak point was capable of killing. A single stray punch to the throat, or eyes and the fact was as good as over.

Of course, while such information could not be extrapolated to great fighters, the vast majority of people were not.

While an odd comparison to use, there was no other standard available to her. Given the relative safety and quiet nature of her home, monsters, demons and powerful people weren't exactly easy to come by. So, if she wanted to fight someone, the only option was plain old humans.

Humans. The same organism that Camille herself was.

And yet, such a label meant nothing. No matter how similar they might have been in behaviour or appearance, the power within, could not have been more different.

That's just how it was. In this era, humans had been shown time and time again to be able to compete and even surpass supernatural oddities. Whether through overwhelming technology, magic or sheer force, the distinction was of little difference.

The Knights of the Round Table, in their current and modern iteration, was the clearest demonstration of such power. A fellowship of the resurrected King Arthur, recruitment of gifted and skilled civilians was carried out yearly. Naturally, that means being put in situations where they are expected to survive abnormalities like monsters or other dangers.

So, if it's not for this ability, then I would really be nothing.

There was a moment of quiet introspection that followed.

After everything that transpired, Camille had immediately been thrown back into her well of self-loathing and despair. Unconsciously, the woman now buried her nails into her palm. To the point of almost drawing blood, Camille was lost in a world of her own making.

And whether it be shame or overthinking that was the cause. It did not matter.

The woman who now approached twenty-seven years of age still possessed such uncertainties. Uncertainties that should have belonged to a hormonal teenager instead of a functioning adult such as herself.

Camille chastised her own weakness and doubt. In summary, she both acknowledged the frailty of her ego and knew that she should be better.

Dammit. Pull yourself together.

Propelled out of her self-made world of delusion, Camille with all the strength she could muster, crushed what remained of the apprehension in her body.

Stop being so fucking indecisive you daft idiot.

Now was not the time to think of the failings of the past, but rather the future that had yet to be.

Yes. That's the way, she had always been. While certain parts of her personality had been lost or degraded over time, ambition would not be one of them. "I want to be the very best." or "I'm going to win" was the way she thought. Not "Oh hur durr, I'm a loser." or "I'm never going to succeed", no, that was the mindset of an inferior, a loser who's no better than a summer ant, and someone she would never be!

Embodying all the cheesiness of her statement to its fullest glory, the assertion of her formerly lost pride reinvigorated her body.

Camille, who now raised her hand into the air, felt a spark of genius. One in regards to her ability, she contemplated her finding with a hand on her cheek.

Ah, you cheeky bastard. Of course.

As expected of her herself, Camille now diverted her focus back to her skills. While Camille was quick to feel, the offset was that she was just as fast to abandon it. A nature as inherent to her being as her strive for power, Camille continued with her consideration.

Given that she managed to acquire 'Fistwork' earlier from pure repetition and action, it certainly was possible that other abilities could have manifested in a similar fashion.

Though just a mere conjecture, there was no harm in trying.

So, without further ado Camille jabbed her finger to the boxing bag in front of her.

"Identify!"

You have acquired the Skill [Identify]

"A tad anti-climatic, but I'll take it."

Now with a more relaxed composure, she spoke once again.

"Identify".

PROFILE

NAME: NONE STATUS: ALIVE TITLE: Proud Boxing Bag CLASS: NONE RACE: UNKNOWN LEVEL: UNKNOWN STR: 0 DEF: UNKNOWN

VIT: UNKNOWN DEX: 0 RES: UNKNOWN CHA: 0

Besides the obvious happiness that she had gained from figuring out how identify worked. There were a few other questions to take notice of. In the first place, what the hell was that vitality?

Unknown hitpoints?

Was it not possible to quantify the health that belonged to the object?

Camille closed her eyes as she thought on the matter. After all, real-life wasn't a video game. Just because you could stab someone repeatedly in the foot and kill someone in a game didn't mean you could do it in reality. If death was dependent on damage to organs or blood loss, then how would a game system translate to real life? If a person had ten hitpoints, and she was able to deal two points per attack, then could she theoretically kill someone by just punching their knee five times?

More than that, could this system perhaps be susceptible to change as her own understanding of the world developed?

Man. There really were a lot of questions that needed answering and a lot of them that depended on having another person... A scenario she was not quite yet comfortable with Camille felt all but a few pieces of energy fade away at the idea. She didn't exactly have anyone she could call over and test her abilities on, and she wasn't exactly willing to test out in public either. For what it was worth, Camille suspected that summoning a glowing menu in broad daylight and yelling 'identify' at someone wouldn't exactly attract the best attention. Or maybe that was just what she told herself.

That was possible too.

One thing was certain though.

And that was real-life wasn't as convenient as video games. There would be no spare dungeon or group of mobs to fight. And even if there were, it still carried the risk that she could actually die. Camille sighed a deep sigh.

Dying would certainly be a pain in the ass. Camille might have been apathetic to the possibility but a few days prior, but now things were different. Brought back with new life in her body, Camille thought of what a shame it would be, that her journey ended here.

At the very least, it wasn't as if there was a time limit. As far she considered, there was all the time in the world available to her. Without a need for a job, education or other responsibilities, she was free to do whatever she wished. Only when she was confident enough in her abilities would she challenge foes, that much she decided.

"Alright, now I'm motivated." Doing her best to slick back her hair and pose with style, she flashed the most flamboyant smile she was capable of. Blip. A now-familiar light appeared once again.

You have acquired the Skill [Now I'm Motivated]

She clicked the ability.

Now I'm Motivated: Allows your enemies to feel that the user is motivated.

Allows your enemies to feel that the user is motivated. Besides the obvious fact that it was most likely very useless, there was a more subtle implication at play.

Wait, if I can do random stuff and have a skill come out of it, does it mean that... Shit. I gotta try it. Certainly. The same thing had happened earlier, but that was different. Concepts like 'Fistwork' or 'Identify' were things much in like with usual video game abilities and skills.

'Now I'm Motivated' on the other hand? Perhaps a bit less so.

Minutes later, she was in front of her boxing back again. This time, with a few more ideas up her sleeve, Camille took a deep breath. Then with all her energy, she yelled.

"Sucker Strike!"

Camille's right fist shot out. Thwack. Right in the centre of her opponent. Neither Camille nor anyone else could have guessed what happened next. If there was any reaction to the scene of the disaster, it would have been a resounding wow. Both at the boxing bag, which had broken in two, and Camille, who had done so. An unprecedented amount of trash was tossed all over the floor, all made of what was once the contents of the boxing bag. Yet, Camille felt no irritation or displeasure. For what she had gained was more than enough to make up for it.

You have acquired the Skill [Sucker Strike]

"Lucky me." How ironic. The precise thing which had destroyed her future as a martial artist would be the thing that laid down the foundations for her future with video game abilities. Taking humour in this, Camille, poked the icon in front of her.

Sucker Strike: The first attack you make in combat deals 10% true damage and is guaranteed to hit if your enemy is surprised.

True damage, and guaranteed to hit? Camille, ecstatic at the sheer potential of the skill granted to her, began to formulate. True damage. In other words, a damage that completely ignores any resistances or defence. Perfect for an assassin or perhaps burst build, she wondered if perhaps that was the future destined for her. Then again, regardless of whether she wanted to be an assassin or not, there was no way she was going to refuse it. Laughing yet again, she felt a keen pleasure on a level that had not been since forever. Facing the prospect of ever increasing power, Camille suspected it wouldn't be long before she tried it on an unsuspecting victim.