Admiring his newfound body, he threw a few punches into the air. Each movement felt clean and controlled.
"With this and my recovery skill, I might finally stand out at the academy."
He considered registering Full Recovery as his superpower, though the two-use limitation made him pause.
Still… "It restores someone to peak condition. That's not just healing cuts and bruises. What if… I can heal lost limbs? Or incurable diseases?"
If that was true, he wouldn't just be useful, he'd be a walking miracle.
Guilds would kill to have him. He wouldn't need to chase money, money would chase him.
He grinned at the thought. "Well… I'll test it later. For now…"
His eyes returned to the Gacha Shop tab.
"Time to try my luck." With a grin tugging at his lips, Arkham confirmed the ten-pull summon, burning his remaining points for the guaranteed rare.
The screen pulsed with light as the Gacha animation began. A swirling vortex of blue and gold spun at the center, accompanied by dramatic music that felt way too intense for what was essentially gambling with glowing buttons.
Arkham watched, eyes narrowed, as the first item spun out.
Ding!
***
[You received: Moldy Bread]
Grade: Trash
Description:
A mysterious slice of bread with green patches. Smells like despair.
Effect: Throwing this at someone reduces their opinion of you by 10 points. Can be eaten in emergencies, but… why would you?
***
[You received: Emergency Underwear]
Grade: Common
Description:
Tightly compressed boxers that automatically deploy in case of wardrobe malfunction.
Effect: Automatically equips when pants are destroyed. Guaranteed to be embarrassingly themed.
***
The icon showed a pair with pink hearts and sparkles with text that says "Hot Stuff." Arkham groaned. "Kill me now."
Ding!
***
[You received: Voice-Changing Duck Whistle]
Grade: Common
Description:
A duck-shaped whistle that temporarily makes your voice sound like a squeaky cartoon character.
***
The next few items were no better.
[Cursed Lint Ball] – Apparently made from socks of the damned.
[Totally Not a Wig] – Moves in the wind… even indoors.
[Signed Body Pillow – Unknown Idol] – No effect.
[Sticky Notes of Minor Inconvenience] – Can place small annoyances into someone's life. (e.g., itchy tag, tangled earbuds, loose shoelaces.)
By the seventh item, Arkham was beginning to regret everything. "Please… just one decent drop."
Then the screen went gold. The music shifted. A deep hum echoed as golden light burst from the center.
Ding!
***
[You received: Crimson Fang Dagger]
Grade: Rare
Description:
A short, elegant dagger bound with a soul pact. It thirsts for blood but remains loyal to its wielder.
Effect:
+15% Attack Power when targeting a bleeding enemy
Unique Skill – Pact Slice: Deal bonus damage and absorb 10% of the target's HP. Can be used once every 5 minutes.
"A cut from this dagger is not easily forgotten… nor forgiven."
***
Arkham's eyes lit up. "Now that's more like it."
He flipped the dagger in his hand—lightweight, perfectly balanced, and the blade shimmered with a faint red glow. It practically hummed with bloodlust, like it was eager to be used.
He didn't have much experience with daggers, but the weapon felt right in his grip. It matched him somehow.
With that thought in mind, Arkham decided then and there—he'd invest time into mastering it.
He glanced back at the rest of the loot. One solid weapon… and a whole bag of trash. "…Well," he muttered, putting the dagger back into his inventory, "at least the sticky notes might come in handy."
He shook his head, laughing quietly at the absurdity of it all, then tapped open the Scenario tab.
[Error! Please wait 23:16:34 before you can check Scenario.]
"Tch. Cooldown, huh…"
With nothing else to do, Arkham spent a while practicing dagger grips and imagined scenarios in his head. Before he knew it, exhaustion caught up with him, and he drifted off—sleeping more peacefully than he had in years.
***
The Next Morning
"Arkham! Come follow me!" The familiar voice echoed behind him the moment he stepped into the hallway. He didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.
Elly.
He sighed, not out of irritation, but habit, and turned to follow her without protest.
They walked through the clean marble halls of the academy, passing students who either ignored him or whispered behind his back. Nothing new.
Elly led him to the infirmary—a quiet, sterile room filled with sunlight and the faint scent of antiseptic. She was the academy's nurse, and one of the only people in this place who actually spoke to him without mockery.
She was short, barely 160 cm, with a petite figure that made her look younger than she was. Her hair was soft, chin-length and golden, often tucked behind one ear. Her deep blue eyes had a sharp, observant glint, like she could see through excuses and lies with a single glance.
Despite her height, she was known across campus for one thing. The contrast between her small frame and her surprisingly generous D-cup breast had made her infamous among male students. Rumors followed her everywhere, though she rarely paid them any mind.
Arkham sat down awkwardly as Elly stood across from him, arms folded, her expression unreadable.
She stared at him for a good few seconds before speaking. "Tell me what happened yesterday."
"…nothing much,'" he replied, leaning back slightly.
Elly's eyes narrowed, her tone tightening. "Don't play dumb. You didn't show up to any of your classes yesterday."
She took a slow step forward, her arms folding beneath her chest, blue eyes locked on him like a hawk zeroing in on prey. "I'll give you one more chance, Arkham. Tell me the truth—what happened?"
Arkham gave a lazy shrug, keeping his expression calm. "Nothing bad, Elly. Just the usual, trying to rack up some merit points. You know how it is."
She didn't look convinced. Not even close.
"Trying to rack up points?" she repeated, voice flat. "I heard the rumors already. That gangster you ran into—he's part of the White Skull gang. He's been bragging at the bar about roughing up a Superhero Academy student..And now…You look… different," she said, voice low. "Your posture, your face… even the way you're standing."
Her gaze lingered on his face, then drifted downward. "You've always been on the thinner side, but now—what? You bulked up overnight?"
She furrowed her brows, clearly unsettled. "Your frame's more defined. And don't think I didn't notice the muscle under that uniform."
She stepped back slightly, folding her arms, expression laced with concern. "Look, I'm not trying to jump to conclusions. I've seen students do desperate things just to feel like they belong here. Some vanish for days, then come back stronger—more confident—and then two weeks later, they collapse in the middle of training."
Her gaze locked back onto his, firm but sincere. "I just need to know one thing." She took a small step closer, voice dropping as if she didn't want anyone else to hear. "Arkham… did you take anything? Did you use some kind of drug?"