A sudden flash of light softly dissipated into the air, leaving behind a faint glow—like the echo of an ancient spell awakening. Reinhard's eyes narrowed—not from pain or fatigue, but from a subtle irritation sparked by the unnatural gleam. Before him, a semi-transparent window slowly materialized. Unlike the familiar green notifications of the system, this one was denser, darker... alien. Its outlines pulsed, as if the very space it came from was breathing within it.
"Hm... definitely different from the usual green ones," Reinhard muttered, propping himself up on one elbow. His voice was tired, but still carried that husky detachment with which he even spoke to himself.
Lines began to surface on the dark pane of the window:
[System Window]
[Profile]
[Name → Reinhard von B..???]
[Age → 17 years]
[Gender → Male]
[Race → Human]
[Origin → Heir to the Duchy of Deira]
[Combat Rank → Rank 8 Mage]
[HP → 900/1000]
[MP → 1500/1900]
[Abilities → (Tap to view)]
[Titles → (Tap to view)]
[Spells → (Tap to view)]
[Techniques → (Tap to view)]
[Magical Potential → 19/40]
[Magical Talent → B+]
[Physical Potential → 10/25]
[Physical Talent → D+]
[Mana Purity → C+]
Reinhard paused for a moment, silently examining each line, as if they might start speaking in a hidden tongue buried beneath the numbers. His lips curled into a faint smirk.
"So that's how it is," he whispered, sinking back onto the pillow. "Detailed... almost too much."
He had already guessed what the results would be. But to see it laid out before him with such clear, merciless structure—this was something else. He ran his finger across the window, and it responded with a subtle vibration. His body still ached, his shoulder pulsing with a dull pain, a lingering echo of the battle he had just survived. And yet, in this moment, that pain anchored him to life—a reminder that he had lived, that he had not died on that stone arena, as so many had expected.
"Magical potential... nineteen," he murmured. "Not all that surprising, considering the former owner of this body put quite a bit of effort into getting it to that level by this age…"
"Talent" was nearly worshipped. People judged a future by simple magical scales, as if destiny could be read like the color of one's hair. But Reinhard knew the truth. Potential—that was what truly mattered. It was the vessel. No matter how much power you poured in, if the vessel was too small—it would simply overflow, offering nothing in return. And talent? Talent was the ladle. Some could scoop more at once, others less. But if your vessel was vast, you would eventually surpass them all.
"So this body has a rather average ladle... but a severely limited jug." He chuckled. "What irony. All these people, so dazzled by my S+, don't realize that in the end... I'll just hit the ceiling."
But unlike them, he remembered his past life. He knew how to break through limits, how to smash through walls. And he would not let a single parameter restrain him. He would wring every drop from this body. And then some.
His gaze slid over the lines again. Physical Talent — D+, and only 10 Physical Potential. That too came as no surprise. The body's former owner had never cared for physical training, like most mages. Only now, after intense exertion, was the body beginning to respond to stress. And still... it wasn't enough. He wanted more. More speed. More strength. More power.
"So, I'm about a third of the way to the limit..." His eyes fixed on the line 'Magical Potential 19/40', as though trying to burn it through. "I'll have to find a way to expand the vessel…"
For the first time, he wondered—was there a way to not only change the physical form, but the very structure of the body itself? The system was clearly not ordinary magic. And if it could grant him skills, titles, knowledge—perhaps it could also modify the body?
"Maybe the 'Profile' function is just the beginning," he said, his eyes resting on the dimly blinking line: [Abilities]. "I wonder what's hiding there..."
He reached for it—but stopped mid-motion. Not now. Not when his body was nearly paralyzed, not while his two younger brothers were still peacefully sleeping in the room. Lenny, still clinging quietly to his arm, stirred slightly in his sleep. Reinhard glanced down at him. Traces of tears still clung to his lashes.
"You two..." he whispered softly. "One day, you'll be my finest instruments. So—for now, sleep. Sleep in peace. I'll take care of your future. Even if I have to burn everything in my path."
He closed his eyes. Ahead lay too many tasks, too many enemies, too many variables. But now he had what no one else did—a System, a Profile, a path to power that he would carve with his own hands. And only one question remained:
How many more secrets does this world conceal…