Chapter 80: The Worst Time to Reach 3-Star

Chapter 80: The Worst Time to Reach 3-Star

Jin looked at the glowing [Sync] button and made the decision in under a minute.

Putting it off would only make the stored growth harder to account for. Glitch had been examined once tonight. In a few days, Meridian’s instructors would be watching him train, recording his progress, and learning his habits. If he broke through after that, people would notice far more.

Going into Meridian’s assessment while leaving weeks of earned strength untouched was not careful. It was a stupid choice dressed up to look reasonable.

The Engine did not allow a partial Sync. Jin could not take the physical growth and leave Acid Breath behind. He could not transfer the skills while keeping the combat experience stored. It was everything or nothing.

A Star breakthrough, at least, could be explained. Meridian had confirmed Glitch as 2-Star only a few hours ago, so there would be questions, but young beasts sometimes advanced without warning.

Acid breath from a Grey Rock Lizard was another problem entirely.

Meridian already knew Glitch was strange. Jin did not need to convince them otherwise.

He only had to stop anyone from learning how strange.

Questions could be managed. Losing because he had refused to use his own power could not.

Jin checked the door lock again. The second bed was still empty. Tomorrow’s notice said the seven-day assessment period would begin in the morning, though no first-day schedule had been released yet.

He set every bag of Glitch’s monthly feed beside the blanket, filled a container with water, and used Data Appraisal one last time.

Steady heartbeat. Stable energy flow. No hidden damage from the trip.

Glitch followed every movement with rising excitement. He knew the feed, the phone, and the pressure starting to gather through their bond. His claws pressed and flexed against the floor.

There was nervousness under all that eagerness, thin but clear. Glitch remembered what Sync felt like. He simply had too much pride to admit it bothered him.

"This is going to hurt more than the last ones," Jin said. "You still want to do it?"

Glitch spread all four feet and lifted his head.

Of course.

Jin opened the detailed panel.

[Unsynchronized Growth Load: High]

[Combat Experience: Significant Accumulation]

[Pending Skill: Corrosion Resistance]

[Pending Skill: Acid Breath]

[Estimated Synchronization Load: High]

[High synchronization load may cause extreme hunger, physical exhaustion, and temporary soul fatigue.]

[Proceed?]

Jin chose [Proceed].

Their contract flooded with energy.

Pressure slammed in behind Jin’s eyes. A sharp headache followed, whitening the edges of the room. He had prepared for pain. He kept Data Appraisal fixed on Glitch’s heartbeat and let it pass through him.

The instincts were worse.

Wet metal beneath clawed feet.

Acid spreading in a cone across the arena.

The timing of a dodge, not at the Rotmist Salamander’s inhale, but a fraction later, once its head had fully committed.

Waiting while poison rose through the body. Refusing the first opening because the target would come closer. Then the certainty of now when the glow behind the gills faded.

Four victories and every near failure behind them rushed across a soul-link that had never been built to carry that much experience at once. For several terrible seconds, Jin’s body forgot the dorm room around him. His shoulders jerked as if avoiding an attack. His hands shifted for balance on rusted pipes that did not exist.

Then the flood moved into Glitch.

His claws sank into the blanket. He became perfectly still, not from fear, but with a hunting focus the real Glitch had never shown before. The avatar’s experience settled into muscle and nerve until it stopped being memory and became reflex.

Glitch would not remember every death in Rustwater Drain.

His body would remember what each one had taught him.

The physical growth came next.

Muscle compacted beneath his scales, gaining density without adding much size. His obsidian hide darkened into a smoother, polished black. His claws lengthened and sharpened. The small horn buds above his skull rose by another amount so slight most people would never notice.

None of the changes were dramatic. Even so, the beast standing on the blanket no longer carried himself like the one Meridian had weighed that afternoon. His balance was different. Every motion used less effort. His weight settled naturally where it needed to be for a turn, a leap, or a brace.

He still looked like a Grey Rock Lizard.

He looked like one that had received several weeks of real growth in a single moment.

Glitch kept his jaw tight and made no sound.

The bond was far less dignified.

Painful. Extremely painful. I am handling this exceptionally well. Food should already be happening.

"Soon," Jin said through his headache. "Your circulation hasn’t finished changing. Stay still."

Glitch answered with immediate outrage at the accusation that he had moved.

Corrosion Resistance began integrating next.

The adjustment did not gather in one organ or channel. It spread through his entire body. His scales toughened against hostile substances. The tissue below them adapted, then his internal energy circulation changed to support it.

It was not immunity. Strong acid could still burn him, and a more powerful beast could force through the resistance. But corrosive substances that once would have eaten through his defenses quickly would now take longer and do less damage.

Acid Breath arrived differently.

Glitch’s spine arched.

A fresh channel began forcing its way out from his core, through his chest, and toward his throat. His heartbeat jumped. Jin leaned closer as Data Appraisal raced over a pressure pattern it had never seen before. Glitch’s body was trying to construct something a Grey Rock Lizard had no natural reason to possess.

For one awful moment, the energy had nowhere to go.

Glitch gagged. A sharp sour smell entered the room.

"Easy," Jin said. His hand hovered close without touching. "Don’t push it."

The new pathway finally opened behind Glitch’s jaws.

Pressure gathered there, hot, corrosive, and ready to discharge. Glitch’s eyes went wide. Instinct had already taught him how to use the new part of himself, a limb that was not a limb.

Even through the pain, curiosity rose through the bond.

His head turned toward the closest empty wall.

"No."

Glitch looked back at him.

"That skill melted reinforced platforms. You’re not testing it on my security deposit."