Ding! You Pick 5 Charisma.
The overwhelming surge of energy coursing through me as I absorbed that colossal orb, was still vivid, almost tactile. It had felt like being plunged into the heart of a miniature sun, every fiber of my being vibrating with an unfamiliar power. And then, the calm. A subtle shift, an internal adjustment that settled into something… different.
That's when the disembodied voice had spoken, clear as a bell despite the ringing in my ears.
Charisma. It wasn't the raw power I'd expected from such a potent source. It wasn't a sudden increase in strength or speed. It was… something else. An almost imperceptible change in the way I felt, the way I carried myself. A quiet hum of self-assurance that resonated from somewhere deep within.
Five charisma. From all that energy? It feels… underwhelming, somehow. I was expecting to be able to move mountains, not… charm them.
Yet, as I stood in the training room, the metallic tang of my own blood a stark reminder of Sweet Mask's superior skill in our recent sparring match, a subtle difference was there. The sting of defeat was still sharp, the ache in my muscles a constant throb, but the usual undercurrent of self-doubt, that familiar voice whispering about my inadequacy, was… quieter. Less insistent.
"Five charisma," I muttered, leaning against the cool, padded wall, trying to regulate my breathing. Each inhale still sent a jolt of pain through my bruised ribs. "So that's what all that light and energy translated into."
Maybe it's not about brute force. Maybe absorbing that orb wasn't about becoming physically stronger, at least not immediately. Maybe it was about… something else. Something Sweet Mask possesses in spades.
His effortless grace, the almost hypnotic way he moved, the subtle confidence that radiated from him even as he delivered a brutal beating… could that be it? Could this newfound charisma be a pale imitation, a mere fraction of that inherent quality he possessed?
A wry smile touched my lips, despite the soreness in my jaw. "Well, it certainly didn't help me land a single decent blow," I admitted to the empty room, my reflection in the mirrored wall showing a less-than-heroic figure – battered, sweat-soaked, and sporting the beginnings of a rather impressive bruise on my cheekbone.
But… did I flinch as much? Did I hesitate as long before reacting? It's hard to tell in the middle of being thoroughly outmatched.
As I pushed myself off the wall, wincing at the protesting muscles, I noticed something subtle. When my eyes met my reflection, there was a flicker of something I hadn't seen before. Not arrogance, not exactly confidence in my fighting ability, but a steadier gaze. A hint of… resilience?
"Maybe," I mused aloud, my voice a little less defeated, "it's not about avoiding the beating. Maybe it's about how you take it. How you get back up."
The memory of Sweet Mask's almost clinical analysis after the sparring session surfaced. His words, though critical, hadn't felt entirely dismissive. There had been a hint of… something else. Respect? Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on my part.
He still wiped the floor with me. No doubt about that. But… I didn't break. I kept trying. Even when it felt pointless.
I flexed my aching fingers, the metallic scent of blood still clinging to them. The five points of charisma hadn't magically transformed me into a fighting prodigy. But perhaps, just perhaps, it had given me a sliver of something else. A touch more resolve. A slightly stronger sense of self, even in the face of overwhelming defeat.
"Alright," I said to my reflection, a newfound determination hardening my gaze. "Five charisma. Let's see if it helps me learn from this. Let's see if it helps me face him again. Maybe next time… maybe next time I won't just be a punching bag."
The training room still felt vast and unforgiving, the echoes of Sweet Mask's devastating strikes still lingering in the air. But the weight of defeat felt… slightly lighter. The prospect of facing him again, though still daunting, held a flicker of something akin to anticipation. Maybe five charisma wasn't about dodging blows. Maybe it was about facing them with a little more… well, charm wasn't the right word. But maybe, just maybe, it was about facing them with a little more inner steel.