“I made six Power-Leverage Cards, and they all sold out in a flash.”

  Draped in a pure white cloak, Helier poured the shimmering currency onto the table, his eyes reflecting the shine of the coins.

  After the first card was sold, he used his powerful regenerative ability to make five more, pricing them all at one hundred Twilight Gloams each.

  The system had suggested he raise the price—it’d still sell, no problem—but he ignored the advice. The system sighed, thinking, Fine, donate blood for bread. Guess we’re doing charity now.

  What made it worse was that the Witch Association literally mailed Helier a brick-hard piece of bread as thanks for “supporting the Power-Leverage Card initiative.” The system was dumbfounded—They’re really this considerate? For the first time, it felt just a little defeated.

  After all, no matter how fast one heals, without energy replenishment, the body doesn’t magically regrow what's lost.

  Helier chewed on the bread while reviewing the transaction log.

  “Player: ‘Thirty-Meter Machete’ bought one card. Player: ‘Hero Kid Passing By’ got two. And this guy, ‘Definitely Not a Falcon,’ bought three—left a five-star review too?”

  “My card art really that good?” he asked the system again, a hopeful gleam on his face.

  “That’s the third time you’ve asked.” The system cut in bluntly. It knew Helier just wanted more praise to build confidence. Nope. Denied.

  “There are three reasons your cards are selling. Open your profile.”

  “Oh.” Helier, a bit deflated, tapped open his character info panel.

  The screen was divided into two parts. The upper section showed public-facing details—gender, age, position, battle records—harmless stuff. The lower section contained deeper stats like abilities and painting skill, visualized through charts.

  “I adjusted your age to thirteen, remember? Keep that in mind when you're trading contact info or socializing with other players. Anyway—look here.” The system zoomed into the lower chart. “Check your current stats.”

  Strength: 10

  HP: 21

  Defense: 7

  Agility: 15

  Regeneration: 32

  Soulpaint: 64

  Helier leaned in and blinked, a little surprised. “Whoa, the last two are crazy high.” On the radar chart, his Soulpaint stat was literally off the charts.

  “Killing Devourbeasts and reclaiming stars earns you energy points, which you can use to enhance one stat.”

  “And when choosing which one to boost, it’s best to go with what suits your body type. Yours is special—you naturally excel in Regeneration and Soulpaint. When you upgrade those, the effect doubles. That’s why I preemptively invested points into them.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “That’s reason one,” the system said seriously.

  Helier nodded, his chin unconsciously lifting in pride.

  “Reason two: Most players early on focus on offensive paint techniques. They’re racing against time, grinding levels, often taking on higher-tier challenges despite the risks.”

  Helier suddenly recalled what the reporter had said. Most players were driven by intense goals—some probably had entire worlds to save.

  In that case, it made sense they’d lean into high-efficiency offensive techniques.

  He felt again how different he was. No pressure. No grand ambition. So of course, the first painting skill he grasped was a support-type.

  But he was fine with that. Minor Healing Spell was surprisingly handy.

  “What’s the third reason?” he asked.

  “The lowest-tier healing potion currently available costs 200 Gloams, and it restores just 5 HP. Not worth it.”

  “Five HP’s a lot though? I could chug four and be full!”

  “One bottle is a thousand milliliters.”

  “…”

  Yeah, no thanks. He’d probably throw up before he healed.

  He closed the panel. Half a day left before Round Two began.

  Might as well sell more cards while he still had time—he opened the Power-Leverage menu again… and immediately got shut down.

  “Nope. Enough business. Time to eat. Proper meals are crucial for stat growth.” The system’s tone was cold and firm. Thanks to the Witch Association’s recent reminder, it had resolved to take better care of Helier’s health.

  It spent every last Gloam he had on ingredients, then taught him how to cook. Together, they whipped up a colorful feast, which the system made him finish entirely.

  This meal was specifically designed to boost Strength, HP, and Defense. Without it, Helier’s tiny frame would probably explode the next time he absorbed a star.

  When he finally swallowed the last bite, he had just one hour left to rest.

  He glanced at his flat wallet and sighed.

  “Mr. System… I was gonna buy a Power-Leverage Card, you know. I don’t even have an attack skill right now.”

  “You do. It’s in your inventory.”

  The system opened his inventory, highlighting an item with a glow—a beautifully illustrated card featuring a spirit beast.

  Helier’s eyes went wide. He’d completely forgotten about it!

  “But… this is a one-use card too, right?” He cradled the card like it was made of glass. No way he’d burn it unless he was on death’s door.

  “Nope. This is a Stellar Card—reusable. But it consumes Timanl’s energy each time you activate it.”

  “Sounds a bit... harsh on the local ecosystem. Is there a way to recharge it?”

  “Sure. Burn your Soulpaint. You’re Timanl’s star now, remember? As long as your recharge rate stays ahead of your usage, it won’t hurt the local balance—in fact, it can enhance the energy cycle.”

  Helier instantly perked up, smile unstoppable. Stellar Cards were perfect for him—he regenerated fast.

  Just thinking about that spirit beast’s insane combat power made him feel invincible.

  “Alright, it’s time. Head to the plaza!”

  He couldn’t wait. He wanted to fight right now!

  He packed up, rushed out, checked out of the inn, and dashed to the gathering point.

  Plenty of players were already there. Compared to the first round, everyone’s gear looked way more advanced—except for their paintbrushes. They still needed those to channel color properly.

  They stood before a portal, every one of them radiating power and confidence. Well, except for Witch Enna. She looked deathly pale, like she could collapse any second.

  Still, she leaned on her wand like a cane and dutifully stepped forward to host the event. Just one more hour—then she could crawl back to her data-crunching dungeon. Wait… something didn’t feel right…

  “Dear players, the second-round selection is about to begin.”

  “Those who pass will be promoted to official players.”

  “Now then, allow little ol’ me to explain the rules! Although, you all seem so talented, maybe you’ve already guessed.”

  Ahem.

  “For Round Two—each player will be assigned to a different star… and will proceed solo!”