SSS-Rank: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Silas Veil stood there for several long seconds, staring at the glowing blue screen as though it might vanish if he blinked. His breath came in ragged bursts, sweat rolling down his temples.

Then, all at once, he sank to the floor, knees pulled up against his chest. His knife lay discarded nearby, still glinting with a smear of blood.

A wide, trembling grin stretched across his face.

Finally…

He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. For a moment it almost looked like he might cry.

Then he lifted his head. And started laughing.

I'm going to be the strongest man alive.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down into his eyebrows. His grin widened, teeth bared.

This whole fucking world is going to kneel.

He lurched upright, stumbling over the coffee table and almost knocking over the flickering TV.

"I need my Awakened Card." His voice came out high and tight. "Where the hell is my damn card—"

He tore through the living room first, tossing stained cushions aside, flipping over the coffee table. Coins, receipts, and a crushed ramen cup skittered across the floor.

He ripped open a cabinet under the TV, scattering a tangle of dusty cables.

Come on, come on…

He sprinted into the kitchen. Drew open every drawer. Plastic bags and cracked Tupperware flew out in all directions.

The sweat on his face turned cold and clammy.

Where the fuck is it?!

He darted into the cramped bedroom. Clothes were flung over the bed like confetti. He kicked open the closet door, nearly ripped a shelf off its hinges.

Nothing.

He was panting, hair sticking to his damp forehead. A broken laugh crawled up his throat.

This is ridiculous. I'm about to be the strongest Awakened in the world—and I can't find my stupid fucking card.

He stormed back to the living room, eyes scanning wildly. His gaze dropped to the overflowing trash bin near the kitchen counter.

…No way.

He crossed the room in three strides. He plunged both hands into the garbage, peeling back crumpled takeout bags, sticky soda cans, and old receipts. The stench hit him like a slap.

Finally, near the bottom, his fingers closed around something rigid. He yanked it free.

It was a slim plastic card, scuffed and creased at the edges, the holographic lettering barely visible anymore. The official seal of the Awakened Association glimmered faintly under a film of grease.

"Found you," he whispered.

He held it up, eyes wild, grinning so hard it hurt his cheeks.

"Finally… it's time to make some good use of this piece of shit."

He flicked a bit of grime off the card.

"I'm gonna advance this to SSS-rank. The top of the top. The world's going to remember my name."

He crossed to a battered cardboard wardrobe leaning in one corner. It was held together with duct tape and sheer stubbornness.

He tugged the flap open and pawed through the hanging clothes: cheap T-shirts, faded jeans, a single collared shirt he'd used for job interviews.

At the back, he found a black coat. The fabric was threadbare, the lining frayed, but it still gave him an air of something darker, something dangerous.

He slipped it over his shoulders, breathing quickening.

It's time.

*The Taxi Ride*

The storm outside had eased, but the city still glistened under neon reflections as Silas stalked out of his building, shoulders hunched, coat flaring around his legs.

He practically leapt into the back seat of a taxi idling at the curb.

"Awakened Headquarters. Fast."

The driver glanced at Silas in the rearview mirror—and visibly recoiled.

Silas's face was damp with sweat, eyes glittering like a man possessed. His lips were curved in an unsettling grin.

Now I can do anything. Anything. No one's gonna laugh at me ever again. Nathan Cross? I'll blow past him. I'll be at the top of the rankings, SSS rank. Hell, I'll make them invent a whole new rank for me.

The driver swallowed and pressed the accelerator harder. The taxi shot through slick streets, tires hissing over rainwater.

Every time the driver peeked into the mirror, Silas was grinning back, silent and trembling with excitement.

Money. Fame. Power. Women. Everything's mine for the taking. Let them try to look down on me now.

*The Headquarters*

Fifteen minutes later, the taxi skidded to a halt in front of a sleek glass building glowing with pale blue sigils: AWAKENED ASSOCIATION — NEW AVALON BRANCH.

Silas practically threw cash at the driver and tumbled out onto the sidewalk, coat flapping in the wind.

Inside, cold white lights gleamed off marble floors. Holo-displays hovered in the air, listing dungeon clear records, emergency Gate alerts, and rankings of the continent's top Hunters.

Silas strode up to the front counter, his eyes ablaze, sweat still shining on his face.

Behind the counter sat a young woman in an official uniform, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She was typing on a holographic keyboard, barely looking up.

Silas slapped his battered Awakened Card onto the counter.

"I want access to an E-rank dungeon. Solo clearance."

The woman blinked. She glanced down at the card, then up at Silas's face.

She squinted.

"Are… you even at that level?"