Next morning, Fenric washed up, ate, and—since his father was still on night shift and hadn’t returned—he decided to stay home a bit and test the limits of his Telekinesis.
Test 1: TV.
With a thought—float. The set lifted cleanly from the stand. Easy.
Test 2: Refrigerator.
He focused; the appliance shuddered, then rose an inch, held.
Heavy, but doable.
Good thing Dad’s not here. Walk in on a levitating fridge and he’d call a priest.
Test 3: Sofa.
This one barely budged. Fenric walked over, hefted it manually, eyeballed the mass. Four to five hundred jin. When he switched back to pure telekinesis, strain hit.
[TL/n: 1 jin = 500 grams = 0.5 kilograms = approximately 1.1 pounds (lb).]
Conclusion: at his current stats (~Spirit 200), he could reliably lift around 400+ jin by mind power—but not comfortably clear 500.
Rough rule? Spirit ≈ kg of lift? Close enough for now. No need to obsess over decimals.
Key takeaway: raw Strength ≠ mind‑power lift ceiling. Physically, with his boosted Strength he could dead‑lift a thousand jin without sweating; telekinetically he capped much lower. Still, telekinesis wins on reach, precision, and surprise. You can’t block what you don’t see
Satisfied, he headed to school.
He fully expected campus gossip about Shura’s latest SSS run to be everywhere.
Nope.
The second he walked into class, dozens of eyes latched onto him—curious, sour, speculative.
For a heartbeat he wondered: Did my real identity leak?
He sat, schooling his expression to bored calm. Before he could ask, Jitto lunged over the desk.
Jitto: "Ric, what the heck? I hit the restroom after school yesterday and Isla came looking for you—invited you to her birthday today!?"
Fenric: "How do you know?"
Jitto: "How does everyone not know? Even the gate guard’s talking like you two are a thing! Look around—every dude’s giving you death stares. Quiet kid scores the school flower? You monster."
The envy was thick enough to butter toast.
Fenric relaxed. So that’s all. As long as the Shura vest stayed hidden, campus drama was background noise.
He raised his voice—not just to Jitto, but for all the eavesdropping heads within three rows.
"Don’t overthink it. I pulled her out of the river bus accident—she’s being polite. Just a thank‑you meal."
Ripples rolled through the room. Jealousy remained, but the heavier hostility eased. Credit where it’s due: high‑school boys can forgive a hero saving a beauty; what they can’t forgive is their goddess being stolen.
Jitto (low): "You sure it’s just that?"
Fenric: "Yes."
Jitto leaned closer, whispering, "Word is Tazhan
Fenric: "...Tarzan who?"
Jitto smacked his forehead. "Did river water scramble your brain? It’s Tazhan not Tarzan. Campus genius. Top rich second gen. Ten days ago he hit a B‑grade in Chinatown Detective—2,000 points. Whole school talked about it."
"And," Jitto went on, "he’s the guy who did the supercar confession parade at Isla. During the admissions fair his combined stats were barely under hers. They’ve both already been pre‑admitted to the same Ability University."
He squinted. "If you’re serious about Isla, you better move."
Fenric: "I’ve been following monsters like Shura lately, so maybe I let the local celebrities slide."
Jitto: "Yeah right—Shura’s way outta—" He stopped mid‑scoff, remembering his "ordinary" friend had silently cleared up to the fourth floor of Samsara. "...Okay, I take that back. Still—if Tazhan causes trouble, call me. I want front‑row seats when you flatten him."
Fenric: "You two even sound alike. Brothers?"
Jitto: "Don’t drag me into that guy’s mud. Half the school hates him. Promise me—if he jumps you, hit hard."
Fenric: "Childish. Not interested."
And he meant it. High‑school turf nonsense didn’t move him anymore. Strength—the real kind—lived in the Samsara Tower.
Conversation done, Fenric pulled out his phone.
Time to prep.
Tonight, cooldown lifted; he intended to enter the Third Stage—the One Piece dungeon.
He skimmed community boards for public raid notes, event triggers, early‑stage safe islands, starter faction routes...
Predictably, the net was on fire again. His alter "Shura" had swept the feeds. Yesterday’s Mountain Village Old CorpseSSS announcement detonated across every forum.
One SSS could be luck. Two might still be fluke—if you were brain‑damaged.
Three in a row? Across rising difficulty, including a nightmare‑rated instance?
No one with a functioning cortex called that coincidence anymore.
Leg‑hugging memes had already started.