The Mob Character Who Woke Up!-Chapter 61: Choosing the right stat! (2)

As for Intelligence, that was sitting comfortably at twelve already, which was technically above average and something many students would be proud of, but the problem was that it was innate.

Kaizen had not trained for it or earned it through suffering. He was simply born with that level of understanding, and apparently the system did not count natural talent toward the sacred ten-point threshold required for a rank breakthrough.

Which he found deeply offensive.

’For Intelligence, I already have assistance anyway,’ he reminded himself.

He was referring to his passive skill, [Native Soul Instinct], the strange blessing that caused the world to recognize him as a native soul and subtly grant him the ability to grasp concepts faster than he reasonably should.

It was like the universe occasionally leaned in and whispered helpful hints directly into his brain while everyone else was forced to read the manual twice. Which was bullshit because as he got after waking up here, was nothing short of bad luck!

So Intelligence was not the urgent issue.

Then his eyes drifted downward.

[Luck: -5]

His left eye twitched violently.

Luck was essential in ways that could not even be measured properly.

Luck decided whether you found treasure or traps. Luck decided whether an enemy’s attack narrowly missed or catastrophically crit your skull. Luck decided whether you walked into an empty corridor or directly into a boss encounter you were not emotionally prepared for.

And right now his Luck was sitting at negative five.

Negative.

Five.

He did not even know how that was legal.

He was extremely tempted to immediately dump all of his hard-earned attribute points into Luck just to drag it back into positive numbers and beg the universe to stop personally targeting him for comedic suffering.

However, the numbers were cruel.

Even if he invested ten full points into Luck right now, negative five plus ten would only bring him to five, and five was not enough to trigger the breakthrough requirement.

He needed at least ten in a stat to rank up properly, and wasting points without achieving a breakthrough would be the kind of mistake that got people killed later.

Which meant that if he rushed the investment now, he would burn his precious points and still remain F-minus. He knew where the next hidden dungeons are that doesn’t mean, he know all the crucial details and the fact, that if he even survives with his pitiful rank.

He inhaled slowly and forced himself to calm down, because this was not some casual build in a game where he could reset if he made a mistake. This was his actual life, and once a decision was made, there was no convenient button labeled "Undo."

Mana was necessary for the future.

Intelligence was already serviceable thanks to his skill.

Luck was desperately tempting but mathematically inefficient right now.

He could not afford emotional decisions.

He needed something that would help him survive immediately, not something that merely looked good on a status screen.

So that leaves only one logical answer.

[Vitality: 3]

Getting hit was inevitable in this world. Especially when your roommate was a Demon King Candidate and your supposed best friend was a Hero who attracted meteor showers and natural disasters.

Vitality meant health pool. It meant sturdy bones that didn’t break from a stiff breeze. It meant not dying from his asthma after running ten feet. It meant he could take a punch from a Goon without needing an expensive healing potion immediately.

Not to mention, with a sturdy build he could withstand more beatings using his pan strategy, storing and transferring all that accumulated energy for one single devastating smack that would end fights quickly.

’I need to be a Tank. A tank with a Pan.’

Kaizen made his final choice.

’System, dump all ten points into Vitality.’

Ding.

[Vitality: 3 becomes 13]

[Rank Up! F- becomes F]

[HP Recalculating...]

A wave of warmth washed over him like being wrapped in a heated blanket. His breathing smoothed out and became easier. His back popped in several places.

He felt solid for the first time in his life.

For the first time since arriving in this world, he didn’t feel like a strong breeze would knock him over. He felt like he could take on this entire world all by himself.

Man, this power!

"Yes! Just a few more dungeon runs and I will officially become unkillable. I will be a walking fortress. A defensive masterpiece. An immovable object wrapped in budget cookware!"

Kaizen grinned to himself and gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up, fully convinced that destiny was finally beginning to respect him.

With his chest puffed out and his confidence inflated to dangerous levels, he took a bold, heroic step forward into the future.

WHAM.

The future did not move.

"Oof!"

Kaizen bounced backward and fell flat on his backside.

It was not the fall of a weak man. It was the fall of a man who had just collided with something that felt less like a person and more like a reinforced castle wall cleverly disguised as a student.

He landed hard on his hip and lay there for a second, staring at the sky like it had personally betrayed him.

"Ouch. Okay," he muttered while rubbing his side, "maybe not unkillable yet."

"Man, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?"

The voice that reached him was smooth and melodic, polite in a way that sounded natural instead of forced, and filled with genuine concern that made it almost suspicious.

Kaizen blinked and looked up while wincing.

Standing over him, offering a hand, was an Elf.

And not just any elf.

He was tall in a way that felt unnecessary. Not tall because genetics happened, but tall like the universe had deliberately added extra centimeters just to insult the shorter races.

His long moss-green hair was tied back in a neat, stylish ponytail that probably took effort to look effortless. His light green eyes shimmered with playful warmth, and the academy uniform somehow fit him like it had been custom-tailored by destiny itself.

He looked perfect.

He looked friendly.

He looked approachable.

He looked like someone who would help old ladies cross the street and then accidentally win a popularity contest without trying.

Kaizen immediately disliked him.

Deeply.

Passionately.

With conviction.

Obviously, this had nothing to do with the fact that the elf looked like he had walked straight out of a romance cover while Kaizen currently resembled someone who had lost a fight to a brick wall.

It absolutely had nothing to do with that.

Not even a little bit.