My Level Is 1, But My Damage Is Infinite

Six Years of Nothing

Chapter 2: Six Years of Nothing

The high-pitched wail of Peacekeeper sirens cut through the heavy, dust-laden air of the lower district. Blue and red lights began to pulsate against the far-off skyscrapers, signaling the arrival of the city’s rapid response units.

"We’re leaving, Eka! Right now!" Mick shouted, his voice cracking as he stumbled over a pile of pulverized concrete. "You hear me? If you're smart, you'll crawl into a hole and stay there!"

"Mick, shut up and run!" Garrett barked, not even looking back. "If they find us near this much damage, they’ll lock us in the abyss! Come on!"

Eka stood amidst the ruins of the alleyway, watching his former partners vanish into the shadows of the standing buildings. He was alone with the silence of the leveled street.

"Right," Eka whispered to himself. "Run. That’s what I’m good at, isn't it?"

[Warning: Level 1 Identity remains constant.]

[Stored Damage: 0.02% ... Accumulating...]

"I know, I know. You don't have to tell me every five seconds," Eka muttered, clutching his side. "Damn it, it hurts to breathe. Where am I supposed to go?"

He looked at the open gap in the city where a warehouse had stood only minutes prior. "My room was two blocks that way. Well, I guess I’m homeless now too. Fantastic."

A low-frequency hum vibrated in the air. A drone.

"Target identified in Sector 4," a metallic voice droned from the sky. "Please remain stationary for identification."

"Not a chance," Eka said. He pivoted on his heel, ignoring the groan of his battered ribs, and ducked into the nearest sewer grate. "Stay stationary? What, so you can see a Level 1 did this? No thank you."

He slid down the slick iron rungs, his boots splashing into a shallow stream of runoff. The damp, cold air of the underground hit him like a physical wall.

"Okay, breathe," he told himself, leaning against the damp brickwork. "Focus. One foot after the other. Just like every other day for six years. Left. Right. Don't die. Simple enough."

He navigated the maze of tunnels with the practiced ease of someone who had spent their childhood in the slums. After ten minutes of rapid walking, he pushed his way up through a loose maintenance cover, emerging in a graveyard for rusted shipping containers.

"Still in the slums," Eka gasped, pulling himself onto the concrete. "Good. No drones here. Too much junk to scan through."

"Who’s there?" a voice rasped from the shadows of a container.

Eka froze. "Just a traveler."

An old man with skin like parchment and one cybernetic eye peered out from a makeshift shanty. "Eka? Is that you? You look like you fell out of a meat grinder."

"Hey, Uncle Jo," Eka said, forced to slow down as his vision blurred. "Rough day at the office."

"Rough day? You’re bleeding from your ears, kid," Uncle Jo said, stepping out and holding a chipped ceramic mug. "Come here. Sit. I’ve got some clean water."

"I can't stay," Eka said, though his legs buckled beneath him. "I really... I really need to lie down."

"Then lie down," the old man insisted, guiding him to a moth-eaten sofa inside the container. "What happened? Did that hunter Garrett finally lose his mind and use you as a shield again?"

"Something like that," Eka murmured, resting his head back. "They left me. Said I was dead weight."

"They always do. Scum of the earth, those D-rankers," Uncle Jo spat. "Think they're kings because they can light a match with mana."

"I met my quota today, Jo," Eka whispered, his eyes closing. "I really hit it."

"Sure you did. Now shut up. I’ll look for some bandages."

As Eka drifted on the edge of consciousness, the faces of his past began to swirl in the dark.

"Brother? Look at me! I did it!"

"Eka, see? I'm Rank C already. The academy is so much easier than you said."

He saw his younger sister, Rina, her uniform crisp and her guild insignia gleaming. She had looked at him with that mixture of pride and pity that hurt worse than a punch.

"You're still Rank F, Eka?" she had asked during their last dinner. "The instructors say that if you haven't moved after three years, your mana circuits must be permanently closed. Maybe... maybe you should just come home? I can pay for everything now."

"I'm close, Rina," he had lied, gripping his fork so hard it bent. "I can feel it. I just need one big day. One big break."

"But it’s dangerous," she had said, her voice soft. "The porters are getting killed every day. You're Level 1. You have zero defense stats. One stray arrow and you're gone."

"I've got thick skin," he had joked.

"Is it worth it?" a voice echoed in his memory. It wasn't Rina. It was the head of his team at the guild office. "Eka, your badge is practically a relic. Most people quit after six months at Level 1. Why are you still paying the registration f*e?"

"Because," Eka told the memory. "Because if I quit... then the damage was for nothing."

He sat up with a start, his hand flying to his chest. "Wait."

"Easy there," Jo said, entering with a basin of water. "You’ve been out for an hour."

"My ribs," Eka said, his brow furrowed. "They... Jo, look."

He pulled aside the tatters of his shirt. The deep, purple bruising that had covered his torso was gone. The jagged line where a Hound’s claw had scraped his side was nothing but a faint, pink scar.

"What in the world?" Jo squinted his cybernetic eye, the lens clicking as it zoomed. "You had a broken collarbone, Eka. I heard it grating when I helped you down."

"It’s gone," Eka whispered. "It doesn't hurt. At all."

"Did you take a potion?"

"I don't have money for water, Jo, let alone a high-tier healing draught."

Eka looked at his palm. It was clean. Perfect. He felt better than he had in years. He felt light.

"Check your status," Jo suggested, leaning forward. "Maybe you finally evolved into a Guardian class. Instant regeneration is an A-rank perk."

Eka summoned the screen.

[Name: Eka Pradana]

[Level: 1]

[Rank: F]

[Condition: Fully Healed]

[Stored Kinetic Charge: 0.00%]

"Level 1," Eka said, his heart sinking. "Still."

"Wait," Eka said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The charge. It says zero percent."

"What charge?"

"When I hit those things back in the alley... I felt this emptiness. Like a tank had been drained," Eka explained, his mind racing. "When I was hurt, I could feel the hum. The power. Now that I'm healed... it’s empty."

"So, what? You’re saying your power only works when you're a mess?" Jo laughed. "That’s the most 'Level 1 porter' luck I’ve ever heard of."

"It’s not funny, Jo," Eka said, standing up. He felt too healthy. Too vulnerable. "If the damage heals instantly, I can't build up the energy. I’ll be back to being a normal Level 1 guy."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not if a dragon is coming for me," Eka said. He picked up a small, jagged stone from the floor of the container. "I need to know. Jo, how far away is that old steel girdir?"

Jo looked out the container door at the remnants of a collapsed construction crane fifty feet away. "About twenty yards. Why?"

Eka looked at his thumb. He remembered the feeling in the alley. The way the air felt heavy before the strike. He focused on the tiny bit of energy that had accumulated since he woke up—the 0.02%.

"Let's see," Eka murmured.

He placed the stone against his middle finger, forming a flicking posture. He didn't use his arm. He didn't lunge. He simply released the tension.

Click.

The stone didn't fly. It vanished.

A millisecond later, the thick steel girdir twenty yards away let out a sound like a gunshot. A hole the size of a fist appeared in the center of the four-inch-thick metal, with the surrounding steel curling outward like wet paper. The shockwave of the impact sent a cloud of rust into the air.

Silence returned to the scrapyard.

"Uh," Jo said, his cybernetic eye whirring frantically. "Eka?"

"Yeah, Jo?"

"You didn't throw that. You flicked it."

"I noticed," Eka said, staring at his finger. It didn't even hurt.

"That girdir is reinforced Grade-B alloy," Jo said, his voice trembling. "A siege tank wouldn't do that with a direct hit."

"Stored charge at 0.00% again," Eka noted, looking at the screen. "Jo... I think I figured it out."

"Figured what out? That you're a walking disaster?"

"My skill isn't about damage I do to others," Eka said, a wild, dangerous glint in his eyes. "It’s a conversion system. Every hit I’ve taken for six years... every broken bone, every kick from Garrett, every slap from a monster... the system wasn't letting me level up because it was busy turning that pain into a battery."

"A six-year battery," Jo whispered. "Good gods."

"But it heals me to clear the space for more," Eka realized. "I need to stay partially broken to keep the 'charge' in the system. If I heal completely, I lose the instant-access energy."

"So you're saying you have to stay hurt to stay strong?"

Eka looked back toward the high district, where the lights were bright and the monsters—both human and otherwise—lived in luxury.

"Whatever it takes," Eka said. "I'm not going back to being their bait."

"Wh

ere are you going?" Jo asked as Eka stepped out into the night.

"To find someone who wants to try and break me," Eka said. "I have a lot of time to make up for."