"System."
His voice dropped into that register — flat, deliberate, the voice he used when he was giving an order to something that had no choice but to listen.
"Use all the incubus points I've collected. Direct conversion. Everything — straight into stats."
'[Are you sure you want to harvest all accumulated Incubus Points directly into base stats?]'
"Of course I do."
The number appeared.
'10,000,000 IP.'
He looked at it.
And for the first time in several minutes, something in his chest that had been tight simply — released.
'Ten million.'
Fifteen days. Fifteen days of heroines — real ones, the kind whose names meant something in the ledgers of fate, women who had carried the weight of entire worlds on their decision-making — reduced to trembling, begging, utterly claimed things beneath his hands.
He had earned every single point.
The conversion hit him like a tide coming in through every nerve simultaneously.
He felt his veins first.
