Prestige Grinding : I Can Reset My Level

The clinking of dishes finally came to a stop as the last plate was placed in the drying rack. Sora dried his hands, glancing at his father as he moved around the kitchen, a comfortable silence settling over them.

Sora’s mother steps came from upstairs and she soon joined the rest of the group. Kara stood quietly at the edge of the room, her eyes flickering between the three of them as they wrapped up their evening routine.

Sora’s father, Henri, stretched his back and let out a satisfied sigh. "Well, that’s done. Time for bed, I suppose." He turned to Sora and Kara, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "So, are you two sharing Sora’s room?"

Kara froze, her face flushing a deep shade of pink as she quickly looked at Sora, her mouth slightly agape. She opened it to protest but couldn’t find the right words. The idea of sharing a room with Sora, after all the teasing earlier, made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

Sora raised a hand, ready to deflect the situation, but before he could say anything, his mother, Marie, swiftly intervened. "Henri, stop teasing them," she scolded, giving her husband a light swat on the arm. She turned to Kara with a gentle smile. "Don’t worry, dear. You’ll be staying in Nathan’s room."

Kara blinked, her confusion deepening. "Nathan?" she repeated, glancing at Sora as if asking for an explanation.

Seeing the subtle exchange, Marie’s expression softened. She led Kara out of the kitchen, her voice quieter now. "Nathan was Sora’s older brother. He... passed away two years ago." There was a weight in her words, a quiet sadness that made Kara pause.

Kara swallowed, choosing her words carefully. "I’m... I’m sorry to hear that," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine sympathy. She could feel the heaviness of the unspoken grief lingering in the air, and she wished there was something more she could say, something to lighten the mood, but nothing felt appropriate. So she followed quietly as Marie led the way.

Sora trailed behind them, his eyes distant. As they reached the door to Nathan’s room, Sora felt a pang in his chest. The door creaked open, and as they stepped inside, the memories rushed back, unbidden.

The room was neatly preserved, just as Nathan had left it. Sora’s eyes immediately fell on a drawing framed on the wall. He couldn’t help but pause, staring at the crude lines and shaky coloring that depicted a scene from their childhood.

In the drawing, a younger version of Sora sat crying on the ground, his knees pulled to his chest, watching as his older brother, Nathan, stood between him and a group of boys, fists raised in defense. The boys had been bullying Sora—mocking him for being different, for being adopted, for having lost his parents.

Sora’s throat tightened as he remembered that day. He had been scared, too scared to fight back, but Nathan had never hesitated. His big brother had always been his protector, standing tall against anything that threatened him. He had gifted the drawing to his big brother. The memory of Nathan shielding him, holding up the sky when it felt like it would fall, had stayed with Sora all these years.

In the corner of the room, Sora noticed the guitar—the same one he had saved up for when he got his first paycheck as a Human Resource Assistant, back before the world had transformed into the chaotic game it had become. Nathan had always dreamed of learning to play, but the World Update had gotten in the way. Sora’s chest ached at the sight of it, a reminder of a simpler time that was now lost forever.

His gaze shifted to another picture on the nightstand. It showed Nathan, Sora, and a girl between them, all smiling widely. They had been inseparable back then, three friends against the world.

Seeing the photo now made Sora’s heart clench. The girl in the photo...

"I’ll see you in the morning," Sora said quietly, stepping out of the room before anyone could respond. The emotions were too much—too raw. He needed to be alone.

Marie, noticing the shift in her son’s demeanor, sighed and followed him out. As she left, she grabbed the picture frame with Nathan and Rachel, gently taking it with her.

Kara, confused by the sudden change in mood, stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. She felt like she had intruded on something deeply personal. She took a deep breath, glancing around the room. It had been tidied up, the bed freshly made—Marie must have prepared it earlier while they were cleaning the dishes. Despite being an unused room, it smelled fresh, like it had been aired out recently.

As Kara moved toward the nightstand, her eyes fell on another framed picture. This one showed just Nathan and the same girl from the earlier photo. Kara leaned in, studying the image. Nathan looked so much like Sora’s parents, with the same kind smile and familiar eyes. But who was the girl?

Kara bit her lip, curiosity tugging at her. She wanted to ask more questions, to understand the people who had shaped Sora’s life. But seeing how the mood had shifted so suddenly, she decided against it. This was clearly a subject that carried a lot of weight for Sora and his family.

With a quiet sigh, she placed the frame back down and climbed into bed. The room was comfortable, warm, and yet there was a lingering sadness that made it hard for Kara to relax. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling with everything she had seen and heard. She had only known Sora for a short time, but she could feel the depth of his pain, his struggles.

As the night grew quieter, Kara finally let her eyes close, hoping that tomorrow would bring more clarity.

Sora stepped out of Nathan’s room, his heart in turmoil. The familiar scent of the room, the memories it held, clung to him like a fog he couldn’t shake off. As strong as he had become, his emotions still surged within him, rising and falling in waves he struggled to control.

His thoughts drifted to his brother, to the days when Nathan had been his protector, standing tall against the cruelty of the world. And then, inevitably, his mind wandered to Rachel. The betrayal still cut deep, the wound festering. As much as Sora tried to push it down, to bury the pain beneath his focus on the battles ahead, it always resurfaced—stronger, sharper.

He couldn’t avoid it forever. He needed to solve this problem. To avenge Nathan.

As he walked the dim hallway, his mother, Marie, caught up to him. She rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, her eyes soft with concern. "Sora, are you alright?" she asked quietly.

Sora gave a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’m fine, Mom. Just... tired. I need to rest."

She studied him for a moment, sensing the weight of his thoughts but choosing not to press further. "Alright," she said softly. "But remember, we’re always here for you."

Sora nodded, grateful but eager to retreat from the conversation. With a quick hug, he pulled away and headed to his room. Alone in the quiet, with only the moonlight casting faint shadows through the window, he let his thoughts spiral.

He thought of Rachel. He would hunt her down, no matter where she was. He would make sure she paid for everything.

Bringing closure to his parents. They deserved peace. Nathan deserved justice.

His mind churned with thoughts of vengeance, making sleep nearly impossible. But eventually, exhaustion took over, and Sora drifted into restless darkness.

The next morning, the house was still and quiet as Sora and Kara prepared to leave. They moved silently, not wanting to wake his parents. Kara glanced at Sora, sensing the tension from the night totally absent. It was clear that Sora was way more relaxed than the day before.

Once outside, the cool morning air hit them, and they began their journey north toward Stockholm. Sora was back to normal, but Kara was... wary.

She muttered incantations under her breath, casting defensive spells over herself—buffing her defense, even layering a protective shield around her body.

Sora raised an eyebrow, watching her with a surprised glint in his eye. "What’s all the fuss about?" he asked casually, though his tone hinted that he already knew. "Don’t want me to carry you again?"

Kara straightened, crossing her arms defiantly. "I can run too, you know!" she replied, her voice firm. She wasn’t about to let him treat her like some helpless tagalong.

Sora nodded, his expression unreadable. "Alright then," he said, and before she could even process his words, he disappeared—vanishing into the distance in a blur of movement.

Kara’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the empty spot where he had stood just seconds ago. "Seriously?" she muttered, her frustration bubbling over. "That guy... always so... arrogant!" She pouted, shaking her head in disbelief. Sora wanted everyone to fall in line with whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

With a sigh, she took off running, heading north. Her steps were steady, though a part of her knew catching up with him was futile. Still, she pressed on, her breath steady as the kilometers passed beneath her feet.

After a few kilometers, Kara felt a tap on her shoulder. Startled, she instinctively took a defensive stance, her magic flaring to life as she prepared to face whatever—or whoever—was behind her.

But it was Sora. Of course, it was Sora.

"Relax," he said with a grin, effortlessly matching her pace. "I’m not here to carry you... this time."

Kara scowled at him, though she couldn’t help but feel a bit of admiration for how smoothly he moved. Before she could say anything snarky in return, she felt a rush of energy wash over her—Sora had cast a speed buff on her, amplifying her pace even further.

As they ran side by side, Kara marveled at how precise the buff felt. It wasn’t just a general increase in speed—it was targeted. She could feel the magic concentrating on her legs, a few other parts helping her maintain balance, and on her mind, sharpening her focus. His control was impeccable, every detail carefully managed to ensure maximum efficiency.

"How are you doing this?" she asked, impressed.

Sora didn’t answer immediately. He just gave her a knowing smile, pushing them both faster as they continued their journey north.