I Can Upgrade My Talent In Everything



With a mixture of curiosity and a slight grin, Fein shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darting playfully across the faces of the Rebels gathered in the white room. He couldn't help but wonder what had sparked their fervent admiration and their insistence on calling him a god. Clearing his throat, he leaned casually against a nearby wall and addressed them in an informal tone.

"Alright, folks," Fein began, his voice laced with a touch of mischief, "let's get this straight. Why exactly do you all think I'm some kind of god? And why on earth would you want me as your supreme leader?"

The Rebels exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of determination and uncertainty. One Rebel, a scruffy-haired woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, stepped forward and smirked. "Well, Boss," she replied, using the informal moniker they had come to affectionately use for Fein, "let's just say you've got some serious skills. I mean, you've kicked demon butt left and right, and you've got more power than a charging rhino. It's like you've got this natural talent that's outta this world."

Fein raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A charging rhino, huh? I like the sound of that," he quipped, eliciting a chuckle from the Rebels. "But seriously, is that all it takes for you to call me a god?"

The Rebels hesitated for a moment before another Rebel, a burly man with a scarred face, stepped forward. His voice held a hint of awe as he spoke, "Boss, it ain't just about the skills. It's about what you represent to us. You've given us hope in this messed-up world. You've shown us that even in the face of insurmountable odds, we can stand tall and fight back. Calling you a god is our way of saying we believe in you, that we trust you to lead us to better days."

Fein's eyes softened as he took in the earnest expressions of the Rebels before him. He pushed himself off the wall and walked closer to them, a sense of camaraderie enveloping the room. "I get it," he said, his voice tinged with gratitude and determination. "If you're willing to put your faith in me, then I won't let you down. But here's the deal—I need your help too. I want you to lead me to the entrance of the Middle Realm."

...

Fein and the Rebels embarked on their arduous journey towards the entrance of the Middle Realm. Leaving the white room behind, they traversed through the rugged terrain, their spirits high and banter flowing freely. 

'Here I come, Middle Realm!'

As they set foot on the Tower of Siria, Fein couldn't help but whistle in awe at the towering structure before them. "Now that's one hell of a tower!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder. The Rebels, sharing his enthusiasm, grinned and nodded, their anticipation palpable.

Ascending the tower's spiral staircase, Fein's footsteps echoed through the stone chambers, each step bringing him closer to the gateway of their destination. The Rebels, their voices bouncing off the walls, exchanged stories and jokes, their laughter filling the air with a sense of camaraderie.

At the top of the tower, Fein's eyes widened as he took in the breathtaking view before him—the sprawling expanse of the Island of Skulls. "Talk about a welcoming committee!" he quipped, his tone laced with a mix of excitement and sarcasm. The Rebels, undeterred by the foreboding sight, smirked and exchanged knowing glances.

With the Rebels leading the way, Fein followed their footsteps across the treacherous terrain. The ground beneath their feet, strewn with bones and debris, gave a macabre reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. Fein's brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully navigated the labyrinth of obstacles, his movements fluid and calculated.

Amidst the eerie whispers carried by the wind, Fein's ears perked up, catching snippets of the Rebels' banter and occasional gasps of astonishment. He couldn't help but crack a smile, impressed by their resilience and audacity in the face of danger.

Days turned into nights as they pressed on, overcoming one peril after another. Fein's face bore the traces of the battles they had fought—dirt-streaked cheeks, sweat-drenched brows—but his determination remained unwavering. The Rebels, mirroring his resolve, met each challenge head-on, their expressions a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Finally, as they approached the entrance to the Middle Realm, Fein's eyes gleamed with triumph. He turned to the Rebels, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, folks, looks like we've made it!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with satisfaction. The Rebels, their weariness replaced by a renewed energy, cheered and exchanged triumphant high-fives.

Fein's hand reached out, his fingers grazing the shimmering surface of the portal. He looked back at the Rebels, his eyes twinkling... "Well, this is it. Thanks for leading the way. Unfortunately, only Demon Lords above can enter this entrance right?"

The Rebels turned their heads the dark shimmering portal with outline of skull with a nod on their heads. "Best of luck, supreme leader!"

"Well, I'll delegate task before I leave." Fein stood at the threshold of the portal, his gaze fixed on the Rebels. The Island of Skulls loomed behind them. Fein knew it was time to bid them farewell and venture into the Middle Realm, where only the mightiest of beings could tread.

As the Rebels gathered around him, Fein's expression turned serious, his eyes scanning each face. "Listen up, everyone," he began, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of warmth. "I want you to know that life isn't equal, so you all have to work hard and become stronger. To the level that you can control your faith in your own hands."

The Rebels exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of admiration and unwillingness. They had come to respect Fein as their god, supreme leader.

Fein's gaze softened as he continued, his words carrying a weight of responsibility. "Now, as I step into the realm beyond, it's time for me to fulfill my destiny. But that doesn't mean our journey ends here. I trust each and every one of you to carry on the fight, to protect the Lower Abyss and its inhabitants."

The Rebels nodded, their determination shining through their eyes. They understood the task at hand and the importance of their role in Fein's absence.