The question hung in the air for a long moment.
Max had expected it, but he had spent the entire time weighing how much truth to offer.
"The containment field failed," he said after a moment. "The Goreboar got loose before the emergency locks could close, and by the time I realized what was happening, it had already killed the technician."
Odessa’s face tightened slightly.
Max continued. "It came after me next. Broke my leg, pinned me down, and I was basically waiting for it to finish the job when the Awakening happened."
"Right there?"
"Yup. Just under it."
"And Resurgence gave you enough to fight back?"
"Yeah."
Odessa smiled faintly, though her eyes were still curious. "A mutated E-rank Goreboar, though?"
"Apparently."
Max filled in the rest with broad strokes. He explained the frantic kill, losing consciousness, and waking up in the Academy hospital.
He told her about Adam and Smith pressing him with questions, then the standard Association evaluation where the Earth AI scanned his core and logged him as Level 3.
He even mentioned the flat twelve across all his stats.
What he didn’t mention was [Glutton]. He didn’t mention sinking his teeth into the beast’s dead throat, or the strange heat of devoured power settled quietly in his core.
"And the Class?" Odessa asked.
"I kept it private."
"From the Association?"
"From everybody."
Odessa studied him across the table.
Max could tell she heard the empty spaces between his words, the deliberate gaps he had chosen to skirt around. She knew him too well to miss them, but she didn’t push. Instead, she picked up her glass and took a drink.
"Alright."
Max raised an eyebrow. "That’s it?"
"What else do you want me to do?"
"I mean... I expected more questions."
"I have more questions."
"But?"
"But you’ve already decided not to answer them."
Odessa set the glass down with a soft click and shrugged. "You’ve always been like that. When you don’t care about something, you talk until somebody tells you to shut up. When you’ve actually decided to keep something to yourself, pushing only makes you dig your heels in."
Max couldn’t really argue with that.
Odessa picked up her fork again. "If the Class is dangerous, you’ll tell me when you need help. If it isn’t, you’ll probably tell me eventually anyway."
"You sound very confident."
"I’ve known you longer than most people."
That was true enough. Max looked down at his empty plate, then smiled slightly. "Fair enough."
Odessa let the matter drop, cutting straight to the next point. "So what now?"
"Now I figure out how everything works."
"That sounds suspiciously vague."
"I want to start entering Gates."
Odessa let out a soft tired sigh. "I knew that was coming."
"I already have my license."
"That card means you’re allowed to enter one. It doesn’t mean you’re ready."
"I know," Max said, remaining calm despite her skepticism. "I spent years studying Gates and monsters. I know how to identify most common F and E-rank species, I know basic Gate structure, I know how cores behave, and I know enough first-response procedure to avoid doing something stupid."
"Well, that helps, and I’m not doubting your memory," Odessa countered. "But knowing that a Razorhound usually attacks the nearest exposed limb and actually having one jump at your throat are two very different things."
She was right. Knowing something wasn’t the same as living through it. The Goreboar had already taught him that much.
"That’s why I need to go," Max argued. "I can sit in Academy classes for another year and still not know what it feels like until something tries to kill me. I’ll start with F-rank Gates. Solo ones. I’m not planning to jump straight into anything serious."
Odessa watched him closely. "And if the Gate isn’t what the listing said?"
"I leave."
"If you can’t?"
"Then I kill whatever’s between me and the exit."
Odessa went quiet and her gaze drifted past him toward the dark window.
She wasn’t frightened, Max couldn’t remember ever seeing her truly frightened of anything. But there was a distant stillness in the way she held herself, as if she were watching an old ghost play out a script she had seen decades ago.
When she looked back, her eyes dropped to his hands.
"What weapon are you using?"
Max blinked, glancing down at his empty palms. "Haven’t picked one up yet."
The reality hit him the moment he said it aloud. After paying off his monthly living expenses, his card held barely 45 Credits ($90).
Even a basic, unranked F-tier blade from the local exchange ran close to 1,000 Credits ($2,000), and that was before touching armor, field supplies, or basic utility gear. Combat equipment was an expensive industry, built entirely for funded guilds and academy elites.
He had figured he would sort it out somehow, but pressed on the spot, he had no practical answer.
Odessa finished the last bite on her plate and stood up.
"Where are you going?" Max asked.
"Give me a minute."
She walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs. Max waited at the table, listening to the sounds of her footsteps climbing the stairs.
A few minutes later, she returned carrying a narrow wooden case tucked under one arm.
Max’s attention shifted to it immediately. The box was clearly old and the red metal latch holding it shut had lost nearly all of its shine.
Odessa set the case on the table between them and flicked the latch open.
Inside, resting against a layer of faded black cloth, was a single gauntlet.
Max bent forward to inspect it.
It was designed for the right hand, extending several inches past the wrist to shield the forearm. Overlapping plates of matte-black metal covered the back of the hand and segmented each finger.
Thin crimson lines ran along the seams between the plates, and the fingertips tapered into short, curved talons.
There were no visible mana circuits, no manufacturer stamps, and no standard guild insignia. It didn’t look like any modern combat gear he had seen in the Academy archives.
"Where did you get this?" Max asked.
"Found it in the back of a closet," Odessa said casually. "It’s just collecting dust. You need something between your knuckles and a monster’s teeth. Put it on."
Max didn’t argue. He reached into the case, slid his right arm into the sleeve, and worked his fingers into place.
The inner lining was surprisingly supple, conforming instantly to the shape of his palm without pinching.
He closed his fist, and the dark metal plates shifted smoothly over one another. It was light, balancing against his forearm as if it had been custom-fitted for his grip.
A sudden flicker of light suddenly flashed in his vision.
[Equipment detected.]
[Unknown Gauntlet]
[Current Rank: E]
[Status: LOCKED]
[Available Function: Claws]
[Unlock Requirement: Slay 50 opponents while equipped.]