Xander hastened back to his new rental, the thrill of his lottery haul propelling his steps.
The streets of Liyue Harbor blurred past, merchants' calls and dockside clamor fading into a hum.
He reached his modest thirty-square-meter haven, its fresh furniture still settling into place.
Locking the door behind him, he summoned the Infinite Martial Refinement skill card with a thought.
The card shimmered in his grasp, etched with the faint silhouette of Lancelot, the frenzied knight.
He crushed it, and a torrent of knowledge flooded his mind—cold steel's secrets unveiled.
Mastery of swords, spears, axes, and more poured in, each move etched into muscle and memory.
Battlefield instincts honed by a heroic spirit sharpened his senses, a warrior's legacy reborn.
His body thrummed as strength surged, a subtle shift rippling through sinew and bone.
He pulled up his personal panel, the system's crisp display reflecting his ascent.
Name: Xander
Strength: B+ (Nearing the might to heft a Sumpter Beast single-handedly)
Agility: B+ (A blur swift enough to chase the wind's own howl)
Constitution: B+ (Sturdy enough to shrug off a Sumpter's charge, sans divine aid)
Spirit: B+ (Dozens of Dimensional Slashes flow effortlessly, endurance unyielding)
Abilities: Shadowfang Immortal, Phantom Sword, Infinite Martial Refinement
Equipment: Shadowfang Blade, Indestructible Powerman's Plastic Stall Chair
Draws Remaining: 0
All attributes now gleamed at B+, teetering on the cusp of a higher tier.
Within B-rank, he stood unrivaled, a predator among Teyvat's lesser wolves.
Infinite Martial Refinement tipped the scales, a skill to challenge frail A-tier foes.
He flexed his hands, feeling the phantom weight of countless weapons at his command.
Yet his gaze snagged on the equipment list— that blasted chair mocked him still.
An S-tier relic, the Powerman's Plastic Stall Chair sat absurdly among his arsenal.
Could he wield it, smashing foes with its unbreakable frame?
The image flashed: him swinging a white plastic throne amid a battlefield's chaos.
A laugh escaped—surely a jest too mad even for Teyvat's wild tapestry.
Perhaps it could crush a hillichurl's skull or fend off a Fatui skirmisher's blade.
Still, the notion felt unhinged, a fever dream born of desperation or delirium.
He shook his head, banishing the chair's ludicrous potential from his thoughts.
Strength had swelled within him, yet true freedom remained a distant peak.
Time stretched ahead, a generous span before the Rite of Descension loomed.
Mondstadt's chatter in the broadcast hinted at the Lady's recent theft of Wendy's Gnosis.
Weeks remained—enough to claw his way to A-tier, even with his cursed luck.
An A-rank warrior, kin to demon gods, could shine when Osial's seal inevitably cracked.
He'd carve a hero's name in Liyue's annals, a title to echo across Teyvat's expanse.
Lumine bore accolades from Mondstadt to Liyue, cowing foes with her storied glare.
Xander refused to lag behind—outshining a Traveler was no small ambition.
Satisfied with his new prowess, he turned to the draw's remaining spoils.
The Grand Ensemble of Enchanted Instruments gleamed first, a C-tier curiosity.
A sprawling collection unfurled in his system space—strings, winds, and percussions galore.
Flutes whispered ancient melodies, lutes thrummed with forgotten ballads.
Drums pulsed with a primal beat, each piece a relic of eras lost to time.
Their C-tier rank stemmed from a subtle magic woven into their craft.
Play them, and listeners glimpsed visions—music painting vivid scenes in the mind.
A strum might summon a storm-swept sea, a note a field of blooming glaze lilies.
Xander scratched his head, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.
In his old life, he'd dabbled—guitar riffs, bass grooves, harmonica wails.
An organ's keys had danced under his fingers, a hobby born of restless youth.
Yet this ensemble dwarfed his skill, a trove too vast for his modest talents.
"Xinyan might wield these best," he mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Her rock-fueled spirit burned bright among Liyue's eclectic cast.
Long hair unbound, she'd weave these tools into anthems to shake the harbor.
Her musical gift would tame the set, mastering its quirks with fiery ease.
He pictured her strumming a vision of flames, Teyvat's crowds roaring in awe.
One day, he'd join her—belt out a ballad to rattle Liyue's stones.
A warrior deserved a grand ode; "Bury the Light" would echo his might.
For now, he stowed the instruments, their potential a gift for another hour.
Then came the photobooks—Asuka and Rei Ayanami, treasures of his past.
He chuckled, a fanboy's glee bubbling up from memories of EVA's grip.
From childhood to wage-earning days, those two had ruled his ardent heart.
Asuka's fiery allure, Rei's quiet enigma—goddesses etched in his soul.
The covers gleamed, their beauty a siren's call he couldn't resist.
He flipped open Asuka's book, eager for a glimpse of her blazing charm.
His face fell, the page a stark betrayal of his heated hopes.
He snapped it shut, disbelief warring with a sinking dread.
Another try—open, close, the same sterile truth stared back.
Switching to Rei's, he braced himself, thumb trembling on the edge.
Open, shut—then again, each reveal a dagger to his dreams.
Xander slumped, a mournful groan escaping his lips.
Serious photobooks—formal, chaste, devoid of the spice he'd craved.
No daring poses, no sultry glances—just poised, proper portraits.
His anticipation crumbled, a fan's fantasy dashed on cold reality.
"Forgive me, my goddesses," he whispered, clutching the books in despair.
The Shadowfang Blade thrummed at his side, indifferent to his petty woe.
Liyue pulsed beyond his walls, blind to the saga of his draw.
Strength soared, yet fate teased—a warrior's gain, a dreamer's loss.
The broadcast slept, its next jest a shadow on his playful horizon.
***
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