Effects Of A Gamer chapter 10

The artificial dawn crept across Arthur's Presidium apartment like liquid gold, transforming the polished titanium surfaces into mirrors of light. He stood before the panoramic window, coffee mug warming his palms, watching the simulated sunrise paint ripples across the lake below. The climate purifiers hummed their eternal song, a white noise so constant it had become silence itself.

His Interface flickered to life unbidden, translucent blue overlaying reality.

[MARKET ALERT: Aeon Industries Transaction Complete]

Element Zero (99.9% purity) - 10, 000 metric tons

Sale Price: 500, 000, 000 credits

Market Impact: -20.3% galactic average

Arthur's pulse hammered against his ribs. Half a billion credits. Enough to buy a small fleet, fund a colony, or disappear entirely. The numbers scrolled past like a slot machine hitting jackpot after jackpot, each digit another nail in the coffin of his anonymity.

"Fuck, " he whispered, taking a long sip of coffee. The bitter liquid scalded his tongue, but the pain helped ground him. Somewhere in the galaxy, mining cartels were scrambling to understand how pure eezo had flooded the market overnight. Intelligence agencies would be tracing shell companies, following credit trails, asking dangerous questions.

The Stellar Cartographer's Core pulsed in his peripheral vision, a phantom sensation that made his teeth ache. New constellations bloomed across his mental map, eezo deposits scattered like breadcrumbs across uncharted space. The Terminus Systems held a motherlode that would make today's sale look like pocket change. Another cluster lurked in the Attican Traverse, close enough to human space to matter, far enough to avoid Council oversight.

[LEVEL UP!]

Level 8 → Level 9

Experience Gained: 1000 XP

Attribute Points Available: 10

Arthur didn't hesitate. Intelligence and Willpower, the twin pillars of survival in a universe that wanted to either recruit or dissect him.

[Intelligence: 15 → 20/50]

[Willpower: 15 → 20/50]

The change hit like a stimulant injection. Patterns emerged from chaos, market fluctuations, political ramifications, potential responses from a dozen factions. His Singularity Core, that alien weight in his chest, settled into perfect equilibrium. The biotic energy that had been threatening to tear him apart for weeks finally submitted to his will.

His omni-tool chimed. Then chimed again. And again.

[PRIORITY ALERT: Citadel Financial Crimes Division - Investigation Initiated]

[PRIORITY ALERT: Alliance Economic Intelligence - Anomaly Detected]

[PRIORITY ALERT: Salarian STG - Market Manipulation Inquiry]

"That was fast, " Arthur muttered, scrolling through the alerts. The vultures were circling already. He'd expected weeks, maybe months before,

[URGENT: Councilor Tevos - Personal Summons]

Report to Executive Conference Room 7, Citadel Tower

Time: 12:00 GST

Attendance: Mandatory

Arthur set down his coffee with deliberate care, watching the liquid's surface tremble. The asari councilor didn't send "personal summons" to C-Sec officers. Not unless she already knew something.

His Choice Echo activated, reality fracturing into probability streams:

Path One: Compliance. Arrive early, apologize, negotiate. Trade independence for protection. Become the Council's pet genius, developing weapons while they held his leash.

Path Two: Defiance. Ignore the summons, liquidate assets, vanish into the Terminus Systems. Build power in the shadows until the Reapers forced everyone's hand.

Path Three: Balance. Attend the meeting, reveal nothing, maintain the facade. Dance between factions while building his own foundation.

The paths collapsed back into singular reality. Arthur's lips curved into a humorless smile. As if there was really a choice. Running would only confirm suspicions. Submission would waste the gift, curse?, of his reincarnation.

He moved through his morning routine. Shower. Shave. The face in the mirror still felt foreign some days, sharper features than his old life, ice-blue eyes that seemed to see too much. His Gamer's Mind kept the existential crisis at bay, reducing cosmic horror to manageable anxiety.

The apartment's sterility pressed against him like a physical weight. No personal touches, no photographs, no evidence of a life beyond function. Just him and the Interface and the terrible knowledge of what was coming in twenty-three years.

Sovereign. Saren. The Battle of the Citadel.

Names that meant nothing to this timeline but everything to him.

Arthur pulled on his C-Sec uniform, fingers working the clasps by muscle memory. His modified pistol went into its holster, Specter-grade hardware hidden beneath regulation polymer. The weapon had saved his life a dozen times already, but it wouldn't help against political maneuvering.

He traced potential skycar routes on his omni-tool, calculating arrival times and exit strategies. The Tower's executive level had three landing pads, five emergency stairwells, and two maintenance shafts large enough for a human. Not that he was planning to run, but,

His Interface pinged softly.

[New Message - Encrypted]

Sender: Unknown

"The board is set. The pieces are moving. Try not to knock it over, Anomaly."

Arthur's blood chilled. Someone knew. Not just about Aeon Industries or the eezo, about him. About what he was.

He deleted the message with a thought, though he knew it was pointless. Whoever sent it had already made their point.

Outside, the Presidium's eternal daylight beckoned. Somewhere in the Tower, Councilor Tevos waited with questions he couldn't answer honestly. Behind her, the Alliance lurked with their own agenda. And in the shadows, someone else watched, someone who knew the word "Anomaly" would mean something to him.

Arthur finished his coffee in one burning gulp and headed for the door. His footsteps echoed in the empty apartment, each one carrying him closer to a confrontation that would define his next moves.

The Reapers were coming. He had twenty-three years to prepare humanity for a war they couldn't imagine. Half a billion credits and the galaxy's most powerful people breathing down his neck.

His Gamer's Mind hummed reassurance, but underneath, his original self, Ian, whispered the truth: You're in over your head.

"Story of my fucking life, " Arthur said to the empty room, and stepped out to face whatever came next.

The executive dining chamber existed in a state of perpetual twilight, holographic constellations wheeling overhead in a dance older than any civilization present. Arthur's boots whispered against polished thessian marble as he entered, each step measured, calculated. The asari floral incense, thessian orchids mixed with something sharper, almost metallic, invaded his sinuses immediately.

Three figures waited at the crystalline table's far end. Councilor Tevos sat with perfect poise, violet skin luminous in the starlight, her white facial markings like war paint disguised as elegance. To her right, Councilor Valern's large eyes tracked Arthur's approach, membranes flicking in that distinctly salarian tell of intense analysis. And standing behind them both,

Tela Vasir. The Spectre's leather jacket couldn't hide the weapon at her hip or the way her biotic corona flickered at the edges, barely contained violence wrapped in asari beauty.

"Officer Morrigan," Tevos's voice flowed like aged wine, smooth and intoxicating. "Please, sit."

The privacy field snapped into place the moment Arthur's ass hit the chair. The background hum of the Citadel vanished, replaced by a silence so complete it felt like drowning.

"Let's dispense with pleasantries, " Valern said, words tumbling over each other in typical salarian fashion. "Aeon Industries. Shell company registered through seventeen intermediaries. Volus banking records, Pattern 7-Alpha encryption, very clever, cracked in 4.7 hours. Your signature all over the eezo transactions."

Arthur kept his expression neutral, though his Choice Echo screamed probability streams at him. Deny: 12% success. Deflect: 34% success. Partial admission: 67% success.

"I fail to see how private mining ventures concern the Council, " Arthur said carefully.

Vasir laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Private? You just dumped enough eezo on the market to build a fleet. Your human admirals are probably creaming themselves."

"Language, Tela, " Tevos chided gently, though her eyes never left Arthur's face. "But the sentiment is accurate. The Treaty of Farixen exists for a reason, Officer Morrigan. Power balances carefully maintained over centuries."

"The treaty limits dreadnought construction, " Arthur countered, Intelligence attribute singing as connections formed. "Not resource acquisition."

Valern's eyes narrowed. "Semantic argument. Irrelevant. STG projections show human dreadnought production accelerating 340% with your eezo influx. Destabilization inevitable."

The incense grew thicker, or maybe that was Arthur's imagination. His Singularity Core pulsed, responding to the tension, and he saw Vasir's eyes sharpen.

"There's something else, " the Spectre said softly. She took a step closer, and Arthur felt her biotics probe at his, testing, tasting. "Your field signature is... wrong. Too dense. Too controlled. What kind of amp are you running?"

"Standard L3, " Arthur lied smoothly.

"Bullshit." Vasir's corona flared brighter. "I've seen every amp configuration in Citadel space. Whatever you've got in there, it's not standard anything."

Tevos raised a hand, and Vasir stepped back reluctantly. "We're not here to threaten you, Arthur. May I call you Arthur?" She didn't wait for permission. "Your Predator modifications alone could revolutionize small arms development. The tactical applications of your... unique perspective... could save countless lives."

"The research division offer, " Arthur said. It wasn't a question.

"Enhanced, given recent developments." Tevos leaned forward, and Arthur caught a stronger whiff of that metallic undertone in the incense. Palladium? No, element zero. They'd laced the fucking air with eezo particles. "Full autonomy within Council parameters. Budget sufficient to make your current windfall seem quaint. Protection from those who might see your gifts as threats."

"Or tools," Valern added. "Shadow Broker. Various criminal cartels. All interested in exceptional individuals."

Arthur's Choice Echo spun out futures: Accept: Gilded cage, slow suffocation, weapons pointed at humanity's enemies until humanity becomes the enemy. Refuse: Sanctions, frozen assets, possible 'accident.' Negotiate: Buy time, maintain options, dance on the knife's edge.

"I'm one man with a lucky mining claim, " Arthur said, Charisma flowing through his words like honey. "Hardly worth this level of attention."

"One man who neutralized a krogan battlemaster in 3.7 seconds, " Valern rattled off. "Whose tactical assessments have C-Sec clearance rates up 400%. Whose weapon modifications violate seven patents we can identify and twelve we can't."

"Quite the résumé for a supposed nobody, " Vasir drawled.

Arthur spread his hands. "I'm good at my job."

"You're good at everyone's job, " Tevos corrected. "Which is why we need you working with us, not despite us."

The moment balanced on a blade's edge. Arthur felt the weight of their attention, the pressure of power constrained by politeness. His Galactic Scholar trait whispered precedents, loopholes, possibilities.

"A compromise, " he said finally. "I'll share twenty percent of future eezo discoveries with Council races. Distributed according to existing fleet ratios. Maintains balance while allowing for growth."

Valern blinked rapidly, running calculations. "Acceptable if monitoring protocols included."

"Monitoring of distribution, not source, " Arthur countered.

"You're hardly in a position to negotiate, " Vasir said.

Arthur met her gaze steadily. "I'm sitting at this table instead of a C-Sec interrogation room. That suggests otherwise."

Tevos's laugh was like silver bells over a grave. "Oh, I do like you, Arthur. Very well. Twenty percent, monitored distribution, source confidential. But, " her tone shifted, velvet giving way to steel, "you have one week to accept our offer. After that, we'll be forced to consider your... independence... a liability."

"Sanctions," Valern clarified helpfully. "Asset freezing. Visa restrictions. Unpleasant but necessary."

"And if someone were to accidentally leak your identity to interested parties, " Vasir added, examining her nails, "well, the galaxy's a dangerous place for wealthy humans with secrets."

Arthur stood slowly, the privacy field crackling around him. "One week. I understand."

"I knew you would." Tevos's smile was maternal and terrifying. "Do give our regards to Captain Anderson when you see him. I imagine the Alliance has their own compelling arguments prepared."

Of course they knew about the summons. Arthur bowed slightly, a gesture calculated to show respect without submission, and turned to leave.

"Oh, Arthur?" Tevos called as he reached the door. "Your biotic signature really is quite unique. Almost like you're carrying a small star inside you. Do be careful. Such power can be... consuming."

The privacy field dropped, and normal sound rushed back like a breaking wave. Arthur walked steadily to the elevator, the taste of eezo-laced incense coating his throat. His omni-tool chimed the moment he stepped outside.

[URGENT: Report to Alliance Embassy immediately - Captain Anderson]

The skycar ride gave him precious minutes to think. Twenty percent would slow his plans but not stop them. The real threat was Vasir, Spectres had too much freedom, too little oversight. And Tevos's parting comment...

His Singularity Core pulsed, a heartbeat of dark energy that felt heavier with each passing day. She knew something. Maybe not the truth, but enough to be dangerous.

Arthur watched the Presidium blur past below, artificial paradise masking the machinery beneath. One week to choose a master or forge his own path. The Reapers wouldn't wait for political niceties, but neither would the powers that be.

The Alliance embassy loomed ahead, another test.

The Alliance embassy's sterile annex conference room pressed against Arthur like a vacuum seal. Recycled oxygen carried that distinctive metallic tang of military-grade scrubbers, while the privacy field emitted its mosquito whine, a frequency designed to scramble recording devices but that always made his molars ache. Earth's ocean-blue holograms rippled across the walls: the Pacific at sunset, the Atlantic during a storm, the Mediterranean's impossible turquoise. Beautiful lies for those who'd never taste real salt spray again.

Captain David Anderson stood as Arthur entered, his weathered face a map of battles survived and friends buried. At fifty-one, he wore authority like a second skin, dark eyes simultaneously probing and warm, a father confessor in Alliance blues. Beside him, Commander Hannah Shepard's crisp uniform could have cut glass, every crease deliberate, every medal earned in blood. She had the kind of face that belonged on recruitment posters: strong jaw, steel-gray eyes, auburn hair pulled back.

"Officer Morrigan." Anderson's voice carried the rumble of distant thunder. "Thank you for coming."

Arthur took the offered seat, hyperaware of the room's exits, the subtle bulge of sidearms beneath dress uniforms, the way Shepard's fingers drummed a nervous tattoo against her thigh. His Choice Echo whispered probabilities, but he silenced it. Some dances you had to feel your way through.

"Let's skip the foreplay, " Shepard said, her pragmatic tone at odds with the maternal assessment in her eyes. "Our N7 cyber-warfare specialists traced Aeon Industries through seventeen shell companies, four dummy corporations, and a volus banking labyrinth that would make a hanar's tentacles cramp." She slid a datapad across the table. "Pattern 7-Alpha encryption. Impressive, but not impressive enough."

Arthur glanced at the data streams cascading down the pad's surface. Transaction histories, eezo purity analyses, distribution networks, all pointing back to him like accusing fingers. The volus might worship the Almighty Credit, but their discretion had a price point, and apparently the Alliance had found it.

"The question, " Anderson leaned forward, elbows on the table, "is where a C-Sec beat cop finds mining claims worth half a billion credits. More importantly, how he finds eezo deposits that survey teams with million-credit budgets miss."

"Lucky, I guess." Arthur kept his voice level, Charisma attribute threading steel through silk.

Shepard snorted. "Lucky. Right. The same luck that let you design nanite-enhanced armor that makes our current hard suits look like tissue paper?" She pulled up a hologram, his own schematics, stolen or leaked from C-Sec's databases. "Nanotech integration at the molecular level. Self-repair functions. Kinetic absorption rates that violate three laws of physics."

"Two laws, " Arthur corrected automatically, then caught himself.

Anderson's lips twitched. "Son, we're not here to arrest you. We're here to make you an offer you'd be foolish to refuse."

"The Alliance needs people like you," Shepard added, and something in her voice shifted, softened. "My daughter, she's seven, born on the Kilimanjaro while I was pulling evac duty during the Skyllian Blitz preliminaries. Never had a real home except Alliance ships." Her fingers found a small holo-emitter, projecting a happy smile and bright eyes that Arthur recognized with a jolt that nearly broke his Gamer's Mind.

[INTERFACE HUD ACTIVATION]

[SHEPARD CONNECTION IDENTIFIED]

[NEW QUEST UNLOCKED: Shape the Savior]

Objectives: Protect Shepard's development path

Secure Prothean technology access

Reward: Timeline Stability +1000

"She wants to be N7, " Hannah continued, maternal pride warming her steel. "Says she wants to be a hero like mum.' Seven years old and already running combat sims. Game ones, mind you. Going to save the galaxy someday, if she has her way."

Arthur's throat constricted. Little Jane Shepard, future Commander, currently losing baby teeth and dreaming of stars. The weight of foreknowledge crushed against his ribs.

"That's... quite a legacy to live up to, " he managed.

"Legacy she'll need support to achieve." Anderson's tone suggested this wasn't idle conversation. "The galaxy's changing, Morrigan. New threats, new opportunities. Humanity needs every edge we can get."

"Which brings us to you." Shepard killed the holo, all business again. "Immediate N7 commission. Full research and development resources. Your nanite technology alone could revolutionize how we protect our people."

"I have obligations to C-Sec, "

"Which can end anytime yo choose, " Anderson interrupted. "We've waited this long. We can wait a little longer. But Arthur, can I call you Arthur?, we know you're planning something bigger than playing space cop."

Arthur's Luck attribute tingled, probability streams shifting. Say something, his instincts screamed.

Shepard's omni-tool chimed. She frowned, reading quickly, then her eyes sharpened. "Speaking of bigger..." She shared the display. "Intelligence picked up chatter about a derelict ship in the Attican Traverse. Prothean design, mostly intact. The kind of find that could jump human technology ahead by decades."

Arthur's poker face held, but his Singularity Core pulsed with recognition. A beacon. They'd found a beacon, years before Eden Prime. His Choice Echo exploded with possibilities, warn them, claim it, destroy it, redirect them.

"Interesting, " he said neutrally.

"More than interesting if someone with your... unique perspective... helped analyze it." Anderson's offer hung in the air like a challenge. "Think about it, Arthur. The resources to prepare humanity for whatever's coming. The authority to make real changes. The chance to ensure the next generation, kids like Hannah's daughter, have a fighting chance."

The mosquito whine of the privacy field seemed louder, drilling into Arthur's skull. He stood slowly, Charisma and Willpower holding his mask in place.

"I appreciate the offer. Both the spoken and unspoken parts." He met their eyes in turn. "Give me time to consider. C-Sec deserves proper notice if nothing else."

Anderson nodded, though disappointment flickered across his weathered features. "Don't take too long. That Prothean ship won't stay secret forever. And Arthur?" He paused. "Whatever you're really planning with that eezo fortune, remember, humanity's stronger united than divided."

Shepard walked him to the door, her presence a coiled spring of barely contained energy. As they walked him out, Hannah touched his arm. "That armor modification you developed? The nanite-repair system? My daughter's transport convoy was hit by pirates last month. Three marines walked away because their armor self-sealed. You saved lives you'll never meet."

The weight of that settled on his shoulders like a lead blanket. In his previous life, he'd been nobody special. Here, his actions rippled outward, changing fates, saving people who would save others.

 "My daughter's middle name is Hope, " she said quietly. "Some days, looking at what's out there, it feels like wishful thinking. But then I meet someone like you, someone who sees possibilities others miss, and I think maybe..."

She didn't finish, but Arthur heard it anyway. Maybe hope isn't foolish. Maybe the future can be changed.

His omni-tool screamed the moment he cleared the embassy's doors.

[PRIORITY ALERT - Lieutenant Vakarian]

Report to C-Sec immediately

Situation Critical

All Units Responding

Arthur dove into the first available skycar, coordinates already programmed. The Presidium blurred past as he processed the last hour. The Council's threats, the Alliance's offers, and now C-Sec emergency protocols. His carefully maintained anonymity was crumbling, and with it, his freedom to operate.

But Shepard's daughter's smile haunted him. Seven years old, dreaming of saving the galaxy, unaware she actually would, if he didn't fuck up the timeline beyond repair.

The emergency klaxons had died to whispers by the time Arthur burst through C-Sec's reinforced doors, but the tension remained thick as smoke. Officers clustered around holo-displays, their faces painted blue by cascading crime data. The sharp bite of turian coffee, strong enough to strip paint, mixed with ozone from overworked terminals.

"Morrigan!" Lieutenant Castis Vakarian's bark cut through the chaos. His mandibles were drawn tight against his face, the turian equivalent of a clenched jaw. "Briefing room. Now."

Santana and Jason were already there, the former's dark eyes scanning reports while Jason checked his Predator's thermal clip for the third time, leg bouncing with barely contained energy.

"We have a situation." Vakarian pulled up a holo of Zakera Ward's docking complex. Red markers bloomed like infections across the display. "Forty minutes ago, a batarian pirate convoy breached our outer security perimeter. Three frigates, heavy armor, military-grade weapons."

"Since when do batarian pirates hit the Citadel directly?" Santana asked.

"Since they're after something worth dying for." Vakarian's eyes found Arthur. "Intelligence indicates they're targeting an eezo shipment. Aeon Industries. Ring any bells, Morrigan?"

Arthur kept his expression neutral despite the ice forming in his gut. "That's my, "

"Your shell company. Yes, we know." Vakarian's tone suggested he'd known for some time. "What we don't know is how pirates from the Terminus Systems got real-time intel on a shipment that cleared customs six hours ago."

"Inside job, " Jason growled.

"Obviously." Vakarian brought up personnel files. "Someone in C-Sec is feeding them data. The precision of this strike..." His mandibles flicked in disgust. "We move in ten minutes. Non-lethal if possible, but these are Terminus batarians. They won't extend us the same courtesy."

The skycar screamed through Zakera's industrial canyons, Santana white-knuckling the controls while Arthur ran tactical scenarios. His Interface hummed with possibilities, each more violent than the last.

[PROXIMITY ALERT: Hostile Forces Detected]

Batarian Pirates: 23

Threat Level: Moderate

Recommended Action: Extreme Prejudice

"Contact!" Jason shouted as the first muzzle flash lit up the docking bay.

The skycar hadn't even touched down before the air turned to lead. Gunfire erupted from three directions, cordite mixing with the distinctive ozone-and-copper smell of eezo exposure. Arthur rolled out of the vehicle, Singularity Core singing in his chest.

"Suppressing fire!" Santana's shotgun boomed, forcing pirates behind cargo containers.

Arthur's world slowed. A batarian popped up twenty meters away, assault rifle tracking toward Jason. Time dilated as Arthur reached deep, deeper than he'd ever dared in public.

[SINGULARITY CORE (MAX) ACTIVATED]

Warning: Biotic Overload Imminent

Reality bent. A sphere of absolute darkness materialized above the warehouse floor, its gravitational pull irresistible. Crates, debris, and screaming batarians lifted into the air. Arthur clenched his fist, and the singularity collapsed.

The warehouse wall went with it.

Tons of reinforced metal and concrete imploded with a sound like god clearing his throat. Dust billowed outward in a choking cloud, and Arthur tasted blood where he'd bitten through his lip maintaining control.

"Holy shit, " Santana breathed, staring at the devastation. "Arthur, what the fuck, "

"Later." Arthur's voice came out rougher than intended. His hands shook as he activated his omni-tool.

[NANOTECH & DRONE CRAFTER (5/10) ACTIVATED]

The combat drone materialized from his suit's nanite reserves, a sleek predator of carbon and circuitry. It zipped through the dust cloud, autocannon chattering as it flanked the remaining pirates.

A batarian burst from cover, knife flashing. Arthur's body moved before his mind caught up, Mixed Martial Arts trait singing through muscle memory. He caught the wrist, twisted, and brought his knee up into the attacker's solar plexus. The alien doubled over, and Arthur's elbow found the sweet spot where skull met spine.

[MIXED MARTIAL ARTS: 5/10 → 6/10]

Level Up Progress: 72%

Another batarian, bigger, angrier. Arthur's muscles screamed for more power.

[ATTRIBUTE POINTS ALLOCATED]

Strength: 15 → 18/50

The next punch caved in the pirate's chest plate. Arthur felt ribs crack through the armor, his enhanced strength turning physics into a weapon. The batarian flew backward, hitting a shipping container with a wet thud.

"Clear!" Jason's voice, then Santana's echo.

One batarian remained conscious, clutching a shattered arm. Arthur knelt beside him, Intelligence attribute parsing micro-expressions through the alien's four eyes.

"The mole, " Arthur said quietly. "Name."

"Fuck... yourself... human..."

Arthur's fingers found the batarian's omni-tool, his Galactic Scholar trait translating the encrypted messages faster than any translation software.

[DECRYPTION COMPLETE]

Source: C-Sec Terminal 7-Alpha

User: Officer Kirrin

Affiliation: Unknown (Proto-Cerberus indicators detected)

"Kirrin." The name tasted like ash. The helpful salarian who'd praised his work, offered him cold cases, smiled while selling out shipments to pirates.

"Arthur." Santana's hand on his shoulder, firm but careful. "Your nose is bleeding. Your biotics... that wasn't normal. You need help before you burn yourself out."

She was right. The Singularity Core felt like molten lead in his chest, power barely contained by will alone. His Interface flickered warnings he didn't need to read.

[INTERFACE HUD (MAX) NOTIFICATION]

Biotic Instability Critical

Recommended Action: Seek Expert Guidance

Potential Mentor Identified: Matriarch Aethyta

Location: Eternity Bar, Nos Astra, Illium

"Later, " Arthur repeated, though he memorized the information. "Right now, we have a mole to catch."

Vakarian's voice crackled through comms. "Report."

"Pirates neutralized. We have a name." Arthur stood, the dock spinning slightly before his Gamer's Mind compensated. "Officer Kirrin. He's been feeding them intel."

Silence. Then: "Understood. Return to base. We'll handle this quietly."

As sirens wailed in the distance and dust settled over millions in destroyed eezo, Arthur knew 'quietly' was relative. Kirrin was proto-Cerberus, which meant the Illusive Man's organization was already moving pieces. The timeline was accelerating, fracturing, and he was running out of time to prepare.

But first, he had a salarian to interrogate.

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Core Attributes:

• Strength: 18/50 (Above-average power; wields heavy weapons, bone-crushing strikes).

• Dexterity: 15/50 (Decent reflexes; competent aim, agile movement).

• Endurance: 15/50 (Solid stamina; resists fatigue, environmental threats).

• Intelligence: 20/50 (Quick mind; processes data, interfaces with tech).

• Willpower: 20/50 (Mentally steady; resists panic, stabilizes biotics).

• Charisma: 15/50 (Persuasive; sways individuals, builds rapport).

• Luck: 15/50 (Even fortune; occasional lucky breaks).

Primary Traits:

• Gamer’s Mind (MAX)

• Gamer’s Body (MAX)

• Interface HUD (MAX)

• Class System (MAX)

• Choice Echo (MAX)

• Singularity Core (MAX)

Combat Traits:

• Mixed Martial Arts (6/10)

• Nanotech & Drone Crafter (5/10)

Knowledge Traits:

• Galactic Scholar (MAX)

• Xenobiologist (MAX)

• Cultural Chameleon (MAX)

• Protocol Sync (MAX)

• Codex Archive (MAX)

Engineering & Crafting Skills:

• Armsmith Ascendant (30/30)

• Galactic Engineer (12/30)

• Drive Architect (12/30)

• Macro-Structural Vision (12/30)

• Planetary Defense Architect (12/30)

• Weaponsmith of the Void (12/30)

• Integrated Systems Mastery (12/30)

• Reverse-Engineer (12/30)

• Administration (1/10)

Weapons:

• Predator Mk. X (Custom M-3 Pistol)

• Quantum Blade

• Custom Biotic Rifle

Equipment:

• Aeon Industries credentials and omni-tool

• Nanite-enhanced armor (Nanotech & Drone Crafter 5/10)

• AI-enhanced omni-tool (Integrated Systems Mastery 12/30)

Artifact:

• Stellar Cartographer’s Core (reveals eezo deposits, uncharted sites, user-locked).

System Status:

• Current Level: 9

• XP to Next Level: 1000

• Available Attribute Points: 0

• Gacha Rolls Available: 0

• Active Quests:

  • Galactic Gambit: Secure eezo, investigate mole, shape Shepard’s future.

  • Shape the Savior: Protect Shepard’s path, secure Prothean beacon.