The Heroine is My Stepsister, and I'm her Final Boss
Chapter 79: Stats

Chapter 79: Chapter 79: Stats

Atlas felt it again—that peculiar sensation. The heat that clung to his skin like a second atmosphere, the kind that should’ve boiled his nerves, cauterized his blood, and left him twitching on the jungle floor.

Nothing.

Not even a wince.

He flexed his fingers.

Not numb. Not dull.

Just... immune.

It made him curious.

The sun filtered through the trees like gold scattered over smoke. Birds dared sing again in the distance. Veil and Loki stood nearby, mid-bicker as usual, but their voices were background noise now. For the first time in days, there was silence in his mind. No visions. No prophecy. No death rattles from forgotten gods.

Which meant one thing.

Time to check the numbers.

"System," Atlas muttered.

And it bloomed before him like scripture summoned from light.

[System Status]

Name: Atlas Von Roxweld

Age: 14 (32) [Slow Aging: Active]

Race: Human (High-Human)

Evolution Tier: Eligible

Body Grade: S (formerly A+)

Level: 38

Laws (Unlocked): None (Dormant Law Fragments Detected)

__________

BODY STATS:

Bone: 60 → 190

Muscle: 69 → 220

Organs: 108 → 156

Skin: 40 → 260

Brain: 60 (Unlocked)

Heart: 60 → 999

Blood: 670 (Draconic Serpent Infused)

Mana Nerves: 999 → 340 (Overflow Locked)

---

SKILLS:

World Understanding: SS+

Observer Perspective: S+

Enhanced Strength: S

Voice Control: C++

Prince’s Aura: A

Truth Eyes: A (Evolved from B)

Death Decay: B

Sharpness: C

Nerve Enhancement: A

Iron Skin: B

Supersonic: A

Earth Manipulation: A+

---

Points: 359

Ego Points: 0

-------------

Atlas stared, slack-jawed.

"...What in the holy titanic fuck?"

His fingers hovered mid-scroll. Numbers shimmered in golden lines, more arcane glyph than digital log. Some stats had risen quietly—logical upgrades born of combat and survival. But others?

The heart.

The blood.

The brain.

His mind reeled.

He understood muscles—punch harder. Bones—take a hit. Skin—don’t bleed. But the heart? 999? That was divine. That was something mythic. That number wasn’t a stat—it was a challenge. A question the system dared him to ask.

And the blood...

Jörmungandr.

"It wasn’t just resurrection," he whispered to himself. "He altered me. Left something inside. Maybe on purpose. Maybe as a joke. Or..."

"Or maybe to give you a fighting chance," Veil said.

Atlas flinched.

The Void was standing close again, too close. His eye pulsed softly in the half-shade of the trees. Behind him, Loki reclined against a stone, chewing on a stem of glowing moss with all the grace of a drunk bard.

Atlas sighed. "Do you two have an off-switch?"

Loki perked up. "Not legally."

Veil ignored them both. He pointed at the screen hovering in front of Atlas.

"You know you can evolve now....i feel it..something inside you, wants to break out."

Atlas nodded slowly. "Yeah. I know." Confused as, he only knew cause of his system.

’Maybe it’s his monster’s instinct...’ he thought.

The words ’High Human’ pulsed gently, like a heartbeat waiting to be claimed.

"Why don’t you?" Veil asked.

Atlas didn’t answer right away.

He looked up at the sky, watching how the light caught the tips of the leaves. For a brief second, the gold reminded him of the Dreaming. Of its laws. Of its collapse. Of the silent scream that still echoed behind his ribs.

He took a breath.

"Because I need a body that’s mine before I evolve again," he said. "Not the Guide’s. Not Destiny’s. Not the Demon Lords’. Mine."

Veil was silent.

And Loki actually stopped chewing.

Atlas closed the system window with a thought. The data vanished.

"I want to know what kind of man I am," Atlas said. "Before I become something more."

Veil said nothing.

Loki, of course, grinned.

"How very poetically suicidal," he said. "But fine. We’ll keep your power-up montage on hold."

Atlas smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

His mind turned back to the stat sheet. To the fragments of Law still buried somewhere inside him. To the eldritch memories dancing at the edges of his dreams.

Something was coming.

Something vast.

He could feel it.

And this time, he wouldn’t have Dracula to hold the gates.

Only himself.

A flicker of memory passed through him—Eli’s face, bruised but defiant. Her eyes when she chose him. Her scream when he chose death instead. That wasn’t just war. That was history splitting.

He stood.

"We need to move," Atlas said.

"Why?" Veil asked.

"Because there’s still one thing I need to do."

Loki arched a brow. "Which is?"

Atlas turned toward the north, where Berkimhum slept in ignorance.

"I need to see Lara....i need to see my kingdom..."

He didn’t say it aloud, but both Veil and Loki felt the tremor in his voice.

Not desire.

Not longing.

Duty.

It was time to speak with his father who now ruled a kingdom without dreams.

The forest rustled behind them.

Something moved, just beyond perception.

Loki’s eyes flickered.

Atlas paused.

He turned his head just slightly—and saw it.

Far off. A shimmer. A glint of armor. Not soldiers.

Scouts.

Imperial scouts.

Eli’s forces had crossed the continent.

And they were watching.

Atlas didn’t move.

He let them see him.

He let them know.

He was still alive.

Veil paced just beyond the tree line, muttering curses to no one and everything.

It should’ve been peaceful.

It wasn’t.

In the trees above — fifty meters out, perhaps more — figures crouched in the silence. Shadows masked them well, but not from Truth Eyes.

Atlas’s gaze shifted, pupils narrowing.

Red flickered in his periphery.

[Truth Eyes — activated.]

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. But now he saw them — five, no, six imperial knights in cloaked armor, camouflaged and scry-shielded, cloaks damp from travel, boots caked with old blood. Their tabards bore the sunburst insignia of the Empire’s personal guard — an elite force only dispatched under a single condition.

They were searching for their Empress.

And they’d found her trail.

Or rather, the end of it — the last known pulse from a blood-marked royal.

Eli.

Safe now. Recovered.

And yet... the tracking spell had picked up another ping in this jungle, something older, heavier. Something strange.

Something royal.

One of the knights shifted in the trees, his whisper barely wind:

"That’s him."

"The Prince?"

"Can’t be anyone else. That hair... the face."

"But what the hell is that beside him?"

Their eyes swept to Loki — shirtless, smiling like he knew the gods personally, flame-haired and lounging in the grass like a beast disguised as a man.

"Demonkin?" one asked.

"Mutant," another guessed. "Maybe bonded familiar. High-grade."

"No intel on him. He wasn’t there during the escape."

"Then he’s unrecorded."

The captain narrowed her eyes behind her visor.

"That makes him dangerous."

They watched for a moment longer.

Atlas said nothing. He let them watch. Let them think they were unseen.

His heart beat steady.

They didn’t know what they were looking at.

And that ignorance would save them — for now.

A single breath passed.

"We move at dusk," the captain whispered. "He’s too exposed. No terrain cover. We tranquilize. Bind. Deliver him to Her Majesty before she reaches the borderfront. Quiet. Quick. Nonlethal."

"Understood."

But still... they hesitated.

Because something about the scene was off.

The way the man sat with a literal sun-fire mane. The way the air curled slightly around him, like even reality flinched. The way Atlas didn’t act like prey.

"...Is he glowing?" someone murmured.

Silence answered.

Below, Atlas finally spoke, low enough only for those who truly listened.

"They’re watching."

Veil stopped pacing. His eye narrowed.

Loki didn’t even turn his head.

"Should I wave?"

"Don’t."

"Should I be naked-er?"

"...Absolutely not."

"Pity."

They didn’t rise. They didn’t posture. They didn’t draw weapons.

But the sun dipped lower. The air thickened.

And above, the knights waited — still thinking they had the advantage.

Still thinking they understood the balance of power.

Still thinking the Prince was alone.

The forest rustled — not with wind.

But with warning.

And the Chapter closed, not on battle, not on flight...

...but on a breath held between kingdoms. A war not yet begun. A mistake not yet made.

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