It wasn't just that he'd reached the peak.
He'd stepped past it.
Not by breaking the rules.
By shaping them.
The decimal extension wasn't flashy. But it meant one thing, and one thing only:
He had left the realm of the "normal." Even the maxed-out, sharpened, buffed normal. He had crossed into something else.
'.5,' Damien thought, blood drying on his lips. 'A foot past the finish line.'
His fingers curled tighter into fists—not from effort now, but from density.
He could feel it. The difference.
His muscles didn't just hold weight. They conducted it. Stored it. His bones didn't creak—they absorbed stress. The pressure around him no longer pressed him down. It danced around his skin like heat off steel.
The mana didn't feel foreign anymore.
Of course that wasn't the first change.
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[Passive Skill: Physique of Resistance]
