[Spell: Status Epidermis!]

  He followed the Spell’s instructions and watched as a paper-thin layer of skin, barely visible to the naked eye, peeled itself from his face and hovered in front of him. It floated like a translucent kite, tethered to his forehead by a strand no thicker than a hair.

  He grimaced. There was nothing special to it—at least, not at first glance. But if the guards saw what was really on his Status Window, he'd be dead.

  The skin layer drifted into place over the Status Window. Barely visible ridges ran across its surface—microscopic patterns designed to bend light with precision. As the Status Window lit up behind it, the layer refracted the light, subtly twisting the display.

  These tiny distortions let Pinaka manipulate how the information appeared—redirecting the light from specific radiation points to alter text, numbers, even whole rows. To an outside observer, the Status Window showed something entirely different.

  It worked like a polariser on an LED screen: a clever filter that changed the output depending on the pattern. But the tricky part was control—the layer operated at a microscopic scale, while Pinaka could only see the macroscopic results with his eyes.

  Suppose the octagon is status window:

  New shape can also be created, changing how the numbers look or disappear.

  —ugh!

  That was his gut reaction when he saw the Status Window all jumbled up—a chaotic mess of distorted characters and numbers, thanks to the random patterns scrambling the light.

  He started tweaking the designs, one after the other, watching the display closely as he made each change.

  Thankfully, he had a starting point—some reference patterns he’d picked up from Zetaka while touching him during his own use of the spell. Using that as a guide, he kept adjusting the patterns, slowly watching the garbled mess clear up. Words and numbers began to take shape.

  Bit by bit, he kept refining it. While he couldn’t control the image down to the individual pixel, he could adjust the overall look until it matched what he wanted.

  He had four main parts of the Status Window to alter—Race, Authority, the stat numbers for various Factors, and the Creation Factor.

  He needed to change “High Elf” to just “Elf,” switch “Lifeform” to “Wood,” and completely remove the “Creation Factor” row.

  The stat numbers were a little easier—just a matter of tweaking the digits.

  —Clang!

  A soldier strolled into the prison, banging his baton against every steel door on the way. It was the morning wake-up call. Pinaka scrambled to finish up, making quick adjustments until the display matched what it originally showed.

  [Name: Pinaka]

  [Race: Elf]

  [Authority: Wood]

  [Control Factor: 1]

  [Weight Factor: 1]

  [Volume Factor: 1]

  [Range Factor: 1]

  [Speed Factor: 1]

  [Spell: -]

  He had just finalized the pattern on his Status Epidermis—only to realize he'd forgotten to unleash it a hundred times in a second to convert it into a Spell. That meant today, he’d need to be careful. The epidermis layer was still just a delicate film, invisible to the eye and easily disturbed. Even the breeze from walking could ruin it. So, as he moved, Pinaka had to continuously use his power to keep it stable.

  ‘How did Zetaka even manage to turn this into a Spell in less than a day?’ he wondered. Zetaka had probably figured this out right after becoming a Dark Elf, with barely any time to practice before he needed to hide his Status Window. ‘That’s damn impressive. Guy must’ve been an engineer or someone who messed around with optics a lot.’

  ‘I just hope I can pull it off,’ Pinaka thought, slowly rising to his feet. As he moved, the Status Window flickered slightly. He caught it just in time, steadying the projection with a relieved sigh. The display hadn’t warped. ‘Alright... I have to keep it exactly like this. No mistakes.’

  He dismissed the Status Window, already feeling the pressure settle in his chest. He wouldn't be able to check it again until he stood in front of the soldier. If anything went wrong, he’d have to run—and that meant drawing blood. ‘I’d need to cause a distraction... and kill another Elf.’

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  That Elf’s identity would become his next cover. Not that the killing part worried him. Even the soldier who did the morning checks was just a Level 1 Human.

  Pinaka would be close enough. All he had to do was reach out. His hand would slice through the soldier’s neck like it was cutting water.

  No, the kill wasn’t the hard part. It was everything that came after. ‘I’m not ready for that kind of fighting... not yet.’

  Pinaka’s chest tightened, heart pounding loud enough to feel in his throat. He quickly used his authority to steady it, keeping his body in an optimal state as he focused everything on maintaining the Status Epidermis.

  The delicate sheet of skin dangled from his right hand like a kite on a string. Moving slowly, he reached out with his left and pushed open the cell gate. Hunched over, he shuffled forward at a painful crawl—thankfully, exactly what everyone expected of him.

  To others, Pinaka was the half-dead Elf who hadn’t eaten since birth, barely surviving severe injuries and a brutal fight with Nunaka the night before. No one would blink if he dropped dead on the spot.

  Honestly, he would have, if not for becoming a High Elf.

  As he stepped out of his cell, he noticed the floor was already cleared. A line had formed on the ground level, where the Elves were being checked one by one.

  He made his way down the stairs at a crawl, every step deliberate, tuning out the constant shuffle of footsteps as the other prisoners were processed and led away.

  “Do you think I have all the time in the world, slave?” the soldier sneered when he finally spotted him.

  “I... I’m sorry,” Pinaka stammered, swaying like he might collapse. When the soldier reached for his whip, panic sparked in his chest—one lash would shred the fragile Status Epidermis instantly.

  “I won’t make any excuses,” he blurted, voice trembling. “I’ll finish my quota on time!”

  “S-Status!” he added quickly, flinching under the soldier’s glare as he pulled up his Status Window. Relief flooded through him the moment he saw it was still intact.

  “Did I ask you to show your Status Window?” The whip cracked against the floor, making Pinaka jump. “Stay in your place, slave!”

  “Y-Yes,” he nodded quickly and moved on to the tests: sniffing, tissue rub, and weight check.

  The Status Window was normally the last test, but Pinaka had shown it early on purpose. The sniffing and tissue rub required the soldier to get close, and any sudden movement could damage the Epidermis. By displaying it first, he avoided the risk.

  The soldier had already seen it, and since that box was checked, he didn’t bother looking again.

  “Get on with your work,” the soldier muttered, snapping the whip against the floor before walking away.

  He didn’t strike Pinaka—not because of mercy, but because killing an Elf without cause was a direct violation of the Human King’s decree. Even when they wanted to lash out, soldiers had to restrain themselves. Every Elf was property of the King, a strategic resource.

  Pinaka knew this well. That’s why he leaned into his appearance as a starving baby Elf—helpless, non-threatening, and easily overlooked. And it worked.

  ???????????

  ‘I... survived that.’

  Only once Pinaka stepped out of the tunnel and onto his designated hectare of land did he finally let out a breath. The Status Epidermis had already disintegrated long ago. It was so faint that when it fell, it vanished into the dust, impossible to notice.

  ‘If that soldier had touched my Status Window, the epidermis would’ve torn, and my real stats would’ve been exposed.’ He now understood both the strength and fragility of the spell. ‘Still... just having a way to fake my stats is huge. Thank god Zetaka came up with this.’

  That thought opened a door. ‘There are so many Elves here, each from a different background on Earth.’

  Pinaka had been a stuntman, and using that experience, he’d created shoes that let him walk on walls. Zetaka had clearly worked with optics in some way, leading to the creation of Status Epidermis. ‘There’s a chance every Elf here has one Spell tied to their own area of expertise. If I can learn all of them... I’ll become a monster.’

  Most wouldn’t go so far as to turn their ideas into full-fledged Spells. Doing so would expose their hand through the Status Window—practically inviting death. But many might’ve trained their abilities just short of that point, ready to unleash them at the right moment.

  Pinaka knew his limitations. His ideas were bound by his own experience, and that naturally capped how many unique Spells he could invent on his own. But that was fine. He would focus on what he knew best—and learn everything else from the others.

  ‘Every Elf here is likely a master of something. I’ll learn their Spells.’

  ‘And once I do, I’ll be ready.’

  With that thought, he got to work in his field, occasionally glancing up at the soldiers patrolling the wall. Whenever no one was watching, he quietly resumed practicing Status Epidermis.

  The pattern didn’t need to change unless his stats did. So, he could just keep training the current one until it became a Spell. ‘That way, I can activate it instantly whenever I need to show my Status Window—no more delicate balancing act.’

  ???????????

  At the same time, Rachad strolled through a corridor, whistling, with a trembling Mahnaka in tow and a calm, unreadable Pronto pacing a few steps behind.

  “Relax,” Rachad said with a smirk. “I won’t whip you. Unless I feel like it.”

  “Y-Yes,” Mahnaka replied, flinching when Rachad nudged toward him. Pronto remained silent, his expression neutral.

  “Alright, we’re here.” They stopped in front of a lava waterfall. Rachad placed his hand on a Sun Stone embedded beside it, and the curtain of lava peeled back slightly—just enough for one person to pass through.

  “Go feed the Dwarf. You’ve got ten minutes. I’m closing the curtain after that,” Rachad said with a chuckle, then turned to Pronto and gave a polite bow. “The Elf will guide you inside.”

  “Y-Yes,” Mahnaka said quickly. The heat was suffocating, but he straightened up a little now that Rachad was out of sight. He turned to Pronto and gave a respectful bow. “Please, follow me.”

  “Sure,” Pronto replied curtly, trailing behind.

  ‘This time…’ Mahnaka thought, heart pounding but face composed, ‘I’ll convince the Dwarf. This time for real.’

  ‘With his help, we can escape this hell.’

  ...