The System was finally ready to distribute Skills.
Four thousand six hundred and sixty Skills. Yes. 4-6-6-0. At this point, I'm less of a human and more of a walking software update. If I sneeze too hard, I might accidentally unlock Windows 12.
It's a serious condition. My body now generates pop-up ads for cheap VPNs, and my immune system is exclusively powered by whatever ancient, dusty code allows a 2005 screensaver to run on a modern gaming PC. I might need a patch soon. (Just kidding)
But I wasn't alone. I had around a thousand allies—prisoners, aliens, depressed gym bros—and they all needed Skills too. So like a generous warlord Santa Claus, I just said:
'System, distribute the Skills however you want. You've probably memorized all of them while I was busy doing push-ups and regretting my life.'
[ Distributing Skills… ]
