Level 120. He'd gained no experience from the monsters in the raid; the C.L.A.S.P. points flowed to the survivors whose levels were low enough. He was too strong.
His eyes had lingered on the profession listings. Tailoring was at 33, Woodworking was at 55, and Enchanting was at 42.
The numbers were climbing, although a tad too slowly. He couldn't do otherwise; he didn't have much time to craft, after all.
He'd practiced whenever there was a moment, carving simple tools and attempting to imbue them with mana.
The results were still crude. Nothing that could compare to the gear from Keth'moran or Morv'axil. But it was a foundation. Self-sufficiency was a different kind of power.
His gaze then fell on his attributes. S.H.I.E.L.D. was at 10.7, F.L.A.I.R. was at 9.5, and F.L.I.P. was at 8.7. They were respectable, but in a world where a single, well-placed attack could end everything, they felt dangerously low.
