He Awakened an F-Rank Skill, but He Can Secretly Convert Every Insult Into a BEYOND SSS Power!

I awaken the most pathetic frank ability, water drop. Only good enough for the school beauty to moisten her lips. My classmates all laugh at me and call me dead weight. So, when it comes to combat, they shove me out front as bait without a second thought. But a second later, the one who is supposed to be bait starts tearing through everything. All because I've awakened the sublimation system, subliming the most useless water drop ability into a beyond trip rank power. The wrath of the sea god. A heavy wind carries a suffocating weight through the air,

sweeping through the crumbling walls of an abandoned steel mill. A rough shove sends me stumbling gravel skitters under my feet with a sharp grading crack. I catch my balance and brush off the faded white cuffs of my uniform. My eyes sweep across the pitch black entrance of the factory ahead. Something is growling inside deep rumbling vibrations packed together. At least a dozen of them. The lowest rank ability users should know their place as bait. Leighton's unhurried voice drifts from behind me. The young master of the Lynn family and Avan Moore is twirling a staff that

blazes solid red from tip to base. The dancing flame at its tip, lighting up the cold smirk at the corner of his mouth. A tier 2 fire element staff top grade. That staff alone could feed three generations of an ordinary family. Pathfinder unit in position. shouts one of Leighton's lackey. Pay attention, cowards. This is where the weakest end up. Dozens of students taking the combat assessment stand behind the safety line. Their expressions unreadable. Some pitying, some relieved. Relieved it isn't them being shoved out there. Poor guy. Frank water drop. An ability that's just spitting water.

I heard he ranked Dead last at the awakening ceremony a month ago. Got sent straight to the Vanguard bait unit. The Vanguard bait unit. It exists to take the hits so the real fighters don't have to. Getting picked for it. There's nothing you can do. Whispers worm their way in. I tune them all out. I fish a coin from my pocket, rusted, its edges worn, bright from handling. I toss it up, catch it, toss it again. My gaze isn't on the factory entrance. It's fixed on the pale blue translucent panel only I can see. Sublimation

system status inactive. Activation conditions, shock points accumulated to 100%. Current progress 99%, 1 month. From the day I was labeled frank at the awakening ceremony, this panel has been sitting in the upper right corner of my vision. Every time someone mocks me, looks down on me, or stomps on my dignity, the progress bar ticks forward. A month of cold stairs and humiliation has built up 99%. Just a little more. I catch the coin. My fingertip traces the rough rusted surface. The corner of my mouth lifts just slightly. Leighton's right. I turn around. My tone is

casual as if I'm discussing what's for lunch. Those tier one galewin wolves in there. I'm counting on you to put on a great show. Leighton. Leighton narrows his eyes. He can't read my expression. A weakling about to be shoved into a wolf den shouldn't be looking at anyone like that. Too calm. Calm enough to be unsettling. But that unease lasts half a second before his towering sense of superiority crushes it flat. Frank after all. a nobody who can barely squeeze a few drops of water from his fingertips. No matter how hard he plays it cool,

it doesn't change the fact that he's going to get crushed. Enough talk. Leon pulls back his staff and jerks his chin toward the factory. Get in. Ding. Leighton's extreme contempt detected. Shock points plus 10. The number on the panel flickers. Still 99%. No change. I frown slightly. 10 points added and the bar doesn't move at all. I quickly scan the small gray text at the bottom of the panel. Something I never noticed before. Note: Total shock points required for activation 10,000. Current total 9,910. Remaining to activation, 90 points, not one point, 90. I go quiet

for 2 seconds, the bar reads 99%, that's 9,900 points. Add the 10 I just got, and it's 9,910. Still 90% short. Based on the past month, an ordinary person's contempt gives 1 to 5 points at most. Even Leighton's extreme contempt as a privileged young master only gives 10%. At this rate, getting to 90% through insults alone would take at least 10 more rounds. But what if? I toss the coin. I look toward the glowing green eyes deep in the factory. The curve at the corner of my mouth turns, knowing if I do something that shocks

people badly enough. Move it. What are you standing there for? A lackey shoves me again. I don't resist. I let the push carry me through the entrance. My footsteps echo through the hollow steel ruin. The ceiling overhead is punched through in several places. Pale gray daylight cuts through in narrow beams, lighting up the rusted tracks, criss-crossing the floor. The air is thick with a heavy foul smell. Low growls press in from every direction, closing around me. More than 10 pairs of slick green eyes flicker in the shadows. Tier one beasts gale wolves. One-on-one, they're manageable,

but a coordinated pack can tear a tier 2 awakener apart if they're caught alone. Leighton leads his four lackey around the side, claiming the high ground. He drives the butt of his staff into the ground. Flames roar up and flood the area with light. They're all zeroing in. Leighton smiles. He glances at me, the wolves locked onto my position. Don't be scared. Just stand there and draw their attention. Leave the rest to me. I'll handle it. Much appreciated, Leighton. I stand with my back against the cold iron wall, my voice completely sincere. The first Gailwind

wolf moves. Its gray shape explodes into speed. A thin layer of pale green cutting edge wrapped around its body as it lunges straight from my throat fast. I don't run. I don't even raise my hand. I just tilt my head slightly. My gaze passes over the lunging wolf and settles on a darker spot further away. There's a faint energy signature there, carefully hidden. Not a beast, a person, and a strong one. My attention snaps back. The wolf's claws are 10 cm from my throat. My right index finger lifts slightly. A single droplet of water forms

at the tip. Tiny, crystal clear, completely unremarkable. Frankability water drop. The droplet fires silent, blindingly fast. landing precisely on the tear duct of the wolf's right eye. The wolf's head jerks back hard. The reflex makes it veer off in the final 10 cm. Its skull slams into the iron wall behind me with a dull thud. It drops out cold. The whole thing takes less than a second. The hidden energy signature in the shadows ripples just for an instant. My hearing is sharp. I catch a voice barely there. A woman's cool and clear with just a

threat of surprise. H I don't turn around. The corner of my mouth hooks up just barely. The number on the panel ticks quietly. Ding. Mild surprise detected from an unknown observer. Shock points plus five. Current total 9,915. Remaining 85. Not enough. Nowhere near enough, but that's fine. I pull back my finger and lean against the iron wall again. I watch Leighton across the room, hurling fire and putting on his grand show. The show's just getting started. Meanwhile, after Leighton takes down the third Gailwind Wolf, he glances back at me, still standing by the wall. Something

cold and calculating flickers in his eyes. He leans down and whispers something to the lackey beside him. The lackey nods and pulls a small sealed vial from inside his jacket. A skull is etched into its surface. Beast lure powder, a band substance designed to draw in high-rank beasts. Leighton licks his lips. His gaze settles on the back of my uniform. What he wants has never just been to use me as bait. What he wants is the coin, the rusted coin my parents left behind. The Lynn family's intelligence reports indicate that the coin contains an energy

signature unlike anything they've seen before. Why should an F rank nobody possess something like that? Better. He simply disappears. Leighton shoots a look at the lackey. The lackey understands. He drifts silently toward me and I'm still leaning against the wall, tossing the coin without a care. The coin spins, tracing an arc through the air. In the fire light, a faint blue glow, nothing like rust, flickers across its surface for just a moment, then vanishes. Nobody notices. The flames swallow the last Gailwind wolf. Leighton pulls back his staff and stands tall. His lackey swarm around him

immediately, falling over themselves with praise. Incredible young master Leighton. A rank blazing fire, utterly dominant. Now that's a true genius. Unlike some people cowering in a corner, shaking, the speaker's eyes drift pointedly toward me. I'm crouched beside the unconscious Gailwind wolf, poking its ear with genuine curiosity. Kyle. Leighton walks over wearing a look of concern. You weren't too frightened just now, were you? One of the wolves went for you. I couldn't get there in time. You're not hurt. I'm fine, Leon. I stand, dusting off my knees. That wolf knocked itself out. Must have been moving

too fast to stop. Couldn't break in time and ran straight into the wall. A lackey Snickers. Lucky you. Leighton doesn't respond. He doesn't care. A single tier one Gailwind wolf. So what? Even if I got lucky this time, what does it change? What comes next is all that matters. Everyone rests for 5 minutes. Leighton drops his voice, speaking to his lackey. Then we'll push into the core zone. As he says this, one lackey has already quietly slipped around behind me, fingers pinching the ceramic vial. He gives the stopper a light twist. An almost imperceptible drift

of powder falls and sticks precisely to the inside of my collar at the back of my uniform. Beast lure powder, colorless, odorless supposedly, but I catch the faintest trace of a raw sweet scent like aged energy mixed with some kind of mineral faint. But there, I catch the lackie's hand in my peripheral vision as he pulls it back. Then I look at the false concern still plastered on Leighton's face. I know exactly what's going on. The panel sits quietly in my vision. Current shock points 9,915. Remaining 85%. Ordinary contempt won't get me there. But if

what happens next is dramatic enough. I say nothing. I expose nothing. I simply fall in line and follow the group toward the core zone. My face wears just the right amount of nervousness and timidity. Full performance mode. In the shadows, Sarah crouches on a steel beam 30 m away. The hem of her black tactical coat shifts lightly in the wind. She is the military's covert assessment supervisor. what I just did. Firing a water droplet into the wolf's eye, she saw every bit of it. Interesting. Two words. That's Sarah's entire internal verdict. Nothing more. She's more

focused on Leighton side of things. She caught the smell of the beast lure powder, a militarybanned substance appearing in a student assessment that alone is enough to bring serious trouble down on the Lynn family. But she doesn't intervene yet. She needs to see exactly what Leighton is planning. And she wants to see what choice I make when I'm cornered. Will I break down and beg for help or something Else entirely? Corone. The space deep inside the factory opens up suddenly. Deep claw marks are gouged into the floor, not from wolves. Each mark is over half

a meter wide. The steel plating along the edges is torn and curled back like paper. The lackey's faces change. Young Master Leighton, those claw marks, at least tier two or above, right? Leighton scans the floor. His expression doesn't shift. So what? A few stray tier 2 leftovers at most. I can handle them alone. As he says this, his gaze drifts seemingly casually across the collar at the back of my uniform. The beast lure powder takes 15 minutes to fully diffuse. Only 7 minutes have passed. Once the powder reaches full effect, my scent will work like

a signal flare, drawing every beast within three lead to my location. In the chaos that follows, who would even notice one frank nobody going down? Leighton counts the minutes in his head. The smile on his face grows steadily more relaxed. What he doesn't know is that my own calculations right now are far more precise than his. 7 minutes in and no tier 2 beasts have shown up. Only two explanations. One, there genuinely are no tier 2 beasts in this area. Two, something higher rank is already here and the tier 2s won't set foot in its

territory. I look at the halfmeter wide claw marks on the floor. Then I look at the jagged holes punched through the ceiling above. Those aren't natural collapse damage. Something smashed through the roof from outside, entered this space, and has been here ever since. My heartbeat holds steady at 62 beats per minute. The floor begins to vibrate, barely perceptible. Slow frequency like some massive heart beating underground. The lackey haven't noticed. Leighton is still laughing with Someone, but I feel it not coming from far away. It's right beneath my feet. I look down into the gap between

the rails. Two dim red points of light flicker in the dark below. Like two red hot iron balls. Those are eyes. I lift my head. My voice completely flat. Leighton, that beast lure powder trick of yours may have pulled in a bit more than you planned. Leighton's face drains of color. The floor explodes. The steel surface splits open from the center. Chunks of concrete and shredded rail fragments launch into the air. A gray beast the size of a small truck bursts up through the crack, its entire body armored in iron gray shell plating. More tier

2 ironclad beasts follow right behind it. A second, a third. In just 5 seconds, 12 ironclad beasts erupt from underground, pounding the entire floor of the core zone to rubble. Every single one is locked onto me, or more precisely, onto the scent of beast lure powder still clinging to my collar. Oh god. The lackey scramble backward, tripping over each other. Leighton's face goes white in the fire light. He had planned for three or five tier 2 beasts at most enough chaos to deal with one person quietly, but 12. This isn't a quiet removal. This is

an outofcrol disaster. Everyone fall back. Leighton screams. He slams his staff into the ground. A wall of fire surges up temporarily blocking the stampede. Move. He turns and runs. All four lackeyis follow instantly. After 10 or so steps, Leighton spins around and shouts back at me. Hold on, I'm going for backup. Decent performance, but his feet don't slow down for even a moment. I stand still, watching the backs of Leighton and his group disappear into the corridor. My expression is blank. The firewall is already fading. 5 seconds at most before it goes out. I don't

run. What I need is shock points. Current shock points 9,915. Remaining 85. 85 points. I need an audience that can be shocked hard enough. My gaze sweeps past the steel beam 30 m away. That hidden energy signature is still there. And with the appearance of the ironclad beasts, its pulse has quickened noticeably. Whoever it is, they're tense, hesitating over whether to step in. Good enough. I flex my fingers and rapidly scan the terrain around me. Rusted rails, collapsed support pillars, a half-caved in ceiling. The surface of the rails is coated in years of rust friction

coefficient near zero. The pillars are already teetering from the shock wave. When the beasts burst through the ground, the hole in the ceiling is positioned just to the upper left of where the beast cluster is. Rubble could fall at any moment. Frank water drops specifications. Maximum water volume approximately 200 ml range 2 m. 200 ml of water against 12 ironclad beasts head on. It wouldn't even tickle them. But I was never thinking about going head-on. The firewall dies. All 12 ironclad beasts surge forward at once. Iron hooves shatter the floor as they charge straight at

me. I open my eyes. I don't step back. I step right. I land precisely on a fallen steel cross beam and break into a run, not fleeing, running along the framework, heading toward the rail section along the beast's flank. My route is precise and surgical. Every step lands in the blind spot at the edge of the beast's field of vision. Three seconds I reach the rail section. Both hands come up at once. Water droplets seep from the tips of all 10 fingers simultaneously. Every last bit of my ability reserves pours out in this moment. Not

firing coating. The droplets spread into a fine water film coating exactly three sections of rail that the beast must cross. A thin nearly invisible layer on the surface, but it's enough. The first ironclad beast's iron hoof hits the water filmed rail. The already rust smooth surface with the water film added drops its friction coefficient to nearly zero. Three tons of ironclad beast charging at full speed suddenly loses all grip. Its body lurches hard to the side. Its massive momentum carries it like a runaway cannonball, straight into the already teetering support pillar beside it. Boom. The

pillar snaps at the base. The ceiling beam connected to its top comes down with it. Tons of steel fragments drop from above, landing squarely on the second and third beasts, charging in behind. Chain reaction. The fourth beast hits the second water film section. The fifth and sixth pile in right behind, colliding in a heap. The remaining beasts find their path blocked by the massive bodies of their own kind. The crash of armored shells against each other thunders through the factory. 5 seconds. The charge of 12 tier 2 ironclad beasts dismantled in 5 seconds by 200

milliliters of water. On the beam in the shadows, Sarah has straightened up. The fingers gripping her blade handle have gone white from the pressure. Her lips part slightly. Her pupils have shrunk to their limit. Frank water drop. You did that with frank water drop. That's not combat. That's battlefield control at a sweep level. In that instant, what surges up isn't mild surprise. It's a massive unstoppable shock. The numbers on the panel go wild. Ding. Extreme shock detected from unknown observer. Shock points plus 80. Current total 9,995. Remaining five. Just five points short. Then I hear

footsteps. Leighton is running back. Not because of any sudden conscience. The corridor he ran into is now blocked by another pack of Gailwind wolves that caught the beast lore powder Scent. Caught between two threats with nowhere to go. He has no choice but to come back. Leighton bursts back into the core zone and the sight in front of him shortcircuits his brain. 12 ironclad beasts sprawled and piled into a heap of useless wreckage. And I'm standing in the middle of it all, completely unscathed, tossing a rusted coin and catching it. I turn and meet Leighton's

eyes. Master Leighton. I smile. Where's that backup? Leighton's lips tremble violently. His brain refuses to process what he's seeing. You, how did you? Before he can finish, the floor shakes again, this time, not from far away. The source is directly beneath us. Beneath a piled wreckage of 12 ironclad beasts deeper underground, a suffocating wave of crimson dark energy blasts up through the cracks in the floor. The last intact section of the ceiling is smashed from below by a massive crimson palm. Debris rains down through the billowing dust like a storm. A massive black shape drops

through the hole in the ceiling and hits the ground. The impact sends everyone staggering. 5 meters tall. Its entire body covered in rough dark red skin. Crimson eyes with no pupils, only pure distilled malice. A tier three peak Lordclass beast, the Blood Rage Ape, the absolute ruler of this ruin. Leighton's staff slips from his hand. He doesn't even have the strength to bend down and pick it up. The Blood Rage Ape lowers its head. Its crimson eyes sweep the room. Then it reaches out one hand and closes it around the nearest lackey. No time to

scream. The fingers close. A burst of golden mist explodes outward. Leighton finally finds his voice a shapeless broken scream. I stand 15 m away looking up at this 5 m monster. The numbers on the panel blink quietly. Current shock points 9,995. Remaining five. My heartbeat is still 62 beats per minute. The coin spins at my fingertips. A blue light flickers past. The blood rage ape's gaze locks onto me. It gives no one time to react. It snatches the second lackey and slams him into the rails. Two rails snap clean. The last two lackeyis finally break

and bolt. The blood rage ape tilts its head and picks the one on the left. One step 15 meters crossed. Its massive palm comes down. The floor caves into a crater 2 meters deep. It turns. Those crimson eyes fix on Leighton. No, don't come near me. Leighton's teeth are chattering. The flames between his staff shake worse than his hands. He knows running is useless. I am I am the Lynn family heir. Leighton screams. He raises the staff above his head. All of his spiritual energy floods into it wildly. A torrent of flames 2 m wide

blasts directly into the blood rage ape's chest. Take that. The smoke clears. The blood ray ape is still standing. The dark red skin on its chest hasn't even deepened in color. It looks down at its own chest. Then it looks back up at Leighton. Its expression says everything. Is that all? Leighton's pupils contract violently. The blood rage ape lifts one foot and brings it down. The staff shatters. Leighton's right hand, still clutching it, is driven into the floor. My hand. Leighton screams and collapses, his whole body convulsing. Something warm spreads down his pant leg. A

sharp foul smell fills the air. The blood rage ape raises its other hand and brings it down toward Leighton's head. At that exact moment, a streak of ice blue light explodes from the steel beam 30 meters away. Sarah drops from her hiding spot. Black coat fanning out in midair. A viro blade gripped in each hand. She brings both down with full force onto the blood rage ape's spine. Srank ability frost cleave. The moment the blades touch skin, a layer of frost forms across the ape's back, then stops. Sarah feels a terrifying rebound force. Searing pain

shoots through the webbing of her hands. Golden energy bleeds down the handles. two S-rank viro blades at full force and it leaves nothing but a faint white mark on the tier three peak lord's back barely visible. The blood rage ape turns its head. One arm sweeps sideways. Sarah crosses her blades to block. A dull crash. Her body flies backward and slams spine first into the furnace wreckage 30 m away. The iron wall of the furnace caves in around the shape of a human body. She slides out from the dent and drops to both knees. Both

blades are driven into the ground, barely holding her body up. Golden light seeps steadily from the corner of her mouth. A military S-rank elite critically wounded in a single strike. Despair floods every chest in the room like molten iron. The blood rage ape turns back to its original target. I'm still standing 15 meters away in exactly the same posture as before the ape appeared back to the iron wall. Coin turning at my fingertips. Heartbeat 62. The numbers on the panel glow quietly. Current shock points 9,995. Remaining five. I lift my head. My gaze passes over

the blood rage ape and reaches Sarah, kneeling in the distance. In her ice blue eyes is an emotion I know very well. Not fear, defiance. The pure helpless despair of someone who has given everything and changed nothing. Run. Sarah forces out a single word. Her voice so horsearse it's barely audible. The blood rage ape has already taken a step toward me. I pocket the coin. I pat the dust off my uniform. Easy. My voice is not loud, but it cuts through every echo and every sound of despair with unusual clarity. Then I step out from

behind the iron wall and walk toward the blood rage ape. Sarah's pupils blow Wide. An frrank walking straight toward a tier three peak lord. In that instant, every bit of her training, every instinct she has, every lesson from every battlefield. None of it can explain the sight in front of her. Her heart skips a beat in her chest, then slams back hard. The last number on the panel ticks. Ding. Sarah's extreme despair detected. Shock points plus 50. Current total 10,045. Activation condition met. The sublimation system is now officially active. The pale blue panel explodes in

front of my eyes. Golden light everywhere. The second the golden light bursts from the panel, my entire vision is consumed. Sublimation system officially activated. Host current ability. Frank water drop available sublimations one consume 1,00 shock points to sublime frank water drop I don't hesitate sublime the instant the thought lands the gray text reading frank water drop on the panel begins to shake violently the old text shatters new text assembles sublimation successful congratulations host has obtained the one-of-a-kind beyond S rank ability wrath of the sea god ability description born of all waters source wielder of the

sea god's authority water is the first element of all creation able to attack defend and transform anything no range limit no power ceiling Current shock points balance 9,045. The golden light fades. I see the real world again. Less than half a second has passed. The blood rage ape is taking its second step toward me. Its massive foot lands on the rails and grinds two of them to scrap. Its enormous palm is already coming down. The shadow swallows me completely. I don't run. I look up. The blood rage ape sees the change in my eyes clearly.

My previously black pupils, starting from the very center, Are being consumed by a deep saturated blue. The color of the sea. I speak. My voice is calm. My tone no different from when I'm making a joke. That's not how you use water. I snap my fingers right index against middle. A tiny unremarkable snap of sound. Then the entire world goes silent. Physically silent. Every sound within a 100 meters vanishes in the same instant. What replaces the sound is moisture. Every last droplet of water remaining in the steel mill ruins. Water molecules in the rust pores

in the ground fissures floating free in the air. All of them receive the same command at the same instant. They move converging from every direction. The ground beneath my feet begins radiating outward in ring after ring of blue patterns like ripples on water like some ancient formation diagram. The blood rage ape's palm is 2 m above my head and it comes crashing down. The instant the strike lands, a water blue pillar of light 10 m wide erupts from the blue patterns at my feet, shooting straight into the sky. No warning, no buildup. Inside the pillar,

sea water spins at full speed every cubic centimeter of water molecules rotating faster than the speed of sound. The centrifugal force generated disintegrates anything that makes contact instantly. The blood rage ape's palm collides with the water pillar and stops. Not a gradual slowdown, a full speed to zero dead stop. The high-speed water cars a shallow line across the ape's palm. Golden liquid begins to flow. For the first time, confusion appears in the blood rage ape's crimson eyes. This human child, barely bigger than an ant, has cut a wound into its palm with water. The blood

rage ape swings to scatter the water pillar or tries to. The pillar reforms in a fraction of a second after being broken apart. Liquid has no fixed shape. Breaking it apart means nothing. It instantly reforms. Done. My voice carries out from the center of the water pillar with an infuriating calm. My turn. I raise my right hand. Fingers Spread slightly. The sky visible through the hole in the ceiling changes color. The pale gray sky is swallowed in 3 seconds by a layer of deep blue storm clouds. The clouds accelerate into a spin, forming a massive

vortex. What pours in through the ceiling hole is no longer pale gray daylight. It's water. A towering wave descends from above. It splits and reforms in midair. Taking the shape of an enormous hand, a hand made of water. It falls from above. Precise unstoppable closing around the blood rage ape's throat. The 5 m Blood Rage Ape is locked in place by the hand of water. It thrashes both arms, tearing furiously at the water hand each time, ripping open a gap. But every gap is filled back in within a tenth of a second. Water has no

weakness because water has no fixed form. It cannot be shattered. My blue eyes watch the trapped blood rage ape. The numbers on the panel have gone haywire. Ding. Sarah's overwhelming shock detected. Shock points plus 200. Ding's extreme terror and cognitive collapse detected. Shock points plus 150. Ding unknown lackis mental breakdown detected. Shock points plus 80. Ding. Collective shock from multiple observers behind remote monitoring equipment detected. Shock points plus 500. Current shock points balance 9,975. The numbers are still climbing. I watch the blood rage ape and wait for it to tire itself out. The force of

it struggles is weakening. Not because it's giving up, but because the water hands grip keeps tightening. Still, it hasn't lost its life force yet. The life force of a tier three peak lord, far more tenacious than anything I've dealt with before. Take your time, I murmur to Myself, my tone like someone waiting for a kettle to boil. The blood rage ape doesn't give up. It opens its massive jaws and blasts out a streak of crimson energy, a dark energy shock wave. The blast hits the water hand dead on. The water explodes open in a 3

m hole, but the hole lasts less than a fifth of a second before the surrounding water rushes back to fill it. I tilt my head slightly. I noticed something the moment the blood rage ape released that dark energy shock wave. The dark red skin on its neck faded from deep red to pale red. It's burning its core essence to fight. Enough. I dropped the casual expression. Dragging this out serves no purpose. Every extra second means another second of Sarah's injuries worsening. Dissolved. Just one words and the water hand answers. Not tightening, not squeezing, splitting. The

hand breaks apart in one second into tens of thousands of thin water streams, each no thicker than a finger, but spinning so fast the naked eye cannot track them. High pressure water blades over 10,000 streams, dissolving simultaneously, wrapping around the blood rage apes dark red skin from every angle, no blind spots. The armor grade defense that Sarah's S-rank frost cleave could only leave a white mark on is cut 3 mm deep on the first pass of the water streams, seven on the second. By the third pass, they're into the muscle layer. The blood rage ape

lets out a real scream, a true one. It thrashes with everything it has, but water streams aren't solid. Punching them destroys nothing. A fist passes through the stream's part for the instant of contact, then close right back and keep cutting. 3 seconds, the Blood Rage Ape's right arm separates at the shoulder joint, not severed by a blade cut simultaneously by 10,000 water streams. With the precision of surgery, the Blood Rage Apes screams change pitch. What's left is only the fear of death. 5 seconds, the water streams complete their final pass. I release my right hand

the instant my fingers close. All the streams pull back at once, then burst outward golden light raining down everywhere. The tier three peak Lordclass blood rage ape dissolves into countless points of light. The golden rain curves away at 10 centimeters from my body, arcing around me and falling to the ground behind. My white school uniform is clean enough to hurt your eyes. The core zone goes quiet. Truly quiet. A dark red crystal the size of a fist falls from the air, bounces twice on the floor in front of me, and rolls to my feet. A

lord core. I crouch and pick it up. I slide it into my pocket right next to the rusted coin. I stand and turn to look at Leighton. He slumped on the ground, staff fragments still embedded in the muscle of his right hand. His eyes are wide open, pupil shrunk to pinpoints. I walk over. No dust on my uniform. No sweat on my face. I crouch down and look in the eye. Leighton. Leighton's teeth knock harder against each other. His mouth is moving, but only meaningless fragments of sound come out. Nice beast powder, I say, completely

casual. Next time, remember to bring an antidote for yourself in case you can't get away. Leighton finally pieces together a full sentence. Hallucination. His voice is thin and high. This has to be a hallucination. You're frank. Frank water drop. How is this possible? He raises his good left hand and slaps himself hard across the face. The sharp crack echoes across the open space. Not dreaming. Another slap. Impossible. So much for Lynn family intelligence. Frank weakling. I watch him for 2 seconds, then stand. Stop hitting yourself. Your face will swell. With that, I stop looking at

Leighton and turn to walk towards Sarah. The shock points on the panel are still ticking. Ding. Leighton's entire belief system has collapsed. Shock points plus 300. Sarah is still in the same position. One knee on the ground. Both viro blades driven into the ground are her only support. Her breathing is short and shallow, but her eyes are sharp. Ice blue eyes watching me approach and behind them. Too much to name. Shock, confusion, calculation. Your ability isn't frrank. She speaks first, her voice rough, but precise. I stop three steps in front of her. It was 10

minutes ago. Sarah goes quiet. She has a 100 questions, but her training tells her this isn't the time for an interrogation. How long can you sustain that ability? She asks the one that matters most. My ability reserves took about 30% in that fight. Enough. Sarah nods. Then she makes a decision. She reaches into the inner pocket of her coat and pulls out a compact communicator. She presses the red button. Military emergency channel. This is Sarah. ID Sierra017. Her voice snaps back to a soldier's Christmas. Amore Eastern District. Abandoned steel mill assessment zone. Srank or above.

Emergency in progress. Tier three peak lord class blood rage. Ape has been eliminated. I am injured. Student casualties on site. Requesting immediate support. 3 seconds of silence from the other end. Then a middle-aged man's voice comes through. Tight and controlled. Tier three peak lord eliminated Sarah. Confirm. Confirmed. Was it you who took it down? Sarah glances at me. I'm crouched on the ground, fishing the rusted coin from my pocket and spinning it between my fingers. The core zone is a complete wreck in the aftermath of the golden light, and I'm crouching at the center of

it, all spotless and bored looking. It wasn't me, Sarah says. Then who? The one who did it is a student taking the combat assessment. Sarah cuts him off. Her voice is completely level. Registered ability rank at Awakening F. 5 seconds of silence from the other end. Then a sharp crack, the sound of a teacup shattering. Three floors underground at the Eastern Military Substation in Avanore. 24 highdeinition screens are embedded in the walls of the monitoring center. Screen seven covers the abandoned steel mill zone. Right now, 11 people are crowded in front of that screen. Among

them, the highest commanding officer of the substation, General Gray, an old man, 62 years old, lean and sparse, wearing a plain gray uniform with no rank insignia, left hand holding a teacup where it was half a minute ago. Shattered porcelain pieces are scattered on the floor. Everyone's eyes are locked. On screen seven, the footage on screen has been pulled to replay. Starting from the moment the blood rage ape appeared through the hand of water materializing from nothing, the streams of water attacking the rain of golden light. Every frame slowed down and played back three times.

The energy detection data panel on the right side of the screen at the moment the blood rage ape was eliminated became a wall of red exclamation marks. Peak readings off the charts read. Head of the technical team sounds slightly dazed. We deployed Type 7 energy detectors maximum range corresponds to S rank today. It didn't max out. It overflowed. The peak reading exceeded the S upper limit by at least 40%. Nobody in the monitoring center speaks. General Gray stares at the teenager in the white uniform on the screen. The replay is paused at the moment the

battle ends. me crouching at the center of the golden light covered corone, turning a coin in my hand, not a speck of dust on my uniform. Pull his file, General Gray says. 30 seconds later, my student records are projected onto the main screen. Name: KL, age 17. Awakening rank F. Ability: Water drop. Notes: none. Impossibly clean. Frank water drop. General Gray's eyes move away from the file. Back to the replay footage. On screen, the hand of water descends from the sky. Honestly, there's something in that image like the beauty of an ancient fresco. Beyond trip

S rank. Reed confirms his data one more time. General, to my knowledge, across the entire Federation, there are currently only three registered trips S rank awakeners. Beyond Srank theoretical literature has a term for it, mythic rank. But that concept has stayed in academic papers for 20 years. Now it doesn't. General Gray bends down and picks up a shard of his teacup from the floor. Encrypt this footage to the highest level. Everyone present from this second on. Everything you saw today is classified at the highest military level. Disclosure to any unauthorized personnel military tribunal. 10 people

answer in unison. General Gray straightens up. Communications. Connect me to Sarah's channel. Sarah, where is that student right now? Right beside me. A brief pause. He's flipping over the ironclad beasts. General Gray blinks, flipping them. The ones he knocked over with the water film. They ended up in a pile. A few of them are stuck on their backs and can't write themselves. He's helping them flip over. There's something strange in Sarah's tone. Not sarcasm, more like a kind of absurdity she genuinely can't process. General Gray doesn't ask further about the flipping. Sarah, how are your

injuries? Three ribs severely damaged, left lung bruised, still holding. Support and medical are already on route. 6 minutes out. Listen carefully. General Gray takes two seconds to choose his words. Before support arrives, do not take any action toward that student that could be perceived as threatening. No interrogation. No restriction of his movement. Understood. One more thing. The beast lure powder Leighton used during the assessment. Did you see it? I saw everything. Good. Preserve the evidence. Channel closed. General Gray stands at the center of the monitoring Room, staring at the frozen figure on screen 7. A

staff officer beside him ventures carefully. "General, what do we do with this student?" The word do with makes General Gray's brow crease. "Do with him?" he asks back. A 17-year-old kid shoved out his cannon fodder by the Vanguard bait unit had beastlure powder smeared on his clothes by a classmate who planned to use the chaos to get rid of him. And in those circumstances, he unleashed hidden ability power. And you're talking to me about security risk ratings? The staff officer goes quiet. General Gray walks to the communications console and picks up the handset himself. Connect

me to the Avanor Awakener Administration Bureau, then the Federation Military Command, and last, get me the principal of Third Academy. He pauses. The one who put that student in the Vanguard bait unit. His tone is mild, but the temperature in the monitoring room drops 2° back in the core zone of the abandoned steel mill. Yes, I really am helping the ironclad beast flip over. 12 tier 2 ironclad beasts are so docel in front of me that Sarah thinks she's hallucinating. I use a stream of water to lift the uppermost beast by the waist and gently

roll it over so all four legs touch the ground. The beast lands, shakes itself out, and lowers its head to nuzzle my hand. Stop nuzzling, you drool more than my water drop ability ever produced. The beast nuzzles again. I push its head away. The wind in the core zone stills for a few seconds, then starts again, pushing the lingering energy ripples out in all directions. I hold the Lord core between my fingers and roll it twice in my palm. Then I slide it back into my pocket. My eyes scan the entire ruin. Three of the

lackey remains are scattered in different spots. All gone cold. The one still alive is Dex. He's curled up behind the furnace, shaking like he's been shocked. Then there's Leighton leaning against a broken pillar. Most of his mind is already shattered, but he's still alive. I walk over unhurried. Gravel crunches under my shoes. Each small sound carrying far through the hollow factory. 2 m 1 and a half. I crouch down. At this distance, the mix of golden liquid foul smell. Urine and sweat hits hard. I don't flinch. Leighton. His teeth begin to chatter. I ask you,

answer. My tone is smooth as still water. Answer well, and we put this behind us. Those words land in his shattered mind, and his survival instinct catches them before anything else can. Yes. Yes. Whatever you ask, I'll answer. Whose idea was the beast lure powder? My second uncle. Not a second's hesitation. Leighton's second uncle from the second branch of the Lynn family. He's the one who told me to use the assessment to get rid of you. The reason was that coin. Leighton's gaze flicks to my pocket, then snaps back as if burned. Second uncle said,

"The coin contains an energy signature he's never seen before, worth more than the total output of an A-rank secret realm. My right hand rubs the rusted surface of the coin inside my pocket. An A- rank secret realm starts at 15 billion. No wonder he couldn't stay still. Who else knows? Just second and me." He said it couldn't go through the family council. Definitely not. Let the old patriarch know. Keeping it for himself. Yes. everything I needed to know. Leon stares at my face, desperately searching for any signal that says his answers were good enough for

him to live. He finds it or thinks he does. The corner of my mouth moves slightly. The curve looks almost gentle. Kyle, I told you everything. Leighton's voice strains to its limit. Let me go. I'll help you deal with second uncle. I can get you Lynn family resources. I raise my right hand. No water forms in it. Five fingers spread open, resting lightly on top of his head. Barely any weight at all. I've remembered everything you said. My voice is lighter than my hand. Quite useful. Thank you. Leon is thrown off by that. Thank you.

But whatever he was about to say next never makes it out. My right index fingertip presses against the skin behind Leighton's ear. One of the most vulnerable points on the human head. A single thread of water forms. 08 mm in diameter, narrower than the finest human hair. The water thread enters and strikes the vital point. Leighton's pupils freeze at their last confused focus. His mouth stops at the halfway open position. His body doesn't follow the pillar and rail frame his lifeless posture. Indistinguishable from someone still alive. The whole process takes less than half a second.

I pull my hand back. A flick of my thumb. The droplet at my fingertip falls into a crack in the rubble. Then comes the cleanup. I bend down and pick up a piece, a knuckle-sized fragment of dark red energy residue. I press it into the wound above Leighton's right temple. That wound was made by rubble thrown when the blood rage ape burst out of the ground with the energy fragment embedded in it. The angle sits at 20° higher on the outside, lower on the inside. A perfect match for the ballistic profile of high-speed debris launched

by an explosion shock wave. Cause of death clear. Ballistics consistent. Physical evidence sufficient. Acceptable. I walk around to the back of the furnace. Dex has folded himself into a ball. Hands over his head. Every muscle seized up. Hey. Dex flinches violently. A bloodshot eye appears between his arms, looking up at me. I crouch down. When the military comes to question, you tell the truth. During the assessment, you encountered a tier three beast. Officer Sarah and your group held it off together for a while. I hid in a corner and did nothing. Dex chews over each

word in his head twice. As for Leighton, I tilt my chin toward the rails. He took an energy fragment from the blood rage ape to the head during the fight. You saw it happen with your own eyes. Dex stares at me for 3 seconds, then nods fast enough to strain his neck. Don't overdo it, I say, standing. In the state you're in right now, stumbling over your words is normal. Being too smooth would actually give you away. Dex is nodding slows. Ding. Dex is extreme fear and submission detected. Shock points plus 35. Every little bit

counts. I turn and glance towards Sarah. She's leaning against the furnace wreckage. Her coat pulled off and folded as padding behind her back. I walk over from the collapsed equipment wreckage nearby. I dig out a relatively clean steel plate and set it up as a rough platform. Then I draw water from the air. Pure water. Every impur filtered out clean. I hold it out to Sarah. Drink. Sarah looks at the sphere of water hovering above my palm. She hesitates for just a moment, then lowers her head and takes a sip. The instant it goes down.

A cool sensation spreads from her throat through to her lungs. The sharp pain from her damaged ribs eases by about 30%. Sarah looks up slightly. There's a healing effect in the water. I'm not sure either, I say. Honestly. Just got this ability. Haven't finished reading the description. Sarah stares at my face for 3 seconds. It's a young face, 17 years of shape. features not quite fully grown out of boyhood. As clean as that dust-free white uniform, unsettling and how unreal it looks. Your name is KL, Sarah says. Not a question. Yes. That move earlier, firing

a droplet into the wolf's eye. You did that deliberately so I would see it. I don't deny it. Why? I needed someone to be surprised. The answer is too short, but It carries enough to keep Sarah quiet for several seconds. In the distance, the sound of rotor blades. Six military transport helicopters cut in low from the northeast. Search lights sweeping across the crumbling walls of the abandoned steel mill. Cabin doors open. Military special forces in black tactical gear repel down. The medical team reaches the ground first. Two military medics jog to Sarah's side, opening their

first aid kits in one fluid motion. Another team rushes toward Leighton. Leighton isn't slapping himself anymore. He's curled up beside the rail, eyes unfocused. A medic checks his injured hand, then shines a flashlight into his pupils. He turns and makes a sign to the team leader. Psychological trauma priority evacuation. The only surviving lackey is dragged out from behind the furnace. He's been curled in a shrimp shape for too long. All four limbs have gone stiff. The remains of the three lackeyis are sealed into black bags. The on-site commander is a colonel. He does a full

sweep of the core zone. Looking at the energy fragments scattered across the floor and the 2 m crater. His expression keeps shifting. He walks toward me. I'm sitting on the makeshift steel plate platform, coin turning at my fingertips. At some point, 12 ironclad beasts have formed a semicircle on their own, enclosing me at the center, not surrounding me more like guarding me. The colonel stops 3 m away. All 12 beasts turn their heads toward him at the same moment. 24 small red eyes lock onto him at once. The colonel swallows. Kyle, the colonel says, working

hard to sound friendly. I'm Colonel Colin from the Eastern Military Substation. General Gray sent me to bring you in. The hand turning my coin pauses. Bring me where? The substation. Colonel Colin adds quickly. Not an interrogation. General Gray's invitation. He'd like to have tea with you. I look at him for 2 seconds. Can we bring the beasts? Colonel Colin looks back at the 12 ironclad beasts, three tons each, then looks at the helicopter cabin door dimensions. I'll need to check on that. The number on the panel ticks quietly. Ding. Colonel Collins mild sense of absurdity

detected. Shock points plus 15. I pocket the coin and stand up from the steel plate. I'm sitting in the transport helicopter back against the hull and the performance begins. I suppress every trace of my ability output. I bring my breathing to 20 cycles per minute. Shoulders drawn in slightly. Right index finger tapping the back of my left hand in a steady rhythm. An frrank student whose ability went out of control from sheer terror. Colonel Colin sitting across from me notices my state. He doesn't initiate conversation. 14 minutes later, the helicopter sets down on the landing

pad at the Eastern Military substation. I step out, gripping the cabin door frame, my steps just slightly unsteady, not overdone. Someone is already waiting on the pad. A female officer introduces herself as Lieutenant Colonel Mia. She leads me to meet General Gray. The destination is not an interrogation room. It's an ordinary tea room. General Gray sits at the other end of the table, leaner, older, and more ordinary looking than I imagined a general would be. Gray uniform, no rank insignia. Sit. He points to the chair across from him. I sit. He pours me a cup

of tea and slides it over. I pick it up and take a small sip. Good tea from my hometown. General Gray holds his own cup. His gaze passing through the steam, watching me in Silence for about 10 seconds. Quite a scare, wasn't it? He opens with something gentle. My hand trembles slightly deliberate as I set the cup down. A little, I say softly. A tier three lord. Even the Srank on sight couldn't hold it. I'm lucky to be alive. H I hear from Sarah that you unleashed a powerful ability at the moment of life and

death. I'm not entirely sure what happened, I say, keeping my voice low, slowing my pace. When the blood rage ape came at me, my mind went completely blank. Then I just felt something crack open inside me. Everything after that I don't remember clearly. A good lie always holds some truth. Can you still use that ability now? I look down at my hands. Nothing. Gone. My voice carries just the right amount of confusion and loss. General Gray stares at my hands for 3 seconds, then takes a sip of tea. Don't worry. A dormant period after an

ability surge is perfectly normal. I nod. We both know I'm performing. Neither of us says so. Midway through his third cup, two knocks at the door. Lieutenant Colonel Mia steps in, expression slightly off. She moves to General Gray's side and leans in, speaking in a low voice. General Gray's hand stops midft. Confirmed. Confirmed. The medical team found it during the secondary examination on the helicopter. Preliminary assessment places the time of death before military arrival. The core showed deep penetration by beast energy shards. Before military arrival, General Gray repeats. Meaning during the battle, yes, General Gray

has seen the full battle footage. He recalls the energy shards that scattered in all directions when the demon ape was destroyed. That golden rain of light blanketing every inch of the core zone. A single shard embedding itself in Leighton's critical head region amid the chaos statistically entirely plausible. Notify the family, General Gray says. Process it as a combat casualty. Yes, sir. Lieutenant Colonel Mia turns and leaves. The door closes. The T-room holds only two people again. General Gray glances at me. I'm cradling my teacup. Both hands trembling slightly, eyes hidden behind a downward gaze into

the tea. The look of someone still rattled, not yet recovered. General Gray asks nothing. He refills my cup. 20 minutes later, I'm escorted to the medical bay. Stepping out of the tea room, I round the quarter corner and run into someone, Sarah. She's changed into a clean military patient gown. Thick stabilizing bandages wrap her chest and back. Her face is bone white, but those ice blue eyes are razor sharp. Sir, your ability has it returned. What ability? I blink. Sir, I'm just an F-rank Splash user. What happened before was probably a stress response scared it

out of me. Right now, I can't squeeze a single drop out of my fingertips. Sarah scans every line of muscle on my face. It's a young face. The expression is innocent, confused, carrying just a trace of frightened timidity. Very convincing. If she hadn't watched me single-handedly suppress a rank three overlord, she might have believed it. Stress response. She turns the words over in her mouth. Frank splash. So, out of fear, you summoned a storm cloud. And out of fear, you dissolved a peak rank three overlord into light particles with tens of thousands of high-press water

lines. Sarah stares at me. I look back at her. The stare down lasts 5 seconds. Fine. Sarah speaks first. I'll hold on to your story for now. She reaches into her patient gown pocket and holds out a card. Gold trimmed edges. An eight-ointed star emblem on the front. the mark of the Jang Joe Collegiate League. The Jang Joe Collegiate League opens next Wednesday. Sarah's voice returns to its military precision. This is my personal recommendation pass. With it, you can skip the academy qualifiers and enter as an independent. I take the card and pocket it. Thank

you, sir. Sarah turns and walks away. Three steps, then she stops. She doesn't look back. Leighton is gone. Her voice is flat. Just heard General Gray mention it in the T-room. My reply comes at exactly the right pace. So sudden, what a waste. Sarah stands still for 2 seconds, then walks on. I lean against the wall and pull the card back out of my pocket. I hold it up to the fluorescent light. The collegiate league A stage with more people, more resources, more contributors to the AW panel. The panel glows quietly in the upper right

of my vision. Current awe balance 13,740 points. The number is still climbing. Staff throughout the military district are passing around accounts of what I did. Every new person who learns the story contributes a trickle of all points. Lin estate, western outskirts of Jangha. The rosewood table at the center of the courtyard, 300 years old, is now in two pieces. Lord Lynn withdraws his right palm. Splinters are still spinning in the air. He is in his early 60s. Silver hair. Immaculate. One strike split a 3-in slab of rosewood clean down the middle. His gaze settles on

the official military report laid out before him. Black ink on white paper translated into plain language. Your son is dead. Cause of death. Struck in a vital area by energy shards from a rank three overlord class beast during combat. Died on the spot. Scene photos attached. The examination report carries the signature of a military first class assessor. Lord Lynn's gaze rests on the name Kyle for 5 seconds. Frank ability splash. During the assessment underwent an ability stress surge, temporarily unleashing above rank power and assisted in repelling the beast, second brother. From the shadows on the

left side of the hall, a middle-aged man steps half a pace forward. Leon, the head of the Lynn family's shadow operations. That plan was yours. Lord Lynn doesn't phrase it as a question. Leon's throat moves. The only possibility, something in the military report has made Lord Lynn suspicious. The letter he told Leighton to burn after reading whether Leighton actually burned it, he doesn't know because Leon is gone. Elder brother, Leon steadies his breathing. Leighton was my nephew. I more than anyone. Enough. Lord Lynn doesn't look at him. His gaze shifts to the doorframe on the

right side of the hall. Leaning against that doorframe is a young man, 22 years old, dressed in white, a three-foot sword hanging at his waist. Caden, the foremost genius of the Lynn family's generation. Srank ability, platinum blade aura, mid-tier rank three. Father, the timing is right. The military's account of Leighton's death is self-consistent. But that's not the point. Caden lifts the sword from his waist and holds it upright before him. The point is the one who survived. Kyle Frank decoy squad, the one who should have been the first to go. Instead, Every combat member from

his batch is dead and he rides back on the helicopter. Perfectly fine. He tilts his head. Interesting. No matter how you look at it, Lord Lynn settles back into his chair, looking at his eldest son across the broken table. You're suggesting the collegiate league next Wednesday. Kaden pats the sword. Every Awakener student in Jang Joe will be in that pool. If Kyle enters, then you can ask a few questions on your brother's behalf on the stage within the rules. Lord Lynn completes the sentence. Cadence smiles slightly. Ask what? An F rank steps on that stage

and I finish it in one move. No time for questions. Then one move. Lord Lynn's tone returns to calm. He raises a single finger. Get me that coin. Leon standing nearby goes rigid. Lord Lynn glances at him. Second brother. Did you really think I knew nothing of what you and Leighton were doing behind closed doors? Leon's back is soaked through. You wanted to keep it for yourself. Leon got dragged in. The job failed and a life was lost. This matter ends here. Lord Lynn retrieves the report from beneath the broken table. Leave the coin to

Caden through proper means. Pull your shadow unit back. Leon says nothing. Caden rehangs the sword at his waist. He walks out of the hall through the corridor up the stone steps. The night wind funnels in from the valley, lifting the hem of his white robe. He stops and looks down at his sword, an F-rank weakling, an ability stress surge. That story works on ordinary people, but on him after a supposed surge, still sharp enough to answer military questions, cooperate with testing, and recount events in a perfectly coherent sequence. That kind of clarity doesn't look like

a surge. It looks like a performance. He draws the sword 3 in and pushes it back. The sharp metallic ring carries far into the night wind. See you at the league. His voice is colder than the wind. Monday, I'm back at Jang Joe First Academy. The school has two things it didn't have before I left. Funeral res at the gate and rumors about me. Did you hear? Kyle actually beat a rank three beast in the assessment. No way. He's frank splash. What could he possibly use to beat it? But he survived. Three out of four

B rank combat members didn't. And an F rank walks away just fine. Lucky, I guess. I walk across the field and hear it the whole way. The panel marks the numbers for me. Each person spreading a rumor contributes between one and three A points. A mosquito swarm. I let it go. I head into the administration building up to the third floor and push open the office door. A meeting is in progress inside. Behind the large desk at the far end sits Director Harvey, principal of Django First Academy. I walk forward two steps and slap the

registration form down on the nearest desk. Principal, please stamp the collegiate league registration form. Director Harvey rises from behind his desk, standing, his presence is considerably heavier. The physique of a rank three awakener carries a natural pressure that ordinary people feel instinctively. He walks over, picks up the form, and reads it top to bottom. Frank splash decoy squad. He sets the form back down, positioned above the waist basket beside the desk. Kyle, do you understand what the collegiate league means for this school? An F rank from the decoy squad enters, loses, and embarrasses us, gets

injured, and it's even worse, who covers your medical costs. The logic holds. I don't plan to let him finish. I reach into my uniform's inner pocket and pull out the card Sarah gave me. Gold trimmed eight-ointed star emblem, Major Sarah's personal recommendation pass. With this, I can bypass the academy qualifiers and compete as an independent. The stamp doesn't technically affect the registration process, but going through the school looks better for the Academyy's reputation. Director Harvey reaches out and takes the card. The instant his fingertip touches the card surface, his small eyes snap open half a

millimeter wider. An S-rank woman issuing a personal recommendation to an F-rank student. However you read that, there's something behind it he can't afford to provoke. He makes a very director Harvey decision. He hands the card back to me and picks up the form. He digs the official stamp out of the drawer. Thunk stamped. I'll submit the form for you. Director Harvey's face arranges itself into a perfectly calibrated smile. Best of luck in the competition. Quite the quick flip. I pocket the card. Give a nod. Thank you, principal. Then I leave. The door closes behind me.

Out in the hallway, the panel flickers. Ding. Detected director Harvey's emotion. Humiliating capitulation. All points plus 45. Ding. Detected mixed emotions from six individuals present in the office. Total all points added 30 apes. Stepping out of the administration building, I run into someone at the entrance. I don't know him. The panel does. A detection triggered at 12 m. Target Caden. Ability rank s. Emotional state. Calm scrutiny. Standing at the bottom of the steps is a young man in a white shirt, a sword hanging at his waist. Caden. Our eyes meet briefly. Cadence's gaze moves from

my face to the registration receipt in my hand. Then back. He says something. Not loud, just enough to carry the distance between us. Kyle, don't get eliminated too early. Then he's gone. Long strides. I watch his back. The panel is completely quiet. Cadence emotion just now. Calm scrutiny. No contempt. No anger. Zero contribution. A true powerhouse doesn't register an emotional response at the sight of an ant. He only notices what's underfoot when he's about to step on it. I fold the receipt and stuff it into my already Oversted pocket. I need to make this man

feel something and make it count. 11 at night. Jangjo salvage yard. I thread a thin waterline into the lock mechanism and work it open. What I'm looking for doesn't need to be refined. Doesn't even need to be a weapon. The systems transmutation function description is explicit. Evolve any object at the fundamental level. Quality depends on the points invested and the target's base potential. In the deepest corner of the metal section, my hand lands on a cold metal rod 1.6 m long, 3 cm in diameter, solid. I pull it out. The shaft is heavily corroded, one

end threaded, the other end is welded to a flat shovel-shaped head, a drain clearing rod. I weigh it in my hand, about 3 kg. Center of gravity sits 3 in toward the rear. I swing it once. The feel isn't bad. I sling the rod over my shoulder and keep browsing. From the electronic scrap section, I dig out an alloy disc the size of a discus. From the construction debris section, I pick up a fist-sized piece of black stone. I lay all three on the ground in a row. I crouch down. Set the drain rod horizontally

in front of me. Try it first. Confirm transmutation. Target. Drain clearing rod. Base potential rating D. A low base potential rating means the same investment yields a lower output ceiling. But I'm not after something exceptional. I want a weapon that won't raise suspicion if registered as C rank awakener equipment. Too impressive draws attention. Just right is safe. Invest 2,000 points. The panel numbers begin to shift. The change starts at both ends of the rod. The rust doesn't flake away. It seeps inward from the outer layer. Absorbed, broken down, rebuilt by some unseen force. The pits

along the shaft fill in. The color shifts from rust red to a cool dark blue black. 3 seconds. On the ground lies a 1.6 m blue black metal rod surface clean matte finish. The threading on one end is gone. The shovel head on the other end has become a three-prong structure. A trident. Transmutation complete. Item name tidest trident. Grade C plus. Material abyssal ironite purity 91%. Trait one, water affinity. Water type ability consumption reduced by 15%. Trait two, unyielding. Hardness exceeds same grade weapons by 200%. Standard B rank weapons cannot damage it. a C plus

grade weapon with B- rank defensive hardness. This means that when facing B- rank or even A- rank opponents at the league, their strikes against my weapon will find no purchase. Reasonable, unremarkable, a hidden edge. I pick up the tide crest trident and swing it twice. The sound of air spplitting carries a low frequency resonance like the trailing note of water cutting through something. I check the systems upgradeable skill list. The panel displays a row of options. One splash frank transmutation cost 500 points. Two oceans wrath hydro slash transmutation cost 8,000 points. Three, Ocean's Wrath, Storm

Call, transmutation cost, 10,000 points. Four, Oceanceans, Wrath, Tide Taming, transmutation cost 6,000 points. Transmuting a trip S+ sub skill costs several times more than transmuting an item. My available balance is 10,210, enough for one primary skill, hydro slash. It's the most lethal single target attack I have. The demon ape was turned to dust by this exact move. Transmute hydro slash cost 8,000. This time, the change isn't on the outside, it's inside. The awakening core surges. The energy circuit rearranges itself. The process lasts about 7 seconds, then everything settles. Transmutation complete. Skill: Oceanceans's Wrath Hydro Slash.

Upgraded to Oceanceans's Wrath Blade Recall Ranks S+. Upgraded waterline capacity 50,000. Maximum pressure 12,000 atmospheres. New trait recall. Water lines do not dissipate after completing a cut. They automatically return to the user, forming a defensive layer offense and defense in one. Energy efficiency increased. At the same output level, energy consumption reduced by 40%. This means a body that could previously sustain full output for 2 minutes can now run for 3 minutes and 20 seconds. And the recall trait means every strike I land adds another layer of shielding around me. The longer the fight goes, the

thicker my defense becomes. I plant the tide crust trident into the ground. I lean against a metal rack and look down at my palm. Balance. 4210. Not much left. I need to spend carefully. The league opens next Wednesday. Wednesday, Jang Joe Arena. I enter through the competitor's entrance. I scan Sarah's card at the gate. As the gate reads the card, the registration staff member nearby gives me a second look. Kale, registered ability rank F, recommendation. The card just scanned. Issued by Sarah. The staff member types a few inputs into the internal system. The result makes

his expression shift a fraction. Please proceed. I walk into holding room C minus 17 in the competitor's waiting area. I pull the Tide Crest Trident from the canvas bag on my back and lean it against the wall. The trident's blue black shaft is understated under the lighting. Current balance 4580, up by 300 over the past 5 days. The mosquito swarm effect keeps simmering, but the growth is slowing. I need new stimulus. The opening ceremony begins at 1:00 in the afternoon. When I step out of the tunnel, the giant screen is cycling through competitor profiles. When

the screen cuts to me, the crowd's cheering hits a very obvious gap. Competitor 121 Kyle Jang Joe First Academy registered ability rank F ability splash. Of the 28,000 people in the arena, at least 25,000 see that F over in the West general admission section. A bald man with a powerful voice stands up and shouts, "Frank." An frrank is allowed on stage. Whose plant is this? That line is a spark. The area around him erupts. Has there been some mistake? Doesn't frank just mean you can spit water? Rigged. Absolutely rigged. The panel in my vision fires

rapidly. All points plus three, plus two, plus 5. Over 20 entries in 10 seconds. Small individually, but enormous in volume. I keep my head down and walk into the competitor formation, taking my spot. My expression doesn't change, but the balance in the lower right of my panel jumps from 4580 to 4,917. Over 300 points, 1 minute's entry fee. The opening ceremony wraps up. The draw begins. Competitor number starts scrolling across the giant screen. Group 37, competitor A minus 121, KL F rank splash. Competitor B minus 78, Bolt, B rank, iron skin reinforcement. The crowd splits

into two camps. One side laughs. Isn't that a free win? The other side is furious. Committee, you call this a random draw? Frank versus B rank. Was that deliberate? In the VIP section, Caden watches the matchup chart on the screen. He taps the scabbard twice with his fingers. Bolt, he says to his aid. The aid nods. The sports academy crowd straightforward types. No sense of restraint. Which group am I in? Group 51. Opponent is a C rank from Cloud Peak Academy. Doesn't matter. His gaze leaves the screen and finds the figure in the gray blue

uniform standing in the competitor formation. If Bolt wins, I face him in the next round. The aid unfolds the elimination bracket. Groups 37 and 51 converge in round two. Caden gives a quiet acknowledgement. He doesn't say what happens if Bolt loses because like nearly everyone present, he doesn't take that scenario seriously. F rank against B rank. There's no if. The preliminary rounds go in order. I'm in group 37. 36 matches ahead of me. About 2 and 1/2 hours, I find a chair in the competitor rest area, lay the tiderest trident across my knees, and close

my eyes. The crowd's cheers roll in wave after wave. Two plus hours later, the announcement comes. Group 37 competitors, please take the stage. When I step onto the stage with the tide trident, Bolt is already on the other side warming up. Both arms have entered the pre-activation state of iron skin reinforcement, a layer of dark gray metallic sheen across the surface of his skin. The size difference is striking. He's 1.9 to 2 meters tall, 110 kg. I'm 1.7565 kg, wearing a faded gray blue uniform, holding a trident half a head shorter than I am. 3

seconds, done in 3 seconds. Someone in the crowd heckles. The judge's panel reads out the standard rules. Bolt cracks his knuckles together. The collision of iron skin against iron skin makes a dull thud. You're Kyle? Yeah, I'm a straight talker, so I'll say this up front. On this stage, I don't hold back, but I'll control the force. Worst case, some bone and muscle damage. Two months recovery. Don't be scared. I look up at him. Bolt, when you say bone and muscle damage, who's are you talking about? Yours or mine? Bolt's expression blanks for a moment,

then he laughs. Got guts. First F rank who's ever talked back to me. All right, if you can take one punch from me, I'll buy you dinner. I nod. Remember that I eat a lot. Before the head referee steps back, I speak. Not loud, but the amplification system is sensitive. Just to clarify, the noise in the arena drops half a level. My registered rank is F. My ability is splash. That information is accurate. I pause, but after last month's field assessment, my ability underwent a mutation. The military has filed the record. The school's information hasn't

been updated yet. I turn the tide crest trident downward and plant it into the stage floor. My current actual rank is C ability waterflow control. One second of silence, then the crowd explodes. C rank F to C in one jump. A mutation spanning that many ranks. No academic precedent for that. In the very important person section, Cadence aid leans in and gives a quiet analysis. C rank water flow control if real. That's considerably stronger than F-rank, but compared to Bolts B rank iron skin, it's still one tier below. Doesn't change the outcome. Cadence says nothing.

He isn't analyzing rank numbers. He's analyzing why I'm disclosing this information at this particular moment. If someone truly has only C rank facing a B rank like Bolt, the optimal strategy is to just fight and say nothing. Revealing your hand before the match serves no purpose. Unless what I'm revealing isn't my bottom card. It's the second layer. Group 37 begin. The moment Bolt takes his first step, the stage shutters. 110 kg wrapped in the gray sheen of iron skin reinforcement. The pressure of his Charge is like a small truck. 12 m. He covers it in

08 seconds. His right fist begins to load power 2 meters from my chest. The metallic sheen on his fist shifts from dark gray to bright silver. 2 m 1 meter. I raise my right index finger. The moisture in the air is drawn out in an instant, condensing into form. A water whip, thumb thick, roughly 4 m long, condensed and formed in 0.3 seconds. Bolt's fist is half a meter from me. The water whip cracks out without a sound at first. The crack arrives 0.1 second after impact. Because the whip's speed exceeds the speed of sound.

Contact point. The dead center of Bolt's chest, not the full torso, the sternum. Bolt's forward momentum reverses the instant of contact. 110 kg folds mid-stride and launches backward, even faster than he came in. The barrier at the edge of the stage lights up like a massive elastic net catching him. Bolt's back slides down the barrier. Knees hit the stage. Both hands brace against the floor. He gapes like a fish yanked out of water. The head referee begins the count. Three. Bolt grits his teeth. His right knee lifts from the stage. He's getting up, but before

his knee fully extends, something small appears before his eyes. A single water droplet hovering perfectly still 3 centimeters from the center of his brow. Bolt goes still. He stares at the droplet. Then he hears me say something very quiet. Only he hears it. That dinner you promised. Bolt. I'm picking the place. Bolt stares at the droplet for one second. Then he falls backward. The back of his head hits the floor with a dull thud. He isn't knocked out. He lay down on his own. Competitor down for more than 5 seconds. Competitor 121 Kyle wins. The

head referee raises the flag. The arena goes silent. 28,000 people in that instant. Quiet enough to hear the wind through the gap in the dome. From Bolt's first step to flying backward, 1.8 seconds total. I never moved, never gripped the weapon. One index finger, One water whip, one strike. Done. The silence holds for 3 seconds. Then the sound comes back. Not cheers, but the kind of noise that erupts after someone's been forced to hit pause and then play. Twice the volume of before. He said he was C rank. C rank puts a B rank airborne

with one whip. That whip speed was wrong. That was supersonic, wasn't it? The panel in my vision goes wild. Not entry by entry, but flooding in sheets. Awe points + 12 + 8 + 15. The screen floods in 3 seconds. The number climbs from 4,9117 to current a balance 7,841 nearly 3,000 points. One move, still climbing. I lower my finger and bend down to pick up the tide trident. Walking off the stage, I pass Bolt, still lying on the ground. He's flat on his back, hands folded behind his head, staring up at the dome skylight.

Bolt, he rolls his eyes to look at me. You went down early. You could have stood back up. Bolt is quiet for 2 seconds. Obviously, he says, still at full volume. Your droplet was right in front of my forehead. I'm not an idiot. Take a second hit standing up or stay down and save the trouble. He grins, but I still owe you dinner. I keep my word, you pick the place. I hoist the tide crest trident and head back to the competitor tunnel. Passing through the corridor beneath the very important person section, I don't look

up, but the panel receives a separately flagged notification. Detected emotional shift in Caden. Type interest intensity low. All points plus three from 0 to three. Caden registered an emotional response interest level only, but the ant has been noticed. That evening, six of the top 10 trending topics on Jang Joe's online platforms are League. Three are About me. #Frank competitor defeats B rank. # What rank is Splashboy Kale really? # The Bolt Tapped Out Moment. The most read post comes from the Awakener online forum. Username: Abyss Spectator. Title: Objective: The True Ceiling of Kyle's Cank Waterflow

control in his first match. Core argument: Kyle's displayed strength does exceed F-rank, but his current performance can be fully explained by somewhere between C++ and B. Not that Kyle is exceptional, rather, Bolt's defense had obvious gaps. A professional analysis conveniently places my strength in a zone that's neither too high nor too low. I sit on my dorm bed scrolling through my phone. The comment section under the post begins to shift in tone. Wave after wave of comments floods in the format and wording nearly identical. Just C rank water flow control. Bolt underestimated him. That line

appears 17 times. Against a real A- rank talent, this guy would be exposed immediately. 13 times. Don't forget he's from the decoy squad. How could he possibly win a real fight? Bolt threw the match nine times. A bot army industrial scale. I put my phone down smiling. The Lynn family's play isn't big, but the timing is precise. Flooding negative commentary during the peak heat window of the first match. The goal, control the narrative. Pull the headline from frank takes out B rank in one move. Back to the safe zone of C rank narrowly beats a

careless B rank. Why? To lower public expectations of me. Lower expectations mean less contrast when I eventually stumble. Less contrast means less awe output. Current balance 16,440 nearly quadrupled in a single day. If I don't do something, it's a waste of the Lynn family's efforts. I pick up my phone again and open a private account registered over half a year ago. Zero posts, zero followers. I post a 30 secondond short video bare bones. Phone's front camera on my face. Dorm light overhead harsh and white. I speak into the camera. Hey everyone, I'm KL. Won my

first league match today against Bolt. 1 second pause online. They're saying I'm only C rank and that Bolt lost because he underestimated me. That uh fair point, I nod. Bolt did come straight at me. The analysis isn't wrong. Another pause. But I want to respond to one question. Someone asked, "What do you do against an A- rank or Srank opponent?" I look down at my right hand. I raise my index finger to the camera. I don't know. I lower my hand. A month ago, I was frank splash. Now I've mutated to C rank water flow

control. How far this ability goes, I genuinely don't know. I tilt my head slightly at the end, just barely. But if my round two opponent is watching this, my mouth doesn't move. It's the eyes. Something quiet and certain, needing nothing to prove. The video ends. I post it. 3 hours later, 1.4 to 2 million views. The platform's recommendation algorithm detected two key signals. video content connected to that day's trending keywords. Second, user engagement data was abnormally high. Completion rate 94%, like rate 18.7%, comment rate 6.3%, share rate 11.2%. The algorithm doesn't understand human emotion. It

reads data. The comment section looks nothing like the forum. Top comment, I don't know why when he says I don't know, I somehow feel like he knows everything. Second comment, did anyone catch that look at the end? Replayed it three times. Can't describe it. Just very quiet. Quiet in a way that doesn't feel right. Third comment. Can the bot army saying he's only C rank get a new script? Scroll through 10 plus identical lines. Embarrassing. The bot army's posts are buried. I lie on my dorm bed staring at the ceiling. Phone toss aside. The panel

refreshes quietly in the upper right of my vision. Current all balance 19,870. That number climbed over 3,400 in the past 3 hours. 1.4 million views. Even if only one in 10 viewers registered a genuine response, the combined contributions keep the number rising. The round two matchup chart is announced tomorrow. Two wins in a row puts me against Caden in round three. Three days between matches. What can I do in three days? First, go to the salvage yard and run transmutation on that bronze pump casing. Second, push the tide crest trident up one grade above C++.

Third, I close my eyes. The awakening core runs quietly inside me. One move isn't enough to take on the world. I need a second card. The skill transmutation list is still up on the panel. Oceans wrath, tide taming, cost 6,000 points. 12 ironclad rhinos are still waiting in the military district. I told them I'd be back. The way the semi-final rules are announced is theatrical. The morning after all preliminary rounds conclude, the head judge takes the stage in person to read them out. I notice something about the wax seal on the envelope. The impressions texture

is inconsistent, as if it was sealed, then opened and resealed. After deliberation, the organizing committee has decided the semi-final stage will use multiplayer survival mode. The noise level in the arena climbs a notch. The 64 competitors who advance from the preliminary rounds will be divided into two groups. Group A 32, group B 32. Each group will be placed in a simulated ecological environment. Time limit 2 hours. Each competitor begins with three survival tokens. Being knocked out or voluntarily surrendering requires handing one token to the victor. At the 2-hour mark, the 16 competitors with the most

tokens in each group advance. The rules themselves are fine. The problem is the grouping. The screen begins scrolling the roster. Group A names appear one by one. 32 people in group A. 31 with ties to the Lynn family. The remaining one is me. In the competitor area, people start whispering, "How is this group almost entirely Lynn family?" Wait, number seven. In that group, Zeke isn't that the head judge's nephew. In the VIP section, Caden is satisfied with the grouping result, but the satisfaction is too mild. Too mild to contribute even a single awe point because

he expected this outcome from the start. Current awe balance, 22,150. Enough. I glance down at the Tide Crest Trident's prongs and smile purely because something strikes me as funny. 31 people to surround one. And the Lynn family apparently thought that wasn't quite enough to look good, so they pulled out the B ranks themselves. Consider it. The entrance to the simulated ecological environment is a metal passage 3 meters in diameter. At the end, it forks into 32 individual transport tunnels, theoretically randomized, but I notice that the energy rail frequency on the inner wall of my tunnel

has been manually adjusted. My drop coordinates are not random. The organizing committee has already arranged my landing point somewhere near the center of the field. Convenient for surrounding. I step into the tunnel. Transport initiates. The light changes. Forest. I'm standing in a forest clearing roughly 30 m across, surrounded on all sides by towering projected broadleaf trees. My position is as expected in the central zone of the field. Group a survival mode countdown. 3 2 1 begin. I do the exact opposite of standard strategy. I plant the tide crest trident in the earth at the center

of the clearing and take off my uniform jacket. I reach into my pants pocket and pull out a sealed bag. Inside are three pieces of marinated beef jerky. I wrap the jerky in aluminum foil. Then I start gathering dry branches from the clearing. I start the fire with water more precisely by driving water molecules in the air into high-speed collision, concentrating the resulting Friction heat to a single point. 30 seconds later, a column of thick smoke rises from the clearing. A vertical gray white smoke pillar climbs above the 20,000 square meter simulated environment, visible from

every point on the field. The crowd's reaction is immediate. A wave of commotion. What is he doing? Making a fire. He's making a fire. The match just started. 31 people are coming for him, and he's lighting a campfire in the center, clearing to grill meat. The holographic camera system cuts to a close-up. On screen, I'm crouching beside the fire, carefully arranging the foil wrap jerky over the flames. Fire light plays across my face. expression grilling meat. The commentary booth erupts. Viewers, am I seeing this right? Competitor 121 Kyle has chosen to build a fire at

the center of the field in the first minute of a survival match. Jake, let me try to analyze this. Is he using some highlevel tactic? I don't understand. I can't analyze it. 12 years in this field and this is the first time I've ever seen anyone grill food in a league survival match. The panel in my vision starts ticking up. All points plus 18 plus 27 + 14. Fast and dense, but I'm not watching the panel. I'm listening. Sounds from the forest converge from four directions. Closing in. Closest group, northeast, 120 m, three people. Southwest,

five people, moving fast, eager to claim the first strike. North, seven people. Most cautious in movement. Likely the main assault unit. Scattered footsteps approach from other directions. 26 people total converging on this position. I check the foil packet. The jerky isn't done yet. Then I raise my head and speak toward the trees surrounding the clearing. All right, stop crouching. The footsteps in the forest stop. On your way in, check if there's any dry wood around. The humidity here isn't great. The fire isn't strong enough. 3 seconds of Silence. Then an irritated voice calls out from

the southwest tree line. What is going on? Five people break out from that direction. Leading is a firet type awakener. D rank. Both hands already wrapped in flame. Kyle drop the act. The fire type's voice is hotter than his flames. You think pulling tricks is going to? He doesn't finish because he smells the jerky. The wind happens to blow from my direction. Soy sauce, black pepper, and a base note of garlic. A precision strike on the olfactory cortex of five young men who haven't eaten since the prep area. The firetype awakener's flames drop an inch.

Not on purpose. He's distracted. I crouch beside the fire. I use a twig to flick a finished piece of jerky out of the foil. Blow on it. Take a bite. Chew twice. Decent. A bit salty. I lift the other two packets off the fire. Want some? The five of them exchange glances. He's inviting us to eat. Don't fall for it. It's a mind game, but it smells so good. In the very important person booth, Kaden's wine glass doesn't move. For the first time, he stares at the figure on screen, crouching beside the fire, chewing jerky.

His aid says quietly beside him. Young master, should we signal them to move in? Caden doesn't answer. He's working through a question. What exactly am I doing? a person about to be surrounded by 30 plus opponents choosing to actively expose their position and draw everyone in. This behavior has only two explanations, either stupid or confident enough to face all 30 plus at once. Gaden's right-hand fingers pause on the scabbard for one second. He chooses a third explanation. He wants everyone gathered in one place, so he only has to fight once. The first wave of attacks

arrives as I swallow my third bite of jerky. The five from the southwest make the first Move. A-sized fireball shoots in from 30 m out. Simultaneously, the threeperson group from the northeast arrives. A row of knee high earth spikes erupts from beneath the ground, advancing toward the center of the clearing. From the north, the sevenperson group sends plant vines reaching down from the canopy. Fireball, earth spikes, vines, two metal throwing blades, five types of attacks covering the center of the clearing from three directions simultaneously. I rise quickly, but I don't dodge. I do something that

nearly makes the commentator swallow his microphone. I clamp the halfeaten jerky between my teeth. Both hands grab the uniform jacket spread on the ground and bundle the remaining two foil packets inside. Then, I casually toss the jacket behind a solid tree stump 5 m away. Then I pull the tiderest trident from the ground. The fireball arrives less than 2 meters away. I raise my right hand, not the index finger. The full palm, no water whip forms. Instead, every water molecule within 30 m of altitude above the clearing is mobilized simultaneously in2 seconds, spreading into a

transparent water membrane, a curtain just.3 mm thick. The fireball hits the water curtain. No explosion. The membrane vaporizes instantly at the high temperature contact point. The expansion force changes the fireball's trajectory deflected 15°. The fireball grazes past my left shoulder and slams into the dead stump behind me. The earth spikes reach my feet. I move one step left, clearing the first row of spikes. Body drops 30 cm. The second row grazes the top of my right foot. I step back half a pace. The third row breaks through the ground 2 cm in front of my

toes. The precision of my footwork doesn't come from my eyes. It comes from the soles of my feet. One of the most overlooked applications of Water type abilities. By sensing the displacement shifts of water molecules in the gaps between matter, I can construct a real-time heat map of every object moving beneath the surface. My steps don't hesitate once every footfall lands in the safe gap between spikes. The plant vine drops from above. The tide crest trident sweeps an arc. The prongs don't cut the vine. They hook it with the three-prongong structure, applying torque 1 meter

outward, perpendicular to the growth direction, like ringing a towel. The fiber structure fails. The vine snaps on the spot from the first fireballs landing point to the vine snapping 4 seconds total. I'm still in the same spot. Total movement under 2 meters. The jerky is still clamped in my teeth. The entire arena goes silent for a beat. He didn't move. The commentator's voice returns but strained. He didn't even strike back. Three completely different counter methods executed within 4 seconds. That is not the decision speed a C rank should have. The panel floods across my vision.

All points plus 45 + 22 + 61. The large deposits have begun, but I have no time to look at the numbers. The second wave is here. The sevenperson group from the north breaks through the trees. Two metal type awakeners up front as shields. Three ranged attackers in the middle row. Two support types in the rear. The remaining 16 surge out from all other directions. 28 people close in from every angle. 28 fire at once. Fireballs, wind blades, earth spikes, metal throwing blades, vines, ice shards, at least seven different ability types, hammering the center of

the clearing from 360°. The density so extreme that the data rendering system for the projected canopy experiences a brief overload. The commentator's voice cracks. 28 simultaneous volleys, full 360 coverage. Kyle is in the middle of his next word catches in his throat. because I'm gone. Not teleportation. A movement speed that exceeds the frame rate of the holographic camera system. 28 attacks converge at the center of the clearing. Boom. The psionic buffer activates. The alloy floor is torn open into a crater 6 m across. Smoke and dust fill the air. No one at the center. Only

a scorched gray blue uniform jacket. I tossed it back from behind the stump one second before they fired. Misdirection. In the stands, someone screams. Someone groans. Someone doubles over laughing. The numbers on the panel begin rolling at a speed I've never seen before. A points plus 88 plus 77. plus 156, but I have no time to watch. My voice comes from midair, 7 or 8 m up. I'm standing on a solid structural beam where the dome framework of the simulated environment is exposed. The tide trident rests across my shoulder. I look down at the 28

people in the crater below. Fire light illuminates my face from beneath. I speak. The tone of someone reviewing a group project. Your coordination is lacking. 28 people targeting 1.12 shots missed. The worst miss flew 9 m wide. You there? I see a D-rank fire type. Go work on your arm extension. A fixed target at 30 m with a spread of over 2 m. you wouldn't pass the first round of a field athletics throwing event. The crowd produces a sound that defies categorization, not laughter, not shouting. The kind of raw horse howl that gets rung out

of you after someone holds your head down and forces you to watch performance arts done a mix of absurdity and adrenaline. The bedding pools imploded 30 seconds ago. The house system is throwing errors. In the very important person booth, Cadence's wine Glass is suspended at his lips. The wine doesn't stir. His aid speaks for the first time without waiting for a signal. Young master, quiet. Cadence stares at the screen. The figure standing on the beam. The panel receives a flag notification. Detected emotional shift in caden. Type scrutinizing alertness. Intensity medium high. Awe points plus 18.

18 points from 3 to 18. The ant has the tiger's full attention on the beam. I pull my gaze back. I sweep my eyes across the 28 people below. My gaze settles at last on a figure standing in the back. A C-rank competitor. Hands in pockets. Who hasn't made a single move. That person is watching me too. Expression flat. We hold eye contact across 7 or 8 meters of altitude for about 1 second. I lower the tide crest trident from my shoulder, prongs downward, and plant it into the metal surface of the beam. The first

round of this survival match ends. 28 people fired, zero hits. I didn't strike back once, but the match is only 4 minutes in and there are still two packets of jerky