Cael reappeared in the shadowed academy hallway, fugitive energy crackling off his skin. The arena's roaring crowd fell silent behind the heavy stone walls.
"Congratulations," Odin's metallic voice echoed in his skull. "You are officially a ranker."
Who cares? Cael dismissed the thought before it finished forming. His pulse still thrummed共建 a dissonant beat against his ribs. He focused inward, summoning the familiar blue-hued projection only he could see:
STATUS WINDOW
Name: Cael Ardentis
Age: 16
Level: 1
Rank: D
Gift: Infinite Eyes ⊙ [Eye of Space] ⊙ [Eye of Power]
Affinities: Space
Bloodline: Eternal Convergence (partially unlocked)
Class: None
Talent: Absolute Assimilation
Attributes:
Strength: D-
Agility: D-
Endurance: D
Intelligence: C-
Vitality: D
Mana: D
Luck:它也 A
Skills:
Transcendental Swordsmanship (E+)
Void Flash (F)
Space Bind (F)
Dominance Aura (F)
Enhanced strength (A)
Spatial Deviation (D)
He brought up the skill description.
Spatial Deviation (D)
You can create a distortion field around you that can deflect, reflect, or absorb attacks.
Spatial Deviation… That's what the system created after he'd figured out how to make the distortion field. A practical application of the Eye of Space, which allowed me full mastery of the Space affinity. It wasn't elegant, it wasn't refined, but it worked.
(Early that morning)
The metallic tang of exertion clung to the air as Cael pushed himself to his feet in the stark, echoing training facility. Sweat beaded on his forehead, tracing paths down his temples. "Okay, let's go again," he rasped, ignoring the burn in his muscles. He'd arrived before sunrise, determined to master the technique.
Damn this takes a lot more mental energy than I thought, he thought, bracing for another round. The field demanded constant concentration, a delicate balancing act between manipulating space and maintaining his own composure.
"Round 64, level 3, begin. 3…2…1," the robotic AI of the facility announced, its voice devoid of emotion. Suddenly, metallic balls began hurtling from the walls, a relentless barrage aimed to test speed and agility. The goal wasn't to destroy, but to avoid—and each hit chipped away at his dwindling credit balance. Which, Cael realized with a grimace, hurt the most.
He teleported, a blur of motion, dodging the initial volley. He shifted, phasing slightly, attempting to deflect a pair of incoming projectiles. A ping resonated in his mind as one grazed his shoulder. Five credits gone. Another dodge, another near miss. He felt the strain building, his vision blurring at the edges. Through the burning agony in his muscles and the sting of lost credits, he gritted his teeth.
"I did it!" he mumbled, his voice strained, barely audible above the whirring of the training facility. He had survived—barely—the sixty-fourth round, level three. But he knew that with each level jump, the challenge, and the cost, would only escalate.
In that moment, an attack coming at him deflected to the right, and so did the other attacks that came, all going either left or right, none reaching within a ten-meter distance to Cael. He smirked as a familiar status screen popped up.
You have obtained the new skill: Space Distortion
Finally, I thought I was gonna be here all day, Cael thought with a grin.
Space Distortion (D)
You are able to deflect, block, or stop attacks when someone enters this distortion, and you are in control of all the space in the field.
The field expands to a limit of 10 meters.
Attacks can be absorbed and then reflected.
He held the field steady, the metallic balls hovering in the air, suspended in the distortion. Cael took a deep breath, feeling the power thrumming through his veins. He released the field, and the balls clattered to the ground, inert.
"Not bad," he said, his voice echoing in the empty training facility. "Not bad at all."
He glanced at the status screen again, noting the increase in his skill level. It was a small victory, but it was progress. And progress, he knew, was the key to survival in this world.
Cael strolled toward the dormitories, mentally cataloging the possibilities of his newly acquired skill. Space Distortion. The potential was intoxicating. He could refine it, shrink the field for close-quarters combat, expand it for a wider defense—perfect it to an untouchable shield. Even S-Rank awakeners would struggle against a truly mastered distortion field. The thought sparked a slow grin.
Gruuuuuuu.
Cael stopped mid-stride, hand instinctively rubbing his stomach. "Man, I'm hungry." The adrenaline from training—and the sheer mental exertion—had burned through his energy reserves. He recalled scanning the academy map during a particularly dull orientation session. A cafe…yes, there was a cafe nearby.
He navigated the polished stone walkways, eventually finding the establishment. Sky Cafe. New, judging by the fresh signage and pristine facade, yet the academy forums buzzed with rave reviews. Apparently, it had quickly cemented itself as one of, if not the, best food spot in the entire Valeria kingdom.
Seriously? Cael thought, skimming a particularly enthusiastic post. What are they putting in their food? He confessed to a guilty habit—occasional forum browsing. He got curious, alright? And sometimes, curiosity meant diving deep into the rabbit hole of academy gossip.
He'd noticed a recurring topic within the threads: his hair.
"Is white hair really that rare?" he muttered to himself, brushing a stray strand from his eyes. It wasn't like he'd chosen it. A side effect of…well, everything. He still struggled to comprehend the sheer absurdity of his second life. A truck, a new body, a system, a legacy… it felt like a poorly written novel.
The cafe's entrance chimed as he stepped inside. The interior was a stark contrast to the austere academy architecture. Warm, inviting light spilled from delicate, floating lanterns. The aroma of roasted spices and sweet pastries filled the air, instantly making his stomach rumble again.
Several students occupied small, circular tables, engaged in animated conversations. A few glances flickered his way, lingering a moment too long on his unusual hair. He caught snippets of hushed whispers.
"Is that…?"
"The transfer student? The one with the—"
"White hair?"
Cael subtly rolled his eyes. Here we go again. He approached the counter, ignoring the stares. Behind it stood a woman with vibrant purple hair pulled back into a tight bun. She smiled warmly, a stark contrast to the curious gazes he'd been receiving.
"Welcome to Sky Cafe! What can I get for you?"
*****
The ground shudders, sending vibrations through the cracked asphalt of Ashfall's industrial zone. Yellow tape ripples like a warning flag as the Heroic Corps guards tighten their formation, their mana-infused armor gleaming under the sickly green light spilling from the rift. The portal tears reality itself—a jagged, vertical wound in the air, crackling with unstable energy. Civilians murmur behind the barricade, a mix of fear and morbid curiosity.
"Never expected one here," a man mutters, his breath fogging in the cool air.
"The industrial zone's been abandoned for years," a woman counters, clutching her coat. "That's why no patrols came."
"Then why send students?" another voice cuts in. "Aren't they too young?"
"Second-years, but it's the heirs of House Blackthorne and Dray," someone says with awe. "Lucas and Marcus. The two strongest in the academy. Even some Heroic Corps members are inside for backup."
A murmur of approval ripples through the crowd. Hope flickers. If the heirs are here, surely this C-Rank dungeon will fall quickly.
Then, the rift pulses violently. The green light shifts to a deep, angry crimson. The ground trembles again, stronger this time, and dust rises from the abandoned warehouses. A low, guttural growl echoes from the breach, unmistakably monstrous and hungry. The Heroic Corps guards stiffen, their hands tightening on their weapons.
Inside the dungeon
The Crimson Juggernaut, a hulking monstrosity of obsidian plates and pulsating red eyes, collapsed. Its final roar was cut short as a devastating shockwave of thunder and an overbearing pulse of force shattered its core. The dungeon's interior, a twisted cavern of jagged rock and corrupted flora, fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the fading crackle of dying mana.
The two figures stood amidst the settling dust. Marcus Dray, his red tactical jacket pristine despite the battle, ran a hand through his blond hair, his bright yellow eyes scanning the carnage. The immense heat radiating from his body began to dissipate, steam rising from his arms. He turned, his gaze locking onto the two Heroic Corps members who had entered as support—both veteran C-Rank Awakeners, now standing frozen in awe.
"Is that the last one?" Marcus's voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet.
Lucas Blackthorne landed silently beside him, the deep blue of his hair catching the flickering light of the dungeon crystals. He wiped his blade, a simple steel sword enhanced with faint lightning runes, before sheathing it. "That was the dungeon boss, Marcus."
Marcus scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, didn't notice." He stretched his arms, the leather of his gloves creaking. The arrogance was palpable, but it was earned. The fight had lasted less than five minutes.
Lucas let out a soft sigh, a casual, boyish grin spreading across his face. The calm radiance he exuded was a stark contrast to Marcus's fiery intensity. "Anyways, since we're done here, we better get back. The ranking duels should be starting soon."
Marcus bent down, kicking the massive, scorched carcass of the beast. "What's it matter? No one's going to challenge the top ten anyway. Let alone us."
Lucas looked toward the shimmering entrance of the rift, his dark grey eyes thoughtful. "I don't know. I feel like something exciting is gonna happen."
"Yeah, yeah," Marcus said, rolling his eyes as he straightened up. "Every time you say that, we're thrown into some impossible situation."
"Well," Lucas replied, his grin unwavering, "is it really impossible if we've survived every single situation?"
Marcus sighed, the sound more performative than genuine. "Fine. Let's go."
As they strode toward the exit, the Heroic Corps members snapped out of their daze. One, a stern-faced woman with a scar over her eye, barked orders to her subordinates. "Okay everyone! Time to collect the corpses before the dungeon rift closes! Move!" The Corps members scrambled to harvest cores and materials, their movements efficient and practiced.
The lead officer, a middle-aged man with a sturdy build, jogged up to the two heirs. He offered a respectful bow. "Thank you for your help, Young Masters. Your efficiency was… exemplary."
Lucas offered a warm smile, his heroic nature on full display. "Please, we're heroes. It's what we do. But may I ask a favor?"
The officer straightened. "Yes? What can I assist you with?"
"We just need to get back to the academy as soon as possible," Lucas said, his grin taking on a slight edge. "The duels are important."
"Of course," the man replied, pulling a communicator from his belt. "I'm sorry but the commander has requested you again"
Lucas nodded. "What is it another rift?"
"No, just please come with me" the man replied
Marcus simply grunted, "Hmmph," while crossing his arms, his gaze already fixed on the distant sky, impatient to return to the familiar, competitive halls of Valefort.
*****
To be continued