The Lia Estate was not a mere residence; it was a cathedral of arrogance, a sprawling complex of obsidian and graviton-glass that defied the very laws of physics Fang Yuan had once manipulated. As a "Scrubber," Yuan was assigned to the Solar Atrium, a gargantuan hall where the light of the artificial suns was filtered through mana-conductive prisms. Here, the floors were made of Void-Silicon, designed to absorb the excess energy radiated by the High Council members during their meditation.
Yuan knelt on the cold, humming floor, a ragged cloth in his small, trembling hand. His task was to wipe away the "Mana-Soot"—the crystallized residue of high-grade energy that leaked from the powerful. To a normal human, this soot was lethal, a radioactive poison that rotted the lungs. To Yuan, it was a gourmet meal.
"Keep your head down, ghost," a guard barked, his boot narrowly missing Yuan's fingers. "The Golden Scion is approaching. If you so much as breathe in his direction, your soul will be extinguished before your body hits the floor."
Yuan didn't respond. He lowered his forehead until it touched the Void-Silicon. He closed his eyes, activating the Abyssal Capillary, a sub-vocal technique from the Null-Logic archives. He turned his body into a "Conceptual Sink"—a hole in reality that didn't exist to sensors, but greedily pulled at the fringes of the environment.
Then, the temperature in the room soared.
It wasn't heat; it was the sheer pressure of a Peak Rank 1: World Breaker. Kaelen Vance entered the atrium, flanked by Elara Lia. He didn't walk; he glided, his every step causing the gravity-plates in the floor to groan. His skin glowed with a faint, solar-gold radiance, and the air around him shimmered like a desert mirage.
"The atmospheric harvest is down by three percent, Elara," Kaelen said, his voice carrying the resonant frequency of a solar flare. "The commoners are growing sluggish. Perhaps we should increase the mana-tax on the lower sectors."
"They are already dying at record rates, Kaelen," Elara replied, her tone respectful yet cautious. "If we push harder, the labor force will collapse before the Aegis-0 update is complete."
As they passed within three meters of Yuan, the "Solar Tyrant" paused. The air around Kaelen was saturated with discarded, high-grade mana—the "waste" of a body that was too small to contain its own arrogance.
Now, Yuan thought, his heart hammering against his frail ribs.
He didn't reach out with his hands. He reached out with his Void-Veins. Using the Null-Logic, he created a microscopic tether between himself and the golden aura Kaelen was shedding. It was a parasitic link, thin as a spider's silk.
Slurp.
A surge of pure, refined solar mana flooded into Yuan's withered meridians. It felt like liquid fire. It burned his throat, his lungs, and his very marrow. But instead of screaming, Yuan used the pain to anchor his consciousness. He channeled the stolen energy directly into his Foundation Layer, forcing his mortal cells to undergo a violent, accelerated evolution.
Kaelen Vance frowned, his eyes—golden orbs with no pupils—scanning the floor. "The Void-Silicon is unusually cold today. Is the absorption system malfunctioning?"
Yuan held his breath, his small body shaking as the stolen mana began to crack his bones and reset them. He looked like a child shivering in fear, but internally, he was a predator feasting on the scraps of a god.
"It's just the dampness of the sector, My Lord," the director stammered, bowing low. "The scrubbers are working as fast as they can."
Kaelen's gaze lingered on Yuan for a terrifying second. To the Golden Scion, Yuan was nothing more than a speck of dust, a biological error. "Dispose of the sick ones more quickly," Kaelen commanded dismissively. "The sight of decay irritates my cultivation."
As the pair walked away, Yuan's grey eyes flashed with a sudden, violent indigo spark. The stolen mana had settled. He could feel it—the first crystallization of power. The "Mortal Limit" of his body had been breached.
«Thank you for the gift, Kaelen Vance,» Yuan thought, a drop of blood falling from his nose onto the floor. «Your 'waste' has just given me the strength of a Half-Step World Breaker. Within a month, I will not be cleaning your floors. I will be cleaning your bloodline from the face of this planet.»