The press conference ran at ten the next morning. Standing before a packed crowd of flashing cameras and shouting reporters, Adam wore a sharp, expensive-looking suit that lent him an air of absolute authority. He waited for the room to settle before stepping up to the microphone.
"Welcome, everyone," Adam began, his voice calm and carrying across the hall. "I know you all have questions regarding the recent Raid expedition. As we have officially shared, my deputy and I managed to secure an S-rating and survive within the zone for over a year."
The room erupted into a flurry of murmurs, but Adam raised a hand, cutting through the noise.
"To explain the situation from our side: the world was an L5-rated instance. It provided us with zero initial information regarding its true danger level, and it didn't take long to show its teeth. Many quickly lost their lives. Due to my analytical skills, I came to the conclusion that the environment itself was actively generating unnatural phenomena designed to eliminate all intruders. I shared these findings with the survivors and warned them to adapt immediately."
A reporter shouted a question about how they survived a full year under such conditions.
"Simple," Adam replied smoothly. "It is due to a new power system granted to Eclipse by the Bazaar. Because this system is highly confidential, I will not be explaining its mechanics today. Many of you will take this as a lie, and many will undoubtedly try to use it to cover up falsehoods of their own. Frankly, we do not care. The truth will eventually show itself."
He spent the remainder of the time fielding the rest of their questions, deftly batting away rumors about the trip being a secret vacation, fielding prying inquiries about his relationship with Ren, and maintaining an unshakeable front.
The atmosphere surrounding Eclipse shifted after the broadcast. It wasn't an overnight revolution, but the whispers had started, and people were finally beginning to talk.
Later that afternoon, Brandt walked into the office to deliver an update about their upcoming family gathering. Apparently, Mirelle had not received a phone call yesterday, and she was thoroughly pissed about it. Discovering her own daughter was back via the morning news had done nothing to sweeten her temper.
"Thursday," Brandt told them, his expression a mask of dry amusement. "She is bringing your aunt and uncle, Adam."
Adam looked at Ren. Ren looked at Adam.
"Thursday, then" Adam sighed. "I'll cook."
The official guild briefing took place that same afternoon in Brandt's office.
"Numbers first." Brandt leaned against the edge of his desk, entirely discarding his notes. "We had five incursions in our response zone while you two were gone. Marchand led the defense on four of them, and Iliescu handled the last. Zero civilian casualties, zero member losses. The Kerenth Daily called the Velden response 'surgical,' and Marchand has been utterly unbearable about it ever since."
"Good," Adam said with a slight smirk. "She earned it."
"Membership currently stands at three hundred and forty in total," Brandt continued. "Eight new rookies have been field-cleared since you left. Two in particular you should know about." He gestured with his chin toward the training floor below. "A Kessho swordsman, Daichi Mori. He utilizes a blade-art that sends out curved, flying slashes. He aggressively took point during the fourth incursion on only his ninth day on the job, completely bypassing permission."
"Did it work?"
"It worked twice. That's the problem, now, he thinks it's a strategy. The other is Ife Adeyemi, a Solan medic who is highly skilled in barrier magic. She held a collapsed concrete stairwell open for six minutes straight with civilians trapped underneath it. The wall downstairs has their photographs if you want to see their faces."
"I want introductions," Adam corrected. "This week."
"You'll have them." Brandt set his tablet down, seamlessly changing gears. "And then there is the other matter. Three of our members, that applied for potions, officially crossed the threshold into L2 while you were away. All three filed purchase requests the exact same morning the Bazaar cleared their tier."
Adam went completely still for half a second.
The listings. The pathway catalogue, gated behind Level 2, had been sitting safely on Eclipse's shelves for over a year while the members trained blindly toward the requirement.
"Who are they?"
"Maren Holst, the ex-HEC line sergeant; Dario Venn, the Vaelport tracker; and Asha Okonkwo, who finished top of her class." Brandt slid three request forms across the desk. "Holst wants the Warrior listing. Venn wants Hunter. Okonkwo wants Arbiter."
Adam picked up the forms and read through them twice. Each page contained the exact same question at the bottom—the one he had personally mandated: Why this specific power?
Holst had written: Strong from the first bottle. No tricks, looks straightforward. I know what it can do and I like it.
Venn's answer read: It does openly what I already do quietly. I was a hunter and a tracker even before this, so this would just make it official.
Okonkwo had noted: Looks strong later on and useful at the start. I like order and rules. This is perfect for me.
"They picked the sturdy doors," Adam observed, a wave of satisfaction settling over him. "Strong at entry. Predictable digestion. Nothing that looks confusing or unstable at the lower rungs."
"They picked based entirely on your recommendations," Brandt pointed out. "Being careful is highly fashionable in this guild now. You set it that way."
Adam picked up a pen and signed his approval across all three.
"Approved. Under these conditions: digestion reports come to you weekly, acting-method plans must be filed before they drink, and nobody advances to the next tier until their current digestion has been perfectly complete for at least a month. And Brandt, the first time one of them tries to cut a corner, the listing closes to them permanently. The Bazaar contract has teeth, and so do I."
"They know. Okonkwo literally quoted your safety seminar back to me from memory." Brandt almost smiled. "Sophie asked me to tell you she has her choices narrowed down to two listings. She said, and I am quoting her directly, she'll pick when you're standing there and not a minute before."
"Then I'll be there." Adam looked down at the signed documents. It was the small, tidy beginning of a future he had been building toward ever since a flickering shape sat behind a desk in a Victorian office. The first true Beyonders on Earth-Prime who weren't him.
"The hard part starts now," Brandt murmured, reading his face.
"It always does."
Thursday arrived, accompanied by a mountain of produce.
Lena came through the Floor 40 door first, balancing a heavy crate of fresh tomatoes against her hip because an enthusiastic merchant at the Greyhill market had heard her nephew was finally home. She took one look at Adam—deeply tanned, standing in his own kitchen with a knife in hand and an apron tied around his waist, and her eyes went instantly wet.
"You're as brown as a nut," she whispered, sweeping forward and hugging him hard enough to completely compromise the apron.
Henrik shook his hand at the door, gave him a thorough look-over, and offered a single, solid nod that spoke volumes. "The boat has a hull now," he announced. Coming from Henrik, this was a massive celebration.
Sophie walked in third, proudly displaying the new L2 patch on her sleeve, and stopped dead in her tracks.
"Brandt warned me about the hat," she said, staring blankly at it. "He severely undersold it. Why on earth are you wearing it inside the house?"
"It's a legendary artifact, Sophie."
"It's a top hat, Adam. You look ridiculous."
Mirelle arrived last, naturally. Dressed in a flawless spring dress and a wide-brimmed sun hat, she carried a bottle of wine like a woman invading a fortress. She kissed Ren's cheeks, held her daughter at arm's length, and immediately activated her full appraisal mode.
"Rested. Lit from somewhere deep inside." She swung the appraisal laser onto Adam, then snapped it back to her daughter. "A year locked away together at the end of the world, and you return looking like you're on a honeymoon. I can't wait to hear the details."
"Mother," Ren warned.
"I have delighted questions."
Dinner was a loud, chaotic affair. It was the exact environment Adam had decided, somewhere during his second life, was the grandest available definition of wealth. He handled the cooking; Lena supervised his technique with her hands folded strictly behind her back; Henrik and Sophie argued animatedly about hull resin; and Mirelle spun a grand tale about an L7 client who owed her a massive sum of money. Ren sat in her usual spot, where she could clearly scan every door out of a habit neither of them mentioned aloud, and laughed far more than the room expected her to.
Somewhere past the second bottle of wine, Mirelle rested her chin on her hand, locking her gaze onto the two of them.
"So. A whole year. No deaths, no duels, no political infighting." She let the silence hang provocatively. "What does a young couple even do with an entire year alone?"
"Trained," Adam said flawlessly.
"Traveled," Ren added smoothly.
Mirelle's smile turned dangerously amused. "Mm." She glanced over at Lena. "They have the look, don't they?"
"They certainly do," Lena agreed placidly, passing a basket of fresh bread.
"What look?" Ren asked, her voice taking on the dangerous, calculated precision of someone stepping over a tripwire.
"Settled," her mother purred, sweet as the vintage wine. "It's a very particular look. Lena and I were just discussing how patient we both are. Famously patient. No one is rushing anyone."
Ren took a exceptionally long, slow drink of ice water. Beneath the table, Adam's hand found her knee, offering a supportive squeeze. Neither of them looked toward the apricot bowl resting on the kitchen counter. They avoided it very deliberately, at the exact same time.
"The boat," Henrik intervened into the heavy silence, his timing impeccable as a quiet man who misses absolutely nothing, "is going to need a name."
The conversation gratefully drifted toward boats. Hours later, as they were finally making their departure, Mirelle paused in the doorway. She looked back at Adam, the calculating appraisal entirely gone from her eyes for one genuine second.
"Thank you for keeping her boring for a year," she said softly. "It doesn't suit her, and she desperately needed it."
"Any time," Adam replied sincerely. Mirelle smiled, and just for a fleeting moment, she was simply a mother.
Decryption and the Magic Words
The Bazaar listing for Adam's next solo deployment opened two weeks later. Sage called an urgent household meeting the night before departure.
[ Before you deploy, Host, we should finish the conversation we started over the hat. I have completed the analysis. You will want to sit down. Miss Ren should attend; I require her abilities for the demonstration. ]
The three of them gathered at the kitchen counter, the black felt Traveler's Hat resting quietly between them.
[ The hat records. That is its secondary property, and on the surface, it is modest: any ability expressed in the hat's presence can be written into one of three slots and played back once at roughly sixty percent of its original strength. A basic souvenir shelf. Useful, but heavily limited. ]
"But," Adam prompted.
[ But the hat does not have what I have. If I run Decryption against the ability while the hat writes it down, the recording stores the fundamental truth of the technique rather than its surface visual. Playback efficiency rises to eighty, perhaps ninety percent. Still a single-use function, however. That is the second tier. ]
Adam relayed the information aloud to Ren, who leaned forward with intense curiosity. "And what about the third tier?"
[ The third tier is the one with true potential, ] Sage explained. [ As I prepared it for you previously, your Theft capability can reach one tier higher, meaning Sequence Six, but at a significantly reduced effect, higher energy cost, and a lower base success rate. This modified Theft possesses a forty percent chance of working. When successful, it grants us the targeted power for exactly three minutes at full capacity, alongside the owner's lifetime of experience using it. Furthermore, it actively severs that power from the original owner, preventing them from utilizing it for one full hour. ] [ Now, consider the combination: Recording, plus Decryption, plus the Host's active Theft. A stolen ability is not merely an observed ability; for the duration of the steal, the magical signature itself sits directly in the Host's hands. If the hat records that, it stores the ability flawlessly at one hundred percent strength, owner experience included. And because the record captures the entire living structure, it does not burn off after a single shot. It persists, degrading slowly over time like any written text. The steal itself still costs the full cross-Sequence price in reserve, but the hat makes the result vastly longer-lasting. ]
"Give me the hard numbers," Adam said.
[ An ability stolen and recorded holds approximately one hour of total cumulative usage time before the record degrades past functionality. Stronger high-tier abilities, or anything leaning directly on a conceptual authority, will hold closer to thirty minutes. Think of it as a battery timer, not a single-shot spell. You spend the minutes in pieces across as many occasions as you like until it is completely drained. ]
Adam sat back, absorbing the implications. Three slots. Steal a high-tier ability for three minutes, record it completely, and walk away with a full hour of someone else's specialized power sitting quietly in his hatband.
"This is why you were so eager."
[ Exactly, Host. Your abilities chain perfectly. The Veil hides and targets, Decryption reads, Theft borrows, and now the hat permanently stores. Separately, they are excellent tools. Together, they form an independent supply line. And it scales. Every Sequence you climb raises Theft's reach and effect, and my processing throughput. At Sequence Four, by my current projections, you will be able to rip the core of an ability away permanently, seating it in a record that does not degrade at all. ]
The kitchen fell entirely silent for a moment.
"Sequence Four," Ren said softly, a trace of awe in her voice. "That sounds like a bedtime story."
[ One more detail, Host, before the demonstration, ] Sage interrupted, shifting the tone. [ The hat features a strict activation condition for its recording function. I decrypted it directly from the artifact's binding layer. It is spoken, it is mandatory, and it is entirely non-negotiable. ]
Go ahead.
[ To initiate recording, the wearer must state aloud: "I came, I saw, I recorded." ]
Adam stared into the middle distance, his face turning entirely blank.
"No."
[ It is hard-coded into the power of the artifact, Host. ]
"Absolutely not."
[ I can trigger the Theft and the Decryption silently from my end, ] Sage countered, sounding remarkably smug. [ The catchphrase is the single component that must be yours. ]
Ren immediately clamped both hands over her mouth, her shoulders shaking violently with silent laughter.
"Say it," she whispered.
"I am not saying it."
"Adam. Say the magic words."
Steeling himself, he put the hat on with the grim dignity of a man ascending a scaffold. Ren stood up, rolled her shoulder back, and unleashed her defensive field at maximum output.
Adam took a heavy breath and exhaled.
"I came, I saw, I recorded," he muttered.
The inner band of the hat flashed with a sudden, localized warmth against his temples.
[ Slot one: recorded. Baseline tier, no automated assistance. Estimated playback: sixty percent. Try it. ]
Adam raised his hand, mimicking Ren's casting stance. The hat responded instantly: a shimmering kinetic barrier snapped into existence around his frame, hugging his skin tightly.
"Sixty percent," Ren giggled, delighted beyond all decency. "That's adorable. Do the words again!"
"The slot is empty now. That's the entire point—once it's used, it's gone." He flexed his hand, watching the faint geometric shimmer fade away. "Now for the real one. Sage?"
[ Ready. Miss Ren, the reverse curse technique, at your convenience. Slot two, with Decryption running. ]
Ren drew a tiny red scratch across her own forearm with her thumbnail, instantly closing it with a brief burst of reverse cursed energy. The comforting warmth of the healing magic radiated across the counter.
"I came, I saw, I recorded," Adam said, fighting to maintain some semblance of pride.
[ Slot two: recorded, Decryption-assisted. Estimated playback: eighty-five percent of one full healing instance. Single use. Host, you are now carrying a heavy heal. ]
Adam looked down at his palms. A defense he hadn't held since a magma fist took his arm in the war. A reliable heal he hadn't possessed since Hamon died on a foggy street in another universe.
Ren watched the quiet gravity settle over him. Her teasing stopped, and she gently placed her hand over his.
[ Host. The ability you activated lasts as long as you supply it with spirituality. As soon as you let it go it fades. ]
Figured it out.
"Two slots left," she said softly. "Fill them with something stupid and wonderful."
"I'll see what's out there to take," he murmured.
The following day, Adam officially met with the newly awakened trio. They were radiating excitement, eager and energized by the reality of their newfound Beyonder paths.
Once they were dismissed, it was time to assist Sophie. She walked into the office clutching two separate documents, her anxiety palpable.
"Adam, these are my final ideas for the pathways," she said, handing them over. "Please check them over. I seriously can't wait any longer."
Adam took the papers, scanning them with focused attention. One detailed the Seer pathway; the other outlined the Monster pathway.
She really likes the bizarre ones, Adam thought internally. Sage, any thoughts on this? I lean heavily toward Seer. I know the most about its progression, and it becomes incredibly formidable at Sequence Seven and Sequence Five. As for Monster... it's a strange path for sure. It possesses the highest spirituality of any known pathway, but offers zero direct combat capabilities until Sequence Eight, outside of manipulating fate and luck.
[ Notice. It is objectively safer to choose Seer. As you mentioned, Host, all sequences following Nine possess direct combat capabilities, and Sequence Seven is famously one of the strongest within that specific tier. Conversely, the Monster pathway holds value because the world naturally bends in their favor most of the time. This unique trait could allow Miss Sophie to acquire highly unexpected gains during her upcoming expeditions. ]
True enough. Adam set the papers down and looked up at Sophie.
"Listen, Sophie. Personal recommendation? I would choose Seer. It's an exceptionally versatile, powerful pathway overall. Monster has undeniable potential, but it is a massive wild card. Sage pointed out that its luck manipulation could lead to unexpected gains during your expeditions—and even back here on Earth-Prime, which is the primary selling point. People will have a nightmare of a time dealing with you. However, as a Seer, you will still be incredibly tricky to handle, but you will possess far more direct agency in your battles rather than being forced to rely on abstract luck."
Sophie looked deeply thoughtful, weighing the options in her head for a long moment.
"Mm, okay," she decided, nodding firmly. "I'll choose Seer then. Thanks, Adam."
Adam smiled, handing her back the document. "Good choice. It's truly one of the best pathways you could have."
The Threshold of the Hero Society
▓ EXPEDITION DEPLOYMENT
Operative: Adam Varen.
Tier: L4 — random pool assignment.
Dilation: 5:1.
Duration window: 180 days.
Note: third L4 expedition. Tier completion assessment on return. Acknowledge to deploy.
The Floor One pad, quarter to eight in the morning. Brandt stood at the monitoring desk. Ren was beside him, clad in her official deputy's jacket—someone had to keep the guild functioning smoothly in the commander's absence.
"Loadout," Brandt prompted, following the traditional protocol.
"Coat. Hat. Knuckles. Medical kit. Rations. One recorded heal," Adam checked off, locking eyes with Ren. "And two empty slots."
"If you roll another vacation world without me," Ren warned, her voice dropping slightly, "don't bother coming home."
"You'd really make me sleep out in the Hub?"
"I'd have you suffer first." She stepped forward and kissed him, a brief, familiar contact on the edge of the pad, mirroring the departure of two deployments past. "Last word. Whatever world it is, come back with all your limbs attached this time."
"That," Adam promised, "is the plan."
Confirm.
The teleportation pad flared with brilliant light, and the world folded inward.
▓ DEPLOYMENT CONFIRMED
Destination: L4-2113.
Local arrival in 3, 2, 1...
The noise hit him first, overwhelming and distinct.
He was standing on a bustling city street. It was mid-morning, bathed in a warm spring light, with colorful vending machines humming against a brick wall covered in vibrant posters. A commuter train rattled loudly on an elevated track overhead.
And then there were the people. Dozens of ordinary, chattering citizens, uniformed school children, and busy salarymen passed by—except the man waiting patiently at the crosswalk possessed skin like green river stone. The woman walking her dog had a second pair of arms folded neatly behind her back. A schoolboy hurried past at a frantic jog, little jets of steam popping from his calves as he apologized to everyone he overtook.
Nobody stared. Nobody hid. A massive billboard plastered across a high-rise showed a blond mountain of a man grinning down at the skyline, a single fist raised in triumph, his white teeth shining like a searchlight.
Adam stood perfectly still in the mouth of the alleyway.
Oh, he thought, a wave of twenty-year-old nostalgia rising from a forgotten box in the back of his mind. Oh, I know this one.
▓ EXPEDITION ACTIVE
World: L4-2113.
Classification: L4. Quirk-saturated hero society.
Time dilation: 5:1.
Duration window: 180 days.
D-rank: Survive 30 days.
C-rank: Establish a legitimate standing identity within the hero system.
B-rank: Destroy the bio-engineered weapon ("Nomu") constructed to kill the Symbol of Peace.
A-rank: Dismantle the organization designated "League of Villains."
S-rank: Kill the individual designated "All For One."
Adam read through the data block twice.
When he reached the last line for the third time, a heavy tension left his shoulders—a weight that had been present since a ruined lobby in Manhattan, two worlds and one extinction ago.
Sage. Confirm the S-rank objective for me.
[ Confirmed, Host. The target is the absolute nexus of this world's organized villainy: a hidden, half-dead emperor who has spent over two centuries actively stealing other people's unique abilities and using them. Removing him from the equation creates maximum divergence in a protective direction. The world's baseline survival metric improves on every model I can simulate. ]
Kill the monster. Save the heroes. He let his breath go all the way out. The Bazaar finally sent me somewhere I would have volunteered for.
[ You are smiling at a brick wall, Host. ]
So what, I feel like a kid in a candy store.
He stepped confidently out of the alley and into the heavy foot traffic. Quirks were on display everywhere. On every corner and in every queue, the extraordinary was mundane: a man whose hair was made of glowing fiber-optic cables, a toddler floating two centimeters above her stroller while her mother casually read the news, a delivery girl with translucent dragonfly wings idling patiently at a red light.
The true weight of what this world represented finally landed, translating perfectly into terms that mattered to the hat resting quietly within his pocket.
Sage.
[ I see it too, Host. Every individual on this street is carrying a recordable ability. Most are minor quirks. Some are distinctly not. This world's entire population is a living catalogue, your Theft capability reaches one Sequence beyond your own, and the man you have been tasked to eliminate built a centuries old empire doing a much crueler version of exactly that. ]
The nightmare of this world is a man that steals abilities, Adam thought, tipping the brim of his hat down by a centimeter. And the Bazaar just sent them a politer one.
[ One vital calendar note, Host. Local signage places the current date in early April. If the school year here has just commenced, then by your own recollection, the bio-weapon you are assigned to destroy makes its initial appearance at a rescue-training facility within roughly two weeks—targeting a class of fifteen-year-old children. ]
The easy smile vanished from Adam's face.
Two weeks. A dome full of children, a warp-gate villain that opened doors, and a creature built in a vat specifically to murder the single man holding the ceiling of this world up.
Then we are on a strict schedule. C-rank cover identity comes first.
Adam Varen pushed his hands deep into his pockets and walked forward into the bright, crowded, impossible morning. With two empty slots in his hat and a powerful heal in the band, the city continued to shine around him.
Less than two weeks, if his memory served.
He started walking faster.
AN: If we get to 500 power stones, I will release an extra chapter on 700, another one. If you wish to support the story and read ahead, visit [email protected]/skeri123