The soft chime in his mind woke him. A faint blue glow pulsed across his forearm surface before Aureon's voice filled the quiet of his room, calm, authoritative, and detached, as always.
"Congratulations to all participants who survived the second culling trial. You will now serve as official representatives of Realm Nine in the upcoming stages. Prepare accordingly."
The message ended, and silence returned, heavier than before. Hyun-Jae stared at the ceiling for a moment, expression unreadable. Representatives of Realm Nine. The words sounded hollow, titles given to survivors, not victors. He slowly rose from the bed with a lingering stiffness.
The corridors outside were quieter than before. Fewer footsteps. Fewer voices. Even the air felt emptier somehow. When he reached the food court, he finally understood why, it had shrunk. The long rows of tables had compacted inward, walls drawn closer as though the space itself had adjusted to the number of people still alive. The celestial base was alive in its own way, reshaping itself as though mocking the losses they'd endured.
Hyun-Jae grabbed a tray and sat down alone, mechanically chewing through whatever was served. Around him, whispers spread, some relieved, others mourning. He caught glimpses of familiar faces now missing their teammates, and for a brief moment, he wondered what Lyrelle was doing.
His gaze wandered to the shimmering ceiling far above. The faint threads of energy weaving through it were unmistakable signs of celestial power, vast, perfect, and unreachable. Even after everything, he thought, I'm not any closer to touching that.
He sighed quietly, setting down his utensils. Growth or not, he was still bound by the same invisible ceiling, and the Celestials stood far beyond it. Their control over space, over life and death, over even the shape of the base itself, it reminded him just how small he still was.
Still, he thought as he rose from the table, small things grow, too.
Hyun-Jae brushed the crumbs from his hands and started walking toward the training sector, mind already turning over what came next.
As Hyun-Jae walked the long corridor toward the training sector, his steps echoed faintly against the polished metallic floor. The crowd was thinner than he remembered. The badges on the remaining competitors glimmered faintly under the overhead lights, most of them bearing D or C rank insignias.
He slowed for a moment, taking it in. The E ranks, who had once filled these halls with nervous chatter and restless energy, were now scarce. He could count them on two hands, maybe less.
So this is what survival looks like, he thought. Progress for the few, graves for the rest.
He knew some had managed to ascend, those lucky or skilled enough to claw their way up a rank. But most hadn't. Most were gone, erased quietly between one trial and the next, without even a trace left behind.
A faint chill crept through him, but he pushed it aside. If not for the system, the strange, impossible gift that had resurrected him and set him on a path beyond ordinary limits, he would've been one of them. Just another name crossed off Celestials' list.
His expression stayed neutral as he entered the training area, but his thoughts were sharp and cold. The system gave me a second chance, he reminded himself. I won't waste it.
With that, Hyun-Jae stepped into one of the open training fields, the hum of energy beneath his boots a quiet promise of what was still to come.
Before Hyun-Jae could even set foot on the training platform, a tall man stepped in front of him, crossing his arms with a smug grin.
"These fields belong to the Verdant Faction," he said, voice carrying that rehearsed arrogance Hyun-Jae was starting to recognize. "Not a place for someone like you. But… if you've got credits, I might let you use it for a while."
Hyun-Jae looked at him for a long second, then gave a small shrug. "Guess I'll pass."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, ignoring the sneer that followed him.
As he moved through the sprawling facility, he began noticing the quiet borders that had formed within it, sections marked by subtle emblems or colors, claimed by one faction or another. The realization settled in quickly: even here, in a place meant for collective growth, the participants had divided themselves again.
Verdant… Verge… Prosperity… Righteous… Fighter. Five factions in total. Five groups trying to carve out control over Realm 9's strength.
Hyun-Jae let out a slow sigh, his gaze sweeping over the repurposed training halls and guarded sparring zones. "So this is what it's come to," he murmured under his breath.
As he turned a corner, a familiar face caught his eye, the attendant who'd helped him get a replacement keycard when he first returned. The man was speaking with a few other attendants near a console, his tone casual but brisk.
Hyun-Jae approached without hesitation, his expression unreadable as always. "Hey," he said evenly, hands in his pockets. "Long time no see."
The attendants looked up, startled by his sudden presence. The one who recognized him blinked, then forced a polite smile. "Ah… Hyun-Jae, wasn't it? You're still around, I see."
Hyun-Jae's sharp eyes caught something off about the man. Unlike the other attendants, dressed in standard gray and white uniforms, this one wore a long dark coat embroidered with silver threading, the kind that marked rank or special privilege. His posture was composed but carried the quiet confidence of someone who wasn't just another worker in the system.
Before Hyun-Jae could say anything, one of the other attendants beside him hurriedly stepped forward. "You shouldn't just approach him like that," the man whispered urgently, glancing between Hyun-Jae and his superior. "That's Lord Iriath, one of the Celestial-appointed overseers for Realm 9's administration."
Hyun-Jae raised an eyebrow. "Lord, huh?
Iriath let out a quiet sigh, the kind that carried both irritation and restraint. He waved a hand lightly, and the other attendants around him bowed before quickly dispersing down the hall, leaving only the two of them standing in the corridor.
Once they were gone, Iriath turned his attention fully toward Hyun-Jae, his eyes calm but probing, like he was looking at something he couldn't quite classify. "You have a habit of showing up where you shouldn't, E-rank," he said, his voice smooth but faintly condescending.
Hyun-Jae met his gaze evenly. "And you have a habit of being where people are trying to mind their own business."
That earned a small, almost amused smirk from Iriath. "You've got a sharp tongue for someone still standing at the bottom."
Hyun-Jae just shrugged. "Guess I make up for it."
Iriath's gaze swept over Hyun-Jae from head to toe, his silver-flecked eyes narrowing slightly. "Well," he said, folding his arms behind his back, "at least you took my advice. You finally look somewhat presentable." His tone carried the faintest edge of approval before shifting back to its usual aloofness. "Though your outfit is… relaxed for someone visiting the training sector."
Hyun-Jae glanced down at his simple shirt and dark pants. "Yeah, this is all I've got. Poor E-rank problems, you know? Maybe someone of your status could help me out."
Iriath gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "You wish." He tilted his head slightly, studying him again. "You didn't come all the way here just to exchange pleasantries with an overseer, did you? What do you want?"
Hyun-Jae leaned against the nearest wall, crossing his arms casually. "I was wondering what's going on with the training facility. Every corner I go to, someone's claiming territory in the name of their faction."
Iriath exhaled softly through his nose, his expression flattening into mild disdain. "Ah. That." His gaze drifted toward the vast training grounds beyond the corridor's glass panels. "The Celestials decided to give you mortals a taste of autonomy, 'free rein,' as they put it. And this," he gestured vaguely at the divided training fields, the distant banners of various factions fluttering in the air, "is the result. Territorial squabbles, self-declared leaders, petty power plays. It's amusing, in a predictable sort of way."
Hyun-Jae's eyes flickered toward the fields, then back to Iriath. "So basically, they gave everyone enough rope to hang themselves."
Iriath's lips curved faintly. "Precisely. And you're already seeing who's pulling the tightest."
Hyun-Jae tilted his head slightly. "So, do you have someplace where someone without a faction can train?"
Iriath regarded him for a moment, the faintest spark of curiosity flickering in his eyes. "You could always join one. It would make things easier. Why haven't you?"
Hyun-Jae shrugged, his expression calm and unbothered. "I'm not interested in relying on anyone. Teams, politics, none of that's my thing."
For a moment, Iriath just stared at him. Then a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips. "How noble of you." He turned on his heel. "Fine. Follow me."
They walked through a dimmer corridor that twisted away from the main facility. The noise of the other factions faded until all that was left was the hum of old machinery and the occasional flicker of malfunctioning lights. When Iriath finally stopped, it was before a large, dust-covered door that creaked as it slid open.
The room beyond was a forgotten training area, cracked floors, half-functioning energy dummies, and walls that still bore the marks of old combat drills. A few training spheres floated unsteadily in the air, their glow faint and flickering.
"This," Iriath said, gesturing inside, "is what's left for those without factions. Use it if you want. No one else bothers coming here."
Hyun-Jae stepped past him, surveying the space. "It'll do. Thanks."
Iriath gave a dismissive wave as he turned to leave. "Try not to break anything. It's already pathetic enough as it is."
Once he exited the area, two attendants, the same ones who had been with him earlier, hurried up to him, clearly agitated.
"Lord Iriath," one began, "who was that human?. Not even A-ranks can approach you without feeling pressure, but he, he didn't even flinch."
Iriath paused, glancing back down the hall where Hyun-Jae had gone. For a heartbeat, his smile returned, faint, amused, and unreadable.
"He is probably just faking it," he said lightly. "But… I'll let it slide. It's been a while since something interesting showed up around here."
And with that, he walked away, leaving the attendants exchanging uneasy looks behind him.
---
Hyun-Jae stood in the center of the deserted training area, quietly taking in its condition. Dust lingered in the air, and the faint hum of unstable energy echoed from the cracked emitters along the walls. He approached the nearest control terminal, its screen dim and flickering, and brushed a layer of dust from it with his sleeve.
The interface came to life, barely, displaying a series of outdated options. Hyun-Jae tapped through them, testing responses. Most functions were either disabled or malfunctioning, but after a few minutes of trial and error, he managed to restore the basic combat simulation.
Several floating orbs lit up across the field, forming makeshift opponents. Their movement patterns were clunky, clearly old programming, but it would serve his purpose.
"Good enough," Hyun-Jae muttered.
He summoned one of his daggers from his inventory, twirling it once before getting into stance. The first orb darted forward sluggishly, and Hyun-Jae sidestepped it with little effort, slicing through the projection cleanly. The system registered the hit with a faint chime, though the delay was noticeable.
He kept at it, pushing the simulation harder, making adjustments to the system as he went. The outdated tech strained to keep up, but gradually, Hyun-Jae began finding rhythm within its limitations, perfecting his precision, reaction time, and movement control.
After an hour, the field's generators groaned under the strain. He finally stopped, breathing steady, eyes sharp and focused. The place might have been neglected, but it was quiet, isolated, and functional enough for him.
"Guess this'll work," he murmured to himself, deactivating the system.
The faint blue glow from the orbs faded, leaving him standing in the dim light of the old training hall, alone, but not aimless.
Hyun-Jae knew the session hadn't done much for him, his muscles barely burned, and his Etherea reserves were still nearly full. Still, he considered it a decent warm-up and decided to call it there.
He stepped onto the teleporter pad and, with a soft flash, returned to his quarters. The quiet hum of the room greeted him as he stripped off his training clothes and headed straight for the shower.
Warm water ran down his back, washing away the faint metallic scent of the facility. He exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment before the thought hit him: the system.
He called it up mentally, and translucent panels appeared before him, hovering just above the rising steam. Lines of text, icons, and tabs glowed faintly in the dim light. Hyun-Jae navigated through the menus he rarely paid attention to, curious now that he had a moment of peace.
Hidden in the "Shop" section, he spotted something he hadn't seen before, a small icon labeled Mystery Box [50 Abyssal Points].
He frowned. "Fifty? That's... cheap."
The price was suspiciously low, but curiosity got the better of him. With a thought, he confirmed the purchase.
A faint ding echoed in his mind as the box materialized in his inventory. It shimmered once, then dissolved into light, revealing a single skill notification.
New Skill Acquired: Manifestation
Hyun-Jae frowned at the line, droplets of water tracing down his face. "Manifestation… what the hell does that mean?"
He tried tapping on it for more information, but the interface didn't respond. The skill icon simply pulsed faintly, as if it was waiting for something, or someone, to activate it.
Hyun-Jae closed the system with a sigh, the unease in his chest mixing with a flicker of excitement. Cheap or not, the skill had appeared for a reason.
He finished his shower, toweling off as he muttered under his breath.
Hyun-Jae stared at the faintly glowing skill icon again, towel draped around his shoulders.
"Manifestation…" he muttered. "Maybe it's literal."
He lifted his hand, letting his Etherea flow through his palm, like smoke made of light, swirling and coalescing at his fingertips. He focused, guiding the energy with intent. The mist thickened, condensed, and solidified into the familiar weight of a dagger.
The faint hum of its energy vibrated in his grasp. It looked and felt real, sharp edge, solid hilt, but he knew it was just his Etherea given form.
A grin tugged at his lips.
He flicked his wrist, and the dagger morphed into a slender bow, its string shimmering with pale blue light. Then, with another thought, it stretched into a longsword, then a spear, and finally a massive hammer that made the floor creak under its imagined weight.
"Not bad," he said to himself, dismissing the construct. It dissolved into motes of light, vanishing completely.
He leaned against the counter, feeling a rare flicker of satisfaction.A weapon forged purely from my energy… infinitely adaptable. Pretty useful.
Then another thought crossed his mind, one much darker.
Skill: Murderous Intent.
The memory of Kael's twisted grin flashed before his eyes, the heat of battle still vivid in his nerves. That skill had appeared right after he killed him, and Hyun-Jae hadn't had a chance to test it yet.
He frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Murderous Intent, huh? Wonder how strong mine is."
A faint pulse echoed in his chest, like the memory of violence waiting to surface.
He smirked slightly. "Guess I'll have to find a place where no one complains if someone suddenly drops dead."
he stepped toward the teleporter, his mind already scanning for the perfect place to test his newest skills.