While Dys was pushing his limits in the icy peaks, Systen had made a vow of his own. The hunger for power had finally ignited within him. After a grueling warm-up session with Mr. Saksham Iyer and Eeron, Systen set out on his own path—a journey that would lead him deep into the unforgiving heart of the Sahara Desert. The road was treacherous, filled with obstacles that tested his resolve. He met people along the way; some he tried to help but couldn't, while others saw him only as a target for their greed.
In the scorching heat of Tunisia, where the horizon blurred into a golden haze, Systen found himself lost. He spotted a man standing by the wayside—a figure who seemed like a local but was actually a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Brother, which way to Douz?" Systen asked, hoping for directions in the trackless dunes.
"Take a left up ahead," the man replied with a sly grin. "You'll find a bus there."
It was a setup. As Systen and Kritva Iyer followed the path, they realized too late that they had walked straight into a hornet's nest.
A cold shiver ran down Systen's spine as he felt the presence of a gun barrel pointed at them from behind. He turned slowly, realizing they were surrounded by twelve armed mercenaries.
"Six for you, six for me," Systen muttered to Kritva, his eyes narrowing.
In a flash, he lunged at the first man, who was struggling to maintain the recoil of his AK-47. Systen didn't give him a second chance. He snatched the rifle, using it as a blunt instrument to crush the man before systematically taking down the others. On the other side, Kritva was a whirlwind of violence. She greeted her first opponent with a knee strike so powerful it shattered his bones. With a terrifying display of her 12,000 Newtons of force, she literally tore through the group, leaving a trail of carnage that redefined the meaning of 'brutal.'
After the dust settled, Systen called Mr. Saksham Iyer to report the incident.
"Your anger will be the death of you one day, Systen," Mr. Iyer's voice crackled over the line. "I'll handle the cleanup. But remember, Kritva is with you. Her safety is your responsibility."
They continued their journey until they reached a secluded well. Propped up against the stone sat an elderly man, his body covered in jagged wounds. Systen approached him cautiously. "Sir, can I help you? We're new here, but you look like you've been through hell."
The man looked up, his eyes sharp despite the pain. "If you're new, then run. This place belongs to scavengers and thieves. They took everything I had and left me with these blades in my back. If I only had my 'Mete,' I would have slaughtered them all."
A flicker of a memory, blurry and distant, crossed Systen's mind.
"I am Simon Rodrigore," the old man said.
Systen's eyes widened as the realization hit him. "Are you... are you here to train a man named Systen?"
Simon smirked. "Yes. But how did you know?"
Kritva chimed in with a smirk, "Because this is the 'Great Systen' himself, Uncle."
"So, Saksham sent you," Simon mused. "Listen to me, boy. I am no Instinct holder, but my potential far exceeds yours. If you want to survive what's coming, you must conquer your rage. Your Strength, IQ, and Potential are all 100/100, but without an Awakening, you are nothing but a 'Shwarama' waiting to be devoured by your enemies."
Simon led them to a shelter in Douz—a seemingly ordinary two-story building. But the moment they stepped inside, the trap was sprung. Simon threw a blinding powder into the air, disorienting their senses. Before they could react, he cast them into the depths of the structure.
Kritva was plummeted through the floorboards, falling from room to room, crashing against walls until she hit the cold, hard floor of the basement. The building was a lie; it wasn't two stories, but a five-level deathtrap. Covered in blood and gasping for air, Kritva's only thought was of Systen. She began to scream, pounding against the locked doors. "You old fossil! Where is Systen?!"
Half an hour later, Systen woke up to the sound of rattling metal. His arms were bound in heavy chains. "Old man! What the hell is this?!" he roared.
Simon stood before him, his face devoid of emotion. "You have too much fire in you. For the next fourteen days, I will observe your rage and turn your mind into a calm sea. Water Instinct in the hands of a madman is a tsunami that destroys everything. This is the Simon Treatment."
He flicked a switch, showing Systen a CCTV feed of a wounded, crying Kritva in the basement. Systen lost it. He thrashed against the chains, his vision turning red with fury, but he was helpless.
The "Treatment" was a descent into pure, unadulterated agony. For eighteen hours a day, Simon tortured him without mercy. He was stabbed dozens of times, only for a spell to heal his body so the cycle could begin again. The most horrific moment came when Simon carved small holes into Systen's flesh, filled them with vanilla ice cream, and released Bulldog ants into the wounds. Each sting was a hundred times more painful than a normal ant, triggering a localized anaphylactic shock that made Systen wish for death. He screamed until his voice gave out, but no one came to save him.
By the fourteenth day, Systen's body was a map of scars and pain. But in the silence of his cell, a realization dawned on him. This wasn't just torture; it was a threshold. If he didn't cross it, he would lose himself forever. Simon entered one last time with a syringe full of lethal poison.
Systen closed his eyes. A single tear escaped, rolling down his cheek. In that moment, something clicked in his brain—a surge of absolute calm. He opened his eyes, no longer burning with rage, but cool and focused. With a single, effortless motion, he shattered the chains.
Simon lunged at him, but Systen was ready. With a surge of controlled power, Systen delivered a brutal Tornado Kick, driving it directly into Simon's midsection with 10,000 muscle force. The impact sent Simon stumbling back, but he didn't fight back; he simply smiled. The treatment was a success.
Simon allowed himself to fall, even though he was far more powerful. He knew Systen needed to realize his new strength. "There are seventy-five men on every floor between you and the basement," Simon wheezed. "It's all on you now."
"I'll handle it," Systen replied, his voice a chilling whisper.
What followed was a massacre of silent efficiency. Blood rained from the windows of every floor. Limbs were severed, eyes gouged, and bodies were left unrecognizable, piled in their own gore. Systen moved like a predatory animal, ruthless and unstoppable.
When he finally reached the basement, he found Kritva. She was a shell of herself—starved, bloody, and broken. The moment she saw him, she burst into tears. Systen, unable to maintain his stoic mask, pulled her into a desperate embrace.
"I have no one but you, Systen," she sobbed. "I love you."
In the dim light of the basement, they looked into each other's eyes and shared their first kiss—a moment of pure light in the heart of darkness.
"What a beautiful sight," Simon's voice echoed as he entered the room. They pulled apart instantly, faces flushed. Simon handed them their gear. "Listen, Systen. You are my student now. Never let rage hollow you out again. Anger is a poison that rots a man from the inside."
He handed Systen a Radar, similar to the one Dys had received, and with a snap of his fingers, transported them away.
They reappeared in a snowy wasteland, just behind where Dys and Zyla Carris Hirigakure had passed. Suddenly, Venya plummeted from the sky with a scream, landing perfectly in Systen's arms like a bride.
"Thank God!" Systen exhaled, looking up.
THWACK! Kritva landed a sharp punch on his arm, and within seconds, the two were bickering again, while Venya desperately tried to play peacemaker. The team was almost back together, but the real challenge was only just beginning.