Lucian’s Dorm – Night Before Zenith Week
The city outside was quiet. Not dead quiet, just the kind of soft silence that came when the world finally let itself exhale.
Inside his dorm, Lucian sat at the edge of his bed. No shirt, just his sweatpants, hands resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor.
The faint hum of the wall lamp painted one side of his face in pale gold. The other half was shadow.
He hadn’t said a word since returning.
Everyone else had gone off—some to rest, others to eat or waste time like they weren’t about to walk into hell tomorrow. Reia asked if he wanted to hang out in the lounge. He smiled and told her no. Vyn nodded at him on the way out, nothing more. Evelyn had tried to get something out of him too, but he’d shut it down with a quiet "I’m good."
Truth was, he wasn’t.
His fingers twitched once.
This whole time—weeks now—he’d been pacing himself. Holding back. Not for anyone else’s sake. Just because... it was easier.
The system gave him too much freedom. Too much power. Infinite allocation. No boundaries. He could pump every point into one stat, break the rules, crush ceilings. He could kill a dungeon boss solo if he felt like it. Could do a lot of things.
Didn’t want to stand out.
Didn’t want the eyes. The whispers. The weight of being that guy again.
He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.
The conversation today—Athena and those people—still lingered like smoke behind his eyes. He wasn’t stupid. He knew what they were planning. The way they talked about them. About him.
Undefined system class. Unknown lineage. Wild card.
And for a second, something cracked behind his gaze.
He stood, walked over to the darkened window, and looked out. The courtyard was empty now. Even the moon seemed tired. Just a dull white shape barely holding itself up in the sky.
Lucian leaned his forehead against the glass.
Then came the familiar voice—calm, androgynous, faintly mechanical but with warmth hidden beneath it.
[SYSTEM CAEL INITIALIZED]
Stats: 600 (Distributed evenly)
System Class: [∞ CLASS - Undefined]
Skill Tree: Space-Time Manipulation (SSS)
Sub-abilities unlocked: Fold Step | Spatial Lock | Temporal Slow | Chrono Sense | Dimensional Claw | Chrono Rewind | Spatial Anchor
Special Title: [RIFTWALKER]
Would you like to begin Advancement Trial?
Lucian didn’t respond right away.
He stared at the prompt for a long time. His breath fogged up a small patch of the window.
"I’ve been lazy," he muttered.
"I could’ve gone further. I know I could’ve."
His fists clenched slightly.
"I wanted to feel normal for once. Just a student. Just a guy in a dorm room with weird friends and a schedule."
He turned from the window and walked slowly to the center of the room.
"But they don’t want that."
"They want a weapon they can control. Or a threat they can erase."
Lucian raised his hand, palm open, and whispered again.
[Advancement Trial – Initiated]
Target: Rank C Advancement
Location: Personal Subspace Layer [User Exclusive]
Objective: Survive. Adapt. Dominate.
System Class Buffs Applied
Simulation Locked – Only Death Ends the Trial
And the room vanished.
The moment his feet touched the Trial Plane, heat hit him like a brick wall.
He stood in the center of a red desert, cracked and dry. The sun wasn’t in the sky—it was the sky. A bleeding orb that scorched everything beneath it.
Cael’s voice echoed quietly in his mind.
"Time in this realm flows differently. You will return with only seconds passed in reality. Begin when ready."
Lucian looked down at his hands.
His system flared once.
And in the blink of an eye—he vanished.
He reappeared mid-air, spun once, and crashed down hard onto the desert floor, his foot creating a spiderweb crater of force.
Six-legged beasts, obsidian hide, green lava leaking from their mouths. Dozens of them. No delay. No mercy.
Lucian didn’t waste time either.
He raised his hand, and the air bent.
The first wave of creatures stopped mid-leap, frozen in space.
He walked through them like a shadow through fog.
Dimensional Claw formed in his hand—black-edged, curved like a talon made of folded space itself. He sliced once.
The creatures disintegrated before they even bled.
A new entity descended.
Winged. Massive. A spectral reaper with chains of glass and bone, its face veiled in threads of silver flame.
Lucian’s heart didn’t even jump.
Chrono Slow activated mid-battle, freezing the creature’s momentum. He moved around it, reading its pattern, watching the way its wings adjusted—then Chrono Rewind, resetting its position.
The moment it reappeared—
He drove his palm into its chest and activated Spatial Anchor.
The creature imploded.
Lucian stood alone in the dust that followed.
Cael’s voice returned.
[Phase Three Incoming]
And that’s when he saw it.
Same face. Same build. No emotion.
But the aura was different.
It radiated force. Not raw power—but something far worse.
Lucian’s clone didn’t wait.
He came forward—fast.
But Lucian didn’t back down.
One version aimed for the throat, the other ducked and spun low, kicking out his own ankle, catching himself mid-air with a warp blink.
It was messy. Wild. Personal.
Every trick he had, the clone had too.
Every thought he formed, it was mirrored.
It was the perfect enemy.
Because that meant it had his flaws too.
He lured it into a mist of bent light—a field he generated just as the clone slashed his shoulder. The pain burned, but he used it.
Caught the clone’s arm mid-swing—and this time, anchored it.
Then with a slow step forward, he whispered:
The final strike tore through dimensions.
And the desert faded.
Lucian opened his eyes in his room.
No sweat. No wounds. Just him.
[ADVANCEMENT COMPLETE]
All stats raised to 1000.
New Skill Unlocked: [Spacetime Collapse]
Achievement Gained: [Sovereign of the Rift]
You may now proceed to Rank B Trial when ready.
Optional Early Advancement to Rank A: Locked behind Special Requirement.
Lucian let the system fade.
And for a while, he said nothing.
Just sat on the floor, arms resting on his knees, eyes steady.
The room was quiet again.
But the air around him... wasn’t the same.
Tomorrow, Zenith Week would begin.
And for the first time—
He wasn’t going to take it easy.