Infinite Awakening: 10,000x EXP Converter!

Day nine.

The Academy’s underground training arena sat three levels below the main campus in a heavily reinforced room. Its walls were lined with light blue crystals that absorbed physical impact to prevent fatal injuries, humming with a low vibration Alvian could feel in his teeth. This crystal was a rare pre-Cataclysm material that the Academy completely controlled. Because no other facility in Vaeloria could offer safe combat training, the Academy used this training advantage to quietly maintain its power.

His body still ached from the cellular reconstruction of the 470x roll. Red threads crawled across the whites of both eyes. His muscles hummed with a strange vibrating tension. It meant his cells were still rewriting themselves! He could not skip today. The Combat Assessment was mandatory for all newly Awakened students. Missing it meant automatic placement in remedial classes. That would carve chunks out of his Rift time.

He arrived wearing his patched jacket and carrying nothing. No weapon. No gear. Nothing that could signal he was anything other than what the Academy believed him to be. The other students were dressed in Academy issued combat fatigues. Each uniform was a walking billboard for wealth and lineage. It was like a fashion show for kids who had never seen real blood.

Darius Magnus strutted in. He wore a custom tailored combat suit with the magma wave emblem of the Magnus family blazing across his chest. Two B Rank bodyguards flanked him. They were hired as ”training partners” for the assessment. Their presence was a flex, nothing more. Darius wanted everyone in that room to remember that he had resources nobody else in this cohort could match.

’What a clown,’ Alvian thought inwardly.

Serah Garrick sat quietly in the back row. Her forearms were wrapped in thin circuitry wire that pulsed faintly blue. They were custom built Essence conductors that she had soldered herself. She had not spoken to Alvian since the Awakening Ceremony. She was watching the room the same way he was. She was cataloguing threats and exits with the quiet intensity of someone who understood that attention was a weapon.

The instructor stepped onto the platform.

Helen Croft wore a fitted bodysuit that hugged every line of her. Broad shoulders, lean arms, small tits squashed flat against the fabric.

Narrow hips, thick thighs, and a tight ass that the suit rode up into. Her legs were stacked with combat muscle: the kind that came from kicking things to death.

Her face was sharp and weathered. Scar across the jaw. Hair cut short like she did it with a knife. Crude patch over a missing ear.

She was a former Guild Elite. She lost the ear to a Rank 4 Rift boss. She retired to teaching after her combat reflexes degraded past the threshold for active delving.

She looked at the assembled students the way a butcher looks at incoming livestock. Or maybe dead meat.

Alvian caught himself staring at her ass when she turned. He stopped. She was old enough to be his mother and mean enough to snap his spine.

”Combat Assessment is simple,” she said. Her voice had the flat authority of someone who had given this speech a thousand times. ”Each student fights a projection construct tuned to their Talent rank. The construct tests baseline combat capability. The dampening crystal prevents fatal injuries. If your construct drops you, you fail. Any questions?”

Nobody raised a hand.

”Good. When I call your name, step onto the platform and engage.”

The assessment began with A Rank students. Their constructs were Rank 3 equivalents. They were fast and brutal. The fights lasted between thirty seconds and two minutes. Noble sponsors watched from elevated boxes overhead. Their high-tech goggles displayed live stats for each competitor. Then came the B Ranks. Then the C Ranks. Each construct was scaled down to match the student Talent classification.

Darius turn came. His construct was a Rank 2 magma elemental that matched his C Rank Magma Talent. He destroyed it in eighteen seconds with a flashy display of magma projectiles that left scorch marks on the platform. The crowd applauded. Darius bowed like he had just won a championship.

”Alvian Vance.”

A few students laughed. Others looked away. An E Rank fighting a combat construct was a formality. It was not a competition.

”Hey, sanitation guild called,” Darius said loudly from the competitor area. ”They want their star employee back.”

More laughter rippled through the crowd. Alvian stepped onto the platform without responding.

’Just wait and see, idiot,’ he sneered internally.

His construct materialized. A Rank 1 Sludge Beetle projection! It was the weakest possible opponent. A translucent blue holographic replica that mimicked the real creature movement patterns. It was slow, armored, and had a single eye.

”Screeee!”

The construct charged.

Alvian sidestepped. His Level 19 body moved with a fluid ease that had nothing to do with an E Rank Talent rating. His AGI 22 made the lunge of the beetle feel like slow motion. He could have dodged it blindfolded.

Instead of drawing a weapon, he placed his open palm directly on the carapace of the construct.

[Clearwater Palm]

”Sizzle!”

The corrosion was immediate and visible. A spreading circle of pitted and softened chitin radiated outward from his palm. The holographic shell bubbled and discolored as the simulation accurately reproduced the chemical reaction. The construct recoiled. Its programming was unable to account for armor degradation.

Alvian placed his other hand on the eye of the construct and pushed.

”CRACK!”

The softened shell crumpled. The projection dissolved into scattered light particles that fizzled and died on the platform floor.

[Total time: six seconds.]

The arena went dead silent.

Helen Croft raised her eyebrow exactly one millimeter. The assessment constructs were designed to last at least thirty seconds for E Rank students. Six seconds without a weapon? Using a Skill he should not have unlocked yet? This was not something the evaluation framework had a category for.

Darius’s face cycled through confusion ➔ disbelief ➔ rage in the span of three heartbeats. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. Nothing came out.

In the back row, Serah Garrick widened her eyes. She was already scribbling notes on her circuitry pad. Her stylus moved frantically across the surface. The pad display showed energy readings she was capturing from the residual Clearwater signature still hanging in the air above the platform.

[Ding!]

[Adversity detected! Public humiliation.]

[Pity Accelerator active!]

[KP +2. Current KP: 14.]

[The System feels your pain. Truly.]

Alvian did not change his expression. Adversity events generated KP. The Pity Accelerator doubled the gain. Being mocked by Darius Magnus was literally making him stronger in the currency that mattered most. Thank you, rich boy.

He stepped off the platform and walked back to his spot. The whispers started immediately.

”Did that beetle just melt?”

”Clearwater does not do that. I have read the codex.”

”Maybe it was a glitch in the construct?”

”Six seconds. Without a weapon.”

Helen called the next name. The assessment continued. But the energy in the room had shifted completely. An E Rank student had just done something that did not fit the Academy classification system. Everyone had seen it.

Her hand moved to her datapad after Alvian cleared it. She filed a brief notation alongside his name. The six second time, the Skill usage, the corrosion signature. She had seen thousands of students pass through this arena. She knew exactly what an anomaly looked like. Whether it was luck or something else, the data point was now on record. A second anomaly would trigger a formal review. She made the note and moved on.

After the assessment concluded, Alvian headed for the corridor that led to the east exit of the Academy. He needed to get back to the Warrens. The Pity Accelerator was still counting down. Every hour without combat was a wasted opportunity.

”Hey.”

Darius stepped directly into his path. The corridor was narrow. It was lined with dampening crystal that cast everything in pale blue light. Two of his lackeys stood behind him, blocking the exit.

”You think one lucky Skill makes you something?” Darius hissed. His voice was low and controlled. But his hands were shaking. Magma energy flickered around his knuckles. Tiny orange sparks left scorch marks on his combat gloves. ”You are still E Rank trash. That little parlor trick does not change what you are.”

Alvian looked at him. Not with anger. Not with fear. Just the flat and assessing gaze of someone calculating whether the person in front of them was worth the effort of a response.

’Like looking at a bug on the road,’ he thought.

”Next week is the Rank Evaluation Tournament,” Darius continued. He stepped closer. ”Single elimination. Seeded by Talent rank. You will face real opponents, not training constructs. And I will show everyone what a real Talent looks like when it crushes a fake.”

Alvian walked past him without responding. His shoulder brushed against Darius. The magma energy spiked, leaving a faint burn mark on his jacket sleeve. He did not stop.

Darius clenched his fist behind him. The magma flared brighter and hotter. Then it dimmed as he forced himself to hold back. Not here. Not now. The tournament would be the stage.