Infinite Awakening: 10,000x EXP Converter!

The Bloodhounds came at midnight.

Alvian felt them before he heard them. Twenty pairs of armored boots hit the concrete floor in a steady rhythm. Each step sent vibrations through the tunnel floor and into his bones. He crouched inside a small maintenance crawlspace twenty feet above the tunnel junction. He was pressed between rusty pipes and old dirt. Below him, the collapsed subway interchange spread oul. Four tunnel entrances fed into a circular room roughly thirty meters across. Tobias called it The Gauntlet. The old scavenger had marked it on his hand-drawn map with a single word: chokepoint.

The jammers hit first.

A low buzz settled behind Alvian’s eyes. His Danger Sense, the passive feeling that had saved his life many times, went from clear to muffled noise. It felt like trying to hear footsteps underwater.

’They think they can blind me and make me panic,’ Alvian thought. ’Good. Let them think that.’

He did not need Essence detection. He had grown up in the Undercity. Survival there meant reading vibrations through floors and walls. Sound and air pressure told you everything about what was coming. Twenty boots. A steady march. A professional military team.

Griff Maddox entered the junction first.

The mercenary leader looked just like Hendricks described. Big chest, full of scars, moving with the heavy steps of a man who had killed forty Awakened and treated it like a hobby. His Kinetic Reaver Talent pushed out a subtle force that Alvian could feel even through the jamming field. Surrounding movement energy bent slightly inward, gathering around Griff’s body.

Behind him, the group split into three teams. Alvian counted boots and mapped their positions. Eight operatives moved right, forming the attack team. Their magitech rifles scanned the tunnel walls with careful sweeps. Six operatives moved left, taking positions where the tunnel narrowed. The remaining six spread out to cover the four tunnel entrances. The containment team. They were sealing the exits, turning the junction into a kill box.

A woman moved at Griff’s right shoulder. She was tall and lean, with white bone armor attached directly to her forearms. Pell Ossuary. Second-in-command. C-Rank Bone Lance Talent. She had the look of someone who enjoyed her work far too much.

”Spread out,” Griff ordered. His voice echoed off the concrete, rough and strong. ”The target is E-Rank. He should be hiding somewhere in this section. Check every crack, every pipe. He cannot detect us, but we can flush him out.”

Alvian watched from his crawlspace. His INT 16 processed their formation in real time. Standard military tactics made for Awakened combat. The attack team would make contact first. The support team would keep him down with long-range fire. The containment team would stop him from escaping. A classic kill box setup.

They expected him to run.

He waited until the attack team walked into the center of the junction. All eight operatives were Level 32 to 33. Their upgraded bodies moved with the easy skill of veterans who had done this a hundred times before. Magitech rifles were raised. Metal skin armor showed beneath their combat suits as faint silver spots.

Then he dropped.

Twenty feet straight down. He landed in the center of the junction with a loud crack of concrete beneath his boots. His short-sword hung at his side. His palms were covered in Clearwater Coating, the acid film hissing quietly against the damp air.

Eight rifles snapped toward him at the same time.

The attack team leader lowered his rifle slightly. He expected to see a body on the ground. Instead, he saw Alvian Vance, an E-Rank Clearwater user, standing right where he had landed. His coat was torn from past blasts. Blood dripped from his nose. But he was standing.

”Target acquired,” the leader said. His voice was calm and bored. An E-Rank student had just asked to be executed. ”Engaging.”

Eight triggers pulled. Eight blast rounds fired.

The projectiles were not standard bullets. They were compressed energy capsules, heavy military weapons built to explode on when they touch something like small grenades. The sound they made was a dull thump, followed by the rushing sound of eight capsules flying across thirty meters of air in a second.

Alvian did not dodge.

The rounds hit him from eight directions at once. Heavy force slammed into his chest, his back, his shoulders, and his thighs. The world became a blur of pressure and pain. His ribs creaked. His ears rang with a high noise that drowned out everything else. His HP flashed yellow in his vision.

[DING!]

[Concussive impact registered! HP -40!]

[HP: 136 → 96]

[VIT 42 absorbing kinetic damage. Remaining functional.]

[The System notes that getting shot on purpose is a bold strategy. Good luck with that.]

The attack team leader stared. His eyes widened behind his visor. ”What the...”

Alvian activated Gambler’s Delay.

[Gambler’s Delay (Proficiency) active.]

[Pooling base proficiency EXP from Clearwater Palm uses.]

[Release command: ”Spin.”]

[Current pool: 0 base proficiency EXP]

He charged.

The attack team had one second to realize that their target had just taken eight explosive rounds and was now running straight at them. One second was not enough.

Alvian closed the gap in three big steps. His AGI 27 moved him faster than they expected from a Level 22. The first operative raised his rifle to block. Alvian slapped the barrel with his acid palm. Clearwater Palm hit the metal. The acid ate through the metal surface in an instant, weakening the frame until the rifle bent under its own weight.

[Proficiency +1. Pool: 1]

The operative stumbled and stared at his ruined weapon. Alvian was already past him. He slapped a combat knife with his coated palm. The blade softened, dissolving into gray slime that dripped onto the floor. Another palm strike hit a magitech rifle’s trigger setup. The tiny parts inside dissolved into powder.

[Proficiency +1. Pool: 2]

[Proficiency +1. Pool: 3]

He was not trying to kill the operatives yet. He was destroying their gear. Every rifle broken meant one less threat. Every knife dissolved meant one less blade to worry about. The attack team adapted fast. Their training kicked in. They dropped their ruined weapons and switched to fists. Their upgraded bodies hardened for close fighting.

A heavy fist caught Alvian’s shoulder from the left. The strike sent him spinning. The operative’s skin armor turned his forearm into a steel bar. Alvian’s Clearwater Coating burned through the metal at the point of contact, eating into the gaps, but the blunt force still hit hard. His shoulder burned with pain.

[HP: 96 → 88]

Another operative kneed him in the thigh. His leg gave out. The Coating on his pants burned through the operative’s knee guard, acid soaking into the suit fabric, but the force made him stumble. A headbutt smashed against his forehead. Stars flashed across his eyes. Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow.

[HP: 88 → 79]

[Proficiency +1. Pool: 4]

[Proficiency +1. Pool: 5]

[Proficiency +1. Pool: 6]

The pool was growing. Slowly, painfully, one Skill use at a time. Every hit he took, every blow he stopped, fed the counter that would change his power. The Gambler’s Delay held the extra points in reserve, collecting base proficiency EXP without rolling yet.

’Let them hit me,’ Alvian thought, spitting blood onto the concrete. ’Every hit is a deposit. Every bruise is an investment. I just need enough.’

From the edge of the junction, Griff Maddox watched his team fight a single E-Rank student. His scarred face showed no emotion. His Kinetic Reaver Talent hummed with gathered energy, ready to be used.

”Pell,” Griff said quietly. ”Get around him. Push him toward the east tunnels.”

Pell Ossuary smiled. White energy formed around her right arm, turning into a long, sharp lance of hard bone.

Alvian felt the shift in the battle. The attack team was not trying to kill him right away. They were herding him. They were pushing him toward something worse. The team at the east tunnels held something he could not see, but the soft hum of energy gear reached him through the jamming field.

The kill box was closing in.