The moment Rickon stepped through the shimmering veil of the portal, his world dissolved into a brutal rush of sensation.
It wasn't like walking through a door, it was like being shoved into a vortex of light and energy.
His body felt as if it were being torn apart atom by atom, every cell screaming in protest as it was unmade.
A violent, disorienting force ripped at his consciousness, stretching it thin across an infinite, roaring void.
He couldn't scream, he couldn't think, he could only endure the feeling of being disassembled and forcibly rebuilt in the same chaotic instant.
Just as he felt his sanity fraying, the violent transition ended.
He was spat out onto solid ground, stumbling forward a few steps before collapsing to his knees, his body trembling uncontrollably.
He gasped for air, his lungs burning as they drew in a new, strange atmosphere.
The world spun in a sickening whirl of color and light. He shut his eyes tight, willing the universe to be still.
Slowly, the trembling subsided and the dizziness faded.
He pushed himself up, his hands sinking into something soft and cool. He opened his eyes and blinked.
He wasn't on the hard-packed dirt of the training field anymore. He stood in a field of glowing, silvery grass that swayed gently, even though there was no wind.
Each blade glowed softly, sending a gentle light upward.
He looked up at the sky and a breath caught in his throat.
It was a masterpiece of cosmic chaos, a swirling canvas of purples and violets streaked with emerald and gold clouds.
Two suns, one brilliant white, the other a smaller crimson orb, hung in the sky, bathing the land in an otherworldly twilight.
In the distance, rugged mountains pierced the clouds, their peaks twisted into impossible shapes.
The air was clean and carried the faint, sweet scent of something like damp earth and blooming night flowers.
It was breathtakingly beautiful and profoundly menacing all at once.
His team materialized nearby, tumbling out of the portal in various states of disarray.
Ragnar landed with a heavy thud, groaning as he got to his feet.
Sophie executed a clumsy but effective roll, coming up in a crouch, her eyes already scanning their surroundings.
Bran simply fell flat on his face, looking utterly bewildered.
"Well," Ragnar grunted, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose. "That was unpleasant. Felt like my bones were put in a blender."
Before anyone could reply, a chorus of soft chimes filled the air.
All around them, the black Nexus Interfaces on the aspirants' arms flared to life, their holographic screens glowing brightly.
A wave of nervous energy swept through the two thousand survivors who were now scattered across the field.
"It's happening!" a woman shouted nearby, her voice a mix of terror and excitement.
"I got one! F-Grade! 'Glow Stick'!" She held up her hand, and a pathetic, faint light emanated from her palm.
Her face fell. "Oh. That's… useful for reading, I guess."
The announcements came in a flood, a chaotic buzz of newfound power.
"D-Grade, 'Iron Grip'!"
"C-Grade, 'Enhanced Hearing'!"
"F-Grade, 'Water Condensation'!
I can make a cup of water every hour! We're saved!" a man said with heavy sarcasm, looking at his palm in disgust.
The mood shifted dramatically. Those with D and C-Grades shouted with relief, having met the academy's minimum requirement.
Those with F-Grades looked utterly dejected, their hopes of becoming powerful warriors dashed.
"What did you guys get?" Bran asked, his voice trembling as he stared at his own interface.
"I got a C-Grade… 'Minor Fortification'. I can make my skin a little tougher." He pressed a finger against his arm, which seemed to ripple with a faint energy. "It's not much, but it's something."
Ragnar let out a loud, hearty laugh, slapping his chest with a sound like hitting a side of beef.
"C-Grade! 'Stoneskin'! My skin can turn as hard as rock for a few minutes! Take that, you ugly monsters!" He grinned, a picture of pure, unadulterated relief.
Sophie's expression was harder to read. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
"B-Grade," she said quietly, though not quietly enough to escape the notice of those nearby. "'Tactical eyes'.
I can see simple weak points in enemies or defenses, but not in complex situations, for now, at least."
The announcement of a B-Grade talent immediately drew attention.
Several aspirants turned to look at Sophie with open envy and calculation.
A B-Grade was a mark of true potential. It was the difference between being cannon fodder and being a genuine threat.
As the noise of the crowd swelled, Rickon felt his own Awakening.
It wasn't the sudden jolt or flash of energy others described.
It was a slow, profound stirring deep within him, as if a slumbering, ancient leviathan was waking in the depths of his soul.
It was an immense, quiet power that didn't feel like a newly acquired skill, but rather a fundamental part of him he had never known existed.
It was a deep hum that resonated not in his ears, but in his very bones.
A warmth spread from his core, a feeling of connection to the life, death, and energy of this strange new world.
With a sense of dread and anticipation, he finally looked down at the Nexus Interface on his arm.
The holographic text glowed with a light far more brilliant than the others, a radiant, golden sheen that seemed to hum with power. His breath hitched in his chest.
[Talent Awakening Successful]
[Name: Rickon]
[Talent: Soul Assimilation]
[Grade: SSS]
[Description: The user can absorb the souls of defeated enemies. Absorbed souls can be assimilated to permanently enhance the user's core attributes or used to analyze and replicate the enemy's innate skills. Souls can be stored, merged, or modified to create new abilities. The potential for growth is limitless.]
SSS-Grade.
The three letters seemed to burn into his vision. He stared, his mind refusing to process the information. SSS.
The instructors had spoken of S-Grades in hushed, reverent tones as the stuff of legends, the power wielded by monsters and gods.
SSS was a realm of power believed to exist only in theory or myth.
A cold wave of realization washed over him, dousing the initial shock with icy fear.
Instructor Rostova's words came back to him, sharp and clear. Power is not just given, it is taken.
He looked around at the other aspirants. He saw the naked greed in the eyes of a man who got a C-Grade, saw the way a small crowd was already forming around Sophie and her B-Grade, their expressions a mix of respect and thinly veiled ambition.
Revealing an SSS-Grade talent here wouldn't make him a hero. It would make him a target. A massive, glowing, irresistible target.
The academy wouldn't see him as a weapon, they'd see him as a priceless specimen to be dissected and studied.
The other aspirants, driven by the kill-or-be-killed mentality drilled into them, would see him as a lottery ticket.
Kill him, and maybe, just maybe, his power could be stolen.
His heart hammered in his chest. His singular focus, saving his family, depended on him surviving.
It depended on him getting stronger, not on becoming the center of a greedy, desperate free-for-all.
"Rickon? You alright, man? You look like you've seen a ghost," Ragnar said, his baritone voice cutting through Rickon's thoughts.
"Don't tell me you got an F-Grade. It's alright, you can be our team mascot."
Acting purely on instinct, Rickon's hand darted out and slapped over the Nexus Interface, concealing its golden glow.
"No, it's… it's fine," he stammered, forcing his voice to remain steady. He couldn't let them see. Not even his team. Not yet.
He quickly focused his thoughts on the interface, willing it to hide the grade, to change the display.
He didn't know if it was possible, but Soul Assimilation wasn't a normal talent.
It was ancient, older than the system itself, and, in its own way, aware.
Part of its nature was to absorb, adapt, and reshape the very essence of things, including the System's projection.
As if answering his unspoken command, the deep, primordial power within him stirred.
A pulse of black-gold light rippled through his soul, and the brilliant golden letters on the screen shuddered… then bled away into the dull blue of a lower-grade talent.
The change felt almost instinctive, like the talent had decided for him that revealing its true rank now would be suicide.
He took a shaky breath and lifted his hand.
[Name: Rickon]
[Talent: Attribute Enhancement]
[Grade: D]
[Description: Allows the user to temporarily boost a single physical attribute by a minor amount.]
It was a pathetic, common, and utterly forgettable talent. It was perfect.
"Just a D-Grade," he said, showing them the falsified screen. He injected a note of disappointment into his voice.
"Attribute Enhancement. Guess I can punch a little harder for a few seconds. Better than nothing."
Ragnar clapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard. "Hey, a D is a pass! Means you're not getting kicked out.
Besides, every little bit helps. We've got your back."
Sophie gave him a sympathetic look. "Don't worry, Rickon. A talent is just a tool. It's how you use it that matters."
He gave them a weak smile, a mask of relief covering the storm raging inside him.
He was an anomaly. A secret walking among them. He possessed a power that could shatter the very foundations of this new world, a power that could make him a god or get him killed before the day was out.
As he looked out at the alien landscape, at the swirling purple sky and the silver grass, he knew his path had just become infinitely more complicated and dangerous.
The hunt for his family was still his goal, but now, a new hunt had begun, the hunt for the truth behind the immense, terrifying power that now slept in his soul.