The countdown was a steady, quiet hammer in his head.
09:47:33.
A constant pulse of pressure, a reminder that the game wasn't over, wasn't paused, and wouldn't be until it decided it was. Vorn sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his eyes on the wall. The faces of the people in the "Trust Path" trial—Marcus's practiced smile, the younger girl's broken look, the quiet woman's empty stare—flashed in his mind.
It didn't feel like a nightmare. It felt like a lesson.
He wasn't angry, that was just life teaching him a lesson, Anger was a luxury he couldn't afford, It blurred the lines, clouded the mind. What he felt now was a cold, sharp resolve. He'd watched them turn on each other, watched them rip away their humanity for a chance at survival. And he'd realized he had to be better, better as in smarter
The emotional turmoil was still there, but it wasn't a weight. It was fuel. He would not be the victim again, not the panicked delivery boy, and not the helpless spectator watching his sister be taken. He would be the one who survived. No matter the cost.
A new message blinked across his vision.
[Black Reward: Your training would yield results]
[Phantom Load: Acquired]
The words were as empty as the black section on the wheel, no explanation, no instructions, just a name for a power he didn't understand. He forced himself to stand, his body, which had been broken and bruised, felt… different, not healed, but not fragile.
The pain was a distant, he could only think of one way to train. He started with simple squats, no strain, he pushed it, doing twenty, then thirty. His muscles, which should have been screaming for rest, felt like they were just warming up, and his body was absorbing strength from the drop of blood.
The card, still embedded in his chest, gave a faint thrum. He hadn't touched it, hadn't looked at it, but it was there, a steady, dark heart.
He reached for his hoodie and sweats on the chair. They were the cheap grey ones the Bureau had given him. He pulled them on, and the moment the fabric settled on his skin, a system message flashed.
[Clothing Artifact: Activated]
[Form: Grey Hoodie and Sweats]
The material didn't change. It just felt… right. A part of him. A thin, cold line of energy traced across his skin, Then, a sudden, immense pressure slammed into him, Just a crushing, impossible weight that pinned him to the floor as if a thousand-ton block had been dropped on him. He gasped, his lungs compressing, every muscle in his body straining against an invisible force.
The "Phantom Load."
[Phantom Load: Active]
[Weight: 1000kg]
His vision went black at the edges. His muscles quivered violently, sweat beading on his forehead, this was his reward, not an easy gift, but a relentless training tool with no upper limit.
As he struggled, a strange thought emerged. Push back.
He didn't know where it came from. It was an instinct, a primal command. He focused, not on lifting the weight, but on the space between himself and the floor. He visualized the molecules of the air, the particles of the stone. His mind, honed by the card's memory cost, was sharper than ever. He pushed against the force, not with muscle, but with will.
A small wave ran through the room. The weight lessened. Just for a second. The pressure didn't disappear, but it shifted, a current of resistance that he could feel and manipulate. The Phantom Load was a perfect mirror for his growing ability.
The resistance was a solid surface for him to push against, and with each push, his mental focus sharpened. The two powers, his new weight and his developing matter manipulation, were now intrinsically linked, like two sides of the same coin.
He could feel his control growing, particle by particle. Vorn sat back up, breathing heavily. The Phantom Load was gone, but the feeling of it—the phantom ache—remained. The glasses flickered.
[Matter Sensitivity: 2.3% – Upgraded]
He grinned, a cold, humorless expression that was all his own. He walked to the door of his room, the subtle beeping of the security panel a quiet nuisance. He didn't touch it. He just focused, his mind reaching out to the tiny, intricate wires behind the panel, the flow of electricity. It wasn't a violent push. It was a gentle nudge, a whisper of a thought.
Open.
A small spark, a flicker of a light on the panel, and the door clicked open silently, no alarms, he moved like a practicing ghost
[Veiled Noir: Path Integrity: 91%]
He moved through the quiet hallways of the Bureau facility, a shadow in the night. The guards were there, but his system guided him, showing the blind spots, the moments they looked away. He found the elevator to the sub-levels, to the testing areas and practice dungeons. The doors slid open with a whisper.
The air on the other side was different. The raw, heavy smell of mana and earth, of stone and decay, he was just as excited as a normal rookie would have,
He found a D-Class dungeon, a simple, low-risk cave system, meant for beginners. He didn't deactivate the Phantom Load. He kept it running, a phantom weight of 500 kg pressing down on him. The challenge was insane, but his new life approach saw the logic. Train under pressure. Live under pressure.
The first monster was a Gutterspawn, smaller than the ones he'd met before. It lunged, a high-pitched shriek. Vorn sidestepped, the phantom weight making every movement slow and deliberate. He dodged a claw, then another. He picked up a small stone from the floor, his fingers shaping it with a thought, making it a little heavier, a little sharper. He threw it.
It flew with a force that should have been impossible, embedding itself deep into the Gutterspawn's skull. It went down with a gurgle.
[Gutterspawn: Eliminated]
[Drop of Blood: Acquired – Rank: Minor]
He felt the power flood his body. A tangible warmth, a strengthening of his muscles, a new surge of energy. He was no longer just surviving, he was hunting.
Vorn moved deeper, a predator in a world of prey. He cleared a chamber of four Gutterspawn, then a cluster of smaller, insect-like creatures. His matter manipulation became a lethal extension of his will. He would shape the ground to trip them, or make their own blood turn solid in their veins. He used the Phantom Load to force his body to adapt, to push beyond its limits. Each kill, each drop of blood, felt like another step on the ladder of power, he was feeling good, the old Vorn would have been terrified, but now he felt a surge of confidence.
He had a path, he had a purpose, and he had the means to achieve it. He was unstoppable. He was about to exit the dungeon, the last monster a fading memory, when a low, guttural growl echoed from a deeper part of the cavern. It was not the high-pitched shriek of a Gutterspawn.
This was deep, A sound that made the ground beneath his feet tremble.
A shadow fell over him. He looked up, his newfound confidence shattering like glass. From the darkness of a hidden, deeper cavern, a massive, hulking figure emerged. It was a giant, lumbering troll, its skin like cracked stone, its eyes a malevolent red. It was at least ten feet tall, its club a twisted tree trunk, its roar shaking the very air.
The system messages flashed across his vision, urgent and terrifying.
[Warning: Active Entity Detected - Troll-King (Rank C-)]
The pressure was immense. Not the phantom weight of his training, but real, physical, life-and-death pressure. The air grew heavy, the cave seemed to groan under the sheer weight of the creature's presence.
He stood frozen, a mouse in a cage. And the cat had just arrived.