Smoke rose from the shattered golem's remains, curling skyward into the blood-red clouds.
Kairo lay sprawled across the forest floor, ribs cracked, blood crusting along his lips. His breath came slow and shallow, muscles twitching from overuse. The emergency surge he'd triggered had left him hollowed, spent.
Beside him, Mira sat cross-legged, blade resting across her lap, eyes on the mist.
The others were quiet.
Not out of fear. Not anymore.
They were quiet out of shock.
He had done it, he had taken down a dungeon-class construct alone. He saved Mira, he saved all of them.
Yet now he looked barely alive.
Kairo stared up at the fake sky; a swirling veil of crimson light and illusion, and swallowed hard. The pain wasn't just in his body. It was in his bones, like every cell had been drained of fuel.
The system pulsed faintly before his eyes.
~----~
[MUSCLE INDEX: 2.4%]
Caloric Deficit: Extreme
Pain Tolerance: 7% increase
Recovery Delay: +6 hours (No nutrient source detected)
~----~
"…you really are insane," Mira said again, shaking her head.
Kairo turned his head slowly to look at her.
Her tone softened. "But impressive".
He blinked. Said nothing.
She looked back toward the treeline. "You crossed it, you know. The First Threshold".
Kaelin frowned slightly. "Threshold?"
She smirked. "Every Awakener hits a wall at some point. A moment where they either break… or break through".
He didn't respond. He didn't understand.
Mira's voice turned thoughtful. "For most people, it's fear. For others, it's pain. For the lucky ones? It's doubt. The moment you stop thinking you can win… or that you deserve to".
She nodded at him. "You hit yours when that monster came at you, and you didn't back down. You went through it".
Kairo stared at her in silence.
Then he sat up slowly, which elicited a groan. "…That wasn't a wall".
Mira raised an eyebrow.
He stared into the firelight, voice hoarse. "It was a door".
She smiled.
And for a moment, there was silence.
…
Six hours later, they were teleported back.
The simulated forest dissolved in a shimmer of light, replaced by cold stone and iron platforms. Massive sky-screens tracked the rankings. Names flickered across a projection above the courtyard, showing the top 50 survivors sorted by contribution.
Kairo's name was… nowhere near the top.
He searched, confused.
[Combat Points: 38]
[Support Score: 0]
[Eliminations: 1 Dungeon-Class Construct]
[Team Assist: Unregistered]
[Contribution Grade: C-]
He stared.
Mira walked past and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the system. Points get weighted by team synergy and recognized combat formations. You fought alone. They don't reward lone wolves".
She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You passed".
He said nothing, but the words stuck like knives.
He had nearly died, and it earned him C-.
The next holding zone was a lavish stone pavilion reserved for passed candidates. Ornate banners hung between marble columns. Low tables bore fruit, meat, and wine for those who qualified.
Kairo stood at the threshold.
His lips were cracked. His vision swam. His stomach ached like something was eating him from the inside out.
A guard stepped in front of him, halberd lowered.
"Name?"
"Kairo Vale".
The guard looked down at his slate, and frowned.
Then smirked.
"You're not on the elite roster. C-tier placement. You get processed in the side lot".
He pointed to a shaded tent in the distance; no roof, no food, just crates.
Kairo looked past him, at the roasted meat, fresh bread, and sparkling juice trays inside the pavilion.
His jaw tightened. 'Damnation!'
A defiant thought entered his mind, wondering if he could take the guard on.
But then he nodded, and walked.
He'd eaten dirt before. This was nothing.
…
Later that night, while the others rested, a man approached.
Late twenties, dressed in an open crimson robe with a serpent sigil clasp on his shoulder, the emblem of the Skyreach Alliance.
His hair was silver. His smile was smooth.
"You're Kairo Vale," he said, sitting across from him on a crate uninvited.
Kairo nodded cautiously.
"You punched through a Dungeon-class threat with your fists, no support skills, no weapon augments. That's not nothing".
Kairo stayed silent.
The man leaned in. "My name's Varrin. I represent the Whispered Fang Guild. We… influence the tournament behind the scenes".
A pause.
"Some of the noble candidates aren't comfortable with wildcards like you. Especially ones that don't understand the etiquette of the system".
Kairo's eyes narrowed. "Etiquette?"
Varrin chuckled. "Power is one thing, permission is another".
He pulled out a scroll. "Here's the offer. In the next match, you underperform. Lose early. We'll send you a personal recommendation letter to one of the city's minor academies".
"No entrance exam. A dorm room. Food".
He smiled wider. "A bed".
Kairo stared at the scroll, then at his fists.
He remembered Mira's words. 'You crossed it'.
No.
He had entered it.
And if he left now? He'd be walking back into the slums.
He stood.
Varrin raised an eyebrow.
Kairo's voice was low. "You want me to lose… because you're scared of what I'll become if I win".
Varrin's smile vanished.
Kairo stepped past him, not even looking back once to acknowledge the man's existence as the echoes of his voice were what remained of him.
"Tell your nobles the slumrat's coming".
"And muscle doesn't kneel".