The night was quiet. Too quiet.
Ironclad City's auxiliary wing was a forgotten corner of the campus, bathed in flickering lights that hummed faintly above cracked tiles. Rank-E students moved about in subdued monotony, cleaning halls and corridors, carrying supplies, or repairing minor damages—tasks assigned to them because the system deemed them irrelevant. Kael Dominus, however, felt no monotony.
Something pressed within him. Not a discomfort, not a pain—more like a reminder. An insistence. A pulse, faint but undeniable, as if the world itself had drawn a breath and held it, waiting for him to act.
He didn't know why, but instinct told him to leave the room.
Outside, the campus was still. The moon hung high, reflecting off the metal walls of the training grounds. Then came the first sound—a sharp, piercing scream that tore through the calm.
Kael's chest tightened. The pressure inside him surged. It pointed toward the sound. Toward the south training arena. Without thinking, he ran.
The grounds were dimly lit, but the chaos was impossible to miss. Students crowded behind barriers, fear etched on their faces. In the center, a containment pen lay shattered. Metal rods bent at impossible angles, glowing faintly from residual energy.
And inside it… stood a creature.
It was massive. Feral. Its body fused with strange metallic plating that glimmered in the moonlight. Eyes glowed crimson, teeth snapped in anticipation, and its breath came in harsh, steaming gasps. The ground itself trembled beneath its weight as it advanced toward the crowd.
"Security's coming!" shouted a panicked voice.
"Stay back!" another student screamed.
The crowd froze. Their beasts remained at their side, unsure. Rank-A students shifted, instinctively ready to command. But something about this creature made even the bravest hesitate.
Kael stopped at the edge of the training ground, fingers curling into fists. His eyes were fixed on the creature.
Recognition…
The pressure inside him coalesced. Warm, heavy, deliberate. He could feel the presence stir. It wasn't fear. It was an acknowledgment.
The creature snarled, muscles coiling to strike. The barriers rattled under its weight. Students flinched. Security personnel aimed their weapons—but the instinct that surged within Kael told him to step forward, not away.
"Stop."
The word left his lips like a whisper.
The creature froze mid-leap. Its claws hovered inches above the ground. Its gaze locked onto Kael.
The world seemed to narrow. The crowd, the noise, the flashing lights—all receded into background static. The pressure inside Kael expanded outward, delicate yet insistent, brushing against the edges of the creature's awareness.
It obeyed.
The hound—if it could be called that—bowed its head slowly, laying its body low to the ground. Submission, yes, but not fear. Not defeat. Recognition.
Gasps rippled through the students. A Rank-B student whispered, "Did… did it just obey him?"
A Rank-A student's hand trembled on her elemental spear. "Impossible…"
Security approached, weapons raised. Their eyes widened in disbelief. The creature did not react. They hesitated, confused. It remained still, aware, and obedient, yet untamed in its form.
Kael's heart pounded. He didn't understand it. He didn't have a beast. He didn't have a rank. He didn't even have a system panel.
Yet here it was. Listening.
Authority…
The word hummed inside him.
It wasn't power drawn from mana or bloodline. It wasn't training or experience. It was an acknowledgment. Pure, absolute, inherent. The kind of authority no system could measure.
Kael staggered back. His vision blurred slightly, chest heaving. The crowd was silent, staring. Some whispered, some hid their faces. Even the instructors' projections stuttered—blue and white light flickered, trying to display the situation, failing.
[Directive Complete]
Authority Exertion: Minimal
Recognition Increased
The Sovereign Interface flickered faintly in his vision. It was still faint, subtle, barely visible—but undeniably there.
Kael didn't move to hold it. He didn't need to. The creature remained obedient, aware, and patient. And then the realisation hit him: the system could not see him. His authority was invisible, unregistered, untouchable.
The instructors finally arrived. A Rank-A woman with silver hair stepped forward, her eyes wide as she surveyed the scene.
"This… this isn't possible," she muttered. "No control glyphs. No mana traces. Nothing."
The students murmured, spreading fear and curiosity in equal measure. Rumours would grow. They always did.
Kael turned away, his chest still tight from the pressure. He didn't answer. He had no desire to explain. Words weren't necessary. He had already acted.
And the presence inside him stirred again—quiet, approving, patient.
Later, back in the auxiliary wing, Kael sat on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling above.
You are acknowledged.
The voice, the presence, the entity… it was still there. Dormant yet alive, watching, waiting.
Kael's fingers traced the edge of the bed. He felt the weight of what had just occurred. The world measured power by beasts. By ranks. By system approval.
And yet, here he was. Rank-E. No beast. No approval. No system acknowledgment.
But he had commanded. And the command had been obeyed.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Rank-E was never meant to exist like this.
Kael exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. He didn't know what this authority truly was. He didn't know what a sovereign meant. He didn't know why the system couldn't detect it.
But he knew one thing: it was powerful. And it was his.
He didn't smile. He didn't exult. He simply sat quietly, aware that his life had just shifted irreversibly.
The night stretched around him. The city slept. And somewhere deep inside, the pressure pulsed, waiting for its next command.