Essim opened his eyes to blinding white.
He stood on a vast circular platform, featureless and immaculate, stretching in every direction until it dissolved into a luminous fog. There was no sky, no horizon—only light, uniform and total, pressing against his senses like the silence of deep water.
Before him stood an old man.
The man wore pristine white robes that seemed woven from the same light as the platform. His face was weathered but kind, lined with the deep creases of someone who had smiled often across a very long life. A wispy white beard fell to his chest. His eyes, however, were anything but gentle. They held the quiet, absolute weight of something ancient.
And his aura nearly crushed Essim where he stood.
It wasn't a physical pressure—nothing pushed against his body. But Essim's mind registered the old man's presence the way a mouse registers a hawk: with total, instinctive terror. Every cell screamed at him to flee, to prostrate himself, to do anything except stand in the path of that gaze.
The old man noticed. With a casual wave of his hand, the pressure vanished. In its place came warmth—an inexplicable sense of comfort, as though Essim were sitting by a fireplace in his childhood home. The shift was so jarring that he almost staggered.
"Are you awake, young man?" The old man's voice was gentle.
Essim steadied himself. "Yes, sir."
"Good. You've come to be promoted, I take it?"
"I have."
"Then you'll need to test your talent on this."
The old man produced an object from the air—a stone pillar, one metre tall, its surface a deep metallic black, covered in intricate numerical etchings that shifted and crawled like living things.
(Initial Universe Stone)
Contains universal power capable of assessing an individual's destiny, talents, and potential.
"Simply place your hand on the stone," the old man explained. "The higher the number, the greater your reward." He produced nine crystals of varying sizes, each floating before him in a gentle orbit. "These are the Crystal Cores available to you, ranging from Level 1 at one hundred points to Immortal at fifteen hundred."
Essim studied the floating crystals, his mind racing. The Immortal-grade core was enormous—the size of his fist, radiating a deep, golden light. Its skill set was extraordinary:
(Crystal Core: Immortal — 1,500 points required)
Race: Sacred Human | Class: Swordsman
Level Cap: Eternal
Additional EXP: +90%
Skill 1: (Divine Slash Shadow) Each slash creates 5 shadow slashes at 80% power. No cooldown.
Skill 2: (Sky Shattering Slash) 100m sword aura, ignores 50% defence, heals 50% of damage dealt.
Cooldown: 10 minutes.
Skill 3: (Area of Light) 100m radius light zone. All attributes +100%, negates enemy healing,
+100% damage to dark creatures. Duration: 10 minutes. Cooldown: 1 hour.
Essim's hand drifted toward the Immortal Core. And as his fingers brushed its surface, a familiar prompt appeared—visible only to him.
[Crystal Core: Immortal — Duplicate x500?]
His heart slammed against his ribs. The duplication talent worked here. On items that weren't his. In a realm beyond the system's normal jurisdiction.
He didn't hesitate.
Yes.
The duplication was instantaneous. Five hundred Immortal Crystal Cores flooded into his bag's storage slots in silence.
And then the old man's expression changed.
The warmth vanished. The kind smile froze. For a terrible, suspended moment, the old man's eyes locked onto Essim with an intensity that pinned him in place like a butterfly on a board. The air solidified. Essim couldn't breathe. Couldn't blink. Couldn't think. It was as though the old man's mind had reached out and seized his, examining it from the inside.
Ten seconds passed in absolute silence.
Then the old man's smile returned.
"Forgive me," he said lightly, waving his hand. "I thought I sensed something just now, but it seems I'm merely tired. Old age, you know."
Essim's laugh came out as a croak. "Of course, sir. No offence taken."
His heart was still hammering. Had the old man detected the duplication? If so, why let it pass? The questions spiralled, but Essim forced them down. He couldn't afford to show fear. Not here.
"Alright," the old man said pleasantly. "Place your hand on the stone."
Essim obeyed. The metallic surface was cool and strangely alive beneath his palm. The numbers on the stone began to shift.
15… 23… 60… 140…
The old man's eyebrows rose.
200… 270… 600…
He stepped closer, leaning in.
1,200… 1,500…
The stone erupted in golden light.
"Impossible," the old man whispered. "Immortal-grade potential?"
Before the words had finished leaving his lips, a new presence appeared.
A middle-aged man materialised on the altar with the casual ease of someone stepping through a doorway. He wore a golden robe that flowed behind him like liquid metal, and atop his head rested a crown of nine interlocking stars, each one glowing with its own faint light. His aura was—
Essim's mind recoiled. The old man's aura had been overwhelming. This was something else entirely. It wasn't pressure; it was gravity. As though reality itself bent slightly in the crowned man's presence.
"Grandmaster Dou Du," the crowned man said, addressing the old man. "Is this one from the new planet?"
"Yes, my lord. Less than a day since their arrival."
"Very well. Leave us."
The old man vanished without a word.
• • •
The crowned man studied Essim with calm, penetrating eyes. Essim felt transparent—as though every secret he carried, including the duplicated crystals in his bag, was plainly visible.
"Child. What is your name, and where do you come from?"
"Essim, sir. I'm from Earth."
"Ah. A race that possesses a system, correct?"
Essim's shock must have shown on his face. The crowned man knew about the system. Which meant systems weren't unique to humans. And which also meant—
He tried to open his status panel. It wouldn't respond. The system was blocked.
But something else appeared. A separate notification, outside the system's architecture, pulsing with an energy that felt distinctly different—older, wilder, ungoverned.
(Infinity Duplicate: Version 2)
Update:
• Improved system security
• Multiplication increased to 10,000
Essim's mind went blank. His talent had upgraded itself. While the system was locked. As though it existed on a different plane entirely, answering to an authority that even the crowned man couldn't override.
"You haven't answered my question," the crowned man prompted gently.
"Yes, sir. I do have a system."
"My apologies for blocking it temporarily. Some system users possess talents that can manipulate the Touchstone. I needed to verify your results were genuine." He gestured toward the stone. "Would you care to test again?"
Essim placed his hand on the stone a second time.
100… 300… 400… 800… 1,300… 1,500…
The crowned man's composure finally cracked. His eyes widened, and for a fleeting instant, something fierce and complex moved across his face—wonder, calculation, and a shadow of something that might have been fear.
"Is this the age of human awakening?" he murmured, almost to himself.
Then the moment passed. His expression smoothed, and he produced five items from the air.
A golden sword, half a metre long, covered in flowing runes. A clear bottle containing a luminous white potion. Two golden talisman papers, each inscribed with intricate seals. And the largest of the Immortal Crystal Cores, pulsing with deep, steady light.
"Accept these," the crowned man said. "I hope you encounter no misfortune and continue to grow."
He paused, and his gaze softened fractionally.
"If fate allows, we shall meet again."
Before Essim could speak, the world tilted. Light consumed his vision, and then he was falling—not downward, but through. Reality peeled away in layers, and he felt himself being returned, like a letter posted across dimensions.
• • •
The crowned man remained alone on the white altar. A throne materialised behind him, and he sank into it, producing a glass of wine with a flick of his wrist.
He swirled the glass, took a slow sip, and stared into the empty space where the young human had stood.
"Open," he said softly.
Golden power erupted from his form, rippling the fabric of space like a stone dropped in still water. A portal emerged—vast enough to swallow the throne—and through it lay total darkness.
The crowned man smiled faintly and let his throne drift into the portal.
The altar stood empty.