In a massive operations center hidden deep within the facility's core, dozens of screens flickered with live data. The room was sterile, illuminated by cold blue light that cast sharp shadows across metal surfaces. This was the nerve center—where instructors monitored every awakened student deployed in the Verdant Expanse.
An instructor stood at the center console, his calm eyes fixed on the primary display. His face was weathered, etched with lines that spoke of countless experiences—battles fought, wars survived, horrors witnessed on battlefields across the Nexus. This was not a man easily surprised.
Yet his brow furrowed as he studied the leaderboard.
"How the hell is he at the top of the rankings?" His voice rang out, calm but powerful, carrying the weight of authority that demanded answers.
Three technicians dressed in crisp black-and-white suits typed tirelessly, their fingers dancing across keyboards like machines. Their eyes never left the screens before them, data streaming past in endless cascades of numbers and vitals.
Two other instructors—the same ones who had overseen the students on the plane—stood nearby, shaking their heads in mutual incomprehension.
The female instructor, her graying hair still pulled into its severe bun, crossed her arms. "We don't know how he suddenly jumped to first place. His point accumulation was normal for the first hour—fourteen points, standard tier-one eliminations. Then..." She gestured at the screen with frustration. "Then it exploded. One hundred and two points in less than twenty minutes."
"That's impossible," the scarred male instructor said, his voice rough. "Even veteran students don't rack up numbers like that. Not without serious risk or coordinated team tactics."
The female instructor's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps... could he have awakened his ability?"
The question hung in the air, drawing contemplative silence from the others.
"Kyle Farrell showed us his ability data during initial awakening assessment," she continued, pulling up his file on a secondary screen. "The designation was 'Thought,' but there was no description. No parameters. Nothing. Just an empty field."
The scarred instructor nodded slowly. "We considered investigating further, but without concrete information, it seemed pointless. Most likely just a dud awakening—happens sometimes. The ability name 'Thought' offered nothing substantial to work with either. Could've meant mental enhancement, telepathy, or absolutely nothing at all."
"We dismissed it as unimportant," the female instructor admitted, her tone carrying a hint of regret. "He wasn't flagged as a priority candidate. His physical stats were decent but unremarkable. We had no reason to focus resources on him."
But now, seeing him dominating the leaderboard, shock was etched into their very souls.
The lead instructor's face turned dark, his jaw tightening as he stared at the rankings with unnerving calm. Second place—held by their most promising candidate—sat a full forty points below first.
"To think even she cannot catch up," the man thought with a slight sigh, reaching into his pocket.
He produced a cigar, rolling it between his fingers before lighting it with practiced ease. The flame cast brief orange light across his scarred features.
The others saw this and opened their mouths to protest—smoking was technically prohibited in the operations center—but quickly shut them. Words died in their throats.
This man wasn't just an average instructor. He was Commander Voss, a veteran who had truly seen war in the Nexus. He'd survived campaigns in twelve different apocalypse worlds, led strike teams against tier-four horrors, and earned seventeen commendations for valor under impossible circumstances.
No one told Commander Voss what he could or couldn't do.
He blew out a puff of smoke, the gray cloud forming a perfect circle in the air before dissipating. A smile slowly spread across his weathered face—not cruel, but anticipatory. Hungry.
"This is going to be fun!" he declared, his voice carrying genuine excitement.
The others stared at him, and each one gulped in unison.
When Commander Voss found something "fun," people usually ended up dead or wishing they were.
-----
Meanwhile, in a rocky sector of the forest far from Kyle's position, destruction raged unchecked.
Trees lay scattered like broken matchsticks, their trunks splintered and charred. Craters pockmarked the ground, some still smoking from recent impacts. Blood painted the rocks in dark streaks, and fire swallowed several nearby trees, crackling hungrily as it consumed bark and leaves. The air itself felt wrong—thick with the stench of burnt flesh and the metallic tang of spilled blood.
At the epicenter of this devastation stood a young girl, no older than eighteen.
She held a blade in both hands, her grip white-knuckled and trembling slightly. Her eyes were a pale ice blue—almost colorless, haunting in their intensity. They burned with cold determination despite the exhaustion evident in her posture.
Her hair was beautiful, black as midnight and flowing down past her shoulders, now matted with sweat and debris. It clung to her combat uniform in damp strands. Her face remained calm, practiced composure holding despite the circumstances, though blood and sweat drenched her body. Some parts of her uniform were stained dark crimson—not all of it her own.
The sword in her hands was exquisite—a straight blade forged from some alloy that caught the firelight and reflected it in silver-white gleams. The edge was impossibly sharp, still clean despite the carnage around her.
Before her stood a monster.
The beast towered at twelve feet tall, its body a grotesque mockery of humanoid form. Massive pores dotted its gray-green skin, each one weeping the same viscous yellow fluid that characterized toxin variants. Its arms were disproportionately long, ending in clawed hands that gripped an enormous battle-axe—the weapon crude but devastating, its blade notched from use.
The creature's face was barely recognizable as having once been human. Jaw distended, eyes sunken and milky-white, skin stretched tight over protruding bones. Patches of hair still clung to its scalp in ragged clumps. It breathed in wet, rattling gasps, each exhale releasing putrid vapor.
A system panel materialized before Alicia's eyes.
-----
**| DEAD STRANGLER |**
**| RACE: EVOLVING STRANGLER |**
**| TIER: 1 |**
**| ATTRIBUTES |**
- Strength: 56
- Speed: 32
- Intelligence: 7
- Endurance: 61
- Mind: 6
-----
The creature was strong. Devastatingly strong. The air around it seemed to pulse with raw bloodlust and malevolent intent—a tangible pressure that made breathing difficult.
The girl—Alicia Dion—stared at the monster before her, blood trickling from a gash on her forehead. The warm liquid ran down into her left eye, but she didn't blink or wipe it away. She couldn't afford the distraction.
Her grip tightened on her sword, knuckles going even paler. Her vision blurred slightly at the edges, exhaustion and blood loss taking their toll.
Before her, her own status panel flickered to life unbidden—her system providing tactical information automatically during combat scenarios.
-----
**| ALICIA DION |**
**| AGE: 18 |**
**| RACE: Human (Awakened) |**
**| SEX: Female |**
**| ATTRIBUTES |**
- Strength: 21 (+12) = 33
- Speed: 26 (+13) = 39
- Intelligence: 19
- Endurance: 24
- Mind: 21
**| ABILITY: SOUL SLAUGHTER |**
**| DESCRIPTION |**
User possesses the power to harvest souls from slain enemies. Each harvested soul can be refined into a single permanent skill derived from the defeated creature's innate abilities. Skills stack and can be activated independently.
**| ACTIVE SKILLS |**
- **Wolf's Speed:** Enhanced movement velocity and reflexes derived from zombie wolf alpha. (+13 Speed)
- **Toxic Strength:** Corrupted power boost derived from toxin variant. (+12 Strength)
-----
Alicia's ice-blue eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation.
The Dead Strangler outclassed her in raw strength and endurance by substantial margins. Even with her stolen skills active, she was fighting uphill. One solid hit from that axe would likely kill her outright.
But she had speed.
And she had survived this long.
The creature roared—a sound that shook the ground—and charged forward, axe raised high.
Alicia's grip steadied.
Her breathing slowed.
"Come on then," she whispered, her voice cold as winter frost.
The battle resumed.