The hunger was worse than the broken ribs.
Kael stood in the morning chill of the training grounds, his stomach twisting into painful knots.
Adaptive Regeneration had spent the night knitting his skeleton back together, but the system had warned him the process required caloric fuel.
The single packet of gray nutrient paste he’d choked down for breakfast felt like a drop of water in a desert.
He was running on fumes, and Instructor Toris looked thrilled about it.
“The Gauntlet,” Toris announced, his voice echoing across the packed-dirt yard.
He gestured to a narrow, fifty-yard trench lined with automated mana-shooters and heavy swinging logs.
“A standard evasion drill for C-ranks.
The goal is to cross the finish line without being incapacitated.
Morgan, since you spent last night’s maintenance duty sleeping off smoke inhalation, you can run it first.”
A murmur went through the assembled students.
The Gauntlet was designed for students with enhanced durability or speed.
Putting an F-rank in there wasn’t a drill; it was a trip to the infirmary.
Standing on the sidelines, his right arm bound tightly in a medical sling, Sebastian smiled.
Kael didn’t argue.
He couldn’t.
He walked to the starting line, his boots heavy in the dirt.
Up in the observation stands, he felt the familiar, calculating weight of Mori’s gaze.
“Begin,” Toris boredly commanded.
Kael broke into a sprint.
Instantly, the trench came alive.
A heavy wooden log swung down from the scaffolding.
Kael’s Faster Brain calculated the arc.
He dropped into a slide, the rough dirt tearing at his uniform as the log rushed inches above his nose.
He popped back up, his body screaming for calories.
Beginner Swordsmanship wasn’t just for holding a blade; it had rewired his footwork.
He pivoted sharply, dodging a low-velocity mana bolt that scorched the air where his chest had been.
He was moving perfectly.
But his body was failing.
Black spots danced at the edge of his vision.
The sheer physical toll of his nighttime healing was catching up to him.
His legs felt like lead.
Toris frowned, watching Kael effortlessly weave through the first thirty yards.
The instructor tapped his data slate, bypassing the safety protocols, and cranked the mana-shooters to B-rank output.
The low hum of the automated turrets spiked into a high-pitched whine.
Kael’s enhanced mind caught the frequency shift instantly.
They’re firing faster.
I can’t dodge this.
I don’t have the energy.
Three high-velocity mana bolts fired simultaneously, perfectly triangulating his position.
Left, right, and center.
There was no physical space to evade, and no energy left in his muscles to force a jump.
Time ground to a halt.
The familiar blue screen didn’t just flicker to life—it slammed into Kael’s vision, blocking out the trench entirely.
And for the first time, the dry, sarcastic tone was completely gone.
The text hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
[Reality pressure critical.
Mental bandwidth sufficient.][Concept Evolution Path Unlocked.][Reality is not a fixed line. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
It is a suggestion.
Do you wish to make a counter-offer?]
Kael didn’t even have the breath to speak.
He just thought the word: Yes.
The world shattered.
Kael gasped as his vision fractured into millions of shimmering, microscopic threads.
They were everywhere—gray, gold, and crimson lines spider-webbing across the physical space of the trench.
They weren’t physical objects.
They were possibilities.
Kael’s Faster Brain processed the visual data instantly: he was seeing the architecture of chance.
Most threads were gray, representing outcomes that didn’t matter.
But three thick, pulsing crimson threads shot straight from the turrets to the center of his chest.
Absolute certainty.
Lethal impact.
Kael couldn’t jump over them.
He couldn’t block them.
So he didn’t.
He just pushed them.
Using a mental muscle he didn’t know he possessed, Kael nudged the crimson threads.
It wasn’t a violent shove, just a subtle, desperate shift in weight.
The world snapped back into real time.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.
The left mana-shooter’s internal targeting gear slipped a fraction of a millimeter.
The bolt fired wild, singing past Kael’s ear and scorching the dirt.
The right bolt fired perfectly, but struck a heavy iron buckle that had sheared off the swinging log a second prior, refracting the energy just enough to graze Kael’s shoulder instead of piercing his lung.
The center bolt caught the sudden, localized thermal updraft from the first two misses, lifting its trajectory by exactly two inches.
It sailed over Kael’s hair and slammed into the final heavy log, blowing the massive timber clean off its chain.
The log crashed into the trench, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and providing a perfect, unintended ramp.
Kael didn’t stop.
He vaulted off the shattered timber, hit the dirt rolling, and crossed the finish line.
He collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping for air that tasted like ozone and blood.
His head spun violently.
The sheer mental strain of looking at reality’s code made his stomach heave.
The blue screen flickered back into his vision, the dry sarcasm returning instantly.
[Concept Node Activated: Luck.] [Warning: Probability manipulation induces severe vertigo.
Please vomit downwind of your superiors.]
Kael coughed, spitting a mixture of saliva and dirt onto the grass.
He stayed on his knees, shivering as his starved body tried to process the adrenaline crash.
Silence hung over the training yard.
Up in the stands, Sebastian’s smug smile had completely vanished, replaced by a pale, slack-jawed stare.
He gripped his medical sling, his knuckles white.
Instructor Toris stormed down the steps, his face dark with fury.
He marched straight to the finish line and grabbed Kael by the collar of his uniform, hauling the exhausted F-rank halfway to his feet.
“What did you do?” Toris spat, shaking him.
“You sabotaged the mechanisms!
They don’t just miss!”
Kael blinked through the vertigo, giving the instructor a weak, blood-stained grin.
“Maybe I’m just cold-blooded, Toris.”
“You cheated,” Toris snarled, pulling a heavy brass disciplinary baton from his belt.
“I don’t know how a trench rat rigged the system, but I’m going to beat the truth out of—”
“Instructor Toris.”
The voice was cold enough to freeze water.
Mori stood at the edge of the trench.
She wasn’t holding her usual data slate.
Her hands were tucked neatly behind her back, her posture radiating absolute authority.
Toris froze, his baton raised.
“Miss Mori.
This provisional student tampered with Academy training equipment.
It’s a severe violation.”
“I am looking at the telemetry feed right now, Toris,” Mori said, her voice carrying across the silent yard.
“The turrets logged internal mechanical misfires.
Morgan made zero physical contact with the arrays.
Unless you are suggesting an F-rank student possesses the ability to telekinetically rewrite a B-rank targeting core while running for his life?”
Toris opened his mouth, then closed it.
His face flushed a dark, ugly red.
He let go of Kael’s collar.
Kael dropped back into the dirt, breathing hard.
“No, Miss Mori,” Toris muttered, shooting a venomous glare at Kael.
“I suppose not.”
“Good.
Drill is over.
Dismiss your class.”
Mori didn’t wait for him to comply.
She walked over to Kael, her polished boots stopping inches from his face.
She looked down at him, her dark eyes entirely unreadable.
“Get up, Morgan,” she commanded quietly.
Kael forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly.
He wiped the dirt from his mouth, matching her stare.
“Turrets don’t miscalibrate three times in the exact same millisecond,” Mori whispered, her voice so low only Kael could hear it.
“You didn’t dodge those bolts.
They bent around you.”
“Like I told Toris,” Kael rasped, his chest heaving.
“I’m just lucky.”
Mori’s eyes narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits.
She stepped closer, the space between them practically vibrating with tension.
“We are going to test exactly how far your luck goes,” Mori said.
She reached into her coat and pulled out a heavy, stamped envelope, pressing it flat against his bruised chest.
“Pack your gear, Kael.
I just pulled your name from the provisional roster.
You’re entering the Academy Tournament tomorrow.”