Ding-dong.*
The quiet, melodic chime of the apartment’s front chute signaled the arrival of his morning delivery.
Ceres uncrossed his legs and walked out into the hallway.
The apartment was just beginning to wake up.
Stepping over to the metal delivery chute by the front entrance, Ceres input his security PIN and retrieved a dense, metallic shipping box.
Carrying it back into his room, he set it on his desk and unsealed the lid, revealing his new gear.
He pulled out the neutral-toned adventurer’s tunic and pulled it on; it fit his lean frame comfortably.
He laced up the thick, rubber-soled combat boots, which felt sturdy and balanced.
Next, he picked up the leather thigh holster containing the six steel throwing knives, strapping it securely around his right leg.
He pulled one knife out, spinning it effortlessly across his knuckles before snapping it back into its sheath with a clean *click*.
Finally, he unboxed the standard steel arming sword.
He drew the blade halfway from its plain leather scabbard.
The metal was gray, unpolished, and completely ordinary—no glowing runes, no plasma edges, no high-tech enhancements.
It was simple, solid, and completely unremarkable.
Ceres smiled in satisfaction.
*Perfect.*
Leaving his room to grab a glass of water, Ceres stepped into the main hall just as the door to his sister’s room opened.
Ellen stepped out, looking sharp, immaculate, and striking in her official Battle Saint Academy uniform.
The dark navy blazer, tailored pleated skirt, and pristine golden school emblem emphasized her refined status as a top-tier first-year student at Ceres’s former alma mater.
Unlike the original Ceres, Ellen possessed terrifying natural talent and immense potential—a rising genius destined for greatness.
She paused when she saw Ceres standing near the kitchen counter.
Her cold, nonchalant ‘tsundere’ demeanor was fully intact, but her sharp, discerning eyes flickered briefly as she took in his appearance.
Her eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on the posture of his shoulders and the calm, steady manner in which he moved—a subtle shift from the timid, slouched weakling she was used to.
“You’re up early,” Ellen said coldly, her voice smooth yet distant as she adjusted the cuffs of her school uniform blazer.
“Just organizing my gear,” Ceres replied with an easygoing, gentle smile, resting his hand casually against his side.
“You look ready for class.”
Ellen crossed her arms, giving him a cool, analytical stare.
“Don’t go doing anything foolish when you go back to the planes,” she muttered, turning her head away with a subtle huff, classic to her tsundere nature.
“Mum worries enough as it is.
If you get yourself banged up again like last time, I won’t bother with you again.”
Despite her sharp tone, Ceres could feel the genuine underlying care hidden deep beneath her cold exterior.
She cared deeply for her family, even if her pride refused to let her show it openly.
“I’ll be careful, Ellen.
I promise,” Ceres said softly.
Ellen didn’t reply, simply giving a curt nod before grabbing her school bag and walking out the front door, her uniform cape fluttering slightly as she headed off to the Battle Saint Academy.
Watchful that his mother was still resting in her room, Ceres returned to his quarters and locked the door once more.
He looked over at his holographic VR capsule sitting in the corner of the room.
He had completely deciphered the *Nine Lightning Heavenly Sword Technique* in theory, but theory meant nothing without practical application.
He needed to test his revised meridian pathways, his refined timing, and his lightning sword intent against live, reacting opponents.
Doing so in the physical world right now was impossible—it would destroy his bedroom and alert the city’s energy sensors.
The Battle Online VR platform was the absolute perfect proving ground.
Ceres walked over to the sleek, capsule-shaped VR pod, opened the transparent visor, and climbed inside.
The soft padding conformed to his body as the system initialized.
“Initializing neural link,” the automated female AI voice echoed in his ears.
“Welcome back to Battle Online.”
The physical world dissolved around him, replaced by a flashing stream of digital light and code.
A moment later, Ceres materialized in his private VR dressing room—a floating, futuristic platform suspended over a digital galaxy.
He looked down at his virtual hands.
Instantly, his appearance transformed into his chosen online identity: a 17-year-old youth with wild, fiery red hair, wearing a stylish, obsidian-black masquerade mask that completely concealed the upper half of his face.
He wore a dark, form-fitting beginners combat coat that fluttered in the virtual wind.
Ceres opened his virtual interface, waving his hand to pull up his player statistics:
> **Username:** Asterius
> **Elo Rating:** 1,045 (Sub-Rank: Bronze Tier I)
> **Record:** 37 Wins / 0 Losses
> **Status:** Unranked Streak Active
>
In the Battle Online platform, rank progression was tied strictly to the Elo Rating System.
A player needed to gain 200 Elo points to advance from one sub-rank to the next.
Because of his flawless, brutal win streak, Asterius had become a terrifying urban legend in the VR community.
Fight invitations and spectator notifications flooded his inbox by the thousands every minute, but he ignored them all.
Ceres tapped the system menu and selected the weapon customization tab.
He equipped his basic plain steel arming sword he had just bought in the real world.
A simple, unpolished gray steel sword materialized in his virtual grip.
Its weight, balance, and center of gravity were replicated down to the exact millimeter.
“Search for a Ranked Match,” Ceres commanded the system.
“Opponent preference: High-tier Silver or Gold Melee sword users preferred.”
> **Searching for an opponent…**
> **Match Found!**
> **Opponent:** ‘Iron_Vanguard’ (Elo Rating: 2,480 – Silver II)
> **Arena:** Ancient Colosseum
> **Transferring in 3…
2…
1…**
>
The digital dressing room shattered into pixels, reconstructing itself into a massive, blood-stained stone amphitheater beneath a blazing virtual sun.
Thousands of AI and human spectators filled the roaring grandstands surrounding the dirt arena.
Standing fifty paces away from Ceres was his opponent: a heavily armored warrior holding a massive, double-handed greatsword.
The opponent’s armor glowed with complex defensive runes, and his eyes burned with fierce confidence.
“A kid with red hair and a masquerade mask?” Iron_Vanguard scoffed, lifting his massive greatsword onto his shoulder as he looked at Ceres’s simple steel weapon.
“So you’re that ‘abtruse_swordgod “everyone on the forums is talking about?
The guy who thinks he can stomp through the rankings with basic attacks?
You’re out of your depth, brat!
Silver Rank is where real fighters play!”
Ceres didn’t respond.
He didn’t mock, he didn’t boast, and he didn’t strike a dramatic pose.
He simply adjusted his masquerade mask, grabbed the hilt of his plain steel sword, and dropped into a relaxed, low-slung stance.
His physical body in the real world was at the Foundation Building Stage, allowing pure technique, intent, and reaction speed to determine the victor.
*’Let’s see if my modified technique work on actual people,’* Ceres thought, his gaze turning icy cold behind the black mask.
> **Match Countdown:**
> **3…**
> **2…**
> **1…**
> **FIGHT!**
>
The moment the system gave the signal, Iron_Vanguard let out a thunderous battle cry, stomping his heavy armored boot onto the dirt arena.
A shockwave of earth exploded beneath his feet as he surged forward like a runaway freight train, bringing his massive greatsword down in a heavy, air-splitting vertical cleave designed to crush Ceres in a single blow.
“Die!” Iron_Vanguard roared.
He didn’t raise his sword to block the crushing blow.
Instead, he channeled his mental concept of the modified **Flash Step Slash**.
Within his virtual body’s meridians, he routed a concentrated pulse of lightning-attuned Qi through his feet and directly into his footwork—exactly as he had re-architected it during the night.
*Bzzt!*
A soft, microscopic crackle of blue static hummed beneath Ceres’s boots.
To the roaring crowd in the grandstands, Ceres seemed to instantly vanish into thin air.
He didn’t just step forward; his body blurred into a line of blue-tinted light, executing a micro-second burst of speed that completely defied kinetic inertia.
Iron_Vanguard’s eyes widened in sheer horror as his massive greatsword struck nothing but empty dirt, shattering the stone floor.
Before the heavy armor warrior could even process where his target had gone, Ceres materialized directly at his right flank, perfectly positioned inside his guard.
Ceres’s movement was fluid, effortless, and terrifyingly precise.
Without hesitation, Ceres executed the second stage of his revised technique: **Arcing Edge**.
He drew his plain steel sword in a rapid, horizontal arc aimed straight at the gap in Iron_Vanguard’s armpit armor.
As he swung, Ceres drew the true *meaning* and intent of lightning into the virtual blade.
He didn’t force energy into the steel; he allowed the atmospheric static generated by his speed to coat the metal in a humming, high-frequency electric field.
*Crackle!*
The plain steel sword sliced cleanly through the leather under-armor.
The moment the metal made contact, a violent, blue arc of electricity jumped from the sword’s edge, shooting directly into Iron_Vanguard’s nervous system.
“GAHH!” Iron_Vanguard gasped, his entire body instantly locking up.
The electrical arc didn’t just burn him—it completely disrupted his body’s neural signals, causing instantaneous, total muscle paralysis.
His massive greatsword slipped from his numb fingers, clattering uselessly against the stone floor.
Ceres stopped his sword blade half an inch from Iron_Vanguard’s exposed throat.
The entire colosseum fell into dead silence.
The crowd of spectators froze, mouths agape.
The match had lasted less than two seconds.
“T-Technique…” Iron_Vanguard stammered, his eyes filled with terror as he twitched helplessly under the residual static charge.
“What…
what kind of lightning style is that?
It didn’t backfire…
it jumped straight through my guard…”
Ceres lowered his plain steel sword, flicking the virtual blade down to disperse the remaining blue static.
“A fixed one,” Ceres said quietly, his voice cold and disguised through the mask.
> **MATCH OVER!**
> **Winner:** Asterius!
> **Elo Rating Adjustment:** +25 Points (Current Elo: 1,070)
> **Win Streak:** 43 Matches!
>
The digital arena began to dissolve into glowing pixels as Iron_Vanguard’s virtual body shattered into light.
Ceres stood in the fading arena, looking down at his plain steel sword with a look of deep satisfaction.
The execution was flawless.
The structural errors that had crippled and electrocuted so many Federation martial artists had been completely erased.
The energy flow was smooth, natural, and devastatingly fast.
He had successfully turned a discredited, 5,000-credit Bronze trash manual into a lethal, unpredictable instrument of war.
As the virtual system prepped him to return to his private lobby, Ceres smiled beneath his masquerade mask.
His preparations were almost complete.
He had his mundane gear, he had his disguised persona, and he now possessed an unsuspected, lethal sword technique perfectly suited for low-profile combat.
Out in the real world, the Star Origin Asylum was waiting for Ceres Turner’s return .
Ceres sheath his sword, his eyes burning with the ancient, unstoppable fire of a Sword God.
*’Keep waiting, fools,’* he thought calmly as the digital light faded.
*’You think you’re hunting sheep…
but you’re about to walk straight into a storm.’*