The meadow was silent when it ended. Smoke curled in lazy ribbons from the scorched grass, carrying the bitter stench of charred flesh that no breeze could dispel. The pitiful stream still trickled, its sound almost mocking against the echoes of screams that had filled the night. The water carried flecks of soot and blood, winding crookedly past the scene of ruin as if nature itself refused to acknowledge what had transpired. Michael was gone. Not buried, not broken, not even reduced to blood. He had been erased by agony, carved down until there was nothing left that could call itself human. Not even his fragment remained. The cadets had been too furious to leave a single piece behind, reducing him utterly despite the immense power that could have been claimed from such a fragment. They had chosen fury over gain, rage over reason, and in that choice, they had demonstrated something rawer than discipline: unity in wrath. Michael had been an insanely high level, more than any of them could have withstood on their own. If not for Imujin neutralizing him before he could lay a finger on them, Michael would have slaughtered the entire 90th where they stood. That truth pressed heavier than the silence of his absence, reminding them that only the Headmaster's hand had made their victory possible.

The cadets stood in a wide circle, their chests heaving, sweat dripping down faces still twisted into faint, involuntary smiles that had not yet faded. Their hands trembled as their spectrums guttered and died away, the last traces of light and color flickering from their fingers. None of them looked away from the patch of scorched earth where Michael had been consumed. In the bond, there was no hollow now. There was only the heavy thrum of unity, born in blood and fire, humming low in their veins like a single great heartbeat. They had all struck together. They had all crossed the line together. The System's confirmation had slammed into each of them in unison: Level 30, the hard cap of their current classes. Every cadet stood at the same precipice now; their growth halted until new classes were forged. To feel that surge as one, to hear the same number in the back of their minds, was both triumph and condemnation. They had risen together, but there would be no further rising without change.

Imujin moved first, stepping into the circle's center. His boots pressed into the mud without hesitation, grinding into the blackened soil as though to anchor his authority in the earth itself. He looked over them all with eyes that carried the weight of centuries, then inclined his head. "I should have ended him myself," he said, his voice carrying without force, simple and unadorned. "My failure endangered you all. That mistake is mine."

The cadets remained silent, their eyes fixed on him. None dared to speak. It felt like judgment and absolution in the same breath, as if Imujin's admission both condemned and released them. The bond shivered with their unspoken awe and unease.

"As penance," Imujin continued, "I will guide the three among you without masters to their next classes myself. Torman. Lessa. Roan. You were placed in danger because of my indulgence. I will see to it that you are not left behind." His gaze swept the circle, firm and final. "The rest of you will have your instructors. These three will have me. That is my promise."

A flicker of awe rippled through the bond. To be guided directly by a Headmaster was unthinkable, the kind of gift no cadet could refuse. Yet none of them cheered, none of them smiled. The weight of what they had done held them too tightly for joy, shackled their throats before any word could form.

Then Imujin turned to Vaeliyan. The meadow seemed to lean toward him, the moonlight sharpening against his shoulders. "You hit level thirty from this kill, as did they. Every one of you. Impressive. But capped, your potential is wasted. A weapon must grow sharper, not heavier. You will forge your path now. Choose, and I will see it done."

Vaeliyan did not answer immediately. He felt the bond behind him, the cadets steady, watching, waiting. His smile was faint, cold, the promise of violence not yet spent. He exhaled slowly, steadying himself as the knowledge of his evolution pressed against his chest.

Imujin's gaze swept the circle once more, his tone turning harder. "None of you can afford to wait. Do not waste time trying to craft the perfect skill. You move forward with what you want your skills to become, and you trust it will hold. The war will not pause for you to polish yourselves. We have no time left."

The words fell like hammer-blows, each one fixing itself into their bones. The cadets straightened despite their exhaustion, shoulders set, eyes burning with dread and resolve. They understood: hesitation meant death. To wait was to lose. To act now was survival.

Vaeliyan's smile widened, faint but sharp, cutting like the edge of his new skill. He inclined his head to Imujin at last. He would choose, and he would carve forward, no matter the cost.

The night pressed close around them, heavy with the promise of transformation, and every cadet knew they stood at the threshold of something greater and more terrible than any trial they had endured before.

The veil slipped, and Vaeliyan dissolved into Warren. The shift was seamless, a breath drawn and exhaled into a different self. Warren stood there, shoulders squared despite the exhaustion chewing at his tiny frame.

He didn't hesitate. The System window flickered across his vision, offering choices, lines of text promising refinement, strength, direction. Warren didn't even read them. With a single thought, the upgrade slammed into Crafting. He had done the work, prepared for this exact moment. The change rippled through him instantly: a subtle but undeniable shift, like seeing the bones of the world pressed faintly against the surface of its skin. He accepted it without ceremony.

"I know what I want," Warren said, his voice raw. "Let's do the class. Now. Before I collapse."

Imujin stepped forward, silent. His hands unraveled into clouds of nanites, black and silver swarming down his arms until his forearms were a storm contained by bone. Without hesitation, he pressed them into Warren's chest.

The pain was immediate. Warren convulsed, breath torn from him as the Headmaster's will sank into his body. The cadets around the meadow flinched in unison, clutching their rings as the bond shivered under the strain. They couldn't see what was happening, but they could feel it, power climbing, pressure sharpening, Warren's presence dragging their breaths into ragged edges.

Inside the forging, Imujin felt the shape of it. He didn't force a design; he drew it out, hands guiding what Warren's choices had already begun. Futures fractured like glass, branching into dozens of possibilities. Sensations replayed in endless fidelity: sight layered with sound, touch layered with vibration, the pulse of air against skin, the total body recorded and recalled. The shape of a class coalesced between them.

Warren's teeth bared in a snarl, eyes wide as the world folded across itself. For a heartbeat, the cadets saw him double, two Warrens overlapping before collapsing back into one. Through the bond, they felt the spike of his clarity, the unnatural weight of a man moving along more than one path at once.

Imujin's nanites pressed deeper, branding the new class into his marrow. Warren arched against it, sweat pouring, throat raw from a sound he didn't realize he was making. The Headmaster's voice came low, more to himself than to anyone else. "Mirage Walker."

The System confirmed it a moment later, crisp and final, the words searing themselves into Warren's core.

Class: Mirage Walker

Futures split into parallel action, one path chosen, another executed in the same instant. Perception no longer ends at sight: sound, touch, balance, vibration, and air itself replay in perfect fidelity, layering over one another until clarity becomes unbearable. Mirage Walker does not stride alone. Each step leaves behind an echo, a shadow of action already carried out. What stands before others is not one Warren but many, each overlapping, each as sharp as the real. The mirage is not illusion, it is recursion, inevitability given form.

The cadets felt the bond shudder again, the sense of something wronger, heavier, more dangerous standing among them. They couldn't name it. They couldn't see it. But they knew it had arrived.

Imujin pulled his hands free at last. The nanites drained back into flesh. Warren dropped to one knee, chest heaving, eyes alight with something crueler than exhaustion. He grinned faintly, blood bright on his teeth, and exhaled like a man who had just been born again.

The cadets looked on, pale and silent, feeling the echo of what Warren had become through the bond. A Mirage Walker stood in their midst, unseen but undeniable.

The veil slipped back again, and Warren dissolved into Vaeliyan. He emerged carrying the exhaustion that had nearly broken him moments before, bones dragging, lungs hitching, body trembling on the edge of collapse. His head hung low, sweat darkening the earth beneath him. The cadets felt it in the bond, a heaviness that mirrored their own state: all of them spent, all of them barely standing.

Then he reached into the System. A thought was enough. The choice struck through him, and suddenly his pulse became fire. Breath smoothed. Muscles steadied. The fatigue vanished, erased in a heartbeat. What had been collapse became readiness, as though exhaustion had never existed. The cadets remained hollowed, their own strength gone, but through the bond they felt his shift, the sudden unfair gulf between their weakness and his renewal. He stood tall, no trace of strain, eyes bright with clarity.

A second upgrade followed. Balance locked around him in an instant. The tilt of the ground, the weight of his own frame, even the draw of the world itself seemed irrelevant. He stood fixed, untouchable, as though orientation itself bent to him. The cadets staggered under the contrast, still drained while he became something immovable, a horizon made flesh. It was nauseating in its unfairness; he was tireless while they could hardly keep upright.

Vaeliyan lifted his head. His exhaustion was gone, his stance absolute. He looked straight at Imujin. His voice was level, stripped of weakness. "Again."

Imujin stepped forward without hesitation. His hands dissolved into nanite storms, black-silver clouds crawling down his arms. He pressed them into Vaeliyan's chest, and the forging began.

Pain tore through Vaeliyan's body, his spine bowing under the strain as Imujin's will sank into his marrow. The cadets clutched at their rings, shaken by the waves of fury and resolve pulsing through the bond. They couldn't see the shape of the class, but they could feel its weight: force drawn inward and held, motion snapping complete the instant it began. Balance shattered, order undone, the storm given will.

Imujin's jaw set, his voice low. "Wake Bringer."

The System sealed it a moment later, crisp and final.

Class: Wake Bringer

Motion no longer accelerates. Each strike, each step, each leap begins at full potential, vectors snapping absolute from the first instant. Wake Bringer does not pass through distortion. Distortion follows in its wake, balance shattered, order undone. Where it moves, turbulence becomes law.

Imujin pulled his hands free. Nanites drained back into flesh. Vaeliyan stood unbroken, exhaustion erased as if it had never existed. Steam coiled off his skin. The cadets trembled in silence, feeling the echo of what had just been forged. They were still drained and hollowed, but through the bond they sensed the vast and unbearable gulf of what he had become.

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The Wake Bringer stood among them, and nothing felt stable anymore.

Vaeliyan Verdance/Warren Smith— Level 30

Fourth threshold requirements not met

Class: Wake Bringer/Mirage Walker

Alignment: Green Zone Citizen/Aberrant Unallocated Stat Points: 88

Strength: 60 Perception: 68 Intelligence: 78 Dexterity: 68 Endurance: 60 Resolve: 74

Vaeliyan's Skills at level 30

Power Strike (Active): A single, focused melee blow delivered with full-body commitment. Designed to break guards, knock targets off balance, or end a fight with clean force. Most effective when delivered from a grounded stance with intent. Requires no charge, no windup, only opportunity.

Razor Sand (Active): Evolved from Pocket Sand. A storm of nanite-laced grit sharpened to lethal edges. When unleashed, it shreds flesh, severs nerves, and tears through soft tissue with surgical cruelty. Causes immediate blindness, catastrophic internal damage, and escalating terror in those caught within it. The sand no longer disperses harmlessly, it lingers, embedding itself in eyes, lungs, and wounds, waiting to be recalled. At the user's command, the grains can rip themselves free along the most direct path, regardless of resistance, carving tunnels of destruction as they return.

(New)Luminoscalpel (Active): Evolved from Flash. Light is no longer burst outward to blind or dazzle, but forced inward, sharpened through radiation and guided by nanite precision. It pours into the bloodstream, twisting red cells into serrated growths that tear through flesh with every beat of the heart.

The body becomes its own blade. Veins shred, organs puncture, nerves carve apart under a tide of microscopic knives. The effect is slow, excruciating, and without a true purpose beyond torment. Pain is etched from within until nothing remains whole.

(New)Crimson Engine (Passive): Evolved from Optimized Metabolism. The body functions as a furnace, circulation carrying fire and fuel in the same breath. Heat is no longer wasted but burned forward, driving exertion into endurance. Strain compounds itself into greater output, effort feeding effort.

Recovery no longer waits until rest, it exists inside motion. Every beat of the heart repairs what it threatens to break. Collapse is not the end of action; it is the next ignition. The harder the body drives, the hotter the engine runs, and the hotter it runs, the longer it endures.

(New)Gyroscopic Core (Passive): Evolved from Anchored Stance. Balance is no longer tied to the ground. Orientation locks to an internal axis, corrected before drift or spin can take hold. Tumbling halts before it begins, momentum cycling into stability.

Inversion, weightlessness, sudden shock, none displace position. Ground contact is no longer required for equilibrium. In air or on shifting terrain, balance persists unbroken. The body becomes its own horizon; every motion aligned to chosen intent.

(New)Force Sovereign (Passive): Evolved from Structural Sovereign. Integrity no longer only endures; it commands force itself. Impact, recoil, and pressure can be drawn into the body, held without damage, stored as potential. Organs, tissue, and frame absorb violence that would destroy others, keeping it in reserve.

Release is not reflexive but chosen. Stored pressure can flood into a strike, a leap, or a sudden movement, multiplying output beyond natural maximums. The body remains whole, unbroken, while channeling what should have torn it apart. Force is no longer resisted, it is sovereign.

(New)Instantaneous Vector (Passive): Evolved from Vector Lock. Motion no longer builds toward speed, it arrives there. Acceleration has been erased; the body can shift from stillness to peak velocity in a single instant.

Every step, strike, or leap commits to its full potential the moment it begins. Momentum is not earned over distance or time, it is immediate, absolute, already complete. The body becomes a projectile the instant it chooses to move, vectors snapping to their destination without delay.

Vaeliyan's Soul skill – All Around You

Stage Three

Core Effect – Pressure Field

The field builds over time. The longer the user remains still, the faster the pressure intensifies. What begins as a subtle shift becomes a persistent weight. The space tightens. Air feels heavier. Focus degrades. The presence grows without sound or warning.

Passive – Suffocation Drift

The field spreads outward from the user, thinning focus and sharpening discomfort. Oxygen levels remain unchanged, but breathing feels strained. Thought slows. Tension builds. The effect is passive, progressive, and persistent.

Execution Effect – Compression Spike

The user can condense the field instantly, applying a sudden spike of directional pressure. The effect is silent, invisible, and immediate. At close range, it can stagger limbs, break rhythm, or knock weapons off-course. Applied precisely, it can mimic the force of a physical strike.

Stage three upgrades:

Internal Effect – Permeable Core The user may now allow external force to pass through the body by redirecting pressure along internal paths. When active, the body no longer absorbs impact as mass, instead, it becomes a conduit.

Blunt strikes, shockwaves, and concussive force are no longer stopped by the body. Pressure is diffused on contact and routed through, allowing the user to remain upright and unbroken regardless of physical trauma.

Punches pass through muscle without tearing it.

Explosions ripple across skin and exit without causing rupture.

Falls, slams, or collisions become transitory.

Known Limitations:

The field strengthens the longer the user remains still. Movement reduces intensity and disrupts edge stability.

Pressure loses coherence with distance from the user.

The Skill does not directly immobilize targets.

Effects are less noticeable to individuals with suppressed emotional response, advanced conditioning, or enhanced respiratory systems.

Does not reduce sharp trauma, piercing attacks, or cutting damage. Only force that relies on internal pressure transfer is negated.

Maintaining permeability requires conscious control. If interrupted, the field defaults to normal behavior.

Warren's Skills at Level 30

Soft Flicker (Active):

A refined evolution of Flicker Steps. Allows the user to disperse into a controlled nanite mist and reconstitute nearby within visual range, without noise, shimmer, or static trail. Movement is no longer disruptive, no longer a visual stutter: it simply happens, like a blink that no one notices.

Requires direct line of sight, The reformation process has been stabilized, smoothed into seamless reintegration. There is no burst, no flash, no displacement wake, just a change in position, clean and surgical.

Examine (Active): Allows close, precise inspection of physical items. Identifies structural materials, mechanical condition, origin markers, manufacturing details, and utility potential. Does not reveal hidden properties.

Mobile Sun (Active):

Generates a compact gravitational core of nanites. Anything that enters contact is drawn in and torn apart by extreme force. The field exerts constant vacuum pressure in all directions. Control is manual. Activation carries physical risk. Warning: The user is not exempt. Contact with the core will result in severe damage or death. This Skill does not stabilize itself. It will consume whatever it touches, intended or not.

(New)Branching Paths (Passive): Evolved from Paths of the Future. Probability does not stop at awareness. One potential branch can now be acted upon in parallel, instantiated through a nanite duplicate that performs a single chosen action while the user commits to another.

The copy does not think, it executes. One strike, one step, one defense, carried out absolute before dissolving. Decision no longer narrows to one line. In the same moment, the body can take two.

(New)Sensory Echo (Passive): Evolved from Compound Echoes. Recording extends beyond vision. Every sense the body carries is retained and replayable, sound, touch, balance, vibration, smell, heat.

What was seen can be heard again. What was touched can be felt again. Experience replays as total perception, frame by frame, layered with full fidelity. Nothing slips between sensation and memory.

(New)Living Framework (Passive): Evolved from Crafting. Blueprint recognition is no longer summoned but constant. Materials reveal their seams, stress lines, and balance points the instant they are handled. Faults show themselves as clearly as cracks in glass, pressure paths as visibly as joints under strain.

Assembly follows instinct. Parts slide into place as though guided, weight distributes along the correct channels before collapse begins. Disassembly yields clean stock, ordered and ready. Building is no longer trial, but reflex: design lives with the work, flowing through every motion

Warren's Skill – Rain Dancer

Stage Three

Core Effect – Phase Slip

Environmental moisture, rain, mist, blood, steam, no longer reacts to Warren. It aligns with him. He is not moving through the storm. He is the storm's chosen vector.

Water flows with him, not around him.

Raindrops spiral to his motion.

Mist forms his silhouette before he steps into it.

Visibility itself becomes distorted in his presence.

Passive – Micro-Evasion Boost

Every movement Warren makes is adjusted, not just spatially, but meteorologically. Wind pressure shifts around his path. Microcurrents redirect trajectories.

Flechettes miss by millimeters.

Melee swings veer away as air density warps.

Objects moving toward him may deflect subtly, as though pushed by sudden wind shear.

To observers, it looks like supernatural instinct. To the System, it's a behavior it cannot fully explain.

Attack Sync Effect – Kinetic Surge

When Warren strikes mid-motion, the environment becomes a weapon.

A swing of his truncheon may bring a concussive burst of pressure, water, or mist.

Rain compacts and detonates on impact.

Mist lashes like a coiled whip.

Droplets act as accelerants, increasing momentum and range.

His blows land with the violence of hurricanes. His movement leaves behind impact craters, gouged stone, or collapsing structures, not from strength, but from the mass of motion given form.

Visual Signature

Rain doesn't fall, it follows. Mist doesn't obscure, it shapes him.

Each movement trails spirals, rings, and pulses of moisture that react before contact.

Lightning sometimes arcs around him, not to strike, but to avoid him.

The storm bends toward him, not in service, but in recognition.

Growth Conditions:

Rain Dancer evolves through high-risk engagements in poor visibility conditions.

Rain, smoke, fog, blood mist, steam, any atmosphere with distortion potential increases adaptation.

Direct kills made immediately following an evasion spike increase psychological effect range.

The more he endures, the more the storm learns him.

Known Limitations:

Less effective in arid, dry, or open-sky environments. More moisture decreases its limitations.

Function (Path of Clarity): Controlled Precipitation: Rainfall within the field thins to preserve sightlines, airflow, and coordination. Peripheral zones retain full density for concealment and misdirection. Steam Dispersal: Heated mist is redirected outward or downward, creating breathable corridors even in high-temperature vapor zones. Visibility stabilizes. Pressure Equilibrium: Localized fluctuations in atmospheric pressure are neutralized. This reduces disorientation and strain, allowing full function even in hostile weather environments.

Notable Effects: Rain falls as needed: soft over breath, heavy where silence must hold. Mist shapes passage instead of shrouding it. Steam thins without vanishing. The field does not clear the storm, it harmonizes with it. Relief without weakness. Shelter without retreat.

Switch Conditions: The Skill responds without voice or motion. Intent defines function. Desire for clarity calms the storm. Need for sight, for breath, for balance, these shape the field. There is no surge. Just space to endure.

Resonant Field Memory: Each encounter with distorted air sharpens the field's response. Areas previously traversed will adapt faster in future returns. Steam, rain, and fog alter more intuitively in zones where the Skill has learned to listen.

Stage three upgrades:

Recall Flow (Blood Reclamation):

Blood that leaves his body never truly leaves.

It lingers in puddles, climbs walls, clings to blades, then returns.

It flows back through the air, through vapor, through veins remade from rainfall.

If his blood is burned or destroyed, the storm fills in the gaps.

Hydrocoagulation (Rain-Sealed Wounds):

Rain doesn't just fall on him. It stitches him.

Wounds don't heal; they close with thin film pressure and liquid structure.

The water becomes vessel and sealant.

Atmospheric Substitution (Rain-is-Blood):

When blood is lost beyond reclamation, the storm itself substitutes for it.

Ambient rain enters his wounds and circulates like blood.

Oxygen exchange, fluid pressure, and temperature regulation are maintained through hydrodynamic mimicry.

Floodbound Body (I-Am-The-Rain): Organs shift their water balance to maintain function even under extreme trauma. If flesh fails, moisture repositions to preserve essential flow.

Muscles generate motion through directed water pressure. rainwater can fill lost mass. His limbs strike with the weight of whatever storm has entered him. Torn muscle, pierced gut, open veins, none of it matters if there's enough rain to fill the gap

Note: All passive skills are usable throughout the veil

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