The sharp clack of wooden swords striking against one another filled the air of the Kenshi-Ryu Dojo, creating a rhythmic symphony of discipline and combat. Inside the expansive training hall, students moved in perfect synchronicity, their bodies flowing like water but striking like tempered steel. Sunlight filtered through the paper windows, casting a golden glow on their disciplined forms. The faint scent of polished wood and incense lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of tradition and dedication.
At the far end of the room, standing near a polished katana mounted on the wall, a tall figure observed silently. His eyes darted across the dojo floor, mentally noting the stances, techniques, and timing of each student. The man, Sai Kenshin, radiated a calm yet commanding presence. His dark hair, streaked with silver strands, was tied neatly behind his head, and his hakama boring the emblem of the Kenshi-Ryu—a coiled dragon clutching a sword.
Sai’s keen gaze flicked to one particular student who hesitated slightly in his movement. A single raised eyebrow was enough to send the student scrambling to correct his form. Sai allowed himself a faint smirk. Perfection was not expected, but effort was non-negotiable.
The dojo doors slid open with a firm but respectful sound, pulling Sai’s attention. A young man with sharp features and a confident stride entered. He wore a travel-stained jacket over his training attire, his short, unruly hair damp with sweat. His face carried a mischievous grin, but his eyes reflected a depth of experience well beyond his years.
“I’ve returned, Father,” the young man called out, his voice resonating across the hall.
Sai’s expression shifted to one of mild amusement. “How was your trip babysitting first-year students, Kai?” he replied, his tone teasing but with a hint of curiosity.
Kai chuckled, walking toward his father. “Babysitting? You make it sound like I volunteered for it. I’m just trying to rack up more contribution points. I’ve got my eyes on something expensive, and I’m not about to beg for extra funding.”
Sai folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Contribution points, hmm? Is that what they’re calling it now? Getting more predictable than I thought.”
Kai laughed, then gave his father a sidelong glance. “Speaking of predictable, couldn’t you have come up with something more creative when naming me? Changing one letter from Sai to Kai? Really, old man?”
Sai’s lips twitched, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “I wanted you to have a name as sharp as a blade. Be grateful I didn’t call you Mai.”
Kai groaned but couldn’t help smiling. “Point taken. Anyway, something interesting came up during the dungeon run.”
Sai tilted his head, intrigued by the sudden shift in tone. “Oh? And what would that be?”
Kai’s eyes glimmered with interest as he leaned against a nearby pillar. “There’s a first-year I was assigned to oversee. Quite an unusual one.”
“Unusual how?” Sai asked, his curiosity now fully piqued.
“He’s a C-rank,” Kai began, his tone slow and deliberate, “but his awakening is… anomalous.”
Sai nodded thoughtfully but didn’t seem overly impressed. “A C-rank in his first year is commendable, but not unheard of. Plenty of strong students reach that level before graduating. It’s rare for his age, but not extraordinary.”
Kai shook his head, a knowing grin on his face. “That’s what I thought too. But this dungeon run didn’t even push him to his limit. I only stopped them from continuing in case his teammates got injured. Otherwise, I might’ve let him take on the B-rank Dark Mage alone.”
Sai’s eyes narrowed at that. “The Dark Mage? The boss of the fourth chamber in the Mega Dungeon? And you think this kid had a chance against it? You know better than most that the gap between C-rank and B-rank is not a small bottleneck—it’s a chasm.”
Kai nodded, his grin growing wider. “True. But what if I told you that the presence of this kid’s soul is already at B-rank?”
Sai froze, his sharp gaze locking onto his son. “Impossible. If his soul is that strong, how is he still only at C-rank? That kind of disparity doesn’t happen.”
Kai crossed his arms and shrugged. “He can’t control it yet. I’ve seen him trying to hold back his mana, and even then, he was able to one-shot a middle C-rank high elemental.”
The dojo fell silent for a moment, save for the rhythmic clack of swords in the background. Sai’s mind raced as he processed this new information. “Interesting. That kind of raw strength isn’t normal. It must be tied to his ability. Tell me, what’s the student’s name?”
Kai smirked. “That was my thought too. So I did a bit of digging on him. His name is Avince Thane. Both his parents are A-rank, and his mother is part of the Everlasting Ice Clan.”
Sai’s expression shifted subtly at the name. His eyes narrowed, and he muttered, “Thane… Thane… Where have I heard that before?”
The pieces began to fall into place, and his eyes widened slightly in realization. “His father. Is he a beast tamer?”
Kai raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. “Yeah, but why does that matter? He’s just an A-rank beast tamer.”
Sai let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Just an A-rank beast tamer? Without his summoned beasts, perhaps. But I have insider information. The only reason his wife was injured was because she got caught in the crossfire of his battle against an S-rank beast.”
Kai’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? Why would they hide something like that?”
Sai’s gaze hardened, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I don’t know. But it seems they’ve given birth to another monster. If this Avince kid really has a soul presence that strong, his ability might be something that enhances the soul itself. Interesting.”
He turned to his son, his expression serious but with a glint of excitement. “Kai, send an invitation to this Avince Thane. He might benefit from dabbling in swordsmanship.”
Kai hesitated, frowning slightly. “I don’t think our style matches his abilities.”
Sai waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the thought that counts. Besides, I want to see what this boy is capable of. If nothing else, it will be good to have him on our radar.”
Unbeknownst to them, Avince was already on more radars than he realized.
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The principal’s office was a space befitting a man like Maverick Thaddeus. A mix of timeless elegance and practicality, the room was filled with bookshelves lined with leather-bound tomes, glowing mana orbs hovering above as light sources, and a large desk carved from dungeon-harvested obsidian. Behind the desk sat Maverick himself, a man whose mere presence seemed to command respect. His sharp, golden eyes, which glowed faintly with mana, scanned the room as he reclined in his chair, his hands resting on the armrests with ease.
Standing across from him was Professor Carlson, a man known for his sharp wit and encyclopedic knowledge of dungeons and its history. Despite their differences in demeanor, the two shared a camaraderie that came from decades of experience in guiding and shaping the young students for their future.
“It’s rare for you to visit this old bag of bones,” Maverick remarked, his voice carrying a deep, resonant tone that betrayed his age despite his youthful appearance.
Carlson chuckled as he adjusted his coat. “Old bag of bones? Maverick, you’re old enough to be my grandfather, yet you don’t look a day over sixty. If anything, I should be asking you for tips on staying young.”
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Maverick allowed a rare smile to creep onto his face. “Ah, the perks of getting strong enough to reach S-rank. Though, if I had your mind, I’d trade it in a heartbeat. Perhaps then I wouldn’t have issues listening to the endless complaints from the board.”
The two shared a laugh, their years of familiarity showing in the ease of their banter. “Speaking of age,” Carlson said with a grin, “maybe it’s about time we both start thinking about finding replacements. You and I aren’t exactly spring chickens anymore.”
Maverick leaned forward, his smile turning wry. “If only it were that easy. You’ve taught here for how many decades now? And you’re still holding on to teaching every single first-year class. No wonder you look like you’ve been wrestling dungeon trolls.”
Carlson rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me. Teaching first-years is a privilege, but it’s taking a toll. Perhaps it’s time to cut back on a class or two.”
Maverick nodded thoughtfully. “That might be wise. But knowing you, you’ll just end up taking on more research projects instead.”
“True,” Carlson admitted, chuckling. “But enough small talk. I’m here for a reason.”
Maverick folded his hands, his expression growing serious. “I suspected as much. What brings you to my office today?”
Carlson sighed, his tone growing somber. “The tournament results over the last few years have been… less than ideal. We haven’t had a single student qualify for nationals in almost five years. It’s embarrassing.”
Maverick leaned back in his chair, nodding. “You’re not wrong. Our fourth years have a few decent ones—most of them hovering around B-tier—but nothing exceptional. Still, I had high hopes for this year. Though I wish they were stronger. The Academy had to invest a lot of resources and artifacts to ensure that there would be no mishaps in the practice run in the dungeon
Carlson raised an eyebrow. “Artifacts? Those one-use dungeon escape tools, correct? Quite the expense for students.”
Maverick sighed. “Yes, we had to carefully allocate them. We paired the strongest fourth-years with the most promising first-years, hoping they’d be able to protect the teams if something went wrong. And even then, we still had to use a few. The high-water elemental proved too much for some guides without risking the students, and they had no choice but to use it to prevent unnecessary risks.”
“Unfortunate,” Maverick muttered. “But speaking of the dungeon results, how did the final match turn out? Did Xiaofei win, or did Cel manage to pull an upset this time?”
“That’s actually why I’m here,” Carlson said, grinning widely. “Neither of them won.”
Maverick blinked, stunned. “What? Then who did? Don’t tell me it’s—”
Carlson interrupted him with a hearty laugh. “Yes, it’s exactly who you’re thinking. Avince Thane.”
Maverick let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair as he processed the information. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ve always thought that boy was destined for great things, but without an ability, he was living with a handicap. You’re telling me he managed to surpass Xiaofei and Cel?”
Carlson shrugged. “Not exactly. All three teams ended up in the same spot—stopped at the Dark Mage. But Avince’s team solved the dungeon puzzles and neutralized the corrupted tomes faster than the others. His runecrafting skill was the difference-maker.”
Maverick nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “That boy always did have a talent for runes. Still, if he’s managed to outshine Xiaofei and Cel, we need to see just how strong he’s become.”
“That’s why I came to you,” Carlson said. “I want him in this year’s tournament training program.”
Maverick frowned. “Others might call it unfair. We already conducted the tournmanet, after all. And there are bound to be whispers about favoritism.”
Carlson shook his head. “Doubtful. Everyone already knows how talented the kid is. All he needs is a push. Besides, he’s only just awakened his ability and people know he wasn’t able to participate at that time.”
Maverick considered the idea, tapping his fingers on his desk. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll handle the paperwork. But you owe me for this, Carlson. If this backfires, it’s on you.”
“Deal,” Carlson said, grinning as he extended a hand.
The two men shook hands, their discussion ending on a note of mutual understanding. As Carlson turned to leave, Maverick leaned back in his chair, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.
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At the Branch of the Department of Ability Registration, the steady hum of fluorescent lights filled the air, accompanied by the faint shuffle of papers and the muted clatter of keyboards. The office, a maze of cubicles and neatly arranged workstations, carried the faint scent of coffee and paper.
Emily Summers sat at her desk, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of her lukewarm coffee mug. Piles of neatly organized documents surrounded her, and rows of data scrolled endlessly across her dual monitors. It was just another morning of sorting through ability-user registrations and dungeon reports—mundane but crucial work in the grand scheme of things.
She was an administrator in this branch, a division tasked with cataloging, analyzing, and classifying the abilities of newly awakened citizens. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it paid well, and Emily had always liked the satisfaction of keeping things in order. Her job was to input and refine information about abilities based on raw data and field reports provided by operatives and ability assessors. For the most part, the work was mundane—cataloging minor telekinesis, elemental manipulation, and other garden-variety powers.
But today, something unusual landed in her inbox.
A document stamped with a bold "PRIORITY" marker pinged onto her screen. Emily raised an eyebrow, setting her coffee down as she scanned the subject line: "Ability Analysis Pending Final Review."
Attached was a file containing the details of a newly awakened individual. Emily clicked it open, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she read through the basic information:
Name: Avince Thane
Birth Date: September 06, 2127
Age:19
Rank: Middle D-Class
Ability Classification: Anomalous
Ability Name: Unassigned
Emily tilted her head, intrigued. Anomalous abilities were rare, usually requiring high-level operatives or connections to verify. Even more curious was the fact that this file had been marked as reviewed by Kartana, one of the S-class operatives overseeing ability registration. Emily frowned. Why would someone that high up be personally involved in reviewing a D-class student?
She scanned further, taking note of the raw assessment notes left in the file. Avince’s ability appeared to lack a clear elemental alignment or direct combat application. Instead, the notes hinted at something tied to increasing combat experience. Emily’s eyes flicked to the “Edit” button in the system, a task she routinely performed by organizing the ability’s description into digestible terms for the government database.
When she clicked, however, a red warning box popped up on her screen:
ERROR: You do not have permission to edit this section.
Emily blinked, her fingers hesitating above the keyboard. “What the...?” she muttered. She had full clearance for ability reviews of even already A ranking people, let alone a D rank. Why was this section locked? She clicked the button again, only to be met with the same error message. Frustrated, she opened her chat window and sent a direct inquiry to her supervisor.
Emily Summers: Sir, I tried updating the details for a D-class awakened named Avince Thane. The file is locked, and I don’t have permissions. Is this an error?
Moments later, a reply popped up. Emily’s eyebrows shot up as she read the sender's name: Kartana.
Kartana: It’s not a mistake. I’ll handle this case personally. Continue with your other assignments.
Emily sat back, stunned. Kartana had replied directly. In her five years working at the department, she had never interacted with anyone above her immediate supervisor, let alone an S-class operative like Kartana. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, tempted to press for more details, but she stopped herself.
Kartana’s involvement was highly irregular, but Emily reminded herself of one of the unspoken rules of government work: Don’t ask questions that don’t concern you. Shaking her head, she pushed her curiosity aside and resumed processing her other files. Still, the mystery lingered in the back of her mind, making her work feel slower than usual.
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KARTANA’S POV
Far from the monotonous hum of the registration office, Kartana sat in her sleek, minimalist workspace. She leaned back in her ergonomic chair, tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the armrest. On her desk, a holographic display projected Avince Thane’s file, his data floating in neat columns above the surface.
Kartana’s lips curled into a faint smirk as her mind worked through the puzzle. There haven’t been many anomalous awakenings even if she includes hers to the mix, and they weren’t necessarily strong but this one stood out. The ability to simulate battles for your consciousness to fight might only seem a bit decent. But being able to strengthen the soul while doing so is incredibly powerful.
The smirk deepened as Kartana remembered something that had made waves across the underground circles recently: news that Erwin Thane’s daughter had bonded with a dragon. That revelation had caused quite a stir among the elite families. Kartana tilted her head, recalling her visit to help Avince.
Must be why he decided to fight a dragon back then, Kartana mused, her smirk growing wider. Perhaps a bit pressured by your little sister, are we Avince?
She dismissed the thought and turned her attention back to the file. Publicly disclosing Avince’s true ability would be unwise. The last thing they needed was opportunists or power-hungry factions sniffing around a child whose full potential had yet to awaken. It was better to keep the soul-strengthening aspect hidden.
Kartana’s fingers danced over the holographic keyboard, locking the sensitive information behind the highest security clearance. She added the details to a classified section, ensuring only those with direct authorization could access it. The official record of Avince’s ability would remain vague, with the critical details buried where prying eyes couldn’t reach.
Finally, she hovered over the “Ability Name” field. After a moment of thought, she typed: Conscious Descent.