Ethan leaned against the clubhouse wall, pulling out his phone. The Status Panel glowed to life, its familiar interface flickering across the screen.

=====

[Status Panel]

Name: Ethan Cole

Level: 7

EXP: 22000 / 28000

Ascension Points: 75

Wealth: Unlimited

Attributes:

• Strength: 88

• Speed: 88

• Endurance: 88

• Intelligence: 87

• Charisma: 87

Free Attribute Points: 0

=====

“Almost there,” Ethan murmured, staring at the numbers as if sheer willpower could nudge them to 100.

He sighed, pocketing the phone. Level 10 was the golden ticket for unlocking the next tier in the system’s shop. The problem? He was running out of missions to level up or receive free points as rewards.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed the quiet footsteps behind him.

“Good to see you didn’t obliterate anyone on the field,” Mark said, his tone steady, like a teacher mildly impressed but still withholding praise.

Ethan glanced up, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t seem fair to turn a practice match into a horror movie.”

Mark crossed his arms, his sharp eyes scanning Ethan. “Smart decision. But I can feel it—you’re stronger than yesterday.”

“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” Ethan replied, his smirk widening slightly. Jordan’s influence was definitely rubbing off on him—he was cracking more jokes than usual.

Mark’s expression shifted, his gaze serious. “It was more than strong enough to form your Ascendant Core. Have you tried?”

Ethan shook his head. “Not yet. I've tried the breathing technique, but I want to make sure everything’s perfect before I form the core.”

"Perfect?" Mark frowned, his tone dipping into a more thoughtful register. “Don’t wait too long. The stronger your body gets, the harder it’ll be to form the core.”

Ethan nodded slowly. “Noted. I’ll think about it.”

Before Mark could reply, a playful voice cut in.

“You’re thinking too much.”

Ethan turned to find Maya circling him like a cat inspecting a suspicious new toy. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned in, squinting as if trying to spot cracks in his armor.

“Hmm…” she murmured, her voice dripping with exaggerated curiosity. “You’ve changed again.” She tapped her chin dramatically. “Bulkier. Taller, maybe. Definitely shinier.”

Ethan blinked. “Shinier?”

She shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? You’ve got this glow. New moisturizer?”

“Training,” Ethan replied evenly. “And mentors who keep me on my toes.”

Maya chuckled, stepping closer, her sharp gaze dissecting him. “Training, huh? Sure, let’s call it that. But this…” She waved a hand vaguely in his direction. “This is fast. Like, suspiciously fast. Care to share your cheat code?”

“Hard work and determination,” Ethan said smoothly. He had to admit that deflecting these questions was getting easier with practice. He could not share anything about the system.

“Right,” Maya drawled, clearly unimpressed. “And I’m secretly running for mayor.” She squinted at him again. “Seriously, though—it’s not natural. You’re like one of those plants that grows a foot overnight. Weird and kind of unsettling.”

Ethan shrugged, his tone light. “Guess I’m just a fast learner.”

Maya studied him for a long moment before finally stepping back, arms folded. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But whatever you’re doing, don’t let it backfire, and don't wait for too long to form the core.”

“Duly noted,” Ethan replied his tone calm but edged with humor.

Maya tilted her head, her smirk returning. “Good. Just making sure you survive long enough to be useful.”

Ethan chuckled softly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She turned to Mark, then glanced back at Ethan. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Gym,” Ethan said. “Thought I’d test my limits.”

Maya’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, the gym. How exciting.” Her grin widened. “Mind if we tag along? Wouldn’t want you breaking anything—or anyone.”

Ethan gave her a pointed look. “As if you’d let me go anywhere alone.”

Mark’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “She’s not wrong.”

Ethan sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. Let’s go. But I’ve got other things to handle after, so no detours.”

They started walking, the trio falling into step. As they moved, a question gnawed at the edge of Ethan’s mind.

“Hey, Mark,” he began, his tone thoughtful. “Are there any footballers—or athletes in general—who are Ascendants?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Some,” he said after a moment. “The champions—the ones who rise above everyone else. A few are Ascendants.”

Ethan frowned. “Just a few? I mean, being a professional athlete guarantees fame and wealth. Why wouldn’t more Ascendants go for that?”

Before Mark could respond, Maya laughed—a sharp, knowing sound.

“Because fame and wealth are boring,” she said, her tone light but her words slicing through the conversation.

Ethan turned to her, his confusion evident. “Then what do they want?”

Maya’s smirk faded, her eyes narrowing. “Power.”

She began pacing, her steps slow and deliberate. “And then, greater power. And after that…” She glanced at him, her gaze piercing. “Power that bends reality. That’s what Ascendants crave.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Mark nodded, his voice steady. “Once you start on this path, power becomes everything. Fame and wealth? They’re distractions. They can’t compare to the pull of strength.”

Ethan fell silent, feeling the weight of their words. The drive for power was not just a choice for him; it was a strong urge that shaped the path he was on.

Maya stopped pacing, her gaze locking onto his. “Are you feeling burdened by all of this?”

Ethan blinked, caught off guard. He shook his head slowly. “Not burdened,” he said quietly. “Just… confused.”

Maya tilted her head, her tone softening slightly. “Confused about what?”

Ethan exhaled, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. “Everything’s moving so fast. A week ago, I was scraping by. Now, I’m building a company, negotiating to buy a football club, and stepping into a world where power is the only currency.”

He glanced back at her, his voice steady but introspective. “I’m not sure what to make of it all.”

Maya studied him for a moment, her expression surprisingly gentle. “That confusion? It’s normal. Everyone faces it at some point. But it doesn’t last forever. The path gets clearer the further you walk it.”

Mark clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, grounding him. “You’ll figure it out. Just don’t lose sight of why you’re walking it in the first place.”

Ethan nodded, his resolve flickering back to life. He didn’t have all the answers, but he was learning. And for now, that was enough.

***

Alexander stood before the towering steel door, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen. The quiet hum of the facility surrounded him, a faint vibration in the air that seemed to pulse with purpose.

He removed his shades with a smooth, deliberate motion, revealing his piercing right eye, its iris glowing faintly with a mechanized light.

A scanner extended from the wall, its green beam locking onto his eye. A soft beep followed by a mechanical voice announced, “Access granted.”

The door hissed open, revealing the sprawling lab beyond.

The space was alive with activity. Dozens of researchers in white coats darted between workstations, adjusting instruments, testing devices, and poring over data.

The room buzzed with the sound of machinery—metal arms welding, glass chambers hissing, and computers processing streams of incomprehensible data.

Alexander stepped inside, and his presence was immediately noticed.

Every researcher he passed stopped momentarily, offering a respectful nod or murmured greeting before returning to their work. His black boots clicked against the pristine floor, each step a quiet declaration of authority.

He moved with purpose, weaving through the labyrinth of innovation until he reached a smaller, reinforced door at the far end.

The scanner activated again, its beam scanning his right eye. Another soft beep and the door slid open with a faint rush of air.

This room was darker and quieter—a stark contrast to the bustling lab outside. Inside, ten figures stood in sterile glass chambers, evenly spaced along the walls.

They were naked, their bodies lean but unnaturally tense. Their eyes were closed, their expressions eerily calm, as if in a deep slumber.

The faint blue light from the chambers illuminated the syringes embedded in their arms. A viscous, amber liquid slowly pumped into their veins from intricate mechanisms attached to the chambers.

The air was heavy with something unspoken, an atmosphere that whispered secrets too dangerous to name.

Alexander’s gaze swept over the room, cool and calculating. He seemed unaffected by the chilling sight, as though it were no different from observing a machine being assembled.

The quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps. A man in a lab coat stepped out of the shadows. He had a strong presence but moved slowly and calmly.

Unlike the others, this man did not bow or murmur greetings. His posture was confident, his sharp features carrying an air of intellect and authority that matched Alexander’s.

“Professor Jermaine,” Alexander said, his tone flat and unwelcoming.

Jermaine nodded slightly and standing with his hands behind him.

Alexander’s eyes drifted toward the chambers. “Is everything progressing as planned?”

Jermaine nodded again, stepping to a nearby terminal and pulling up a stream of data. “The mortality rate has dropped to under ten percent,” he said, his voice clinical. “A significant improvement compared to where we started.”

Alexander tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Good. And the output?”

Jermaine’s jaw tightened slightly. “Seventy-five percent. Still below our target, but better than before.”

Alexander’s gaze remained fixed on the glowing chambers. “Progress is progress, Professor. Seventy-five percent is close. A hundred percent is within reach.”

Jermaine exhaled, his tone cautious. “Perhaps. However, the margin for error grows narrower with each adjustment. And…” He hesitated, glancing at Alexander. “The desired outcome is still unclear to me. What exactly is this project aiming to achieve?”

Alexander turned his head slowly, his sharp eyes meeting Jermaine’s. His composure was as steady as stone, his voice cool and deliberate. “That is not for you to know.”

Jermaine stiffened slightly, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course.”

Alexander drew near a chamber and squinted up closer at the figure within. The man’s muscles gave a faint twitch where they were visible, his veins glowing faintly where the serum coursed through.

“This,” Alexander said, almost to himself, “is the future.”

Jermaine watched him carefully, curiosity flickering in his eyes despite his restraint. “You believe these… enhancements will rival Ascendants?”

Alexander straightened, his tone sharpening. “That is the intention.”

The silence that followed seemed only to amplify the soft hum of the machinery.

Jermaine paused for a moment, then spoke again. “What does the LaRues intend to do with them? What purpose could—”

Alexander cut him off with a glance, his tone cold and final. “That is not your concern, Professor. Your task is to ensure their survival and functionality. Nothing more.”

Jermaine’s lips thinned, but he nodded. “Understood.”

Alexander turned toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the chamber. Before he left, he paused, his voice slicing through the tension.

“Focus on the progress, Professor. We are closer than ever.”

With that, the door hissed shut behind him, leaving Jermaine alone with the eerie glow of the chambers and the quiet hum of the lab.

He glanced at the data streaming across the terminal, his mind racing with unanswered questions.

“What are you guys planning….” he murmured to himself, his voice lost in the sterile hum of the room.

Jermaine was standing still, his eyes focused on the test subjects in the glowing chambers. The soft, continuous hum of the machines was a constant reminder of the line he had crossed—and the price he had paid to be here.

He placed his hands on the terminal, but they quaked lightly, a tell for the chaos stirring below the surface.

There was no need to check the data a second time; the numbers were branded on his brain. A mortality rate below ten percent looked good on paper, but in practice, that meant many lives had been sacrificed to achieve it and... more will follow.

Ascendants.

The word had once held a sense of wonder for him—a symbol of strength and evolution. Now, it felt tainted, twisted by the means through which the LaRues sought to replicate that power.

Jermaine’s task was clear: create an injectable serum capable of turning ordinary humans into beings with abilities rivaling Ascendants.

It sounded like something from a science fiction novel, but for the past three years, it had been his grim reality.

He’d started with optimism, believing he could unlock something extraordinary. But optimism had long since given way to dread.

The serum was a cocktail of genetic manipulation, bio-enhancements, and experimental compounds derived from sources he wasn’t even permitted to know about.

Each dose was meant to trigger rapid cellular regeneration, increase physical attributes, and unlock latent abilities buried deep in human DNA.

But the process was far from perfect.

It was brutal. For every batch of test subjects, most of them failed to resist the serum's side effects. Their bodies collapsed under the strain due to the accelerated metabolism and hyperactive cell growth.

The violent surge of energy tore them apart from the inside out.

Jermaine took a glance at one of the chambers. He could see the figure inside clearly. She was a woman in her early thirties. Her muscles twitched and spasm slightly. The serum was coursing through her veins.

"Sorry... I've no other choice," Jermaine muttered.

Jermaine hadn’t volunteered for this. Three years ago, he was a well-respected geneticist. He worked on important developments in regenerative medicine. Then the LaRues came for him.

It started with subtle offers—grants, funding, opportunities that were too good to be true. When Jermaine refused, they revealed just how deep their reach was.

Suddenly, his reputation was under attack. Accusations of unethical experiments surfaced, his funding was revoked, and his family faced threats he dared not name.

Before he could piece together how it had happened, he was in their grip, dragged into this secretive nightmare of a project.

The LaRues didn’t just threaten him—they blackmailed countless others, forcing them to “volunteer” as test subjects.

People from all walks of life—disgraced professionals, debtors, the desperate, the forgotten—were brought in under false pretenses, only to meet horrifying fates.

Jermaine clenched his fists. He could still hear their screams, the ones who didn’t survive the first trials. He’d begged for proper oversight, for ethical constraints, but Alexander’s cold stare had been his only answer.

Jermaine rubbed his temples, exhaustion settling in. He glanced at the chamber again, watching as the woman’s vitals fluctuated slightly before stabilizing.

What kind of life awaited these “successes”?

Would they become tools for the LaRues, bound to their will? Or would they burn out, consumed by the very power they’d been forced to endure?

Jermaine’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t have the luxury of answers, only the grim task of pushing forward.

The terminal beeped, breaking his thoughts. A message appeared on the screen:

New batch ready for testing. Proceed to Lab 3.

Jermaine stared at the message, his stomach twisting. Another round. More lives to weigh against the LaRues’ insatiable ambition.

He stood there for a moment longer, his mind racing with questions he dared not voice aloud.