The [Soul Brand] connecting me to Jax was a live wire of fury, humming with such intensity it threatened to short-circuit my own thoughts. I could feel him pacing in his barracks room two floors below, a caged predator nursing his wounded pride and plotting his next move. The confrontation in the training simulation had crossed a line—it was no longer just bullying; it was war.
But I couldn't afford to focus on Jax. The Research Division's interest was a far greater, more insidious threat. Their "enhancement" program was a leash, and I needed to ensure it remained long enough for me to operate, yet strong enough to satisfy their curiosity.
The next morning, instead of reporting to the training yard, I was summoned back to the sterile white room. Head Researcher Arcturus was there, his eyes gleaming with academic avarice behind thick spectacles. Lieutenant Valeriana stood beside him, her arms crossed, a silent observer.
"Subject Grey," Arcturus began, his reedy voice filled with excitement. "The data from your initial scan was... revolutionary. Your neural pathways have created a biological bypass around your F-Rank limitations. Today, we test the limits of this bypass."
He gestured to the sensor-covered chair. "We are going to expose you to a controlled, low-level psionic emission. We want to see if your 'Mental Shroud' can be consciously activated and measured."
A cold dread settled in my stomach. They wanted to turn my passive defense into an active tool. This was dangerous. Every conscious use of my power risked exposure.
I had no choice. I sat, the cold gel-pads adhering to my skin once more. The holographic projectors hummed to life, but this time, they didn't project mana signatures. Instead, a dull, pressure began to build inside my skull—a psychic weight, subtle but persistent, like the first tendrils of a migraine.
[Psionic Influence Detected. Low Intensity.]
[Passive Skill: Mental Shroud (A-Rank) is active. Nullifying effect.]
The pressure receded, held at bay by the automatic defense. The scanners behind the window chirped, recording the event.
"Fascinating! The dampening field manifested automatically," Arcturus murmured, his fingers flying over a data-slate. "Now, Subject Grey, try to lower the field. Let the influence in, just for a moment."
My blood ran cold. Let a foreign psionic influence into my mind? That was insanity. But refusal would be more suspicious. I had to control this, to stage a performance.
I took a deep breath, focusing inward. I didn't lower the [Mental Shroud]. Instead, I imagined creating a tiny, controlled crack in its foundation, just large enough for a sliver of the pressure to seep through. I let it touch the edges of my consciousness, allowing a flicker of genuine discomfort to show on my face.
"The pressure... it's getting through," I gasped, my voice strained. "It's... cold. Empty."
"Excellent! The field is malleable! He can control its permeability!" Arcturus was practically vibrating. "Now, shut it out! Force it back!"
I "slammed" the imaginary crack shut, and the pressure vanished. I slumped in the chair, panting, the picture of exhausted effort. It was an act, but a necessary one. I had given them a controlled, measurable result—the illusion of progress.
"Remarkable," Valeriana's voice cut through the room's silence. Her eyes were on me, analytical and sharp. "This isn't just a defense. It's a filter. You can choose what gets in."
She understood the implications better than Arcturus. A sensor who could not only detect threats but also selectively ignore mental attacks was a tactical game-changer.
The tests continued for another hour, pushing the boundaries of my act. By the end, I was genuinely tired, not from using power, but from the constant mental gymnastics of deception.
As I was leaving, Valeriana stopped me at the door. "The Vanguard has a zero-tolerance policy for infighting, Grey," she said, her voice low. "But what happens in a simulation... stays in the simulation. Just remember, a tool that breaks itself is a useless tool."
It was a warning and a permission. She knew about Jax's animosity, and she was telling me to handle it without breaking. The lord's path required not just power, but discretion.
That evening, seeking solace in the one place I could grow without pretense, I retreated to the logistics warehouse. The familiar scent of ozone and dust was a comfort. I ran my hands over a crate of freshly delivered Shadow-Panther claws, the [Drake's Vitality] replication ticking up to 0.4%.
But as I worked, a new, profound chime echoed in my mind, one I had been waiting for.
[Mana Core Circuit: 5.0%]
[Milestone Reached.]
[Circuit Stability: Nominal.]
[Low-Level Manifestation of Dormant Skills Now Available.]
My breath hitched. This was it. The first major threshold. I could now use my skills, at least the lower-ranked ones, without catastrophic backlash. I focused on the first skill I had ever replicated, the one that had started it all.
[Fist of the Boulder (C-Rank)] was gone, evolved into [Avalanche Rush (B-Rank)]. It sat in my mental library, a fully understood and now accessible tool.
I found a secluded corner behind a stack of crates, hidden from the security cameras. I took a deep breath and focused. I didn't channel mana through my natural, F-Rank pathways. Instead, I willed a trickle of energy through the newly stable [Mana Core Circuit], directing it towards the blueprint of [Avalanche Rush].
A warmth spread through my arm, subtle but undeniable. My fist didn't glow or crackle with energy—the manifestation was internal, a perfect understanding of kinetic force that now had a conduit. I threw a single, practice punch at a discarded training dummy.
There was no flashy explosion. But the impact was wrong. It wasn't the thud of flesh on leather, but a series of rapid, successive concussions that traveled through the dummy's core. Thump-thump-thump-thump. The dummy didn't just rock back; it vibrated violently before a seam split open along its side, stuffing spilling out.
I had used a B-Rank skill. For the first time, I had actively channeled my power, and my body had held. The chain was unbroken. The phantom had taken his first tangible step into the world of power.
A slow smile spread across my face. The leash of the Research Division, the hatred of Jax, the concerned curiosity of Elara—it all faded into the background. I had crossed the Rubicon.
The road to lordhood was no longer a passive path I walked. It was a road I was now building, brick by brick, with my own two hands. And I was just getting started.