Chapter 7 Threads of Fire and Starlight

Zane

My friends and I slowly made our way through the line of the Arcane Emporium. There was a palpable ruckus, a clamor of excitement as people received unique class designations and potential build paths for their future. It was all smoke and mirrors, though; while almost anyone could learn anything in this world, some still chose to believe that specific, regulated "paths" dictated an entire direction in life. I found such rigidity stifling.

Kael nudged me, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’re up, dude. See you on the other side.”

We exchanged a quick fist bump, and I started walking towards the hall I was assigned to. I found the simulator chamber easily enough. A smooth, black glyph circle pulsed faintly on the floor, radiating a cool, almost sterile mana. Two attendants with spirit-glass tablets watched me, looking bored as they tapped out instructions on their interfaces.

One of them sounded irritated as she explained, her voice flat. “This is one of the most advanced arcane artifacts in all of the Kingdom, part divine construct, basically a spirit dungeon meets a dream-forged combat chamber. It’s designed to be personalized and adaptive. Just act, move, and be what you naturally are.”

I smiled faintly at her, a rare, genuine expression. Her eyes went a bit wide, and she quickly looked away, seemingly flustered.

I didn’t have any questions. I’d read the specs. Most students just saw it as a fancy training room, but I knew better. This thing was powerful and could offer profound insight and direction for most. I needed it not to see me too clearly.

I stepped onto the glyph circle, and the faint hum intensified. A scan washed over me, a brief tingling sensation that my system recognized as an attempt to lock onto my mana signature. Eva, ever-present, masked it, weaving her own subtle counter-pulses through my core.

[SYSTEM – Welcome User. Zane Myles. We’ve experienced some interference. Recalculating. Expected challenge rating being upgraded based on perceived competency and declared intent. Initiating environment construction.]

The air around me shimmered, walls dissolving into a rippling veil like standing inside a crystal lit from within. The floor beneath my feet shifted, reforming into the uneven, crumbling ground of a canyon battlefield. Rune nodes, dark and inert for now, were embedded in the jagged rock formations—bonus objectives for more ambitious applicants. Not me.

My declared intent was simple: "Martial applicant – standard blade." Nothing flashy. Nothing that hinted at my unique attributes or unusual abilities. My goal wasn’t to impress. It was to gain access to combat-class resource pools—weapons, relics, advanced training chambers—with minimal attention. I needed just enough show to maintain scholarship eligibility, and a chance to test if the underlying system could detect or interfere with my unique attunement without revealing everything.

[Good lord, you cannot even say it to yourself. Shut up. We both know there are those that can pick at thoughts.]Eva’s voice was a familiar, exasperated whisper in my mind. I could almost feel her eye-roll.

"Just remember. No system alarms. No one watching. We go at 40%, Eva," I murmured, my voice lost in the ambient hum of the simulator.

[You’re such a tease, Zane. Let’s just go out. Bring out Manifest and really give them a show.]

“You know what will happen if we do that,” I countered, my tone flat.

[You’re so boring. Fine. Hide a bit longer. I have you more to myself anyway.]

A faint smirk tugged at my lips. Eva always had to have the last word.

A holographic prompt materialized before me. [You are being assessed as unlinked. No known class path. Martial intent confirmed. Begin.]

The message vanished, and from the shifting dust of the canyon floor, a figure coalesced. A swordsman appeared, a blade-bound construct, shimmering with faint mana-light, its movements precise, artificial. This was a Tier 2-3 combat simulation, yet it moved with the advanced training of a Knight Officer. Nothing flashy, just solid mana method and disciplined footwork. But it was too basic in its execution. Easily read, even if I wasn’t applying any of my flashier swordsmanship.

Still, it was a fun battle. I found myself enjoying the controlled engagement. The uneven ground, broken platforms, and pockets of magic-disruptive fields were designed to test coordination. My objective: defeat it in under three minutes without magical aid beyond the standard mana reinforcement of a martial style, and with only a 10% mana application. That shouldn’t bring too much attention.

I engaged, falling into a restrained version of my Stonewake style, the first of my Seven Styles. It focused on defense and control, prioritizing brutal efficiency and grounded movements. My father’s words echoed in my mind: If you can stand, you can fight. If you can fight, you can live.

It looked like basic, unpolished swordsmanship, nothing to raise any eyebrows. I didn't unleash any of my special abilities, but I still found the battle a bit too easy for my liking.

The construct was fast, its blade hard and unyielding. It moved with the cold logic of an AI, predicting my parries, forcing me to adapt. I absorbed blows with reinforced forearms, countered with low, practical sweeps, always maintaining my footing on the unstable terrain. Sweat slicked my brow, but my breathing remained even. This was a dance I knew, a familiar grind.

Then, a subtle shift. Eva’s internal hum tightened.

[Anomaly detected. Simulator is adjusting parameters. Probability of host holding back rated at 78%. Ramping difficulty.]

They were poking the bear. I felt the mana-disruptive fields intensify around the edges of the arena, trying to destabilize my flow. My mana cloak flickered, briefly struggling to maintain its seamless integration.

Just as I pushed the construct back with a series of heavy, defensive blows, it dissolved. In its place, coalescing from a shimmering glyph etched into the ground, a new opponent materialized. A glyph-marked phantom knight. Closer to Tier 4, I estimated. Its spectral blade shimmered, and its movements were eerily fluid. It began using time-skip parries, phasing in and out of reality, and even launching spirit projections to flank me.

I didn’t change my base style, but I did add a heavier application of Soulforce (mana) to the blade, sharpening its resonance and causing more feedback to the construct, making my hits resonate deeper.

Eva’s voice, a tight whisper in my mind, cut through the sounds of combat.

[They’re poking the bear. You sure you want to keep this clean?]

"One wrong move, and I’m on every watchlist in the Kingdom. I don’t have time for that. Not with Jordan and Lila, and not while I’m still trying to figure—well, you know," I muttered, gritting my teeth as I dodged a time-skipped thrust that appeared where I had been a fraction of a second before. "Let’s play this slow."

I shifted my stance, adapting from the pure defense of Stonewake. I subtly channeled Worldveil energy—not enough to manifest outwardly, but just enough to push past the increased resistance, to enhance my reflexes, to predict the phantom knight’s next appearance. It was a risk, a whisper of something beyond conventional mana, but it was safer than exposing a core. I pushed the advanced forms of Stonewake, hoping to avoid any of my other styles. I made quick ground against the Phantom Knight.

The phantom knight was relentless, its glyph-marked blade constantly shifting, trying to find an opening. I moved, a blur of controlled evasion, making my blade an extension of my intent to simply not be hit. When it phased behind me, I didn't turn fully. Instead, I let my blade go, a mana-sheathed arc that spun from my grip, catching its spectral form. A controlled mana explosion technique, a pulse of contained energy, detonated from my palm, pushing the blade deeper into the phantom as it shimmered. The blade returned to my hand, and the phantom knight stumbled, briefly losing its ethereal cohesion.

With thirty seconds left on the timer, I found my opening. A feint high, then a grounded pivot, bringing my blade down not with raw power, but with controlled precision, splitting the phantom knight down the middle. It dissolved into shimmering motes of light, and the arena’s hum shifted back to normal.

[Challenge cleared. Time: 2:58. Efficient. Tactically aware. Possibly under-ranked. Granting access to Tier 2 Martial Resources.]

I wiped sweat from my brow, forcing my breathing to stay calm. Possibly under-ranked. That was the perfect outcome. Just enough to gain access, not enough to demand a full investigation.

As I stepped off the glyph pad, an instructor, a portly man with tired eyes, glanced at the console. He saw the flagged footage, then dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Just a well-trained commoner hiding nerves," I heard him mumble to a nearby assistant.

The glyph flickered, lines resolving into clear numbers.

[SYSTEM SCAN COMPLETE] [Strength: 28.] [Agility: 31.] [Vitality: 24.] [Intelligence: 18.] [Willpower: 26.][Charisma: 14.] [Perception: 22.] [Luck: 4.] [System Sync: 43%.] [Fate Thread: 58.] [Divine Compatibility: Low.][Recommended Path: Martial Adept – Basic Blade Discipline.]

I exhaled. “This is perfect. Good. Nothing flashy.”

Eva’s voice whispered in my ear. [“Nothing true, either.”]