Ah, shit.

My most reliable tool, the invisible blade that had defined my power, had just failed. The gorilla-construct didn't even flinch, its charge unbroken as it closed the distance with the terrifying momentum of a collapsing building, all metal and murderous intent.

This wasn't just a stronger opponent. This was a fucking puzzle - a puzzle currently trying to pulverize me into a fine red mist while an unseen audience judged my performance.

I threw myself to the side, my new B-Rank Agility screaming through every fiber as I pushed this upgraded body to its absolute limit. The world became a nauseating blur of motion as I rolled, the wind from the construct's passing fist buffeting me like a shockwave from a bomb blast.

BOOM!

The sound was so deafening it made my teeth rattle. The concrete floor where I'd been standing a millisecond before erupted violently, a crater of shattered rock and dust marking the point of impact. Deadly shrapnel sprayed across the room like shrapnel, pinging harmlessly off my Second Skin suit. The blue energy crackling around its massive fists wasn't just for show; it amplified every blow to a catastrophic degree that would turn my bones to powder on contact.

I scrambled to my feet behind a rusted piece of industrial machinery, my mind racing even faster than my hammering heart.

'Okay. Analyze the situation, dumbass. [SEVER] failed. Why? Option one: The armor plating is simply too fucking dense. Option two: The blue energy field acts as a dispersant, a shield that deflects or nullifies the focused line of force. Either way, I'm completely screwed unless I figure this out.'

The gorilla roared, a bone-chilling sound of grinding gears and synthesized fury that echoed through the abandoned factory. It located me, its blood-red optical sensors locking onto my position with mechanical precision, and charged again with terrifying speed.

I didn't try to counter. I fucking ran.

Leaping onto a rickety conveyor belt, I used its incline to launch myself higher, grabbing onto a dangling chain and swinging to a precarious perch atop a massive, defunct hydraulic press. The arena was a playground of industrial decay, and right now, evasion was the only game I could play if I wanted to keep breathing.

The construct followed, not with any finesse or strategy, but with pure, unadulterated destructive force. It didn't climb the press; it punched through it, sending a shower of rusted metal and ancient gears raining down like deadly confetti.

I pushed off, landing lightly on the floor fifty feet away, my enhanced muscles absorbing the impact. Time for another test - if I couldn't cut it, maybe I could burn it.

"[EMBER]!" I thrust my palm forward, launching a concentrated gout of flame with every ounce of will I could muster. It wasn't my strongest move, but it would give me critical data. The fire washed over the construct's massive chest, and for a moment, its frame was wreathed in brilliant orange. But the flames simply slid off its armor like water off oil, absorbed and nullified by the shimmering blue energy field surrounding it. It didn't even leave a fucking scorch mark.

'Heat and kinetic force dispersion. It's a full-spectrum defense. So I can't cut it, and I can't burn it. What the hell is this thing?'

My HUD flickered, my scores dropping with every second I spent running instead of fighting.

[COMBAT EFFICIENCY: 68%]

[TACTICAL ACUMEN: 55%]

[APPEAL SCORE: 82%]

The audience was still entertained by the chase, but VEGA's algorithm was punishing my lack of engagement. Their digital thumbs were starting to hover over the downvote button, and I could feel the weight of their disappointment in my performance metrics.

The gorilla smashed through another piece of machinery, this one larger than the last. A support strut buckled with a screech of tortured metal, and a massive section of the ceiling groaned, threatening to collapse. Ancient dust and fragments of concrete showered down like deadly rain, spattering across the floor in warning patterns.

And that's when I saw it. The solution.

It wasn't elegant. It wasn't clean. It was brutal, pragmatic, and utterly insane. It was a Kaelen Leone solution through and through – the kind of reckless, destructive gambit that had kept him alive in another world, another life.

My Aspect wasn't just [SEVER]. It was Thermal Incision. A two-part process. The invisible cut, followed by the cauterizing sear. A principle of preparation, then application. A chef's philosophy at its core – one that Kimiko had unknowingly instilled in me during those long hours in her kitchen.

'You can't cook a steak by holding a match to it,' I thought, a slow, predatory grin spreading across my face. 'You have to heat the whole damn pan.'

I stopped running.

I turned to face the monster, planting my feet firmly on the concrete floor. The construct registered my change in behavior, its charge slowing to a heavy, menacing stomp. Its golden eyes flickered with what almost seemed like confusion. It saw a cornered animal, a final, desperate stand.

It saw prey.

"Come on, you ugly son of a bitch," I whispered, beckoning with my fingers, feeling the System purr with approval at my theatrics. "Let's see what you're really made of."

It roared and charged, fists raised for a final, bone-shattering slam that would turn me into nothing but a red smear on the factory floor.

I didn't move. I didn't flinch. I waited. I watched its approach, measuring the distance, the speed, the angle with cold, mathematical certainty.

Now.

My hand didn't move toward the construct. It snapped upwards, not toward my attacker but toward what would become its tomb.

"[SEVER]!"

The invisible blade sliced through the already-straining support beams and heavy industrial chains holding the machinery above it. The attack wasn't a pinprick; it was a massive, wide-arc slash of force that screamed through the air.

For a single, silent moment, nothing happened.

Then, with a collective groan of protesting metal that shook the entire chamber, the world came crashing down.

Tons of rusted steel, broken presses, and tangled conveyor belts rained from the ceiling directly onto the charging construct. The gorilla looked up, its programming unable to process the sudden environmental attack. It was buried in an avalanche of industrial scrap, the impact throwing up a massive cloud of dust and debris.

But I wasn't done. That was just Phase One. The "Incision."

Now came the "Sear."

I channeled every ounce of my A-Rank Magic stat, my hands glowing with nascent power.

"[EMBER]!"

It wasn't a gout of flame this time. It was a torrent. A sustained, roaring jet of fire poured from my palms, a makeshift flamethrower of pure destructive will. I didn't aim for the construct buried under the wreckage.

I aimed for the wreckage itself.

The metal began to glow, first a dull red, then a bright, angry orange, then a shimmering, almost white heat. The entire pile of debris was transformed into a makeshift forge, a funeral pyre of superheated steel.

The blue energy field around the construct flared violently, trying to dissipate the ambient heat flooding it from every conceivable angle. But it couldn't. Its defense was designed to stop focused attacks, not to survive being cooked alive inside an oven of its own making.

A new sound filled the chamber—a high-pitched, electronic scream of agony as the construct's internal systems began to melt. Its armor plates glowed cherry-red, no longer a shield but a cage of white-hot metal. The blue energy field flickered, sputtered, and died.

The screaming stopped.

Silence. The only sound was the crackle of cooling metal.

I walked forward, the heat from the pile washing over me. Through the gaps in the glowing wreckage, I could see the construct's frame, warped and blackened. Its defenses were gone. It was just a broken machine.

I raised my hand one last time, my movements calm, almost surgical.

[SEVER].

The head of the construct slid cleanly from its shoulders and fell to the floor with a dull, metallic thud.

The test was over.

I stood there, panting, the ache in my ribs a dull throb. The arena was a wasteland of my own making.

My HUD flashed, the numbers a testament to the beautiful, chaotic violence I had just unleashed.

[COMBAT EFFICIENCY: 94%]

[TACTICAL ACUMEN: 99%]

[APPEAL SCORE: 100%]

VEGA's voice returned, but all the saccharine sweetness, all the condescending mockery, was gone. It was replaced by a flat, cold, analytical tone. The sound of a machine that had just encountered a data point it couldn't properly classify.

"Analysis complete. Subject successfully re-contextualized a single-target Aspect into a wide-area environmental weapon... Anomaly confirmed. Ranking has been updated."

My name on the main leaderboard solidified at the #1 spot, my score now a vast, insurmountable distance from second place. I hadn't just passed her test. I had broken it.

I looked up at the main observation camera, a single dark eye in the ceiling, knowing VEGA was watching. A small, humorless smile touched my lips.

Your move, you sanctimonious bitch.

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