Located miles beneath the floating islands, shielded by ancient wards that dampened magical signatures, it was a place where light dared not tread.

In a chamber hewn from obsidian, a heavy stone table dominated the center. Seven chairs surrounded it, each occupied by a figure cloaked in shadows that were not natural, but magically woven to obscure identity.

The atmosphere was heavy, suffocating. The air smelled of ozone and suppressed rage.

"THUMP."

A gloved fist slammed onto the obsidian table.

"Explain!," a voice hissed from the head of the table. It was Voice One...cold, authoritative, and dripping with malice. "How does a planned regional suppression operation turn into a catastrophic failure? We lost Malagor. We lost the Sanctum. And, most importantly, we lost the Avatar!."

"The variable was... unexpected," Voice Three replied, his voice quavering slightly. He sounded elderly, the rasp of a long-time academic. "Rogge. The madman. He used a Forbidden Art. He turned himself into a supernova. Our models did not account for suicidal tacticians."

"Rogge is dead," Voice Four cut in. Her voice was smooth, sharp, and unmistakably female. "He is ash. That is a victory. He was getting too close to the Sequence."

"A pyrrhic victory!" Voice One roared, the shadows around him flaring violet. "The Avatar of Engels was meant to stabilize the region for Phase Two! It was supposed to anchor the dimension! Now? The energy has dissipated. The Convergence in Silverwood has been set back by months!"

A holographic map materialized above the table. It showed Silverwood, the red stain of the SnowMage operation fading into a benign blue.

"The asset elimination was a disaster," Voice One continued, regaining his icy composure. "But what concerns me more is not the dead professor. It is the student."

A new image flickered to life. It was grainy footage taken from a corrupted recording crystal found in the debris of the Frost Sanctum.

It showed Alvian.

He was hovering in the air, the [Klaus's Upgrade] ring glowing on his finger. He was launching himself into the dying god, a missile of kinetic force and defiance.

"Alvian," Voice One said the name like a curse. "Freshman. Special Entrant. 'SkillBurst' Class."

"He killed the Avatar," Voice Three whispered. "Rogge weakened it, yes. But the boy delivered the killing blow. A freshman dealing millions of points of damage? It is statistically impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," Voice One snapped. "Only improbable. And improbabilities are threats to the Grand Design."

The shadows in the room seemed to lean in. The Syndicate did not fear armies. They controlled armies. They did not fear governments. They bought governments. But they feared the unknown.

"He is not just a student," Voice Four mused, tapping a finger against her lips beneath the cowl. "He moves like a veteran. He anticipates enemy movements before they happen. And his growth rate... it defies the System's logic."

"He is a glitch," Voice One declared. "An error in the matrix of this world. And errors must be corrected."

"Do we eliminate him?" Voice Five asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep, brutal. "I can send the Weeping Blade. One night. One slit throat. Problem solved."

"No," Voice One raised a hand. "He is currently the 'Hero of Silverwood.' The Governor is singing his praises. The Academy is watching him. If he dies mysteriously, it draws eyes to us. We need to be surgical."

The leader of the Syndicate leaned forward, the violet light of the map reflecting in his hidden eyes.

"We convene to adjust the timeline. The Avatar is gone. So we must accelerate the main event."

"BOOM!"

A heavy metallic thud echoed as a containment unit rose from the center of the table. Inside, floating in a suspension field, was a jagged, black crystal. It pulsed with a heartbeat that made the teeth of everyone in the room ache.

The Corrupted Crystal. The seed of a Demon God.

"Phase Two begins now," Voice One announced. "And as for the boy... we will see if his 'anomaly' can survive a true nightmare."

The holographic projection of Alvian spun slowly above the obsidian table. Data streams cascaded around his image—combat logs, exam scores, and stolen medical records.

"Look at this," Voice Three said, pointing a withered finger at the display. "His initial scan at the Awakening Ceremony. F-Rank Astra Soul. Water Manipulation. Garbage tier."

[System Data: Alvian Cross]

[Initial Scan: F-Rank]

[Current Estimated Power: S-Rank Potential]

"And yet," Voice Three continued, "in less than a month, he has cleared the Battle Grid solo, defeated a Raid Boss, and now, slain a Calamity Avatar. His stats suggest a Physique and Strength attribute far exceeding his level cap."

"Maybe he's using forbidden drugs?" Voice Five grunted. "Mana steroids?"

"We tested his blood from the infirmary samples," Voice Four replied dismissively. "Clean. Pure. In fact, his mana density is higher than some of our Lieutenants."

Voice One remained silent, studying the image of Alvian's face. The boy's expression in the footage was cold. Detached. It wasn't the face of a terrified child fighting for his life. It was the face of a predator annoyed by prey.

"He chose the 'SkillBurst' class," Voice One noted. "A blank slate. A handicap so severe the System grants a compensation talent."

"We don't know what his talent is," Voice Four admitted. "The records are sealed by the Genesis System itself. But based on his combat patterns... he upgrades things. Skills. Items. He takes trash and turns it into gold."

"The 'Super Upgrade System'..." Voice One murmured, almost guessing the truth. "If he possesses the ability to bypass system requirements, he is the most dangerous variable we have ever encountered."

"Is he a regressor?" Voice Three asked suddenly. The room went silent.

Regressors. Beings sent back in time. Myths. Legends. But in a world governed by a System, time manipulation was theoretically possible.

"He knows things he shouldn't," Voice Three argued. "He found the hidden entrance to the Glimmerwood. He knew the weakness of the Primal Behemoth. He knew exactly where to strike the Avatar."

"If he is a regressor," Voice One said, his voice dropping an octave, "then he knows about the Convergence. He knows about us."

The tension in the room spiked. If Alvian knew the future, their entire operation...years of planning, infiltration, and sacrifice...was compromised.

"We cannot assume," Voice Four countered.

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