Alvian sat in a cave miles away from the ruins, safe from the sandstorm raging outside. He had lost the Syndicate pursuers hours ago.

He was Level 30 now. A milestone.

He laid out his loot. The [Tablet of the Earth Core] was indecipherable without a translator, but George would handle that. The real prize was the [Data Slate] from the assassin.

He hacked it.

[Log Entry: Target Alvian. Priority Alpha. The Tournament is the stage. We will unleash Subject Zero during the finals.]

"Subject Zero," Alvian mused. A bio-weapon? A demon host?

Whatever it was, the Syndicate planned to turn the Academy Tournament into a massacre.

Alvian looked at his skills. He was strong. But against an entire organization?

He remembered Rogge's legacy. The [Limit Breaker: Genesis Mode].

He hadn't used it yet. The schematic Rogge gave him was for a technique, but to truly master it, he needed to modify his own body to withstand the strain.

He opened the [Genesis Forge Remote Interface].

[Function: Body Refinement.]

[Required: High-Grade Mana Source + Legendary Catalyst.]

He had the Mana Source (The Flame Flower he had looted from the ruins' vault before leaving—it was the assassin's stash).

He needed a Catalyst.

He looked at the [Tablet of the Earth Core]. It was a quest item, yes. But it was also a chunk of the planet's heart.

"System," Alvian asked. "Can I use the Tablet as a material?"

[Calculating...]

[Affirmative. Item contains S-Rank Earth Essence.]

Alvian didn't hesitate. He wasn't going to give the map to the Academy or the Syndicate. He was going to eat it.

He threw the Tablet and the Flame Flower into the rift.

"Fuse. Target: Alvian's Body."

[Warning! Pain levels will be critical.]

"Do it."

The forge hammered.

A beam of light shot out of the rift and hit Alvian in the chest.

"ARGH!"

Alvian screamed as his bones felt like they were melting. Earth and Fire essence flooded his system, tempering his cells, reinforcing his mana channels.

It lasted for an hour.

When it ended, Alvian lay on the cave floor, steam rising from his skin.

He sat up. He felt… heavy. Solid. Like a mountain.

[Attribute Update.]

[Physique +50.]

[New Passive: [Terra-Form]. Damage taken reduced by 15%.]

He stood up. He felt unbreakable.

He looked toward the north, toward the Academy.

The Tournament was in one week.

"Subject Zero," Alvian whispered, equipping his lance. "Bring it on."

He walked out of the cave, into the storm. The sand bounced off his skin.

He was ready for war.

The sandstorm that had raged for days began to die down, leaving the dunes of the Ashen Sands rippled like a petrified ocean. The heat was still oppressive, a physical weight that pressed down on everything living, but to Alvian, it felt like nothing more than a warm blanket.

He walked out of the cave, his boots sinking slightly into the orange sand. His body felt different. Heavier, yet faster. The fusion with the [Tablet of the Earth Core] had fundamentally altered his physiology. His skin looked the same, perhaps a shade more bronzed, but beneath the surface, his bones were as dense as granite, and his mana channels hummed with the slow, unstoppable power of a tectonic plate.

[System Check.]

[Physique: 110 (+50 from Fusion)]

[Passive Active: Terra-Form - Damage Reduction 15%]

Alvian clenched his fist. The air popped audibly.

"Level 30," he muttered. "And a body that can withstand a siege engine. It's a start."

He adjusted his [Robes of the Void Walker] and began the trek north, back toward the border of the Academy's territory. The Tournament was one week away. He had the power; now he needed to make an entrance.

However, he didn't get far before the ground began to vibrate.

"Thrum... Thrum..."

It wasn't a monster. The rhythm was too regular. Too mechanical.

Alvian crested a massive dune and stopped. Below him, spread out across a flat salt pan, was an army.

Dozens of Mana-Skiffs hovered above the sand, their engines kicking up clouds of dust. On the ground, hundreds of students were setting up a forward operating base. Banners snapped in the hot wind, displaying four distinct crests.

A shield and sword for the Vanguard.

An eye wreathed in flame for the Arcanists.

A ghost stepping through a wall for the Phantoms.

A tower standing against a wave for the Sentinels.

"The Four Factions," Alvian observed, his eyes narrowing. "A Joint Exercise."

It made sense. With the recent Calamity Avatar incident in Silverwood, the Academy Council would be desperate to project strength. A massive field exercise in a high-level zone was the perfect propaganda.

It was also a perfect annoyance. They were directly in his path.

Alvian considered going around, using [Shadow Weave] to slip past. But then he saw the perimeter sensors. Gold-grade Truesight Pylons planted every fifty meters. They were expecting trouble, or they were just paranoid.

"Going around takes three hours," Alvian calculated. "Going through takes ten minutes."

He started walking down the dune.

As he approached the perimeter, a group of students wearing the heavy plate armor of the Sentinels spotted him.

"Halt!" a Sentinel captain shouted, raising a massive tower shield. "This is a restricted Academy military zone! State your affiliation!"

Alvian didn't stop. He kept walking, his hands loose at his sides.

"Alvian. Special Entrant. Returning from field study."

The name rippled through the soldiers like a shockwave.

"Alvian? The Godslayer?"

"He looks... normal."

"Look at his gear. That robe... is that Epic grade?"

The Sentinel captain hesitated, but then a sneer crossed his face. He was a senior, Level 33, and clearly didn't appreciate a freshman walking around like he owned the desert.

"Field study?" the captain scoffed. "This is the Ashen Sands, freshman. It's a restricted Level 35 zone. You're lying. You probably got lost on the border and wandered in."

He stepped forward, blocking Alvian's path.

"Turn around. Civilians and low-levels need to clear the area. We're conducting a live-fire drill on a Sand Wyrm nest. It's too dangerous for you."

Alvian stopped. He looked at the captain, then at the massive tower shield that radiated a faint blue light.

[Player: Sentinel Captain Jarek]

[Level: 33]

[Class: Ironclad Guardian]

"Dangerous?" Alvian repeated, a bored expression on his face. "For whom?"

Jarek's face flushed red. "For you, kid! Now move, or I'll have you detained for interfering with—"

"BOOM!"

The ground didn't just vibrate this time. It exploded.

In the center of the salt pan, right beneath where the main force was setting up their command tent, the earth shattered. A geyser of sand and rock shot a hundred feet into the air.

"SCREEEE!"

A roar that sounded like grinding metal tore through the air.

Massive shapes erupted from the sand. Not one. Not two. Dozens.

Sand Wyrms. But these weren't the normal mobs Alvian had farmed earlier. These were larger, their scales black as obsidian, pulsing with a chaotic red light.

[System Alert! Monster Ambush!]

[Monster: Frenzied Obsidian Wyrm]

[Level: 38]

[Status: Enraged / Mutation]

"Ambush! Defensive positions!" Jarek screamed, turning his back on Alvian. "Sentinels, form the wall! Vanguards, suppress them!"

The orderly camp dissolved into chaos. The students were elites, yes, but they were training for a drill, not a massacre. The Wyrms moved with unnatural speed, tearing through the Mana-Skiffs and crushing the light infantry.

"Help! My leg!"

"Magic doesn't work! They have spell reflection!"

An Arcanist squad unleashed a volley of fireballs, but the Obsidian Wyrms' scales shimmered, bouncing the spells harmlessly away.

Alvian stood still amidst the panic. He watched the attack patterns.

"Coordinated," Alvian noted. "They aren't just enraged. They're being directed."

His eyes scanned the chaos and landed on a ridge overlooking the camp. A faint shimmer in the air. A cloaked figure holding a staff that pulsed with the same red light as the Wyrms.

Syndicate.

"They're testing the students," Alvian realized. "Weeding out the weak before the Tournament."

A massive shadow fell over him.

One of the Obsidian Wyrms had broken through the Sentinel line and was barreling straight for him. Its maw was a cavern of spinning teeth, large enough to swallow a carriage whole.

Jarek, the captain, turned around and saw the monster about to eat the freshman.

"Kid! Move!" Jarek shouted, trying to rush back, but he was too slow. "It's a Level 38 Elite! You can't—"

Alvian didn't move. He didn't draw his weapon.

He simply planted his feet.

"Terra-Form."

He activated his new passive, willing his skin to harden, his mass to increase. He became an immovable object.

The Wyrm slammed into him.

"BANG!"

It sounded like a high-speed train hitting a mountain.

Dust billowed out. Jarek closed his eyes, expecting to see a red smear where the freshman had been.

But when the dust settled, Alvian was still standing. He hadn't moved an inch.

The Wyrm, however, was dazed, its snout crumpled from the impact.

[-0 HP]

A grey "Zero" floated above Alvian's head.

Alvian dusted off his shoulder, looking at the stunned monster.

"Is that it?"

He reached out, grabbed the Wyrm by a broken fang, and squeezed.

"CRACK!"

"Now," Alvian said, looking back at the terrified Sentinel captain. "Let me show you what dangerous looks like."

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