Sebastian suppressed a sigh. He kept his posture slightly slouched, playing the part of the intimidated grunt, and took a step out of the line.

"Sir," Sebastian acknowledged with a neutral tone.

Sterling slowly walked circles around him, inspecting his cheap armor and his scuffed boots.

"I was watching the interrogation from the observation deck," Sterling began, his voice smooth. "Inquisitor Vance is a terrifying man. I have seen hardened veterans weep and confess to crimes they didn’t even commit just to get his pendulum out of their faces."

Sterling stopped directly in front of Sebastian and leaned in slightly.

"But you didn’t even blink. Your heart rate didn’t elevate a single beat. Your soul frequency was a perfectly flat line. Vance thought you were just dull. But I know better."

Sterling tapped the side of his own head.

"That isn’t stupidity, Trent. That is pure ruthlessness. You don’t feel fear. You don’t feel guilt. You are completely detached from your environment."

’No, I just deleted my pain receptors and hacked the UI,’ Sebastian thought, but

he kept his mouth shut.

"That is exactly the kind of psychological profile I need," Sterling announced and clapped his hands together. "Lieutenant Garret!"

Garret practically tripped over his own boots rushing forward. "Yes, Commander!"

"I am requisitioning this man," Sterling declared smoothly. "Trent is no longer a grunt in Sector 4. He is officially transferring to my personal team in the Upper Ring."

The entire room went dead silent. Rix’s jaw dropped so far it nearly hit the floor. The soldiers couldn’t believe what they had heard.

Garret’s face turned completely red. He looked like he had just swallowed a bitter pill.

"Sir, with all due respect!" Garret sputtered and gestured wildly at Sebastian.

"Trent is garbage! He is late to formations! He has zero tactical initiative! He is a Level 42 nobody! You can’t just take him to the Upper Ring!"

Sterling’s smile vanished. He slowly turned his head to look at Garret. The air in the room suddenly grew heavy with the weight of a Level 75 officer pulling rank.

"Lieutenant," Sterling’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a lethal edge. "Did you just question a direct transfer order? From me?"

Garret swallowed hard, the color draining from his face just as fast as it had appeared. "N-no, sir. I apologize, sir. It is just... he is a grunt."

"He was a grunt," Sterling corrected and turned his back on Garret. "Now, he is

my problem solver."

Sterling looked at Sebastian. "Hand over that pathetic standard-issue rifle, Trent. You won’t be needing it anymore."

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. He unslung the cheap kinetic rifle and practically tossed it at Garret’s chest. The Lieutenant caught it awkwardly, his cybernetic arm whining in protest.

Sebastian looked Garret dead in the eyes. He let the dull mask of ’Trent’ slip for just a fraction of a second. He flashed Garret a polite smile that promised absolute ruin.

Garret actually flinched and took a step back.

"Follow me, Trent," Sterling ordered and walked toward the heavy doors. "We have

a lot of work to do, and very little time to do it."

Sebastian fell into step behind the Commander. As they walked out of the holding area and into the brightly lit corridors of the upper command deck, Sebastian’s

mind raced.

This was a massive leap forward. He had bypassed weeks of miserable grunt work.

He was heading straight for the Upper Ring, the exact location of the Regional

Core he needed to steal.

But dealing with corporate elites was always a double-edged sword. They never

gave you something for nothing.

They walked into a massive private elevator. The doors slid shut and cut them off from the noise of the military base. Sterling pressed a glowing rune on the control panel, and the elevator shot upward with incredible speed.

"So," Sebastian said. He leaned against the glass wall of the elevator and dropped the terrified grunt act entirely.

"I am guessing you didn’t promote me

just to fetch your coffee, Commander."

Sterling chuckled and poured himself a glass of blue wine from a small crystal bottle built into the elevator wall.

"Perceptive. I like that," Sterling said and took a sip. "You are correct, Trent. I don’t need a butler. I need a champion."

"A champion?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"The Vanguard Syndicate is a meritocracy, but it is also a highly political theater," Sterling explained, waving his glass as he looked out over the sprawling skyline of Sector 4 far below them. "In order to maintain my seat onthe Executive Board, I need to project strength. I need a personal enforcer whocan win."

Sterling turned to face Sebastian, his expression turning entirely serious.

"Tomorrow night, the Syndicate is hosting The Crucible. It is a hundred-man battle royale in the central arena. The winner gains official status as aVanguard Elite and is granted unrestricted access to the Inner Ring."

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed behind his visor. The Inner Ring. That was where the Server’s Admin Terminal was held. That was where the Regional Core was anchored.

"I am sponsoring you, Trent," Sterling said.

His tone made it clear it was not arequest.

"You will enter The Crucible. You will slaughter the other ninety-nine competitors. You will win me the betting pools, and you will earn your Elite badge."

"A hundred-man free-for-all," Sebastian mused and rubbed his chin. "And if I lose?"

"If you lose, you die in the arena, and your digital assets are liquidated to cover my entry fee," Sterling smiled coldly. "But a ruthless person like you won’t lose. You don’t panic. You will just do the math and pull the trigger."

The elevator chimed softly and slowed to a halt.

"Welcome to the major leagues, Trent," Sterling said as the doors opened into a

breathtaking penthouse armory. "Let’s get you dressed for a slaughter."

—-

The Vanguard Arena was incredibly massive. It was roughly the size of a giant football stadium.

It was a brutal industrial battleground constructed of heavily reinforced titanium and barbed wire. The arena floor was a sprawling maze of concrete bunkers, rusted shipping containers, and open killing fields.

It looked less like a tournament and more like a warzone broadcasted for the entertainment of the corporate masses.

Sebastian stood in the dimly lit staging tunnel. The heavy iron gate separated him from the roaring noise of the crowd.

He was geared up. Sterling had given him access to the private armory, but Sebastian had kept his loadout incredibly simple. He wore a lightweight set of black tactical armor that offered decent mobility but terrible magical resistance.

In his hands, he held a standard-issue kinetic assault rifle. It was entirely ordinary. It fired heavy slugs propelled by mana-bursts, but it had no magical enchantments. No explosive rounds. No homing bullets.

He checked his UI.

[ADMIN SUSPICION: 0%]

He let out a slow breath. The rules for tonight were painfully strict.

The entire arena was blanketed in the Syndicate’s highest-tier surveillance

networks. Thousands of invisible drones were actively monitoring the combat

zone, broadcasting every single heartbeat, every fired bullet, and every spell cast to the millions of citizens watching on the network.

If he used his abilities to turn invisible, the system would immediately flag the anomaly. If he used his power to cut a tank in half with a gesture, the server would instantly detect it.

If that red bar hit one hundred percent, the orbital cannons would lock onto his position, his system would shatter, and he would be fighting a planetary war instead of a simple battle royale.

"No magic," Sebastian whispered to himself. He racked the slide of his kinetic rifle.

CHK-CHK!

"No glitches. Just a gun and some simple geometry."

He didn’t have his world-ending spells, but he still had his body. He was still running on a massive physical baseline that he had stolen from the Harvest Den. He had incredible strength and processing speed packed into a completely average-looking human frame.

"LADIES AND CORPORATE SPONSORS!" the announcer’s voice boomed through the

stadium speakers. "WELCOME TO THE CRUCIBLE!"

The crowd went absolutely wild. The cheering was a deafening roar that vibrated the concrete under Sebastian’s boots.

"ONE HUNDRED GRUNTS! ONE HUNDRED DESPERATE SOULS CLAWING FOR A TASTE OF THE ELITE LIFE! ONLY ONE WALKS OUT WITH THE BADGE!OPEN THE GATES!"

The heavy iron gate in front of Sebastian groaned and began to rapidly rise.

Blinding artificial stadium lights flooded the tunnel.

Sebastian stepped out into the arena.

He was instantly assaulted by the sheer scale of the chaos. The arena was massive. To his left and right, dozens of other gates were opening, pouring heavily armed players out into the concrete maze.

They were all mid-level players, ranging from Level 40 to Level 55. They were desperate, fully buffed, and ready to kill anything that moved.

Sebastian didn’t run for the center to grab the high-tier weapon caches scattered in the open. That was foolish. He immediately jogged toward a cluster of rusted shipping containers near the outer edge, his rifle raised and tucked tightly against his shoulder.

[Match Commencing in 3... 2... 1...]

BEEEEEP!

The massive holographic timer in the sky hit zero, and the arena instantly exploded into absolute violence.

"DIE, TRASH!" a heavily armored Guardian roared. He charged out from behind a concrete pillar just twenty feet away from Sebastian. The player was wielding a massive plasma shotgun.

Sebastian didn’t panic. He didn’t cast a shield.