SSS-Rank Talent: Super Upgrade System-Chapter 124: Paths Of Power. Pt 1

The hushed anticipation in the vast plaza of Astralis Academy’s Upper House was so thick it could have been spread like butter on a slice of very nervous toast.

Director Gareth Sterling, his earlier pronouncements about entrance tests and potential eliminations still hanging heavy in the air, gestured towards the dais.

As if summoned by an unspoken command, four new figures materialized silently beside him, their arrival causing a collective gasp from the thousands of assembled aspirants.

A subtle tremor ran through the polished obsidian floor of the plaza, a testament to the sheer, overwhelming power these individuals commanded.

"These," Director Gareth announced, his voice resonating with a new level of gravity, "are the Vice-Principals of Astralis Academy’s four primary schools.

They will be observing your performance throughout these tests, and their judgment will be instrumental in shaping your future here. Or, for some of you," his gaze swept sternly across the nervous faces, "your rather abrupt departure."

Daniel, standing calmly amidst the shifting crowd, felt his S-Grade [Aura Sense+] tingle with an intensity he hadn’t experienced since facing the Golden-Armored Blue Ape.

These were not just ordinary people, they were power incarnate, each a nexus of potent energy and profound authority.

He quietly evaluated them, already noting their potential, not just as mentors, but as valuable sources of assimilation data, even if currently out of reach.

The first to step forward was a towering man, built like someone who might wrestle Gravehounds for sport.

He was lean, almost wiry, but every line of his body screamed of contained, explosive power. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

His face was a roadmap of old battle scars, testament to countless brutal encounters in the Verge, and his eyes burned with an almost feral intensity that seemed to strip away all pretense.

His aura, a contained inferno of raw kinetic energy, pulsed visibly, making the air around him shimmer with heat.

This was Travis Standen, Vice-Principal of the Combat Techniques School. He was rumored to be the youngest of the Vice-Principals, yet also, by some accounts, the most terrifyingly strong in raw combat prowess.

"Aspirants!"

Travis Standen’s voice was a low growl, like rocks grinding together, yet it carried effortlessly across the vast plaza, silencing the nervous whispers.

"My school, the Combat Techniques School, is not for the faint of heart. It is not for those who seek comfort, or shortcuts, or easy victories."

His gaze, sharp as a newly forged blade, swept across the recruits, seeming to pierce through their bravado and lay bare their deepest fears.

"We forge warriors here. We take raw talent, raw power, and we hammer it, we temper it, we beat it into the shape of peerless combatants, capable of facing the darkest horrors the Verge can conjure and spitting in their many, many eyes!"

"Boom!"

He slammed a calloused fist into his open palm, the sound a small, contained thunderclap that made the ground beneath their feet vibrate.

"If you believe you have the guts, the grit, and the unyielding will to push your physical and spiritual limits beyond what you thought possible, if you yearn to master the true art of battle, then my school might, just might, have a place for you.

But be warned," his scarred lips curled into a grim smile, "we break many more than we make."

A wave of mingled fear and exhilaration swept through the aspirants.

Ayra, her S-Grade Crystal Gloves gleaming, let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"Now that’s my kind of teacher," she muttered to Lia, her eyes alight with a feral excitement. "Someone who understands the importance of a good, solid punch to the existential dread."

Lia, her A-Grade Staff of the World Ash pulsing with a gentle, steady light, merely nodded, her calm grey eyes assessing Travis Standen with cool detachment.

His raw power was undeniable, but his methods sounded... brutal.

Next, an elderly woman stepped forward. Her silver hair was tied in a neat, tight bun, and her lined face reflected calm wisdom and sharp intelligence.

She wore simple, scholarly robes, a stark contrast to Travis Standen’s battle-worn gear. Yet, her aura was no less formidable.

It felt less like a raging fire and more like a vast, intricate web of thoughts, an ocean of quiet strategy and ancient wisdom.

This was Aslaug Winnick, Vice-Principal of the Command School.

"Greetings, aspirants," Aslaug Winnick’s voice was soft, yet it carried with an effortless clarity, each word precise and laden with wisdom.

"While raw power and combat prowess are undeniably valuable assets in the Verge," her gaze flickered briefly towards Travis Standen, who grunted in acknowledgment, "they are but tools.

Tools that, without wisdom, without strategy, without the guiding hand of true leadership, often lead to naught but glorious, and ultimately futile, self-destruction."

The plaza fell silent, the aspirants leaning in, captivated by her quiet authority.

"The Command School," she continued, her serene eyes sweeping over them, "is where we cultivate not just strength, but intellect.

We teach the art of strategy, the science of logistics, the psychology of command. We forge leaders, those capable of seeing the bigger picture, of guiding teams through the most complex and dangerous challenges the Verge can devise.

Our path is not one of brute force, but of meticulous planning, of subtle manipulation, of understanding the delicate balance of power that governs all things."

She paused, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. "The Command School is arguably the most elite of our institutions. Entry is fiercely competitive, and the demands are... exacting.

We seek not just the strong, but the clever, the adaptable, the ones who can think ten steps ahead while their peers are still struggling with the first.

If you believe you possess such a mind, if you aspire to lead, to shape the very course of humanity’s future in the Verge, then perhaps, you belong with us."

A different kind of buzz now filled the plaza.

Many recruits, particularly those whose talents leaned towards strategy, support, or more esoteric abilities, found their gazes drawn to Aslaug Winnick.

The appeal of becoming a leader, a shot-caller, a master strategist, was a powerful one.

Olenna , standing beside Daniel, felt a renewed surge of determination.

This was it. The Command School. This was where she needed to be, where she could gain the influence, the knowledge, the access to find her lost sister.

Her earlier nervousness was replaced by a cold, focused resolve. She would pass these tests. She would earn her place.

Daniel, however, found his interest waning. Leadership, strategy, meticulous planning... it all sounded terribly boring.

He preferred direct action, the raw thrill of combat, the satisfying hum of his SSS-Rank [Soul Assimilation] talent as he absorbed new powers.

He respected intellect, certainly, but his path was one of personal, exponential growth.

He was a force of nature, not a chess master.

He glanced at Ayra, who was already looking around for the refreshment stand, clearly having lost interest the moment the word "

strategy was uttered.

Lia, however, seemed intrigued, her head tilted in thought, likely considering the tactical advantages such training could offer their team.

The first two Vice-Principals had made their pitches, one appealing to raw power, the other to sharp intellect.

The aspirants were already buzzing, their minds racing with possibilities, their futures hanging in the balance.

Two more schools, two more powerful figures, were yet to present their case. The choices were becoming clearer, and the pressure, Daniel knew, was only just beginning to mount

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