One Second.​Victor’s fist was a cannonball, aimed directly at Zane’s temple. The force behind the punch was enough to cause a concussion, perhaps worse, and Zane’s mortal body was too weak to absorb the impact.​He didn't need to see the System's screen anymore; the data had already been uploaded directly into his combat instincts. The Iron Fist (Lv. 1) was not a power boost—it was a precision amplifier, optimizing his weak physical structure to deliver maximum calculated force with minimum energy expenditure. It was the difference between a clumsy strike and a physicist’s equation in motion.​As Victor’s knuckles scraped past his ear, Zane shifted his weight, rotating his torso by a mere two centimeters—a move impossible for the mortal Zane, but flawless for the Commander's mind now guided by the System’s parameters. His left elbow snapped up, intercepting Victor's forearm at the radius bone, a sensitive, brittle point.​The impact was sharp, not heavy. A wet crack echoed through th

Zane woke exactly at 4:30 AM, not by the sun, but by the System’s internal chronometer. His mortal body was still in intense pain, a consequence of the Temporal Shift (Lv. 1) that had saved him from Caius. The System's warning was a constant, low thrum in his mind: Core Power at 5%. Recovery Protocol Active.​He needed external resources—money, technology, and information—faster than his body could heal naturally. The Chen family, for all their power in the mortal realm, were nothing more than a wealthy, arrogant target practice for the Scions of Chaos. Zane was done being their zero. Now, he was their invisible predator.​He sat on the edge of the cot in his dusty utility room, pulled up the System interface, and mentally commanded: Analysis of Current Obstacles and Required Resources.​[Analysis Complete.]​[Obstacle 1: Financial Deficiency (Debt to Chens: $50,000).]​[Obstacle 2: Information Deficiency (Scion Activities on Campus).]​[Obstacle 3: Technology Deficiency (Need Secure

Zane stood atop a rusted water tower overlooking the abandoned warehouse district he now technically owned. The sun had set, and the area was shrouded in the industrial grime and silence of a forgotten corner of the city. Below him, the largest structure, the former main factory, hummed with activity.​The intelligence alert on his secure phone was absolute: Unknown Hostiles are currently clearing the area and fortifying the central warehouse. Mark of the Serpent confirmed.​The Scions of Chaos had not followed him; they had simply anticipated him. They knew the God of War would seek out a sanctuary, and they had prepared the trap in the most logical location for a man with a sudden influx of cash.​"Amateurs," Zane muttered, pulling his new, cheap black cargo pants and hooded jacket tight. He had shed the clean, borrowed clothes of the Son-in-Law for the functional anonymity of a predator. He was empty of resources save for the Temporal Shift (Lv. 1) and Iron Fist (Lv. 1) skills, and

The Sanctuary became a crucible. The System's Training Cycle Alpha was not a motivational workout; it was a brutal, calculated protocol designed to maximize the tensile strength of Zane’s fragile mortal shell without causing irreparable damage. The goal was simple: push the body to the point of collapse, repair it instantly with controlled doses of ambient divine energy, and repeat.​The 1000 burpees were only the beginning.​"The mortality of this shell is an inefficiency, Host," the System's clinical voice echoed in Zane's mind. [Execute set 11 of 20: Maximum Velocity Sprints.]​Zane sprinted across the massive, empty floor of the warehouse, his muscles screaming. His lungs were burning, but the agony was muted by a single, terrifying thought: If I fail this, the Scions will win, and I will cease to exist.​He ran faster, not using divine speed, but using Iron Fist (Lv. 1) to precisely optimize his running form, translating every ounce of effort into forward propulsion. He pushed hi

Zane emerged from the sewer tunnels an hour later, shedding his ruined, debris-caked suit near a secluded storm drain. He walked toward the Sanctuary, the Void Fragment now fully absorbed and integrated into his core. The pain was gone, replaced by a cold, absolute sense of control.​[Host: Zane (Ares)]​[Core Power: 99% (Stable).]​[Mortal Shell Integrity: 85% (Recovery Protocol Complete).]​[Acquired Skills: Temporal Shift (Lv. 2); Divine Code (Lv. 1); Iron Fist (Lv. 1); Basic Surveillance (Lv. 1).]​The 99% power level was a revelation. He didn't just feel stronger; he felt correct. The limits of the mortal shell were still there, but now they felt like sturdy, well-maintained armor instead of a fragile cage. The trauma of the heist had strengthened his vessel.​He activated Temporal Shift (Lv. 2). The world didn't just give him predictive data; the entire environment subtly slowed down around him. He could perceive the flicker of a fluorescent bulb, the minute vibrations of the co