[Chapter 2: The Rigged Game, Empty Portal] Seven felt like his chest was going to explode. The unfairness of it all was like a physical weight, it was heavier than the building that had collapsed on him back in his world. For a long while He stared at the being behind the crystal desk, with his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. Grrr. The absurd injustice of the situation was overwhelming. "A punishment?" Seven’s voice cracked with tears. "I died saving people! I didn't ask to break your precious 'balance.' I just did what any decent person would do. And you’re telling me I get zero powers? No system? And No hidden potential?" The godlike being didn't even blink. He just leaned forward, the galaxies in his eyes were spinning with a cold, and metallic light. Hummm. The godly entity seemed to enjoy Seven's distress. "It’s worse than that, actually," the being said, while tapping a translucent pen against the desk. Tack. Tack. "I’m not just leaving you without a Di

[Chapter 4: The Broken Gate, Room Núll 7] The hyper-hover school bus screamed through the air, its engines making a high-pitched whirrr sound. Outside the windows, the skyscrapers of Hope City blurred into silver streaks. Cultivators flew past while standing on flying swords. Seven sat near the back, his thumb rapidly swiping across the holographic display of his cam-brace. The Galactic news was a bit ugly. Huge headlines flickered in red: ALIEN SWARM BREACHES SECTOR 4 and CULTIVATOR PLANET K-9 FALLS TO THE HIVE. Seven stared at a grainy video of a massive insect-like ship swallowing a moon. He lived on Planet Hig17, a boring, and peaceful rock in the middle of human space overworld. It was considered one of the most safest places to live. No aliens, no war, just school, training and boring lives. "Yo, Seven! Why are you even on the bus?" Seven didn't bother to look up. He knew that voice. It was Brock, a guy who had just awakened a 'Stone Skin' divine essence. He was a bully t

[Chapter 6: The Abnormal Student, Falling Sky] Seven sat on the edge of his bed in the ore-walled room, while staring intensely at the black coin. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing it until his skin turned white. Nnngh. He poked the hole in the center of the coin. He shook it next to his ear. Clink. Nothing happened. "What did you do with it?" he muttered, his voice sounding hollow. "That was a Spirit Armament. My first one. And you just... swallowed it." He felt a deep frustration boiling in his gut. In this world, an armament was everything. it could be a sword, a shield, or even a pair of boots that made you jump higher. Having it stolen by his own necklace was a cruel joke. He checked his golden status screen again, but under 'Spirit Armament,' it still said 'None.' The black coin was being stubborn. He didn't have much time to solve the mystery. The rules were strict: all students had to return to the portal station after four hours. He took a few minute

[Chapter 8: The Principal’s Summon] Seven staggered through the narrow, and trash-filled alleyways, which was behind the main street. Huff... wheeze... cough. Every muscle in his body felt like it was being poked by a very hot needles. His vision kept blurring, and turning the world into a messy smudge of grey and neon. He leaned his shoulder against a cold brick wall and almost slid down into the dirt. Thud. "I need to... get back to the bus," he whispered to himself, his voice cracking. He looked more like a ghost in black armor. With a final, and desperate thought, he willed the armor to go away. Vrummm. The black metal didn't just fall off; it dissolved into a fine, and swirling purple-black dust. The dust danced in the air for a second before separating into two parts one was shadow purple while the other was plain black with some silver or worth dust in it. And the shadow purple dust was being sucked back into the center of the black coin that was hanging from his neck. Slu

% [Chapter 10: The Blood Glitch, Infinite Train] The private testing room in the Physical Assessment Center was quiet, except for the sound of Seven’s heavy breathing and the low hum of the ventilation. Seven stood before the black leather punching drum, frustration radiating off him like heat. He had tried everything. He had yelled keywords, posed like a hero, and whispered to the coin. But the black metal hanging from his neck remained dormant, looking like a piece of rusty junk. "You worked when I was dying," Seven muttered, glaring at the coin. "Why won't you work now?" He felt foolish. He had spent his last 50 credits to stand in a room and yell at a necklace. "Fine. If you won't activate, I'll just rely on my own strength." He didn't bother wrapping his hands. Fueled by annoyance, he pulled his fist back. He ignored his stance. He ignored the proper breathing techniques. He just threw a punch with raw, unrefined anger. BAM! The drum shook violently. BAM! BAM!