The sterile, white walls of the Ares Combat Academy's training simulation room hummed with a low, oppressive energy.
Michael Azazel tasted blood in his mouth, a coppery taste that was all too familiar.
For three years, this academy, a place meant to create warriors, had been nothing more than a prison for him.
His nickname "Immortal Cockroach wasn't meant as a compliment and that was due to his only awakened ability, an F-Rank Regeneration talent.
It offered just enough healing to ensure he survived beatings that would put others in the medical bay for weeks, but it provided no offensive power, no burst of speed, no tactical advantage.
It just made him a little harder to kill, a durable punching bag. Compounded by his rock-bottom genetic energy affinity, he had remained stuck as a Rank 1 Super Soldier, a bottom-feeder in a school teeming with sharks.
Today, the sharks were circling.
Caleb Thorne, a Rank 2 Super Soldier with a sneer permanently etched onto his handsome face, stood over him.
"Still alive eh?" Caleb mocked, his two lackeys, Ben and Leo, snickering behind him. "You know, I'm almost impressed. Any other F-Rank trash would have been broken by now."
Michael pushed himself up on one elbow, his standard-issue combat suit torn and sparking. The internal diagnostics flashed red.
However, Michael didn't answer, knowing that any word he spoke would only earn him another blow.
Caleb's was instantly annoyed. "Not gonna talk today, huh? Fine."
He lashed out with a kick, his boot connecting squarely with Michael's ribs.
The impact was loud. A sickening crunch echoed in the room as bone gave way. Pain, white-hot and blinding, exploded in Michael's chest.
He gasped, but no air came. The world swam in a dizzying haze as he collapsed back onto the cold, metallic floor.
His F-Rank regeneration tried its best, a pathetic trickle of warmth attempting to knit his shattered bones, but it was like trying to put out a forest fire with a water pistol.
Ben and Leo moved in, their faces alight with sadistic glee. They began to stomp and kick, their blows raining down on his already broken body.
Michael curled into a ball, his arms instinctively shielding his head.
Each impact was a fresh wave of agony. He felt his vision dimming, the hum of the training room fading into a distant buzz.
It was in that silent, black void, that it happened. A sound, crisp and impossibly clear, echoed in his mind.
`[Critically low life signs detected. Host is on the verge of soul-death.]`
`[System activation conditions met.]`
`[10,000x Cultivation Multiplier System activated. Binding to host soul...]`
`[Binding complete. Welcome, Host.]`
Michael's consciousness flickered. 'Eh? Was this a hallucination? A final, desperate dream concocted by a dying brain? He had heard stories of miraculous awakenings, of latent S-Rank talents erupting in moments of crisis, but his own potential had been measured and dismissed long ago. He was F-Rank. He was trash.
Yet, a sleek, translucent blue panel of light appeared in his mind.
`[System Function: 10,000x Multiplier]`
`[Description: Any action related to cultivation, from energy absorption to skill comprehension, will be amplified by ten thousand times.]`
The words were simple, but their meaning was reality-shattering. Desperate, clinging to this sliver of hope, Michael did the only thing he could. His body was broken, but his mind, though fading, still remembered the basics.
He unconsciously began to cycle the academy's most fundamental technique, the "Basic Energy Circulation Art", a simple mental exercise designed to absorb ambient genetic energy and restore a sliver of stamina.
Normally, the technique would draw in a gentle, almost unnoticeable trickle of energy from the surroundings. For Michael, it was usually less than a trickle—a single, lonely drop.
But now, the moment he initiated the circulation, the 10,000x multiplier kicked in.
The drop became a flood. The trickle became a tsunami.
"BOOM!"
A tidal wave of raw, purified genetic energy, a rush of power unlike anything he had ever imagined, slammed into his body. It was not a gentle stream; it was a violent, raging river that surged through his veins like a tide!
He could feel it, see it in his mind's eye, as the brilliant energy scoured every impurity from his body. It felt like he was being torn apart and remade all at once.
For three long years, his progress had been stopped by a wall, the barrier to Rank 2. It was a metaphysical dam within his genetic code, a crystalline shell that had seemed unbreakable.
Now, the tsunami of energy crashed against it.
But the shocking thing was that there was no rebound this time!
"Crack!"
The barrier instantly shattered to pieces!
The sound was like a thunderclap within his body, as the barrier shattered into a million glittering shards.
The dam was broken.
The torrent of energy, no longer contained, exploded outwards.
It flooded every part of his being, saturating his very cells. His muscle fibers, his bones, his organs—they all drank greedily from this endless river of power.
He could feel himself becoming stronger, more durable, as the energy reforged him from the inside out. His F-Rank regeneration, now supercharged by this immense fuel source, went into overdrive. His broken ribs mended, his internal bleeding stopped, and the deep bruises across his body faded as if they were never there.
He felt the pain of his injuries vanish, replaced by an intoxicating sensation of pure, unadulterated power. It was a feeling of rebirth.
`[Congratulations, Host! You have successfully broken through to become a Rank 2 Super Soldier!]`