Aren stumbled out of the rift just as the jagged purple tear behind him folded in on itself. The air crackled once, then went still.
The rift had sealed with a soft thump, leaving only silence. Aren stood there, dust on his clothes, mana still buzzing faintly under his skin. His fingers closed around something cold and solid.
A key.
Black metal, simple design, faintly warm. It rested in his palm like it had been waiting for him. He slipped it into his pocket just as sirens screamed in the distance.
Within minutes, armored vehicles surrounded the area. Drones hovered. Uniformed personnel poured in with the efficiency of people who had done this a hundred times.
The Government Convent had arrived.
They took one look at the sealed space and scanned the residual mana. Heads nodded in relief.
"Rift confirmed closed."
"Mana levels stabilizing."
"No active hostiles detected."
Someone actually clapped.
"The boss must be dead," an officer said confidently.
Aren said nothing. Because the boss was very much alive. Only he knew the truth. He quietly slipped the key further into his pocket.
Ten minutes later, Aren sat on a folding chair under a temporary tent, facing three officials and a hovering recorder drone.
"State your name."
"Aren."
"Last name?"
"…Aren."
The woman with the tablet blinked. "You only have one name?"
"I didn't think I'd need two today."
The scarred man beside her pinched his nose.
"Fine. Aren. You were the last hunter to exit the rift. According to our scans, the rift boss has been neutralized. Explain how you defeated it."
Aren leaned back, thinking. "Well… I hit it."
"How many times?"
"Yes," Aren said simply.
The drone tilted, confused.
The third official leaned forward. "Don't joke. That boss was mid-depth. You were barely using skills."
"That's correct," Aren nodded. "I was conserving energy."
"For what?"
"For… emotional reasons."
Silence.
"Describe the fight," the woman said flatly.
Aren scratched his cheek. "Okay. Monsters attacked. I won. Then the boss appeared. Very big. Very ugly. We had a disagreement."
"What kind of disagreement?"
"He wanted to kill me. I disagreed."
The scarred man slammed the table. "HOW DID YOU KILL IT?"
"I didn't."
All three froze.
"…You didn't?"
"Nope."
"Then why is the rift closed?"
Aren shrugged. "Maybe it got tired."
"That is not how rifts work."
"Are you sure?" Aren said innocently. "Have you asked one?"
Another long silence.
Finally, the woman sighed. "We'll file this as a solo clear. You'll receive provisional credit."
"Nice," Aren said. "Do I get snacks?"
The scarred man pointed at him. "You're hiding something."
Aren stood, stretching. "Probably."
Behind him, everyone celebrated a victory that didn't exist.
The woman waved at two guards. "Take him to Tier Evaluation. We need an official reading before any further clearance."
"Tier evaluation?" Aren raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. We need to confirm your power level."
Aren smirked. C-tier. Nothing new there.
"Lead the way," he said.
The evaluation room was large and sterile. A platform hummed in the center.
"Step here. Standard procedure," an official said.
Aren walked on casually, folding his arms. Lights circled him; a drone hovered above.
The screen flashed:
Name: Aren
Tier: C
Power Type: Manifestation – Telekinesis
Aren leaned back. Exactly as expected.
The woman squinted. "C-tier…? But you cleared the rift alone?"
Aren shrugged. "It was mid-depth. Not exactly a monster party from hell. Just a few… persistent nuisances."
The scarred man groaned. "So a C-tier handled a mid-tier rift by himself?"
Aren grinned. "Yes. And somehow everyone thinks the boss is dead."
The woman clicked her tablet furiously. "We'll need full documentation. Power logs. Statements. Everything."
Aren's fingers brushed the key in his pocket. Some truths were better kept to himself.
Back in the command tent, officials argued:
"This doesn't make sense! C-tier clearance shouldn't be possible!"
"He walked out like he was going shopping!"
"Maybe he's hiding something…"
"Or maybe he's just a tactical genius!"
Aren, sitting outside, listened quietly. Dangerous… genius… tactical prodigy. Let them think what they want.
A faint vibration pulsed in his mind. A translucent screen shimmered before him:
[System Message: Manifestation Growth Guidance]
Current Tier: C
Target Tier: B → A
Recommended Progression Steps:
Tier C → B:
Focused combat training against progressively stronger opponents.
Refine telekinesis control with multi-object manipulation under pressure.
Experiment with force and speed scaling; push limits incrementally.
Complete optional "mini-challenges" for experience points—rare mobs, environmental hazards, simulated rifts.
Tier B → A:
Achieve mastery of telekinetic field control over extended range.
Combine offensive and defensive techniques seamlessly.
Develop advanced strategies against a single powerful entity.
Discover latent Manifestation abilities; unlock "fragment synergy" for exponential growth.
Progress Milestones:
C → B: Required skill and experience threshold must be met.
B → A: Mastery of telekinesis control and advanced techniques required.
Warning: Attempting to bypass recommended training may result in severe injury or system instability.
Note: The key in your possession is linked to a sealed rift. Reopening it is not recommended until Target Tier A is reached.
Aren smiled faintly. Step by step. No shortcuts. Let's do this.
Aren had barely taken a few steps away from the Convent's temporary base when the faint whir of an engine stopped him. A sleek black car rolled to a smooth stop nearby, its polished surface reflecting the fading sunlight.
A man stepped out. Not just any man.
Tall, imposing, with sharp features that seemed carved to command attention. His presence alone made the air feel heavier, as if the world itself acknowledged his authority. Hunters nearby instinctively straightened, some even lowering their heads.
Aren raised an eyebrow.
"Are you Aren?" the man asked, voice calm but carrying the weight of someone used to being obeyed.
"That's me," Aren said cautiously.
The man smiled faintly, and for a moment, it was almost unnerving—like he knew far more than he should.
"I'm Kael Veyran," he said, voice smooth, commanding. "S-tier hunter. Number one in the country. Known for clearing rifts solo that would take an entire squad of B-tiers to handle."
Aren blinked. Number one in the country? Solo rift clearings? Yeah… I've definitely heard the legends.
Kael's eyes scanned him quickly, assessing. "I've been watching your recent exploits. C-tier, clearing a mid-depth rift alone. Impressive… but insufficient for what I have in mind."
Aren smirked. "Insufficient? You're saying a C-tier can't handle a mid-depth rift?"
Kael chuckled softly, a sound that made even the birds nearby pause. "I'm saying a C-tier is far below the threshold I require for my operations. But you… you have potential."
He stepped closer, the faint hum of power rolling off him like a storm waiting to break. Even without activating any skills, his aura radiated strength. People a few meters away instinctively gave him space.
"I want to hire you," Kael said simply. "Not as a casual hunter, not as a temp. I want you in my personal team—for missions that will push you beyond your current tier, and maybe… just maybe… allow you to reach the heights you're meant for."
Aren studied him, intrigued. "And what exactly do these missions involve?"
Kael's eyes gleamed, sharp and calculating. "Challenges you won't find anywhere else. Rifts, corrupted zones, high-tier monsters… things that even S-tier hunters rarely attempt. Survive them, and you'll grow faster than any system could measure. Fail, and…" He let the words hang. Fail, and die.
Aren smirked. "Sounds… fun."
Kael nodded once, as if that was exactly the answer he expected. "Good. I leave you time to decide. But know this—opportunity like this doesn't wait."
With that, Kael turned and walked back to his car, aura still rolling off him in waves. The car door shut, and in seconds, he was gone, leaving behind only the echo of power and reputation.
Aren's fingers brushed the key in his pocket. Step by step. C to B… B to A… And maybe with him, a little faster.
He let out a small, amused sigh. "Well, this just got interesting."
Aren found a quiet rooftop a few blocks away, the city stretching below him like a grid of lights and shadows. He sat cross-legged, key in hand, and let his thoughts drift.
C-tier… mid-depth rift cleared… system guidance…
And now Kael Veyran. S-tier. Number one hunter in the country. Someone who could probably tear through an entire high-tier rift alone.
If I join him… I'll have the chance to actually grow. Fast.
Aren's fingers brushed the key again. He could feel the faint pulse, a reminder of unfinished business. The rift boss was still alive, waiting, and he wouldn't face it until he was ready.
Maybe Kael is the shortcut I didn't know I needed.
He exhaled, letting the wind brush his hair. "Alright… step one. Train."
With a flick of his hand, he sent a small brick tumbling across the rooftop. Normally, simple manipulation like this would be trivial. But today, he added layers. He forced it to spin mid-air, weave between imaginary obstacles, then stop perfectly on a drawn target line.
Okay… not bad.
Next, he tried multiple objects—three bottles, a chair, and a heavy metal pipe. Each levitated, danced, and moved according to his precise commands. He felt the strain in his arms, in his concentration—but it was the kind of strain that promised growth.
Multi-object control… check. Force scaling… starting to feel it. Range… could push further.
Aren grinned. The city below didn't know it yet, but he was starting the climb. Step by step, object by object, he was pushing toward B-tier.
And somewhere deep in his mind, the key pulsed again, faint but insistent—a reminder that the rift boss wasn't going anywhere, but neither was he.
Fifteen steps to B, twenty more to A… and then I'll come back for you.
He paused, letting his telekinesis suspend a heavy pipe mid-air. A single drop of sweat slid down his temple. Let's make this fun.
And with that, Aren began the first real steps of his journey.
After testing his telekinesis, Aren leaned back against the rooftop ledge and smirked. Alright, telekinesis is fine… but what about my body? Gotta make sure I can handle physical strain too.
He dropped into a push-up position, chest to the concrete, muscles tensing. Piece of cake, he thought. After all, he had handled that mid-depth rift solo. How hard could a few push-ups be?
He lowered himself… and then froze.
Nothing. He couldn't lift himself back up. Not one push-up.
Aren blinked. …Wait, what?
He tried again. Same result. His arms trembled violently, barely supporting his own weight. His face hit the ground with a soft thud.
Okay, that's… unexpected.
He sat up, rubbing his arms, staring at the rooftop like it had personally betrayed him. So, C-tier for telekinesis, huh… but apparently F-tier for basic strength.
A small laugh escaped him, half frustration, half amusement. "Well… this is going to be interesting."
He shook his head. No shortcuts. I can manipulate multiple objects mid-air, stop monsters, even control a rift's remnants… but can't do a single push-up. Nice.
Aren wiped the sweat from his brow, standing up. Alright. Plan B. Focus on telekinesis for now. Physical training comes later. And trust me… I'll figure it out.
He glanced at the city skyline, determination sharpening in his eyes. Overconfidence… lesson one. Noted.
With a faint smirk, he flexed his fingers, ready to push the limits of his Manifestation again.
Aren lay flat on the rooftop, chest pressed to the concrete, trying—and failing—to push himself up. His arms shook violently, and a groan escaped his lips.
How is this even possible…? he thought. I beat a mid-depth rift, but I can't do one push-up?
As he struggled, a memory flickered through his mind—his part-time job back in the city. Delivering packages, lifting crates, hauling heavy boxes day in and day out. How many times had he cursed under his breath while trying to carry something just a little too heavy?
And now… he muttered, flattening his face against the concrete again, all that "training" didn't make me any stronger.
He could almost hear the sarcastic voice of his old manager: "You call that lifting? You're weaker than a kitten on Monday morning!"
Aren groaned. "Yeah… yeah, Monday kittens, very funny."
He tried again to push himself up. Trembling, he barely moved an inch before collapsing. Okay… so apparently rift fighting doesn't count as strength training.
He rolled onto his back, staring at the sky. All those hours at the part-time job… and for what? To realize I'm still a noodle when it comes to push-ups?
A small laugh escaped him. "Well… can't say I didn't warn myself. Overconfidence… always bites back."
He sat up slowly, rubbing his arms. Fine. Physical strength comes later. For now… telekinesis it is. At least I can control objects without breaking a sweat.
Aren stood, letting the rooftop breeze cool his face. The key in his pocket pulsed faintly, reminding him of the bigger challenges ahead.
Step by step. One object at a time… and maybe someday one push-up.