Zero was quiet.
Not empty—quiet.
Aira felt it the moment she left Recruitment Hall Three and entered the night-lit avenues of Neon Eden. The city was alive as always, its systems humming beneath layers of steel and light, yet her own presence no longer pushed against it the way it had before. There was no friction now, no sense of overwhelming density pressing outward from her existence.
It was like standing at the edge of a blade instead of its weight.
Level Zero.
She rolled the concept around in her mind as she walked, silver moon hair swaying gently against her back, each step measured and unhurried. Neon Eden's artificial night cast long shadows across the elevated paths, and the moon's pale glow followed her, reflecting faintly off her refined skin in soft glimmers that turned heads without her noticing.
She was not weak.
She knew that.
But she was empty of accumulation.
And that meant something important.
"…System," she said quietly as she crossed into a lower combat district, one designated for live training and controlled extermination missions. "What qualifies as level gain now?"
> Experience accumulation remains combat-based, the system replied.
However, thresholds have been recalibrated.
Initial levels will require minimal experience to establish baseline scaling.
"So the first step is the easiest," Aira murmured.
> Correct.
The first step always is.
She smiled faintly.
Neon Eden's lower combat districts were never silent. Even at night-cycle, the hum of energy barriers, training drones, and system-managed hazards filled the air. These zones were designed to allow new recruits and low-rank operatives to gain experience without risking catastrophic loss.
Most people avoided them after evolution.
Aira entered one deliberately.
The gate recognized her instantly and slid open, its sensors flickering uncertainly as her data registered Level Zero and Rank Two simultaneously. The contradiction was not something the system governing the district liked—but it allowed her entry regardless.
Inside, the environment shifted.
The ground was layered metal and reinforced stone, scarred by countless previous engagements. Broken structures rose in uneven clusters, providing cover and verticality. Dim lights embedded in the terrain simulated twilight conditions, forcing combatants to rely on awareness rather than sight alone.
Aira stopped at the edge of the field.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, she did nothing.
Then she exhaled and stepped forward.
The field reacted.
Not violently.
But attentively.
Her presence triggered dormant protocols. The system managing the district began to populate threats—simple ones, low-level constructs meant to challenge beginners.
Drones emerged from hidden alcoves.
They were crude compared to what she had faced before—humanoid frames of dull alloy, single-core processors humming weakly in their chests, optical sensors glowing a muted red. Their movements were jerky, imperfect, and inefficient.
Five of them.
Then ten.
Then twenty.
The system was overcompensating.
"…They think I'm a beginner," Aira murmured.
> They do not account for rank-based authority, the system replied.
Would you like me to adjust the difficulty?
"No," she said calmly. "Let them come."
The drones detected her and advanced.
Metal feet struck the ground in uneven rhythm as they raised integrated weapons—blades, low-output cannons, shock emitters. Their targeting systems locked onto her instantly.
Aira did not draw her sword.
She did not need to.
She took a single step forward.
The nearest drone swung.
Aira shifted her weight slightly to the side, the motion so small it barely registered visually. The blade passed through empty air where she had been a fraction of a second earlier.
She raised her hand.
"Astral Severance."
She did not slash.
She defined.
The authority behind the skill activated, severing the drone's connection to its core logic. It froze mid-motion, then collapsed, lifeless, its body clattering against the ground.
The other drones reacted immediately, adjusting their approach vectors, firing projectiles and rushing her from multiple angles.
Aira moved.
She stepped between attacks, her movements precise, efficient, almost serene. Every shift placed her exactly where danger was not. Every motion conserved energy.
She spoke again.
"Cosmic Step."
Space folded.
She vanished from one position and reappeared behind three drones, her timing perfect. Before they could turn—
"Void-Tide Dance."
To an observer, it would have looked beautiful.
A fluid turn.
A graceful pivot.
A series of movements more like choreography than combat.
But the drones collapsed one by one, their cores destabilized, systems unraveling as divine-cosmic authority tore through them with elegant inevitability.
Silence returned.
Aira stood alone amid fallen metal.
She felt it then.
A faint warmth in her core.
A subtle shift.
> Experience accumulated, the system announced.
Level increase detected.
The interface appeared without prompting.
---
Level: 1 / 1000
---
Aira smiled.
"One," she said softly.
It felt… right.
Not overwhelming.
Not dramatic.
Just progress.
She did not linger.
The district's system reacted to her success by deploying additional threats—more drones, slightly more advanced this time. Their movements were smoother. Their weapons more refined.
Good.
Aira welcomed them.
She fought without haste, without waste. Every skill she used evolved slightly with each application, refining execution rather than expanding output. She paid attention to timing, positioning, and intent—each movement a lesson, each kill a calibration.
Level Two came quietly.
Then Level Three.
Each increase was subtle, but Aira felt the layering effect—the way each level settled neatly atop the last without distortion. This was what the reset had been for.
Sustainable growth.
By the time she reached Level Five, the district's system hesitated.
The drones paused longer between deployments. The threat parameters recalculated again and again, struggling to reconcile her efficiency with her low displayed level.
Aira stopped and looked up at the artificial sky.
"…Status."
The interface responded.
---
Level: 5 / 1000
Rank: Two
Condition: Optimal
---
She dismissed it.
Five levels.
Not impressive to most.
But to her, it was confirmation.
The path was open.
She turned toward the far end of the district, where heavier constructs were stored—units meant for coordinated squads, not solo beginners.
Her silver moon hair caught the light as she walked, glimmering softly with every step.
"…System," she said, voice calm and certain. "Mark this area as my primary training zone."
> Request acknowledged, the system replied.
However, continued presence will attract higher-tier threats.
"That's fine," Aira said. "I'm not in a hurry."
She stepped forward, deeper into the field.
Behind her, the fallen drones lay silent.
Ahead of her, the system prepared something new.
Zero had passed.
The first steps had been taken.
And Aira intended to keep walking—level by level—until the war itself was forced to acknowledge her ascent.