Point of View: Sylvanas
We were now in the Guardian's second class.
We stood at the peak of a mountain.
Or at least… that was what it looked like.
The wind blew fiercely, clouds floated beneath our feet, and the horizon stretched endlessly into the distance. But I knew it was an illusion. The Guardian seemed to enjoy creating imposing landscapes for his lessons.
We stood in silence when he finally began to speak.
"Today we will address a fundamental point."
He paused deliberately.
"Arts."
His gaze swept across each of us.
"You have already seen them in action. Now you will understand what they truly mean."
He snapped his fingers.
Two humanoid figures appeared before us.
"An orc. An elf. Get used to these races. In the future, you may face them."
I observed them carefully.
Both were Ascended Level 1 (Peak).
"Now… watch."
The orc roared and charged with a one-handed axe. The elf answered with a longsword, moving with elegant precision.
Their strength was evenly matched.
"In the universe," the Guardian explained, "Ascended beings do not rely solely on their level. They fight using arts."
Suddenly, a white circle appeared beneath the orc's feet.
Another beneath the elf's.
Their speed and strength increased instantly.
The impact of every strike made the air tremble.
"One circle represents an art."
We watched as they exchanged attacks with greater intensity.
"The number of arts one can learn is limited from birth. We call this talent."
He pointed at the elf.
"One circle is normal talent."
He looked at us calmly.
"Every living being possesses at least one."
A second circle appeared beneath the elf's feet.
Now his movements were faster. Cleaner.
The battle began to tilt in his favor.
"Two arts. That is considered talented. Within the same level, it represents the maximum standard combat power."
The scene reset.
Now the elf remained Level 1 with two arts.
The orc became Level 2… with no arts.
They fought again.
The battle was evenly matched.
"As you can see, talent can compensate for a difference of one level."
The orc activated a circle.
The pressure shifted.
He began to dominate.
"Defeating someone of a higher level is extremely difficult," the Guardian continued, "but not impossible."
The elf activated a third circle.
The air around him distorted slightly.
The fight returned to balance.
"Three arts. This is what we call a genius."
I could feel the difference.
It was overwhelming.
The orc activated a second circle.
He regained the advantage.
"Cultivation also matters. Level is still relevant."
Then the elf activated a fourth circle.
An invisible pressure descended upon the mountain.
The battle balanced again, despite the orc having a higher level and two arts.
"Four arts. This is known as a saint."
The Guardian looked at us with an expression that was difficult to read.
"What a pity. If you had been born in another era… you might have reached this."
His words were like a cold blade.
Another era?
A limit from birth?
The scene reset once more.
Now the elf was Level 1 with four arts.
The orc was Level 3 with none.
The battle…
Was equal.
Then a circle appeared beneath the orc.
The pressure changed violently.
"Pay attention," the Guardian said in a deep voice. "This is a legendary being."
Another circle appeared beneath the elf.
Five.
Five circles shining simultaneously.
The air split apart with every clash.
The elf, Level 1 with five arts…
Matched a Level 3 opponent.
Two levels higher.
I felt my breathing grow heavier.
That wasn't simply talent.
It was monstrous.
The Guardian watched us.
"That is the goal of the Prometheus Project."
Silence.
"To turn you… into legendary beings."
Rangar was the first to speak. His voice trembled, but not with fear.
"Is it really possible to reach that power?"
We all looked at him.
The Guardian answered without hesitation.
"Yes. It is possible."
A pause.
"But it will be dangerous. The process may cost you your lives."
Rangar smiled.
A wild smile.
"I don't care if I die, Guardian. I will reach that power… or die trying."
There was no doubt in his voice.
And deep down…
I felt the same.
Lysara and Xyra were still watching the battle with absolute intensity.
The Guardian continued.
"Each art can be improved up to three times. The System will assist you in that process."
He looked at us seriously.
"Before every ascension, you must maximize your arts. That will be the requirement."
A growing tension filled the air.
"You are talented," he added. "But by birth, you can only possess two arts."
The silence was heavy.
Two.
After seeing five.
The abyss between them was unbearable.
But then I understood.
If the Prometheus Project succeeded…
We would break that limit.
And when that happened…
We would not be mere conquerors of planets.
We would become something more.
Something the universe would remember.