A/N: Note that I am using AI to modify the lines. I didn't edit much. But I will do so later. For now, I don't have enough time. The plot and the conversation are all written by me. A little adjustment from AI. Nothing much. Hope you enjoy it.
When I finally edit the chapter, I will remove the 'A/N'
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In a desolate land where the ground was a jagged sea of thin, towering spikes, silence reigned. The air was still, heavy—almost suffocating. Above this bleak landscape, something stirred. A ripple tore through the sky, a spiral of distorted light twisting into form.
A portal materialized, crackling with golden threads of energy.
Then, he fell.
Crimson trench coat billowing behind him, the figure descended from the portal like a drop of blood against gray skies. Beneath the coat, he wore a black shirt tucked cleanly under a tie etched with subtle red patterns. His black slacks whipped with the wind as he plummeted toward the forest of death below.
His hair, unruly yet somehow deliberate, framed his face. The back cascaded just past his shoulders, while the front hung longer, obscuring part of his sharp, composed expression.
There was no fear in his eyes—only confusion.
'This place was supposed to be secure. What the hell is this?'
Thin spikes rushed toward him, like silent assassins waiting for impact.
Just as he began shifting his body to maneuver mid-air, everything froze.
Time stopped.
The world dimmed, and all motion ceased. Even the dust swirling near the tips of the spikes hung frozen in place.
A soft chime echoed, and before him appeared a glowing golden panel suspended in the air.
[Do you want to live?]
"…What?"
'This smells like those System clichés from novels… but what is this, really?'
He narrowed his eyes, scanning the panel. A hint of amusement flickered across his face.
'Let's play along for now.'
"Yes," he said.
Immediately, the panel vanished, replaced by an enormous scroll of golden light that unfurled endlessly across the air, its size almost absurd.
[Then sign this contract.]
It hovered in place, glowing with an ominous calm.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
'Even reading this thing would take months. Is this a joke?'
[You have 10 seconds to decide. After that, time will resume.]
"…What."
His eyes flicked over the glowing lines of law embedded into the contract.
'Wait... these aren't just magical glyphs. They're built on Universal Laws—refined ones. Not like the wild, chaotic forces found in nature. Someone—or something—designed this with precision.'
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
'Luckily, I've become more proficient with my powers. Even though I am far from Shi, I think I've honed myself enough to withstand and even manipulate such constructs. These docile laws may bind others, but they won't bind me.'
"I agree," he said, his voice calm and resolute.
The contract burned with brilliance, and then shattered into fragments of light that spiraled toward him—absorbing into his body like falling stars.
A flash of gold enveloped him.
And he was gone.
The golden light faded.
Wind brushed against his coat.
He stood at the edge of a high cliff, overlooking a vast abyss. The sky was cast in hues of deep violet and smoky gold, as if the world was caught between dusk and dawn. Across the chasm, shrouded in a strange haze, lay another cliff—identical in shape and distance, but eerily still.
He tilted his head.
No spikes. No imminent death. Just silence.
"…Huh."
He narrowed his eyes. The air here… it vibrated. Not like sound or heat. But something deeper. Something foundational.
'That contract... actually rewrote my position in reality.'
He crossed his arms, letting his thoughts roll.
'I thought control over the Universal Laws was theoretical. Abstract. But someone is doing it with precision. No fluctuation, no decay. This isn't manipulation… it's orchestration.'
Then it came.
A golden message appeared midair again—unprompted, inevitable.
[Goal: Reach the other side.]
[Hint: What you see is the truth. What is truth is false. What is false is truth.]
"…Cryptic nonsense."
But he smirked. This was starting to get fun.
'Alright. Let's assume perception here is deceiving. Or, more dangerously… it's honest to a fault. Meaning my senses may be showing truth, but truth here isn't bound to reality. Which means… a trap.'
He stepped forward.
And like a mirage sharpening into form, a bridge appeared—thin, stone-like, stretching across the void.
He eyed it warily.
No guardrails. No visible support.
He took a step.
Then another.
Halfway across, something shifted.
The world pulsed.
His foot pressed against the bridge, and instead of contact—he phased through it.
"—!"
He fell.
Below, the spikes returned, looming like grim sentinels of failure. As he fell, time slowed—not from external interference, but from instinct.
And he sensed it.
The spikes weren't just physical. They radiated something deeper—fragments of temporal law, encoded into their very structure. Passive, sleeping… but familiar.
It was a form of the laws of time.
Not chaotic, not natural—but structured, dormant… waiting.
He didn't panic.
Instead, he extended his awareness—not through fear or desperation, but with calm precision. And reality responded. He reached into the structure beneath existence—not energy, not matter, but Law itself. This wasn't instinct. This wasn't chance. It was control.
The same ability he had wielded before—the power to bend reality, to manipulate or create the very Laws that governed the universe.
He focused on the fragments of temporal law embedded within the spikes. Then, with deliberate will, he activated them.
The moment his will brushed against the slumbering law in the spike below—it stirred. Not violently, not reactively. Like it recognized him. Like it obeyed.
Time bent.
Not for the world. For him.
Reality pulled him back—not with a jolt, but like a gentle current—and the world rewound. The sensation of falling vanished. The spikes faded from below.
And he was once again standing at the beginning of the bridge.
No fanfare. No golden light.
Just... reset.
He stood still, watching the void ahead. Same sky. Same fake stone bridge now shimmering slightly, like it was laughing at him.
The message still floated:
[Hint: What you see is the truth. What is truth is false. What is false is truth.]
He stared at it again.
Then sighed.
"…Yeah. Still nonsense."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
'No point solving riddles when I already have simpler methods.'
A faint chuckle escaped him.
'Damn. It's been so long, I nearly forgot the obvious.'
He straightened his coat, then spread his stance slightly. Calm breath in. Focus out.
And there it was.
That familiar thrum—like a heartbeat beneath his skin.
Ki.
A force not born of the universe, but from within. Every living being possessed it, though few ever sensed it—fewer still mastered it. It was pure energy: born of life, shaped by will, refined through discipline. Where magic bent external forces and science obeyed logic, ki was the power of will, made real.
Long before he was a scientist, he had lived by it.
He'd trained in temples and warzones. Fought in the Great Collapse. Learned to harden his body beyond steel, to move faster than thought, to push the limits of life itself.
He had been a Grandmaster. A force of nature.
Then he chose a different path.
A quieter one. Lab coats instead of armor. Equations instead of combat.
But some things… don't fade.
His aura stirred—golden-white ki flaring quietly around him. Controlled. Focused. No explosions. No theatrics.
Just precision.
He bent his knees and lifted gently into the air, rising above the bridge. The wind rushed past him, cool and clear, and the fake path beneath offered no resistance.
He didn't look down.
He didn't need to.
With silent control, he flew across the abyss, coat-trailing like a banner behind him.
And landed.
Softly. Cleanly.
The moment his boots touched the stone of the opposite cliff, the bridge behind him dissolved.
Gone.
As if it had never been real.
A new message formed in the air before him:
[You passed]
[But Beware! For you have passed the trial with some underhanded means]
He smirked.
"Looks like you've got some balls of steel, daring to mess with me over trials with no rules."
[...]