The morning air was colder than usual, laced with the metallic tang of distant storms. Ethan stood alone atop the abandoned clocktower, his eyes tracing the flow of students below. The city was a puzzle. Layers of power, influence, and ambition—most never noticed them. But he did. He was beginning to see the gears turn.
Since Vincent's test, Ethan had become a name murmured in shadows. The freshman with a sharp tongue and sharper mind. Some thought him lucky. Others suspected ruthlessness. But only Ethan knew the truth—this was just the beginning.
He hadn't earned any real power yet. Only a sliver of recognition. But in a system built on legacy and wealth, even that was rare.
---
Back in his dorm, Ethan examined the black "Protocol" card again. No return address. No signature. Just one word and a warning: "You've been noticed. Continue to rise. Or be consumed."
It wasn't a threat. It was a challenge.
He pinned it above his desk, next to his growing network board.
His latest project? The university's internal communication system.
---
The school used a closed digital ecosystem, one designed for security—messages between professors, clubs, administrators. Ethan, using a scavenged tablet and lines of code he wrote by hand, found an unpatched vulnerability in its calendar-sharing API.
He didn't use it. Not yet.
Instead, he documented it, cross-verified it, and stored it offline.
Information was power. But leverage—that was priceless.
---
Vincent tested him again two weeks later.
"There's an election coming up," he said over coffee. "Student Council President. The frontrunner is a legacy student. Felix Armitage. Obnoxiously perfect. We need to cut him down a peg."
Ethan sipped the bitter brew. "What's your angle?"
"I don't want the presidency. But I don't want him to have it either."
Ethan smiled. "A kingmaker, then."
Vincent tilted his head. "And you?"
"I'm the one who builds the throne."
---
Felix was everything Ethan wasn't—handsome, tall, athletic, articulate. He gave speeches that made girls swoon and teachers nod. But beneath the charm was arrogance. He believed in hierarchy. That the elite were born to rule.
Ethan shadowed him discreetly. Memorized his schedule. Attended his rallies. Took notes.
He noticed Felix used the same photographer at every event. A sophomore named Liana Cho. She edited his photos before posting—removing blemishes, adjusting contrast to make him more statuesque.
So Ethan made his move.
He approached Liana with a simple offer.
"Ever been published?"
She blinked. "No."
"I can change that. But I need one unedited set of Felix's photos. Full resolution."
She hesitated. "Why?"
"Because image is illusion. And I want the truth."
---
Three days later, a viral post appeared on the student forum. Side-by-side photos of Felix: real vs edited. The difference was staggering.
The caption read:
> "Do you know the face behind your future president? Or just the filter?"
Felix's team scrambled. The story was picked up by campus news. His approval ratings dipped. Liana disappeared—transferred to another university two weeks later. Ethan didn't ask questions.
Vincent smiled when they met next.
"You don't pull punches."
"I prefer precision cuts."
Vincent tossed him a key.
"What's this?"
"Access to the Archives. Basement level. Not even seniors go there."
"Why me?"
"Because you're dangerous. And I like keeping danger close."
---
The Archives were ancient. Dusty shelves. Stacks of forgotten proposals, blueprints, student records from decades past.
Ethan spent hours there, combing through everything.
He found blueprints of the old university power grid.
Schematics of underground tunnels connecting buildings.
Obscure thesis papers written by past prodigies—some expelled, others vanished.
And a book.
Leather-bound. No title.
Inside were hand-drawn diagrams. Symbols. Notes written in cipher.
Ethan scanned a page.
> "Power is not inherited. It is constructed. Brick by brick, lie by lie, sacrifice by sacrifice."
---
That night, the voice returned.
> [Trait Developed: Analytical Insight]
[You are beginning to understand systems beyond the surface. Your eyes sharpen.]
No glowing aura. No explosion of strength. Just awareness. An edge.
Ethan began sleeping less. Eating less. Reading more.
He worked part-time at a tech repair shop to earn cash. Fixed broken phones. Recycled chips. Listened.
The owner, Mr. Chow, was a quiet man. One night he handed Ethan an envelope.
"I don't know what you're into," he said, "but this came with your name on it."
Inside: a blueprint. Not of the school.
Of a mansion.
Handwritten note: "Level Two unlocked. You've earned the map. Find the key."
No signature.
Ethan traced the address. It was in the old district, long abandoned.
---
He visited under moonlight.
The mansion was collapsed, overgrown. The gate rusted shut. He hopped the fence and entered through a broken window.
The inside was haunting. Graffiti. Water damage. But one room remained untouched.
A study.
Bookshelves. A shattered desk. And a vault built into the wall.
Ethan approached it.
A keypad. No numbers. Just four rotating runes.
He remembered the cipher in the book.
He turned the runes slowly.
Click.
The vault opened.
Inside: a single USB.
He took it.
Back in his room, he plugged it in carefully—offline.
Dozens of encrypted files. One decrypted.
> "Welcome, Candidate. Protocol recognizes your progress. Proceed to Initiation Phase."
---
Ethan stared at the screen.
Not a system. A society.
A hidden order behind the campus, and maybe beyond.
His heart pounded.
No cheats. No handed powers.
Only trials.
He smiled faintly.
This was his kind of game.