The golden wave of destruction raced toward Magi's back. The referee's alarm echoed uselessly across the arena, too late to stop what was coming. Spectators rose from their seats, some covering their eyes, others unable to look away from the impending tragedy.

  Layla's scream hung in the air. Jax froze mid-step. Marc and Eli's faces drained of color.

  The superheated wave was meters away, then centimeters. The air itself distorting from the raw energy.

  Magi turned, unhurried.

  His expression remained mild as he raised his hand, palm out. The deadly golden light washed over him, illuminating his unremarkable features. For a heartbeat, his silhouette was visible within the blinding flash... a lone figure standing against a tide of destruction.

  Then the light vanished. Completely. Utterly. As if it had never existed.

  Magi stood unharmed, his right hand extended, his hoodie barely ruffled.

  The silence that followed was absolute. Every eye in the arena fixed on him, mouths open, bodies frozen mid-motion. Even the air seemed to still.

  Keller staggered back, his sword arm dropping. "Impossible," he whispered, then louder: "That's impossible!"

  Magi looked down at his hand. The glove he wore had been reduced to ash, revealing unblemished skin beneath. Small arcs of golden electricity still danced between his fingers before dissipating into nothing.

  "That was expensive," he mumbled, brushing the remains of the fabric from his palm.

  The referee's voice crackled over the speakers, uncertain: "Uh... penalty against the Golden Lions for... prohibited attack intensity."

  Above the arena, the enormous holo-display that tracked the competitors' status flickered. The screen showing Magi's information displayed a series of error messages before resetting to his basic information:

  [MAGIUS NECROS]

  RANK: C

  ROLE: PORTER

  LEVEL: 12

  STATUS: [ERROR]

  The display flickered again, attempting to process what had happened, then simply showed:

  [MAGIUS NECROS]

  RANK: C

  ROLE: PORTER

  LEVEL: 12

  STATUS: ACTIVE

  In the stands, a Blackstone Guild official was frantically typing on his interface, his face pale.

  Keller found his voice, pointing his sword at Magi. "What are you?" he demanded, his composure completely shattered.

  Magi blinked, looking almost confused by the question. "I'm a porter," he said. "Team Venn."

  "That's a lie! That was a Master-level Sword Art! You couldn't—" Keller broke off, his eyes widening as Magi casually raised his hand again.

  A small spark of lightning danced across Magi's fingertips. Not an impressive display, just a basic manifestation of the Lightning attribute. But the quality of the energy was unmistakable to anyone with sensitivity to magical resonance: it was the same signature as Keller's attack, just... quieter.

  "It's just energy," Magi said with a slight shrug. "Basic Lightning isn't complicated. You just need to match the frequency and ground it properly."

  The referee's voice came again, uncertain: "The... match continues?"

  Keller backed away, his confidence shattered. His teammates exchanged glances, their perfect formation forgotten. One of them shook his head slightly.

  "We withdraw," Keller announced, his voice hollow.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Lions forfeit!" the referee called. "Victory to Team Venn!"

  The crowd remained silent for a beat, then erupted. Not in cheers, but in confused murmurs that quickly grew to a roar of questions and exclamations.

  Magi's teammates approached him cautiously, as if he might be dangerous to touch. Layla reached him first.

  "What the hell was that?" she demanded, her voice barely audible over the crowd.

  "What was what?" Magi asked.

  "You caught it," Marc said, his analytical mind already working. "You caught a Sundering Strike bare-handed."

  "Not bare-handed," Magi corrected, looking at his missing glove again. "I had a glove."

  "Had," Jax emphasized. "Past tense. Because it's gone. Because you intercepted an attack that should have cut you in half."

  "It wasn't that strong," Magi said with a slight frown. "Just noisy."

  Eli stepped closer, examining his hand with professional interest. "No burns, no damage to the skin. Perfect neutralization." She looked up at him, her silver hair catching the arena lights. "That's not possible with Basic Lightning at level 12."

  "Of course it is," Magi said. "Anyone can do it if they practice enough."

  His team exchanged glances that communicated a shared conclusion: they had absolutely no idea what they had just recruited.

  The arena officials were already hurrying toward them, followed by Blackstone representatives in formal attire. Their expressions ranged from concerned to openly hostile.

  "We should go," Marc said quietly.

  "But we won," Layla protested.

  "And now we really need to leave," Marc insisted, gesturing subtly toward the approaching officials. "Now."

  They made their way to the exit, a bubble of space forming around them as other competitors stepped aside. No one wanted to be near the man who had just done the impossible.

  In the preparation room, Jax paced while Marc checked the corridor.

  "What are you?" Jax asked Magi directly. "Really. No bullshit."

  "I told you," Magi said, looking genuinely confused by the question. "I'm a porter. Level 12. Basic attributes only."

  "Nobody at level 12 stops a level 40 attack," Eli said. "The energy differential alone should have—"

  "It's just application," Magi interrupted. "The attack was just energy with a shape. I matched the resonance frequency and provided a grounding path." He paused, noting their blank expressions. "It's not complicated."

  "It's literally impossible," Marc said, returning from the door. "The System can't even process what you did. The display was glitching."

  Magi frowned. "That's... not supposed to happen."

  "No shit," Layla said, throwing up her hands. "None of this is supposed to happen! C-rank porters don't neutralize A-rank attacks! That's not how any of this works!"

  "Oh," Magi said, his expression clearing. "I see the problem."

  They all waited.

  "You think Rank determines what's possible," Magi continued. "But it doesn't. Rank just measures experience against recognized benchmarks. It has nothing to do with actual capability."

  The team stared at him.

  "Are you saying you're not really C-rank?" Jax asked slowly.

  "No, I'm definitely C-rank," Magi said. "I haven't completed the required number of recognized quests for B-rank. The system is very specific about that."

  "But your power level is... what? S-rank?" Marc pressed.

  Magi looked genuinely uncomfortable. "I don't think about it that way. I just do what works."

  A commotion in the hallway cut the conversation short. Raised voices approached their door.

  "Guild Association officials," Marc said quietly. "Probably with questions about what just happened."

  "What do we do?" Layla asked.

  Marc looked at Magi, who seemed unconcerned. "We stick together. As a team. But Magi... try not to do anything else impossible for a while, okay?"

  Magi nodded. "That's fair. The glove was new anyway."

  The door swung open, revealing three Guild Association officials flanked by Blackstone security.

  "Team Venn," the lead official said stiffly. "The Association has questions about today's match."

  Marc stepped forward. "Of course. We're happy to cooperate."

  The official's eyes fixed on Magi. "Particularly regarding your porter's... unusual capabilities."

  Magi met the official's gaze with perfect calm. "I was just doing my job."

  "Your job doesn't include neutralizing Master-level abilities," the official countered. "Your registration lists you as a Level 12 Basic Attribute user. Explain what we witnessed."

  "Efficient energy management," Magi said.

  The official's face tightened. "That's not an explanation."

  "It's accurate, though," Magi replied. "Would you prefer something less accurate?"

  Jax coughed to cover a laugh. Eli turned away, hiding a smile.

  "We require a full demonstration and analysis of your abilities," the official said. "You will report to Association Headquarters tomorrow at—"

  "No," Magi interrupted.

  The room went still.

  "Excuse me?" the official said, his voice dropping dangerously.

  "I said no," Magi repeated. "I'm contracted to Team Venn. My time belongs to them, not the Association. If you have questions, you can submit them through proper channels."

  The official's face reddened. "This isn't a request. This is a directive from the Association's Security Council."

  "Not interested," Magi said, brushing past the official toward the door. "I need to replace my glove."

  The team watched in stunned silence as Magi walked between the security personnel, who seemed unsure whether to stop him.

  "This isn't over!" the official called after him.

  Magi paused in the doorway. "It is for today," he said without turning around. "I'm off the clock."

  As he disappeared down the corridor, Layla let out a nervous laugh.

  "So," she said, looking at her teammates. "I think we may have recruited something... interesting."

  Marc nodded slowly. "That's one way to put it."

  In the corridor, Magi walked alone, flexing his bare hand, small sparks still occasionally dancing between his fingers. He wasn't concerned about the officials or their questions.

  He was more worried about the replacement glove. Good ones were getting harder to find since the Awakening.

  Behind him, the arena's systems continued to flash error messages as they attempted to reconcile what their sensors had recorded with what their programming said was possible.