Dimensional Overseer: I Can Manipulate DNA!

As the dust finally settled in the gymnasium and the last echoes of the wooden swords faded into silence, Zane stepped down from the arena with slow, deliberate steps. His arms ached, his legs trembled faintly, and the sweat coating his body felt almost suffocating under the uniform. And yet, none of that mattered.

He had lost. That was the simple truth.

And still… he didn't feel humiliated.

Reaching Elizabeth, he exhaled lightly, the tension finally bleeding out of his shoulders. The girl looked at him as though he'd just descended from the heavens.

Her wide eyes, glistening in the fluorescent lights above, were filled with awe. "Zane…" she murmured under her breath, unable to mask the wonder in her voice. 'He fought her… he actually stood his ground against her.'

Watching Lune had always been like watching a force of nature—calm, confident, untouchable. No one had expected Zane, of all people, to be able to hold his own against her, even for a minute. And yet, he had.

She couldn't forget how he kept swinging, kept reacting, even as he got pushed back again and again. He had even forced her to use a fraction of her power at the end.

'He's… incredible.' She found herself thinking, her cheeks coloring slightly as she looked away.

But if Zane could hear her thoughts, he might've laughed.

Because right now, all he could think about was how utterly inexperienced he still was.

'I held on, yeah. But she could've ended it whenever she wanted.' He clenched his fists in frustration, the sting of reality cutting deeper than any bruise on his body. 'If Fiora hadn't shown me the basics of swinging a blade, I wouldn't have lasted ten seconds.'

That thought alone was enough to bury any pride he could have had. Zane wasn't satisfied with just surviving. He didn't want to be someone who was simply "interesting enough" to keep alive a little longer.

He wanted to win. To fight back on equal ground with every single talent out there and he had the means to do that. In fact, he had something far stronger than talent, a system that could let him evolve endlessly and rapidly with way less effort than all of these people. It was true that they had the advantage now, but on the long run, Zane knew that he would win.

'I need to work harder. Way harder than this.'

The next candidates stepped forward to spar, but Zane was barely paying attention anymore. His thoughts wandered—toward Fiora, toward his glaring weaknesses, toward all the mistakes that flashed in his head the more he replayed the fight. He was going to need help. A lot of it.

By the time the final spar ended, the sky outside had long begun to darken. The orange light filtering through the windows painted the gymnasium with a warm, tired glow.

Judge, standing at the front of the room with his tablet in hand, clapped once, drawing everyone's attention.

"Good. That concludes the assessments for today," he announced, eyes scanning the group. "Now comes the part you've all been curious about—weapon recommendations."

A few murmurs of interest rippled through the group, followed by hushed groans from the more exhausted candidates.

Judge didn't wait. "I'll start with long-ranged weapons first—those who showed promise with a bow or need to stay out of direct combat."

He lifted his screen and began reading off names, calling them forward one by one.

"Ephilia," he called. A small girl with tied braids stepped up nervously.

"You have excellent aim and fast reaction time, but your upper-body strength is underdeveloped. I recommend the short bow—it's light, fast, and favors quick, agile shots."

Ephilia nodded quickly, relief washing over her face.

"Brandon," Judge continued. A bulky boy raised his hand.

"You have brute strength, but your footwork and posture don't suit a sword's precision. You'll do better with a great bow—strong tension, long range. Use your strength where it matters."

Some candidates nodded in agreement while others, particularly those who secretly fantasized about wielding swords like legendary heroes, looked disappointed. Still, none dared speak up. Judge's reasoning was airtight. To argue would only show ignorance.

One by one, names were called and weapons were assigned. Some were happy with their roles. Others quietly swallowed their frustration. But all listened.

Then, Judge looked at Elizabeth.

She stiffened.

"Elizabeth Sernfield," he said. "Your physical capabilities are currently below average. You're hesitant, and your decision-making lags in battle. However—" he paused, "—you demonstrated strategic intelligence. That will serve you well."

Elizabeth tensed. The words felt like a knife and a balm all at once.

"You're best suited for a short sword," Judge continued. "Lightweight, maneuverable. It fits a more reactive style. Don't try to match brute force with brute force. Use your mind instead."

Elizabeth blinked. "A short sword…?"

She hadn't even thought of that. But the moment it was said, something clicked.

Zane, standing nearby, quietly nodded to himself. 'That makes sense. She can't overpower someone, but if she combines her mind-reading ability with quick, deceptive movements… a short sword gives her that flexibility.'

More names were called, each one paired with a weapon and a rationale. War hammers, long swords, katanas, and other rare weapons—Zane was amazed at the variety. The room buzzed softly as the list grew shorter.

Then—

"Zane Darkborn."

He looked up.

Judge glanced at his screen. "Good balance. Average strength. Reasonable reaction time. You lean toward adaptability, which is why I recommend a thin, one-handed sword. Long enough for reach, light enough for maneuverability. That way, your off-hand can be free for defense or secondary tools."

Zane blinked. 'A one-handed sword, huh…? Well, I'm not surprised. I have always thought I fit with those types of swords more than others.'

He'd always admired those. The grace, the style. Lune had used one during their duel, and it looked beautiful in motion. He imagined himself one day using such a weapon—not flailing clumsily, but moving with deliberate, graceful force.

"I see," he muttered, nodding faintly. "Thanks."

Eventually, there was only one name left.

"Lune Starpiercer."

Everyone went quiet. Judge lowered his screen and stared at her for a long moment. His expression turned unreadable—some strange mixture of awe and defeat. Then he sighed.

"Lune," he said slowly, "I don't have much to criticize."

She raised an eyebrow slightly.

"You have perfect body balance. Strong but controlled strength. Your reaction time is exceptional, and your combat style is honed far beyond what anyone could expect of a candidate your age. Your recommended weapon is a one-handed light sword. But, frankly, you could probably wield anything and still outperform most. So, you have the choice to use any weapon you want, long or close range."

A hushed murmur ran through the class.

Zane couldn't help the bitter smile that curled on his lips. 'Of course. Not even a single flaw, huh?'

He wasn't sure whether to admire her or envy her. Maybe both.

Lune gave a small nod and stepped back without a word.

Judge looked up at the entire class. "This assessment isn't final. You have three days to consider it. If any of you wish to propose a different weapon or request an explanation, come find me during that time. Don't just choose based on what sounds cool or what looks nice. Choose based on what feels right. If you don't feel a connection with your weapon, it will betray you in battle."

With that final note, the long, exhausting day officially came to an end.

The candidates sagged with relief. Some sat down right there on the gym floor, groaning.

"I think my soul left my body…" someone mumbled.

"I can't feel my arms anymore…"

"I just want to sleep for a week…"

As Zane and Elizabeth exited the hall, the air outside felt shockingly cold against their sweat-covered skin.

"I'm so tired," Elizabeth muttered, dragging her feet.

"This was just the beginning," Zane replied. "Things are only going to get harder from here."

Elizabeth gave a small whimper, then looked up at him. "But… we survived, right?"

Zane glanced sideways at her and gave a small, tired smile. "Yeah. We did."

But in his heart, he knew survival wasn't enough.

He didn't just want to survive. He wanted to win.

And this was only the first step.

The two left the facility and headed back to their assigned rooms. The streets were bustling more than usual as most people were finishing work around that time and they're heading back home to rest.

The moment Zane stepped into the room and laid in bed, he almost went out cold immediately. He was that tired. After all, first days were always tiring more than others as everything is still new to him and he is still not familiar with the rhythm.

A//N: Thanks for reading, would appreciate if you support the book with golden tickets and power stones. See you on the next one!