Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

Duran was starting to feel it.

His steps weren't as solid as before. The cracks beneath his boots grew wider, not because of strength, but because of imbalance. His breathing was heavier now, the earth energy around his arms flickering instead of flowing. The constant reinforcement of his body was draining him faster than expected.

And Ethan wasn't giving him a chance to recover.

Every time Duran turned to swing, Ethan slipped around it. Every time he tried to charge, Ethan struck at the right angle. Then came another sudden blur across his vision.

Alden.

Another wind dart burst near his face, causing him to recoil slightly. It wasn't strong. It didn't hurt. But it made his next step uncertain—and in that tiny opening, Ethan struck.

A sharp jab to the ribs.

Duran growled and turned, fury rising.

He locked eyes on Alden.

"You," he muttered, voice low and angry.

He took a step toward him.

But Ethan was already there.

A hammering fist slammed into the back of Duran's thigh, right behind the joint. His leg buckled slightly, just enough to ruin his footing.

He snapped around to defend, but Ethan was gone again—already ducking under a wild swing and circling his side.

Every time Duran's attention wavered, even for a blink, Ethan punished him for it.

And now, something was changing.

Ethan could feel it.

His strikes were sharper. Cleaner. Stronger.

His body was responding faster than before, his muscles tighter, his flow smoother. Every move he made fed into the next. Like his body was learning in real time. Like the more he fought, the more natural it became.

His skills—Krav Maga, Close Quarter Combat—they weren't just techniques anymore. They were weapons. Real ones.

And when paired with the unnatural strength granted by the system, every strike dug deeper. Every movement carried more weight. The pain he inflicted was no longer just physical—it was building, slowing Duran down step by step.

Duran staggered back another step, teeth clenched, face twisted with fury.

"Damn it!" he spat, wiping blood from his mouth. "You little brat. You think you can keep hitting me like that and get away with it?"

He tried to center himself, but the bruises were adding up. His legs ached. His shoulder burned from one of Ethan's earlier strikes. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to crush them the moment they walked in. Yet now, he couldn't even win easily.

He looked at Ethan, narrowing his eyes.

"Aren't you just a One-Star Vessel?"

Ethan exhaled slowly, a slight chuckle slipping through his breath. He kept his stance tight, arms raised, eyes sharp.

"We've been fighting for a while now," he said coolly. "And only now you're starting to notice that I'm not normal?"

His smile didn't last long, but it was enough to throw Duran off for a moment.

"You're not as sharp as you look, old man."

Duran's jaw tensed, his confidence clearly shaken.

Alden, still crouched behind a toppled bench, heard it all. His eyes widened.

'Wait... he's a One-Star? Just like me?'

His heart pounded. If that's true... how is he doing all this? The strength, the speed, the way he controlled the fight—none of it added up.

Then a soft, unfamiliar sound echoed across the workshop.

CLICK!

Alden turned his head toward the door.

One of the locks… had opened.

Then another.

And another.

Ethan paused too, hearing the shifting metal. His brows pulled together, confused. Duran, on the other hand, froze in disbelief.

"No…" he muttered. "That's not possible."

The final bolt clicked free.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, just a little.

And through the gap stepped a figure draped in a dark green robe, holding a closed umbrella that tapped gently against the floor with each step.

Alden's breath caught. "Hera!" he shouted.

But the robed figure raised her hand, gesturing calmly for silence.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Alden shut his mouth, swallowing his surprise.

Ethan's eyes darted between Hera and Duran, unsure what to make of the newcomer.

She didn't speak.

She didn't have to.

She walked straight past Ethan, her umbrella still closed, her steps smooth and without fear. Then, with one elegant motion, she spun the umbrella once and pointed it downward.

A soft shimmer spread across the floor.

And then the chains came.

Four of them, thick and glowing with silver-blue runes, burst from beneath Duran's feet like living vines. They snapped up and around his wrists and ankles, dragging him with brutal force to the ground.

THUD!

Duran gasped as his chest slammed into the floorboards. He struggled, growled, tried to call upon his power—but the chains pulsed with suppressing light.

He couldn't move.

Not an inch.

Ethan stood frozen, jaw slack. "What the hell… was that?"

Alden blinked in disbelief. "That was crazy…"

Duran struggled to lift his head. "You—witch—how dare you—" He didn't even finish.

That was all he could do now.

Curse.

And lie helpless on the ground.

Duran's limbs twitched against the chains, but it was useless. He could feel it now—his energy, his strength, his connection to the earth—it was all slipping away. The more he struggled, the faster it drained.

Then Hera spoke.

"Now, old man," she said coldly, her voice calm but sharp, "I need you to give us the blueprint, the map, anything you know about the Council Hall and the Elder's Library."

Duran coughed, trying to laugh, but it came out ragged. His chest was rising and falling faster than before.

"You've got guts," he rasped. "But where were you when I said the Elder was betraying the Empire? Where were you when I needed someone to back me up?"

He lifted his head slightly, pain twisting his face, but still enough to show a half-grin.

Hera's eyes didn't flinch.

"You fool," she said. "You had no proof. Just words. How was I supposed to support you without it? If I stood by you back then, we both would've been crushed before anyone believed a thing."

She took a step forward, umbrella now pointing directly at his head.

"I thought you'd never fall. That you'd keep your ground and wait. That you'd choose the Empire over fear."

Her gaze narrowed.

"But now? You sold them out. You sold us out. You're no better than the traitor you warned us about."

Her voice dropped.

"Now give me what I want… or die."

Alden, who had been frozen until then, quickly stepped forward. "Wait—wait! Hera, please. There has to be another way. We can talk to him, make him see reason."

She turned to him slowly, eyes sharp.

"How, Alden?" she asked. "He already contacted the Elder. The Protector will be here in less than ten minutes. He made his choice."

Then, her attention shifted to Ethan.

"What are you waiting for?" she said. "Kill him. Finish the mission. Get your rewards."

Ethan's heart skipped.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

'How does she know about that?'

Alden, still unaware of the silent exchange, stepped in front of Duran. "Kill him? No. We still need information from him."

Hera turned, letting out a quiet breath, as though dealing with a child.

"I already know where everything is," she said simply.

Alden's lips parted slightly. He swallowed hard.

'Right. She can read minds.'

That was why she asked Duran all those questions earlier. It wasn't to get answers from his mouth—it was to make him think about the things she needed.

And now, she no longer had use for him.

"Come with me," Hera said to Alden. "You don't want to be here when Ethan finishes this. And you're the only one I trust to search. I won't touch anything inside this house."

Alden's face twisted. "Why? So when they find Duran dead and start looking for evidence, it leads back to me?"

Hera didn't answer.

He gritted his teeth but followed anyway, stepping past Ethan with a glance that was half warning, half worry.

The door to the house behind the workshop was open.

Hera entered first, and Alden trailed behind, shaking his head.

And then Ethan was alone.

Duran looked up at him, still grinning through the pain.

"You won't do it," he said. "You don't have it in you."

His voice was raspy, but steady.

"Let me go. Let's deal with the witch together. She's hiding something from you, can't you see that? She's too strong. She had you and the boy dance around while she just watched. Think about it—if she could do this to me in one move, why did she wait? What is she really planning?"

Ethan didn't speak.

But his hand tightened slightly.

Duran's words weren't baseless. Hera knew too much. She had power that she didn't show at first. And she clearly understood the System. She knew Ethan's mission.

Too much.

And yet…

He thought about the mission again. About the rewards.

=====

Rewards:

1. +100 to all Attributes

2. 100 Ascension Points

3. 20,000 EXP

4. Flame Dragon Sword

5. Shape-shifting Skill

Note: Rewards 1, 2, and 3 will be doubled if you choose to kill.

=====

And that was just the base reward.

If he chose to kill Duran, everything would be doubled.

Enough power to leap forward by years. Enough strength to protect what mattered. Enough to survive the trials to come.

Duran kept staring at him.

"Well?" he muttered. "What's it going to be, boy?"

Ethan gritted his teeth, still locked in place, torn between the weight of the mission and the voice whispering in his chest that something about all of this felt wrong.

Then the sound of footsteps returned.

Hera and Alden had come back from the connected house. Alden was holding several scrolls and an old metal tube under his arm—likely the blueprint and map they came for.

Hera stopped at the doorway, eyes sweeping the room.

"You haven't finished?" she asked, voice calm, almost tired.

Ethan didn't answer.

She sighed softly. "Let me help you, then."

Before he could even ask what she meant, it happened.

His body moved.

Not from his will. Not from the system.

He looked at her sharply. Her hand was slightly raised, her fingers curling with subtle precision.

'She's controlling me.'

His heart pounded as his arm lifted.

Alden froze where he stood, jaw slack. "Wait! What are you—"

Ethan's fingers straightened, firm and sharp like a blade. His body dropped to one knee, and his hand shot downward.

Duran's eyes widened, but he couldn't move.

The fingers plunged into his chest, deep, fast, and deadly.

Blood burst from the wound, splashing upward. A few warm droplets struck Ethan's face.

Alden took a step back, stunned. "Ethan…"

Duran didn't even scream. Just a sharp breath, then silence.

His body went limp.

And just like that, it was done.

Hera looked at Ethan, her expression unreadable. Then she gave a faint smile and said, "See? It's that easy. Just kill anyone who deserves to be killed."

Ethan didn't respond.

His hand was still frozen in midair, stained with blood. Warm, thick, real.

His breath came in short gasps.

His mind spun.

He had taken a life before, back at Donald's warehouse, but that was with a gun, from a distance, in panic. This time… it was different.

This time, it was his hand.

His fingers had pierced through a man's chest.

He stumbled slightly, the dizziness rushing in. His stomach churned. The smell of blood, the heat of the body below, it was all too close.

He wanted to vomit.

Alden was already beside him, steadying him with one arm. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low, careful.

Ethan couldn't answer.

His throat tightened. He stared at his hand, at the red dripping down his fingers.

Hera walked past them, as if nothing was wrong.

She stopped beside Duran's lifeless body. With a flick of her wrist, she tapped the corpse twice with the tip of her umbrella. Then once more.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A soft hum echoed beneath the floor.

A circular glow appeared just behind the body. Runes shimmered faintly as the floor warped, and a dark portal opened without a sound.

Wind stirred gently.

The portal expanded, and Duran's body slid back, drawn into it, as if swallowed by the floor itself.

Then it vanished.

The room was silent again. The only trace of what had happened was the blood on Ethan's hand.