Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

The next day came in softly.

Ethan stirred, his body heavy but no longer screaming. His eyes fluttered open to the warm glow of early dawn spilling across the room. A thin curtain danced gently at the open window. The scent of morning dew and old wood filled his nose.

He was in bed.

He didn't remember how he got here.

Maybe Alden had carried him. Or maybe Hera had used one of her spells. He didn't care. He was just grateful to be breathing.

Slowly, he pushed himself up. Every joint ached. His muscles throbbed like they had been rebuilt from scratch—which, in a way, they had.

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers.

They were stronger. He could feel it. His grip, his control, even the way his arms moved. But they were also… different. Not just in strength, but in weight. As if the System had pressed something deeper into his bones. Something permanent.

Ethan let out a slow breath.

Then turned his head toward the window.

The sky was still soft blue, the sun not fully risen. It would be morning soon. Maybe an hour or so away.

He counted the time in his head.

'A day and a few hours left.'

That was all he had to complete the second part of the Eternal Trial.

To collect half of the Dragon Soul Fragments required.

It sounded simple enough when the System first told him. Just gather the fragments. Easy. But now? After everything that happened—after Duran, the workshop, Hera's cold eyes and quiet power—he knew better.

Nothing here was easy.

Not the choices. Not the people. Not the truths buried in this world.

He thought about Duran's final words. "She's hiding something from you, can't you see that?"

Was he right?

Or was it just desperation?

He thought about Alden.

So idealistic. So honest. Yet still caught up in something too big for any of them.

And Hera… she knew things. Too many things. About him. About the System. About Earth.

'How does she know?' he wondered again.

A soft knock echoed against the wooden door.

Ethan blinked and turned his head. The second knock followed, gentle but firm.

"Ethan?" came Alden's voice. "You awake?"

Ethan sat up straighter, groaning slightly as his muscles protested. "Yeah," he called out. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Alden stepped inside with a small smile on his face. "You look better."

Ethan returned the smile faintly. "I feel better. Honestly… I've never felt this great before."

Alden raised an eyebrow, amused. "You sure? Last I saw you, you looked like you were wrestling death itself."

Ethan chuckled, stretching his shoulders. "It felt like that too."

Alden leaned against the doorframe, watching him for a moment. Then his tone shifted, quieter. "Ethan… can I ask you something?"

Ethan nodded.

"Who are you really?"

The question hung in the air.

Ethan looked down at his hands, the same hands that had taken a life just hours ago. Slowly, he clenched them into fists.

"I'm… someone not from here," he said.

"Not from Anterra?"

"No." He shook his head. "From another world. One called Earth."

Alden's brow furrowed slightly, his voice softer now. "Then… why are you here? What's your purpose in all this?"

Ethan stared out the window again, at the sky that now seemed both familiar and foreign. "I don't know," he admitted. "Not yet."

Alden was quiet for a moment, then gave a small nod. "I really want to understand you, Ethan. You and the world you came from. There's so much I don't know… and I think it matters."

Ethan looked at him, and for a moment, the tension eased.

"But," Alden added, standing upright, "Hera said I need to bring you to her. Now. She was… clear about that."

Ethan stood, rolling his shoulders one last time. "Alright. Let's go."

They walked through the hallway in silence. The house was quiet, bathed in morning light. When they stepped into the main room, Hera was there.

Sitting in the same spot as always.

Umbrella resting across her knees.

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Waiting.

Hera looked up as they entered, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Good morning, sleeping prince," she said. "While you were enjoying your beauty sleep, Alden and I went through everything we took from Duran."

Ethan chuckled, the stiffness in his body finally beginning to fade. "Glad someone was working."

He took a seat on the floor beside the low table, settling in across from her. "So… what's the next plan?"

Alden sat opposite him, setting down a rolled scroll and a slim metal tube.

"We studied the layout," Alden said. "The blueprint of the Council Hall and the map of the Elder's Library. At least, what Duran had access to."

"And?" Ethan asked, leaning forward slightly.

Alden shrugged. "Nothing useful yet. Everything looks heavily protected. No blind spots. No hidden paths we can use. It's like the place was designed to expect intruders."

Ethan exhaled through his nose. "Then let me take a look."

He reached out, palm open.

Alden nodded and handed over the rolled scroll. "This one's the blueprint. Library's inside the northern wing of the Council Hall, but it's sealed separately. Like a vault within a vault."

Ethan spread the scroll out carefully on the table, flattening the corners with both hands. The blueprint was detailed, drawn in precise ink strokes, but filled with layers of architectural complexity—columns, chambers, hidden foundations, even markings written in a code he'd never seen before.

But his mind was already running ahead.

With 500 points in Intelligence, his thoughts didn't just move faster—they moved deeper. Structures aligned themselves in his mind. Symmetries shifted. Patterns emerged. What looked like random placement to the untrained eye began rearranging, reorganizing into a picture only he could see.

Lines that Alden and Hera had dismissed as structural support… weren't.

He leaned in, eyes sharpening as he scanned the blueprint again.

"There," he said, pointing to a narrow section in the north wing of the Council Hall. "This hallway. It doesn't match the spacing of the outer architecture."

Alden leaned closer. "That? Isn't that just part of the support structure?"

Ethan shook his head. "No. Look here—every other support wall is marked with this symbol." He tapped twice. "But this one? No symbol. Just blank. And this adjoining chamber? It's positioned awkwardly. There's no reason for a solid wall on this side unless it's hiding something."

Hera watched silently, her eyes following his finger.

Ethan continued. "And this room here," he pointed to a small, square space in the center of the library's sealed wing. "It's listed as a storage vault. But the ventilation patterns don't make sense. There's air flowing through three walls—two of which are supposed to be solid stone. Why?"

He looked up.

"Because they're not solid. One of them is a false wall. I think that vault isn't for storing books or regular documents. It's a sealed archive. One they don't want anyone to find. Which means…"

He paused, then tapped the center of the vault again.

"That's where the real evidence is. The records. The proof of what Elder Harran's done."

Alden stared, blinking. "I didn't see any of that…"

"Nobody was meant to," Hera said softly, her voice thoughtful now. "It's hidden in plain sight. Layered in misdirection."

She looked at Ethan, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Looks like we finally have a way in."

Inside the high chamber of the Council Hall, the air was still.

Elder Harran stood by the tall, arched window, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out over the mist-covered rooftops of the capital. The light filtering through the stained glass painted his silver robes in dull hues of crimson and gold.

Behind him, the heavy door creaked open.

Vareth stepped inside, his armor faintly glinting under the chamber's dim light. He walked with purpose, but there was a stiffness to his movement—a weight clinging to his silence.

"You're late," Elder Harran said without turning.

Vareth stopped a few paces behind him. "Apologies, Elder. I was gathering reports."

"And?"

Vareth took a breath. "Duran is missing."

Harran turned, his face calm but unreadable. "Missing?"

"Yes. And not just him. Several of the cloaked operatives I assigned to shadow Alden and the outsider… they've gone dark as well. No trace. No signal."

Harran's brow lifted slightly, intrigued. "That's unexpected. After Duran sent the call, I assumed everything would be handled." He paused, then added, "So… the outsider is strong?"

Vareth was quiet.

Not out of hesitation—but confusion.

"I'm… not sure how to answer that," he admitted.

Harran arched an eyebrow. "Explain."

Vareth shifted his stance. "When I reached the site, the workshop had signs of heavy elemental use. Primarily earth. Duran's power, without question. The internal structure was nearly destroyed. But the only other trace of elemental energy I could detect…"

He paused.

"Was wind."

"Wind?" Harran repeated, almost in disbelief.

"Yes. But so faint, I could barely sense it. One-Star Vessel level at most."

Now the Elder fully turned, brows furrowed in confusion.

"You're telling me," he said slowly, "that a Wind user at One-Star Vessel… overpowered Duran?"

Vareth's lips tightened. "That's what the evidence suggests."

For the first time, Elder Harran's expression shifted. Not fear. Not anger. But interest. Deep, unsettling interest.

"That… is impossible," he said quietly. "Unless…"

His eyes darkened.

"There's something we're not seeing."

Vareth hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly. "There was one more thing… a faint signature left at the center of the workshop. A residual spatial shift. Likely a teleportation portal."

Elder Harran's gaze sharpened. "A portal?"

Vareth gave a small nod. "The trace was weak, but consistent with an abrupt spatial transition. Our men scanned for a destination point, but found nothing within immediate range."

Harran turned back to the window, his fingers now tapping slowly behind his back. "Was there any sign of spatial disturbance elsewhere? A landing zone? Ripples of magic beyond the building?"

"We searched the perimeter thoroughly," Vareth replied. "Nothing. It's as if the exit point was shielded or hidden."

Harran's eyes narrowed. "Did anyone check the witch's house?"

"Yes," Vareth confirmed. "We've had continuous surveillance on Hera's residence. No one has left. No portal activity was detected from the outside. She's been inside ever since the incident."

"And no one suspicious entering or leaving?" Harran asked again, slower now.

Vareth shook his head. "Only Alden. He left once the day before. Didn't return. We assumed he was acting independently again."

Harran's brows furrowed, thoughts racing. "So… only Alden left. No sign of the outsider."

He turned sharply, eyes narrowing.

"But Duran reported the outsider was with Alden. And it was Hera who told them to find him."

He stared at Vareth, the weight of the realization sinking in.

"Then where did they meet?"

Vareth had no answer.

"That's the thing we're trying to figure out, Elder," Vareth said, frustration creeping into his voice. "None of it adds up. The traces, the timing, the vanishing—everything is too clean."

He gritted his teeth. "We even attempted to break into the witch's house. But…"

Elder Harran turned his head slightly, one brow raised. "But?"

Vareth exhaled sharply, as if admitting failure left a bitter taste in his mouth. "We couldn't get in. No matter what method we used. Not even with three of our strongest channeling spells together. The entrance rejected everything."

Harran's eyes narrowed. "A defensive field?"

Vareth nodded. "A strong one. Old. Woven deep into the structure."

Harran's jaw tightened. "It must be some kind of protective spell or talisman."

He turned fully now, voice colder. "The High Seer gave it to her, no doubt. He's always favored Hera too much… too openly."

Vareth gave a slight nod, the tension clear in his shoulders. "I believe so as well."

Silence hung between them for a moment, heavy and bitter.

Then Harran turned back to the window, his gaze dark.

"Find out everything you can. I want no more surprises."

Vareth bowed his head. "Yes, Elder."

Elder Harran's gaze lingered on the horizon, where the morning light barely touched the tallest spires of the capital.

His voice dropped, almost a whisper, but heavy with intent.

"I did not come this far," he said, "just to have everything we've planned… unravel because of one outsider."

He turned slightly, his eyes sharp like cold steel.

"This cannot go to waste. Not after all we've sacrificed."

Vareth said nothing.

But the air in the chamber grew still—too still.

Something was shifting.

And they both knew it.