Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

Ethan stood quietly, tightening the leather straps around his arms one last time. The armor Hera had given him wasn't meant for show—it was light, dark, and designed for movement rather than protection.

Exactly how he liked it.

Infiltration wasn't about brute force. It was about speed. Silence. Precision.

A small pack sat on the table beside him. Inside were only the essentials: a short blade lined with anti-magic runes, a folded map that Alden had redrawn from the blueprint, and a sealed scroll from Hera—one she told him to open only if everything fell apart.

"Things might go wrong," he muttered under his breath.

He wasn't being dramatic. He just knew better by now. Still, he felt ready. There was a reason for that confidence.

The Flame Dragon Sword.

Ethan unsheathed it slowly. The blade caught the soft, fading light coming in through the window. It wasn't a long weapon—sleek and balanced, with a faint warmth that pulsed through the grip. The handle was wrapped in black leather, and near the guard was a faint red symbol that looked like a flame curled into the shape of a dragon's claw.

The moment both of his hands wrapped around it, his Divine Eyes activated.

A soft chime rang in his head. Then, a panel appeared in glowing gold.

=====

[Flame Dragon Sword]

Level: 0
Ascendant Core Absorbed: 0/50

Description:

A sword forged in the breath of the First Flame Dragon. Allows the wielder to unleash fire-based attacks at 150% of the user's Strength attribute. Does not require Ascendant Energy to activate elemental effects.

Scales with the user's base Strength and combat skill. The flames generated are physical and explosive—perfect for close to mid-range combat. Requires the user to absorb Ascendant Cores to level up.

Warning: Less effective against high-tier flame-resistant or fire-based enemies.

=====

Ethan narrowed his eyes, taking in the details.

'No energy cost. One hundred and fifty percent Strength output. Pure, physical fire damage.'

His mind worked quickly.

With his Strength now sitting at 500 after the double stat boost, even a normal strike was enough to match a Middle Three-Star Ascendant.

So this sword?

It could push him into the realm of a Higher Three-Star.

That was dangerous power.

"This is insane…" he whispered. "The System keeps handing me power, then throws me into madness right after."

He let out a soft, bitter laugh, fingers tightening around the hilt.

This wasn't just a rare weapon.

It was his edge. His trump card.

Maybe, just maybe, with this in hand, he could actually stand toe-to-toe with someone like Elder Harran.

He took a breath, steadying himself.

'Still… things aren't going to get easier from here.'

This wasn't just about finishing the Eternal Trial anymore. Not just about gaining power or unlocking the next reward.

This was about truth.

And the Elder's Library was where that truth was buried.

Hidden deep inside the sealed north wing of the Council Hall, behind layers of magic, old oaths, and handpicked loyalists who guarded it like their lives depended on it. No one went in without written permission. No one even tried.

But Ethan would.

Because he wasn't after secrets or status.

He needed proof.

Evidence that Elder Harran, one of the most trusted voices in the Kannan Empire, had turned.

Hera hadn't told him everything. She rarely did to anyone. But she had said enough.

Enough to know that Harran had been in contact with a foreign empire across the Eastern Sea. A rising power with ships, influence, and an appetite for expansion.

He wasn't preparing to fight them.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He was preparing to welcome them.

A silent betrayal, from inside the Empire's own walls.

And if Ethan could find the right piece of evidence—letters, maps, orders—anything that linked Harran to the Eastern Empire…

Then the Kannan High Council would have no choice but to listen.

He tightened his gloves, slid the backup dagger into his boot, and pulled the scarf over the lower half of his face.

Less than twenty hours remained in this stage of the Eternal Trial.

And now, Ethan Cole would slip into the most heavily guarded archive in the capital.

To find the truth.

And expose a traitor.

Ethan stepped out of the room, his boots soft against the wooden floor.

In the living room, Alden sat quietly in a chair, fingers laced, his expression unreadable.

Hera stood by the window, one hand resting lightly on the frame, her umbrella placed neatly on the table beside her.

As Ethan approached, Alden looked up and stood in a rush. "Are you sure you're going now, Ethan? It's still daytime."

His voice carried a hint of panic. "Most people wait until night to infiltrate a place like that. The shadows help. You'll stand out in broad daylight."

Ethan smiled. "Don't worry. I have another way."

Without another word, he closed his eyes and activated the skill he had unlocked after killing Duran.

Shape Shift.

His body shimmered for only a moment, and then changed.

The figure that now stood before them was no longer Ethan Cole, but Duran.

His height. His build. His skin. Even the weight of his aura.

It was perfect.

Alden's eyes widened in shock. His jaw dropped. "H-How… how did you do that?"

He looked like he wanted to stand but couldn't decide whether to step back or forward.

Hera, however, didn't even blink.

She simply studied him, eyes calm.

Spells like these weren't unfamiliar to her, she had long mastered illusions and appearance-shifting enchantments, but this… this was something else entirely.

This wasn't mimicry.

It was transformation.

Not only Ethan's face and body, but even the presence he gave off now radiated like Duran's.

Ethan turned slightly, his voice now carrying Duran's gravelly tone. "I can only use this if I've touched someone's blood. Once is enough. And once I have it, I can become them. Anytime. Anywhere."

He looked at both of them, serious now. "I'm showing this to you two because I trust you."

Alden still hadn't closed his mouth.

Hera only muttered, "Impressive."

Hera turned slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Still… how do you plan on getting out of here? This entire area is being watched. Harran's men haven't taken their eyes off this house since yesterday."

Alden nodded quickly in agreement. "She's right, Ethan. You can't sneak out through the door or windows. They'll see you the moment you step outside."

Ethan, still in Duran's form, gave them a confident smirk. "Well… I don't need to use those, do I?"

He turned to Hera.

"You can teleport me out, right?"

Before she could answer, Alden snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up. "Wait... Why not just teleport Ethan directly into the space he noticed in the Council Hall? The secret room."

It was a solid suggestion.

But Hera shook her head.

"It's not that simple."

Her tone was calm but firm. "Teleportation requires a mark—an anchor point I've left behind. I can open a portal from my space to a marked location. But the Council Hall? Even though I've been there before, it's magically sensitive. Heavily guarded. Any kind of spatial magic inside is automatically detected."

Alden blinked, absorbing the information. "I see. I didn't know that."

"Most people don't," Hera said, her gaze settling on Ethan again. "But getting you out? That I can do."

***

Ethan reappeared in a narrow alley behind the bustling eastern market of Cahaya Village. His boots touched the ground without a sound, the glow of Hera's portal fading behind him. No one noticed. The timing was perfect. The streets were packed, the market at its busiest. Noise, movement, and the press of bodies made him just another face in the crowd.

Except he wasn't.

He looked exactly like Duran.

Broad shoulders. A powerful frame that still carried the strength of his youth. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing forearms scarred and muscled from years of hard labor. His hair was mostly grey, though streaks of black clung stubbornly near the temples. A short beard, trimmed and flecked with soot, framed a face marked by age and experience.

It wasn't just appearance. Ethan was Duran now, in every detail.

But even that wasn't enough to fool someone like Vareth.

Before Hera sent him out, she had prepared everything. Clothes Duran had worn. Bloodied and torn. The sleeve scorched as if from a battle. Tools and trinkets once kept in Duran's pockets. His signet. His old armband with the faded crest of the Kannan Empire.

All retrieved before the body vanished.

Ethan wore them now.

And he'd taken it one step further.

Using Shape Shift, he had altered his chest to show the very wound he'd delivered when he killed Duran. A ragged gash above the heart. Dried blood stained the surrounding fabric. The skin was pale around the edges, flushed just enough to look painful but healing.

He even added a limp to his step.

As if he had barely escaped death.

Anyone watching would see a wounded man who had survived something terrible and returned.

And they would believe it.

Just as planned.

A patrol squad spotted him the moment he turned into the main street. There were four of them, armed with standard military blades, armor lightly reinforced with black leather and dark-blue lining. The leader raised a hand, signaling the others to slow their pace but keep their weapons ready.

All soldiers stationed in Cahaya Village had been briefed.

Watch for Alden.

Watch for Hera.

Watch for the outsider.

And most importantly, watch for Duran—dead or alive.

"Stop right there!" the patrol leader barked.

Ethan stopped.

He kept his breathing low and steady, body slightly hunched as if still nursing an injury. The soldiers surrounded him cautiously. Blades glinted in the sunlight.

The leader stepped forward. "Name and rank."

Ethan didn't answer immediately. He glared at them, nostrils flaring, and let rage bleed into his expression. Not fear. Not hesitation. Just the kind of arrogant fury Duran was known for.

"You've gone blind or just stupid?" he snapped. "Do I look like someone who answers to you?"

The squad flinched at his tone.

He reached into the folds of his bloodied outer coat and pulled out a small, worn object—the Duran family signet. He held it up with a trembling hand, making sure the light hit it just right.

"I almost died handling something none of you would dare touch," Ethan growled. "And this is how I'm greeted?"

The patrol leader's face tightened. He took a step closer, his eyes scanning Ethan from head to toe.

The limp. The wound. The bloodstains. The heat still rolling off his body.

Even the aura felt like Duran.

But something still wasn't quite right.

The way he spoke, it was close, but not exact. The rhythm was slightly off. The emphasis not fully there. It was enough to raise a flicker of doubt.

The leader said nothing for a moment, then signaled his men to lower their swords.

Ethan didn't show it, but his heart was pounding.

The Shape Shift was flawless in appearance. The body. The aura. The scar.

But the voice, the personality—that was another matter.

To become someone else convincingly, Ethan realized he needed to do more than copy their blood.

He had to learn them.

How they talked. How they walked. What they said in anger. Who their friends were. Who they hated. Even small details, what hand they favored, what habits they had, how they held their weapons.

Without that, this was just a mask.

A mask that could slip at any time.