Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

Ethan sat quietly in the same waiting chamber as before, his form still that of Duran. His hands rested on his lap, but his mind was anything but calm.

He had just risked everything sneaking through the most protected parts of the Council Hall. And now, here he was—back in the room like nothing had happened. No alarm was triggered. No spell had caught him. His Stealth skill, combined with the disguise, was holding up far better than expected.

Still, his thoughts were racing. The conversation he had overheard echoed in his mind—the mention of demons, the ritual, the deal with the foreign empire. There was something bigger going on, something much more dangerous than a simple betrayal of power.

A knock came at the door.

Then it opened without waiting for a reply.

One of the soldiers stepped in, armor clinking softly as he bowed slightly. "Protector Vareth and Elder Harran request your presence now, Master Duran."

Ethan nodded calmly, his voice deep and measured. "Took them long enough."

He stood, dusted his sleeves as if annoyed, and followed the soldier out. Each step he took down the hallway felt heavier. This wasn't just an infiltration anymore.

It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.

Ethan stepped into the stone chamber, the heavy door shutting behind him with a dull echo. Elder Harran stood near a long table, hands behind his back, eyes unreadable. Beside him, Vareth turned sharply at Ethan's arrival, his gaze immediately narrowing.

"Wait," Vareth said coldly.

Ethan froze mid-step.

Vareth raised a hand, his palm glowing faintly with a detection spell. In seconds, a soft current of energy swept over Ethan's body. The room held its breath.

Nothing happened.

No shimmer of disguise breaking. No reveal. No trace of foreign magic. Everything—down to his pulse and aura—was exactly like the real Duran.

Vareth lowered his hand, frowning. Elder Harran's brows drew together.

"This doesn't make sense…" Harran muttered under his breath. "Duran should be dead."

As if sensing their thoughts, Ethan tilted his head and clicked his tongue.

"I couldn't catch him," he said simply, his tone clipped with frustration. "After I informed you about the outsider and Alden, they made a move. The outsider had someone—someone skilled in magic. Opened a portal. Pulled him out."

Harran and Vareth glanced at each other, silent.

Ethan continued, voice firm, steady. "I gave chase. Ended up somewhere outside the village, maybe near the lower southern cliffs. They got away. Fast. I… collapsed. Too much blood loss."

He paused, then pulled his shirt aside just slightly—revealing the scar, raw and deep, exactly where the real Duran had been struck.

Vareth's eyes narrowed at the wound. He moved closer, inspecting the skin with grim care.

"It's real," he said finally.

Ethan let the shirt fall back into place. "Barely made it back this morning. I needed to report in, so I came here straight away."

Harran nodded slowly, though his eyes never left Ethan's face. He was still piecing things together.

But for now, it seemed, Ethan had convinced them both.

Almost.

Elder Harran's gaze stayed fixed on Ethan, quiet but sharp. He didn't speak at first, and when he finally did, his tone was calm—but there was weight behind every word.

"Tell me again, Duran… Alden brought the outsider into Hera's house?"

Ethan shook his head without hesitation. "No. I'm unaware of that. But it wasn't Alden's intention. I believe he was under some kind of influence. Hypnosis, maybe. They wanted it to look like Hera was involved."

Vareth folded his arms. "So, they're framing her?"

Ethan shrugged lightly. "That's the only reason I can think of. They used Alden to draw suspicion. And to cover their tracks."

Harran's fingers tapped the side of the table. "Interesting."

He circled Ethan slowly, eyes scanning for even the smallest slip. Then, he changed the subject.

"What about the men I sent to shadow Alden?" he asked. "They were all found unconscious not far from your home. Most of them can't remember anything. A few… vaguely recall someone in the shadows. Following Alden from behind."

Ethan kept his expression firm. "That was the outsider's ally, I believe. They led Alden right to my doorstep. And once there… they asked for something specific."

Harran turned to face him fully. "Which is?"

"The blueprint of this place," Ethan replied. "Of the Council Hall. And your private library."

Harran's eyes darkened, and Vareth's jaw tightened.

"Why?" Harran asked.

"They must believe you're a traitor," Ethan said, voice steady. "Trying to expose you. Just like I did before."

Silence settled in the room.

Elder Harran looked down for a moment, then back up. His brows furrowed as thoughts clearly moved fast behind his eyes.

Vareth spoke first. "Then… the outsider isn't the one from the prophecy."

"No," Harran agreed. "He's likely an agent. A pawn sent by one of the factions that still oppose me. Someone who believes I'm a threat to the Empire."

They both fell quiet again, digesting the pieces.

And in that silence, Ethan stood still—steady on the outside, while inside, he finally let out a breath of relief.

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

They had bought the story.

Elder Harran's voice grew heavier as he leaned back in his seat.

"While we're on the topic of Alden," he said, "I want you to capture him."

Ethan blinked once, as if he hadn't heard it right. "You want me to do what?"

"Bring him in," Harran said, his tone flat. "Alive. Preferably unharmed."

Ethan furrowed his brows, trying to sound more like Duran. "And why exactly?"

Vareth gave a side glance but remained quiet. Harran folded his hands together.

"Lord Qiren has reminded me that the ritual must proceed on time. And for that, the offering must meet certain conditions." He paused. "Someone like Alden fits."

"Someone like Alden?" Ethan echoed.

Harran nodded slowly. "A Vessel. One who has experienced loss, witnessed death, and carries the emotional imprint of both. It makes the connection between realms easier."

Ethan tensed slightly. He tried not to show it.

"But why me?" he asked, a little sharper now, slipping into Duran's more impatient tone. "You have men. You have authority. Summon him. Or send your dogs to fetch him. I've got other things to focus on. I haven't even fully recovered."

Vareth shifted slightly at Ethan's words, but didn't object.

Elder Harran's gaze lingered on Ethan a moment longer before a thin smile curved on his lips.

"Well," he said slowly, "you're right."

He leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair.

"I shouldn't be sending you out like that. Not in your condition. I was merely testing you."

Ethan stiffened, barely a twitch in his expression. But inside, his thoughts raced.

Harran continued, voice calm but sharp as ever. "You see, only the real Duran would argue like that. Stubborn. Proud. Always thinks twice before lifting a finger unless it's worth something."

Vareth let out a soft breath, as if the tension had loosened in the room.

"But you passed," Harran said. "Convincingly."

Ethan gave a small shrug, hiding the storm behind his calm. "I wouldn't be me if I didn't."

Harran chuckled once, but the glint in his eyes remained. He was watching closely—maybe too closely.

Ethan knew now more than ever. One slip, and everything would crumble.

Elder Harran rose from his seat with a final nod. "Go home and recover, Duran. You've done enough for today. If you need anything, you know who to find."

Elder Harran gave a slow nod, his tone calm. "Go home, Duran. Rest up. If you need anything, you know how to reach me."

Ethan gave a small nod without a word. He turned and headed for the door, his expression unreadable. He kept his pace steady, not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to look like the tired, wounded man he was pretending to be.

Once he was gone, the heavy doors closing behind him, Vareth walked over with a shadow in his eyes.

"You really think that was Duran?"

Harran didn't answer right away. He poured himself a drink, took a small sip, then glanced over with a slight smirk.

"Can you prove it wasn't?"

Vareth hesitated. "…No."

"Then let's assume it is. He looks like Duran. He sounds like him. Same aura, same wound. If it's not him, it's someone who's gone through a lot of trouble to convince us otherwise."

He stepped closer to the window, his voice dropping lower.

"Either way, the outsider was not the one in the prophecy. That much I'm sure of. We still have time to fix things before anything gets out."

Vareth gave a slow nod.

Harran turned halfway, his tone sharpening.

"Send someone to watch him. If he slips up… if he starts acting strangely… don't hesitate. Take him out quietly."

Vareth's eyes narrowed. "You want him killed?"

"He's no longer useful to us. And now he knows about Velharis. That makes him a threat." Harran's voice turned cold. "Loose ends, Vareth. You know how we handle them."

Ethan's heart was pounding like a war drum by the time he stepped out of the Council Hall. He kept his steps steady, his breath controlled, but deep inside, the pressure was insane. Too many things had nearly gone wrong. One slip, one wrong expression, and they would've seen through him.

'I can't believe I made it through that…'

He kept walking, hands clenched lightly at his sides. Every word he had spoken just now echoed back in his head. Every gaze from Elder Harran and Vareth, every second of that conversation—it had felt like walking through fire.

And yet, somehow… he had managed.

And he knew why.

'Charles Weston. That guy at the bank. If I didn't get grilled by him on my first day, I wouldn't have handled today the way I did.'

'That property agency clown who laughed at me like I was trash. Lucien. Donald. All the people who tried to mess with me in their own way…'

They'd all trained him. Shaped him. Pushed him.

'And the Unlimited System… it never gave me a break. One challenge after another. One step harder than the last. It's like it's preparing me for something I can't even imagine yet.'

That part disturbed him.

What exactly was the system preparing him for?

A normal person didn't need to infiltrate a government building in another world while wearing someone else's face and fooling officials with centuries of political experience.

This wasn't normal.

He rubbed his temple and exhaled slowly.

'Still, I need to wrap this up. Fast. I've only been here for two days, I think—but what does that mean for Earth? What's the time difference like? What if two days here is two weeks over there?'

His stomach twisted at the thought.

If two days had really passed on Earth, his family would be worried sick. His father might've already contacted the police. His siblings would be panicking. And then there was Nova Tech.

'David should be able to hold things down… but that's not the point. I can't go silent like this. I can't leave them in the dark.'

He clenched his jaw.

He needed to finish this mission, get what he needed, and return. Not just to survive—but to keep the people who mattered safe and sane.

No matter what the Unlimited System was preparing him for… he wasn't going to lose himself in it. Not now. Not ever.

Ethan was deep in thought, lost in the spiral of everything that had just happened… when he felt it.

A faint pressure.

Footsteps masked in caution.

A presence trailing just far enough to avoid suspicion—but not far enough for Ethan to miss.

He didn't even have to look. With his Divine Eyes still active, the outline of the man trailing behind him was clear in his mind like a heat signature.

'Of course Harran would send someone after me. I'd be disappointed if he didn't.'

Without turning, Ethan lifted his hand and pointed toward the end of the street.

"Wait. What's that?"

The man's eyes flicked in that direction instinctively.

It was just one second.

But that was all Ethan needed.

By the time the man turned his gaze back… Ethan was gone.

His breath caught. He blinked rapidly.

And then—cold steel kissed his throat.

The Flame Dragon Sword shimmered faintly against his skin, glowing with that familiar, dangerous warmth.

Ethan said nothing.

He didn't need to.

With one swift motion, he ended it.

The sword cut clean. The man didn't even have time to scream. His body dropped, lifeless, and Ethan caught it gently before it hit the ground.

His Divine Eyes scanned again.

'Higher Two-Star… no wonder he thought he could handle me. Bad choice.'

He crouched down and placed a finger against the blood seeping from the man's neck.

A subtle pulse.

The Shape Shift skill acknowledged the contact.

'Another one added.'

Ethan took no chances.

He activated the sword's skill. Fire roared silently from the blade, coiling over the corpse like a living serpent.

In seconds, the body turned to ash.

Not even bones remained.

The only thing left behind… was a single Ascendant Core.

He picked it up, turning it slowly in his palm.

'Now how do I—'

Then he remembered the system's note. The sword didn't need energy to activate. It only needed Cores to grow stronger.

He placed the Core gently against the flat side of the blade.

A warm pulse ran through it.

The Core was absorbed immediately. The sword shimmered faintly, its aura strengthening.

No sparks. No system notification. Just a quiet, powerful shift.

Satisfied, Ethan sheathed the sword and activated his Stealth.

He vanished again into the shadows, heading back toward Hera's house.

As he moved, he reflected on something else—something terrifying in its own way.

With two blood signatures now in his system, and 500 Intelligence to fuel it, he understood something new.

He didn't have to copy one person fully anymore.

He could now take different features from each of them. A face here. A voice there. A build. A gait. An aura.

He could become… someone entirely new.

"What a terrifying skill…" he muttered.

And for the first time, the nausea from killing… didn't hit him.

Instead, he felt cold. Focused. Almost… intrigued.

'No time to stop. I still need more Cores.'

Then, he closed his eyes.

A slow breath in.

His body began to shift—not just his face, but his entire frame. His height shortened slightly, shoulders narrowed, hair color darkened. His skin tone changed shade by shade, and even his posture adjusted. The voice in his throat, when he tested it with a low grunt, sounded nothing like Duran or the patrol man.

In less than five seconds, a completely new figure stood there.

Unfamiliar. Untraceable. Unmatched to any face in the Empire.

A face that had never existed before.

He looked down at his hands, flexed his fingers, then rolled his shoulders and let out a breath.

"No one will look for this man."

With that, he pulled the hood over his head and continued moving toward Hera's house—his footsteps silent, his presence erased, and his identity, for now, perfectly hidden.