Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

The air thickened around the platform as Elder Harran gave a slight nod from his seat.

It was subtle, barely more than the tilt of a chin, but Protector Vareth saw it.

"It's time," he muttered as if doing this wasn't easy for him, too.

He straightened his stance at once and stepped forward, his voice ringing clear across the ritual hall.

"In the presence of Elder Harran of the Kannan Empire," he began, his tone full of weight and ceremony, "and Lord Qiren of the Velharis Empire, we now commence the Rite of Purification."

Ethan blinked slowly, his eyes steady on Vareth as the man spoke.

'Purification, huh? I've heard worse ways to dress up murder.' His thoughts sharpened, but his face showed nothing.

Vareth went on, voice rising like he was standing before thousands instead of a dozen.

"Before us stand five individuals who have been granted a most sacred role. Chosen not by man, but by fate. Chosen to serve the empires in the noblest way known to us, through sacrifice."

'How thick are their faces?' Ethan scoffed silently. 'Only people who aren't the ones dying call it noble.'

He said nothing aloud, of course. He kept his head slightly bowed, watching through his lashes. The tension in the platform was rising.

Vareth took another step forward as his eyes swept over the five captives.

"But the Kannan Empire does not believe in cruelty without cause," he said. "Each of you, though chosen, will be given a chance. A chance to redeem yourselves before the empires and the watching eyes of the world."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, four pairs of eyes widened.

The Lower Three-Star man and woman sat straighter, surprise flickering into visible hope. The silver-haired woman's lips parted, disbelief and longing written across her pale face. Even the older, stone-armed man drew in a quiet breath.

'Could it be true? Could there be a way out of this?'

'A second chance?'

Those were the questions going through their minds at the moment.

Vareth gestured toward the platform beneath them. "Prove yourselves in battle, here, in the platform. Impress the Empire. Earn your place again."

The two Lower Three-Star captives exchanged a glance, their lips curling with sudden relief. The woman exhaled in gratitude. The man nodded firmly, already mentally preparing.

But the Higher Two-Star captives were not smiling.

The silver-haired one tensed, his jaw clenched in frustration. The other woman's brows drew low, a bitter flicker in her eyes.

Going against a Three-Star opponent meant certain defeat. Even if they were Vessels, the power gap was too wide. There was no fairness here only death.

Then they glanced sideways.

At Ethan.

He hadn't moved.

Didn't speak.

But he was clearly the weakest among them. Even the way the guards had dragged him said as much. He didn't resist. Didn't argue. He simply obeyed.

And now, with a battle being announced, it meant one thing.

He would be the first to fall.

Even Ethan, for all his calm, felt his throat tighten.

He gulped. Quietly.

'So this is it. A fight to earn survival.'

He looked up at Vareth, eyes narrowed just enough to hide the flicker of anticipation beneath.

'They must think I'm the weakest here,' Ethan thought. 'They're right, but they'll be surprised, soon.'

Vareth raised one arm, voice echoing across the chamber like the clang of steel on stone.

"Let the first match begin," he declared. "By order of the Kannan Empire and with witness from the Velharis Empire… Renshir and Malika shall face each other in the first battle."

A long silence followed.

The Lower Three-Star man, Renshir, froze. His expression fell flat, almost blank. Beside him, the woman, Malika, turned her head slowly toward Vareth, her mouth slightly parted in disbelief.

They had both looked so eager moments ago.

So sure that the weaker ones would go first. That they could conserve their energy, wait, and only fight if absolutely necessary. But now?

Now, they were each other's enemy.

Malika let out a soft breath. It wasn't fear. It was frustration.

Renshir's eyes darted toward her. "Is this a joke?" he muttered.

Vareth offered no answer. He merely nodded to the soldiers.

The guards stepped forward without hesitation. They unlocked the cuffs and unhooked the chains holding the two Vessels to the platform.

No one looked worried. No one reached for a weapon.

They weren't afraid these two would try to run or rebel.

And Renshir and Malika knew it, too.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Being surrounded by soldiers from two powerful empires, there was no way out. No way to fight the system.

The only option left was to fight each other.

To survive.

Slowly, both of them rose to their feet. Their faces showed no emotion, but their bodies told the truth. Shoulders tight. Hands clenched. Muscles tense like coiled rope.

They were ready—but not because they wanted to be.

Because they had no choice.

Meanwhile, while the two were getting ready, Ethan's gaze lingered on the platform.

The glow of the strange symbols had grown faintly stronger since the chains were unlocked, pulsing in sync with the anticipation hanging in the air.

He narrowed his eyes.

'Those symbols… they're not just for show. They're waiting for something.'

He didn't need to think much about what it wanted. A lot of movies, dramas, comics and novels would point to the same thing.

Blood.

He was almost sure of it now. The symbols had a design—a rhythm—that felt hungry. Too deliberate to be harmless. And with a battle about to begin right here, in the center of it all, he knew what was coming next.

'If I wait until they spill blood, the ritual might begin on its own.'

He couldn't let that happen.

This was the moment. The final stretch before everything spiraled beyond control.

Ethan took a deep breath and swept his Divine Eyes across the room once more.

Soldiers, guards, servants, none of them above Middle Three-Star.

Only two names stood out—two auras that pressed down on the chamber like silent mountains.

Elder Harran.

Lord Qiren.

Both Higher Three-Star Vessels.

They were strong. Strong enough to crush most people here. But Ethan wasn't just most people. Not anymore.

'I can hold them off… even if just for a few minutes.'

He didn't need to defeat them.

He just needed to break the altar. Shatter the symbols. Get everyone out before the real ritual began.

His mind thought about the two scrolls Hera had given him were safely tucked away.

One to nullify the symbols. One to teleport them all back to the observatory.

Simple instructions.

For the first scroll, he only needed to unfurl it and press a drop of his blood onto it.

The second required even less. Just unfurl it and the portal would open.

Easy to remember. Easy to do.

Hard to pull off with more than two dozens of soldiers and two powerhouses were present.

But Ethan had already made up his mind.

He glanced at Renshir and Malika, who now faced each other on the platform, unaware of what he was about to do.

Then, he looked at the altar. The chains. The stairs that rose like a throne for blood.

He gritted his teeth and took a step forward.

'It's now or never.'

Ethan's fingers tightened around the cuff.

He didn't pull. He didn't yank. He simply applied pressure—slow and steady, like bending a thin branch with practiced patience. A quiet pop followed, softer than a biscuit breaking in two. The stone didn't shatter, but parted at the seam, cracked through by his strength.

No one noticed.

All eyes were still on Renshir and Malika, the two Lower Three-Star Vessels facing off at the center of the platform. The tension between them held everyone's attention like a rope pulled taut.

Ethan activated his Stealth.

A veil wrapped around him like a second skin, muting his presence, dampening his steps. The faint glow in his eyes faded as he slipped into the edges of the hall's chaos.

He moved.

One step. Two.

In an instant, he was behind the guards stationed closest to the Higher Two-Star captives. There were three standing near him. Two others were positioned near the platform's edge.

They never had a chance to scream.

The Flame Dragon Sword flared to life in his grip—a flicker of red steel and heat.

Ethan thrust forward.

One core pierced. Then another. Then a third.

The soldiers dropped where they stood, eyes wide in silent shock. Their cores vanished with a faint shimmer, devoured by the sword without a trace.

He didn't blink.

After so many deaths, his hands moved with a grim rhythm. He no longer hesitated. There was no guilt, no pause, only purpose.

'I need fifty cores to level this sword up. I had twenty-five after the raid near Hera's. If I finish the soldiers here…'

Two more guards turned, sensing something was wrong. But Ethan was already on them.

He moved like smoke. Fast, precise.

Two more cores claimed.

That was five.

The air shifted.

A presence descended like a hammer. Two gazes bore into him from above.

Elder Harran's cold eyes narrowed.

Lord Qiren sat straighter in his seat, lifting his goblet slowly.

Protector Vareth didn't wait.

"You bastard!" he shouted as he was burning in rage.

If the ritual failed, he would be the first to receive the punishment from Lord Qiren.

The moment he saw Ethan's movements, he leapt from the platform with speed that shattered the stone beneath his boots.

The floor trembled from his landing.

But Ethan didn't meet him head-on. Not yet.

Instead, he dashed to the side, going for another cluster of soldiers near the inner ring of the hall. If he could grab just five more cores, maybe ten—he could level the Flame Dragon Sword right here and now.

'If I can evolve the sword… I'll stand a better chance holding off Harran and the other one.'

Back on the platform, Renshir and Malika paused.

"What's happening?" Malika asked in panic.

"Is he really going to try to escape?" Renshir returned a question to her.

They watched as Ethan danced between guards like a phantom, blade slashing with surgical efficiency.

They turned to the two Higher Two-Star captives, both still chained, their faces pale and confused.

Malika clenched her fists. "Should we break their cuffs?"

"We'd be unable to," Renshir said through gritted teeth. "Two days being cuffed by the Drakiel Stones. We're drained."

Malika looked at Ethan again, eyes flickering with realization.

"Then we guard them."

They leaped from the platform and stood protectively between the captives and the chaos.

On the ground, Ethan could feel Vareth's presence drawing closer. Fast. Relentless.

But Ethan didn't stop.

He went for the next soldier.

Then another.

His eyes gleamed with calculation.

'Forty cores… I just need ten more.'

The battle had begun. But not the one anyone had expected.

Neither Elder Harran nor Lord Qiren moved from their seats.

The flames in the twin braziers beside them crackled in eerie rhythm, casting shadows that danced across the high stone walls. Screams of guards being cut down echoed through the hall, yet both leaders remained seated—watching.

They wanted to see how Vareth would handle it.

Let the Protector earn his title.

But the silence between them didn't last.

Lord Qiren shifted, placing his goblet down on the armrest with a soft clink. His gaze drifted toward Elder Harran, calm but cold.

"So," he said, voice low yet sharp enough to pierce the noise below, "this is the result of months of preparation? The grand ritual that was promised to give us advantage over Kannan Empire?"

He motioned with one hand toward the chaos unraveling on the ground, where Ethan had already slain another guard.

"It is going to be ruined... by a boy?"

Elder Harran's jaw tightened.

He didn't respond at once. His eyes were fixed on Ethan—on the boy who now moved like a trained executioner, striking down soldiers without hesitation, a boy who wasn't supposed to have this much power. Not anymore.

Not after what had been done to him.

Not after what he was.

"That boy is Alden," Harran muttered under his breath. "Or what's left of him."

Lord Qiren raised an eyebrow, amused. "Alden? You mean the one you claimed was sealed for good? The infamous White Fang?"

Harran didn't answer.

His teeth clenched so hard it sent a twitch through his cheek. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The sacrifices were supposed to kneel. The ritual was supposed to unfold perfectly.

Velharis would be pleased while he, would gain favor, and everything would progress as planned.

But now, that plan was bleeding to death in the middle of the ritual chamber.

And the boy they thought was nothing but a broken vessel was moving like a storm.

Elder Harran felt a knot of rage twist in his chest.

Not only was the plan falling apart, but Lord Qiren had begun to speak to him as if he was the subordinate. Yes, Qiren was of higher nobility in Velharis. His title carried weight. His family, his name—more honored than Harran's.

But in terms of strength?

They were equals.

Both Higher Three-Star Vessels.

Both with bloodied histories behind them.

And yet here he was, being questioned like a servant who had spilled wine at the table.

"I will deal with him," Harran said, voice low and tight. "When the time comes."

Lord Qiren leaned back with a smirk.

"I do hope so, Elder Harran. Otherwise, we may need to start questioning why you were trusted with this ceremony in the first place."

The implication hung in the air.

Harran didn't reply.

Below, Vareth's shout rang out as he lunged toward Ethan. The ritual was on the verge of collapse.

And Harran could feel the weight of Velharis pressing harder with every heartbeat.