SSS-Rank Corporate Predator System

The training began with a lesson in failure.

Miles stood in the center of the vast, open space, the [Phantom Edge] a solid, humming thing of darkness in his hand.

He felt the raw, clean power of the absorbed Soul Crystal thrumming just beneath his skin, a deep well of energy waiting to be unleashed.

He felt invincible.

He was about to learn he was not.

"Come on, then," Miles said in his head, a cocky, unfamiliar grin on his face.

"Show me what the old man's got."

Gideon Thorne stood opposite him, his hands clasped calmly behind his back.

He looked less like a master system user and more like a disappointed history teacher.

"The goal of this exercise is not to win, Miles," Gideon said, his voice a low, steady rumble that seemed to absorb the room's ambient light.

"It is to understand."

"Right," Miles thought, his internal voice a dry, sarcastic whisper. "Understanding."

"I'll understand him a lot better once I've knocked him on his butt."

"It's a very effective method of Socratic dialogue, I think."

He moved.

He didn't just run; he became a tear in the fabric of the room, using a full-power [Phantom Drift] that left a shimmering, ghostly afterimage hanging in the air.

He was a blur of lethal intent, the black blade of his soul leading the charge.

Gideon didn't flinch.

He didn't even seem to move.

He just raised a single, open hand.

A wall of pure, solid, shimmering force, a perfect, translucent shield of interlocking hexagonal energy, materialized in the air a foot in front of him.

It wasn't a flashy, explosive defense.

It was absolute.

The [Phantom Edge], the blade that had cut through men and absorbed plasma, slammed into the wall.

And stopped.

The impact sent a jarring, painful shockwave up Miles's arm, a feeling so violent it was like punching a mountain.

The wall didn't crack.

It didn't even shimmer.

It just… was.

Miles stumbled backward, his eyes wide with a disbelief that was quickly turning into frustration.

He stared at the wall of light, then at the calm, unimpressed man behind it.

"Okay," he thought, the cockiness draining out of him like air from a punctured tire.

"So, the old man is basically a human fortress."

"Good to know."

"Note to self: do not try to punch the human fortress."

The wall of force dissolved into nothing, as if it had never been there at all.

"Your power is immense, Miles," Gideon said, his voice laced with a deep, profound pity that was somehow more insulting than any taunt.

"But it is an ocean without a shore."

"It is wild."

"Untamed."

"You do not command it."

"You unleash it."

"There is a difference."

Miles gritted his teeth, the frustration starting to curdle into anger.

"It works, doesn't it?" he shot back, his voice a low growl.

"That 'unleashing' is the only thing that's kept me alive."

Gideon just shook his head slowly.

"It is the only thing that has kept you a weapon," he corrected gently.

"Your parents did not create the Echo Protocol to be a sword, Miles."

"They created it to be a key."

"A key to understanding the very code of existence."

"You are using a scalpel to hammer nails."

"And you are going to break yourself, and the scalpel, in the process."

The words hit Miles harder than the wall of force.

He had no answer.

He just stood there, the dark blade in his hand feeling suddenly heavy.

Clumsy.

"Okay, is the 'world's most awkward family reunion' over?" a voice called out from the side of the lab.

Leo was leaning against a bank of servers, a half-eaten bag of what looked like nutrient paste in his hand.

"Because I've seen training sessions before," he continued, taking a loud, slurping bite of the gray paste. "And they usually involve a little less philosophical debate and a little more, you know, punching."

Clara, who was standing beside him, just sighed and shook her head, a gesture of fond exasperation.

Gideon ignored him, his full attention fixed on Miles.

"We will begin again," Gideon said. "But this time, you will not use your blade."

"You will not use your speed."

"You will stand."

"And you will breathe."

Miles stared at him, his mouth agape.

"You're kidding," he said. "That's your grand plan?"

"Deep breaths?"

"Silas Cross is building an army, and I'm supposed to fight him with proper breathing techniques?"

"I'll meditate him to death?"

"It sounds like a terrible plan."

"The most powerful system is useless without a stable core," Gideon stated, his voice unwavering.

"And your core, Miles, is a storm of grief and rage."

"You have been feeding that storm for years."

"Today, you will learn to calm the waters."

He gestured to the floor.

"Sit."

It was not a request.

Miles wanted to argue.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to hit something.

But he looked at the calm, unshakeable certainty in Gideon's eyes.

He looked at Clara, who gave him a small, encouraging nod.

He let the [Phantom Edge] dissolve into a wisp of black smoke.

He let out a long, frustrated sigh.

And he sat.

He crossed his legs on the cold, sterile floor, feeling like a complete and total idiot.

"Close your eyes," Gideon commanded.

Miles did, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

"Now," Gideon's voice continued, a low, hypnotic rumble. "Reach for the system."

"Feel its power."

"But do not use it."

"Just… listen to it."

Miles focused inward.

He felt the familiar, humming presence of the Echo Protocol, the vast, clean energy of the Soul Crystal now a part of it.

It felt like a coiled spring, a caged animal, ready to burst free at his slightest command.

"You feel its hunger, don't you?" Gideon asked softly, as if he could see right into Miles's mind.

"It wants to be used."

"It wants to fight."

"It is feeding on your anger."

Miles did feel it.

A low, constant pull.

A whisper in the back of his mind that promised power, that promised victory, that promised vengeance.

"Now, reach past it," Gideon instructed.

"The system is a layer, an interface."

"What lies beneath it?"

Miles pushed his senses deeper than he ever had before.

He moved through the clean, silver code of the Echo Protocol.

He moved past the humming, raw power of the crystal.

And he found it.

The core.

It wasn't a sphere of light.

It wasn't a piece of technology.

It was a place.

A vast, silent, and completely empty space.

A void.

He was floating in an endless, quiet darkness.

He felt… alone.

Utterly, completely, and profoundly alone.

And then, he felt something else.

A presence.

It wasn't a voice.

It wasn't a thought.

It was a feeling.

An immense, ancient consciousness, adrift in the same silent void.

It didn't feel malicious.

It didn't feel angry.

It felt… lost.

It was the sentient core of the Echo Protocol.

The entity his parents had caged.

And for the first time, he didn't feel its hunger for power.

He felt its deep, bone-crushing loneliness.

The feeling was so overwhelming, so powerful, that a single, hot tear escaped his closed eye and traced a path down his cheek.

He snapped back to reality with a gasp, his eyes flying open.

He was back in the lab.

Clara and Leo were staring at him, their faces a mixture of shock and concern.

Gideon was just watching him, his expression one of deep, profound sadness.

Miles looked at his hands, which were trembling.

He had just met the ghost in his machine.

And it was just as lost and broken as he was.

He finally looked up at Gideon, his mind a chaotic storm of a single, terrifying question.

"What…" he whispered, his voice a raw, shaky thing he didn't recognize as his own.

"What was that?"