Chapter 20: Chapter 20: System's 40%

The days blurred together in a whirlwind of sweat and the occasional clash of egos. Elio, his friends, and the ever-arrogant Varick threw themselves into their training with a fervor that bordered on obsession.

Even Varick's goons, usually content to lounge around and look intimidating, found themselves grudgingly learning the strategy under Von Lucien's strict orders.

With only thirty days remaining before the mandatory random conscription, time was of the essence.

Elio watched his friends push themselves to the brink, pride and worry warring in his chest. They had come so far, but would it be enough?

Von Lucien, true to his word, had begun disseminating information about the strategy among the selected soldiers. But everyone knew that secondhand knowledge paled in comparison to firsthand instruction from those who had mastered it.

The pressure was on... Ten days to perfect the technique, twenty to pass it on to others. The weight of thousands of lives hung heavy on their shoulders.

♢♢♢♢

The tenth day dawned, bright and unforgiving. Elio and his comrades stood before the registration officials as third-level challengers.

Varick, of course, insisted on going first, taking advantage of his privileged status.

"What is the meaning of this?" The guard in charge frowned as Varick approached. "You're two years shy of the age requirement, family or not."

Varick snorted disdainfully. "That's old news. Von Lucien's given me the green light. Got a problem with that?"

The guard blinked, clearly confused, but a shadowy gesture from Von Lucien in the background had him grudgingly nodding.

Elio pushed Ren, Brok, and Kriz; they passed one by one, registering and preparing for their turn.

Before entering, they made a pit stop at the nearest exchange statue. The 50 points for the heat blanket and air stone felt like a pittance compared to what lay ahead, but it was all they could afford.

Varick, of course, was not content with such modest equipment.

A 4,000-point enchanted fire cloak, a 10,000-point superior disposable fire sword, a 100-point enchanted air stone, 10,000-point damage-resistant clothing, and five 1,000-point disposable fire daggers.

"Mother dearest insisted I spare no expense on equipment," Varick excused himself at the others' incredulous looks.

Elio shook his head. "Remember, all that fancy gear won't mean squat if you don't stick to the plan. Strategy and execution are what's most important."

Varick waved him off with a dismissive flick of his wrist, but Elio couldn't shake the nagging worry. Overconfidence had killed better men than Varick. Would his arrogance be his downfall?

♢♢♢♢

The book rose...

Varick emerged from his book shortly after, his pristine equipment now bearing the scars of battle, but his face split in a smug grin that threatened to swallow his entire head.

Elio's heart hammered against his ribcage as Ren stepped up.

His friend shot him one last resolved look before nodding and being transported inside the book, clutching the disposable fire sword tightly in his hand.

A heavy silence fell over the remaining group.

The waiting was agony. Varick and his remaining goons kept their distance, their disdainful expressions barely masking their own nervousness. Brok and Kriz stood rigid, worry etched into every line of their faces.

Seconds stretched into minutes, each second seeming an eternity as they waited for any sign from inside the book.

When the book finally rose, Elio felt his breath catch in his throat. Had Ren made it? Or had he sent his friend to his doom?

An icy chill gripped his chest at the possibility of having sent his friend to certain death. Brok looked equally affected, his face pale and tense.

Then, the book burst open and Ren emerged with his hand raised and coated in a shimmering metal.

"I did it!" he exclaimed in a ragged voice before collapsing to the ground, fainting from sheer relief and exhaustion.

Elio's sigh of relief was so profound he nearly passed out himself. Kriz dashed to Ren's side, dropping to his knees with a cry that sounded eerily like Elio's mother, Lena.

"You're alive... thank god, you're alive!"

Brok approached, a shaky smile playing on his lips. "Well done, you mad bastard. I knew you had it in you."

Varick snorted disdainfully, but Elio could see the reluctant respect shining in his eyes.

They had barely had time to celebrate when the next turn was announced. This time, it was Brok who entered his book, his resolved expression betraying no hint of doubt.

The wait was just as tense, every second an endless agony. Elio paced back and forth, unable to keep still, imagining worst-case scenarios with horrifying clarity.

The book rose...

Elio held his breath, eyes fixed on it with laser-like intensity. Had Brok...?

Suddenly, the pages burst open and Brok emerged, grinning triumphantly while flexing his minimal but visible increase in muscle mass.

"Yes!" Ren let out a whoop of celebration, momentarily forgetting his fear and trauma.

Elio felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Two friends down, one to go. But the relief was short-lived as Kriz's name was called.

He watched, heart in his throat, as Kriz steeled himself. His friend's expression was determined, but Elio didn't miss the slight tremor in his hands.

"Be careful," Elio murmured, the words feeling woefully inadequate... Wishing he could do more than watch helplessly.

Time seemed to slow as Kriz was transported and the book closed behind him with a dull, definitive thud. Elio paced incessantly, every fiber of his being screaming to rush in and help.