The silence in the gymnasium was absolute. Not even the hum of the air conditioning could mask the frantic heartbeat of the students. Arthur stood before the Obsidian Pillar, a monolith of dark, soul-reactive stone that had dictated the lives of millions for fifty years.
He didn't look at the evaluator—a man whose soul was as dry as the paperwork he filed. Instead, Arthur looked at his own reflection in the polished black surface. White hair, eyes like drying blood, and a face that suggested a nobility his bank account lacked. He was a masterpiece of biological irony.
"Showtime," he whispered to the void in his mind.
Arthur extended his hand. His fingers brushed the cold surface. Most students simply opened their meridians and let the Qi flow, hoping for a miracle. Arthur was different. Within the complex network of his soul, he didn't just 'release' energy; he sculpted it.
His unique dimensional resonance allowed him to perceive the "source code" of the pillar. It wasn't looking for power; it was looking for a specific vibration. He reached into a pocket dimension—a small, fractured space he had discovered during years of illicit meditation—and pulled a strand of pure, chaotic energy.
He began to vibrate his own Qi at the exact frequency of Mutated Lightning. It was a high-voltage, jagged rhythm that screamed of destructive potential.
CRACK.
A spiderweb of violet light erupted from the point where his palm touched the stone. The pillar didn't just glow; it shrieked. The low-grade students in the front rows shielded their eyes as arcs of artificial lightning danced across the ceiling.
"What... what is this?" the evaluator gasped, falling back in his chair. The needle on his measuring device broke, spinning wildly before snapping off. "A resonance level of 9.9? With a Mutated Lightning affinity?"
Arthur pulled his hand back slowly, his breath steady, though his heart was racing with the thrill of the lie. He looked at the evaluator with a perfectly practiced expression of "shocked humility."
"Is something wrong, sir?" Arthur asked, his voice smooth and innocent.
"Wrong? Boy, you aren't a student anymore," the man stammered, his hands shaking as he reached for the red "Emergency Talent" phone. "You are a National Asset. Stay right here. Do not move."
Arthur bowed his head slightly, a lock of white hair falling over his crimson eyes to hide the flash of pure, malicious triumph. Step one is complete, he thought. They've given me the keys to the kingdom. Now, I just have to burn it down from the inside