Meanwhile,Atlas who woke up earlier that morning with a fire burning in his chest.

He didn’t waste a second.

Before the sun had fully risen, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, he was already outside the dormitory, running laps around the academy yard. The cold morning air scraped against his lungs with each breath, sharp and biting, but he pushed through it. Sweat soaked through his shirt within minutes, plastering it to his back, yet he kept going. One lap. Two. Five. Ten.

His legs burned. His chest heaved. But he didn’t stop.

After finishing his laps, muscles already trembling with exertion, he headed straight for Arena Nexus—the academy’s state-of-the-art virtual combat training ground.

The facility was nearly empty at this hour, just a handful of other early risers scattered among the rows of simulation chairs. Atlas dropped into one of the available seats, its cushioned surface molding to his body as various cables and sensors automatically adjusted to interface with him.

He reached for the VR headset, but before putting it on, he paused.

Jelo crossed his mind again.

They had both started as F-rank. Both entered the academy at the bottom of the hierarchy, dismissed and underestimated. But it was obvious now—Jelo wasn’t F-rank anymore. Even if no official re-evaluation had been done, even if the records still listed him at the lowest tier, anyone who had watched yesterday’s fight could tell the truth.

Jelo had evolved beyond that designation.

Atlas clenched his fists, the leather of the chair creaking under his grip.

*Is there something more to joining Jelo’s family?*

The thought had been nagging at him for days now. Ever since he had affiliated himself with Jelo’s household through that strange ritual, something had felt… different. His energy reserves felt denser, more substantial. His growth steadier, more consistent. The changes were subtle, easy to dismiss as placebo or coincidence, but real enough that he couldn’t ignore them completely.

Still, he kept those thoughts to himself.

Jelo already carried enough burdens on his shoulders—the System, the secrets, whatever mysterious power drove him forward. And truthfully, Jelo himself didn’t fully understand what was happening to him. The guy was navigating blind, making it up as he went along.

If Atlas wanted to catch up, truly catch up, he couldn’t rely on mysteries or unexplained phenomena.

He had to outwork everyone.

And one thing he knew for certain, one truth that burned in his gut—

He wasn’t training as hard as Jelo.

Others at the academy trained moderately, following the recommended schedules, balancing their studies with their physical development. That was the normal, healthy approach.

But Jelo? Jelo trained like something was chasing him. Like demons nipped at his heels every moment he stood still. Like something was pushing him forward relentlessly, a force Atlas couldn’t see or understand but could clearly observe in action.

Atlas didn’t understand it, didn’t know what drove his roommate to such extremes, but he knew one thing with crystal clarity: he was being left in the dust.

And he absolutely refused to stay there.

He placed the VR headset over his head with firm determination and activated the system. The real world dissolved around him, the physical sensations of the chair and the room fading into digital nothingness.

Moments later, he stood inside the glowing digital battleground of Arena Nexus. The virtual space stretched around him—a perfectly rendered combat arena with customizable terrain and conditions. The air here felt different, charged with possibility.

He scrolled through the list of available opponents, the interface responding to his thoughts.

F-rank opponents appeared first.

More F-ranks.

Then E-rank fighters.

He skipped them all without hesitation, swiping through the profiles with barely a glance.

Then—

D-rank.

His eyes sharpened with interest.

Even though he was officially still F-rank according to academy records, he didn’t want to fight people on his supposed level. What would be the point? If he lost to someone stronger, at least he would learn something valuable. At least he would see the gap he needed to bridge.

Scrolling further through the D-rank profiles, one particular entry caught his attention.

**Username: Viper**

**Rank: D**

**Avatar: Pink combat dress**

Atlas blinked, reading it again to make sure he’d seen correctly.

“A pink dress…?”

The avatar preview showed a figure standing confidently—elegant, poised, but with an undeniable dangerous edge. The pink dress seemed to shimmer slightly, suggesting it wasn’t just decorative but perhaps integrated with some kind of defensive or enhancement technology.

Strange choice. Definitely unconventional. But interesting.

Something about it intrigued him, challenged his expectations.

Without allowing himself to second-guess the decision, Atlas sent a duel request.

**Request sent.**

A moment passed, his heart beating a bit faster.

**Request accepted.**

A faint smile formed on his lips, the first genuine expression of anticipation he’d felt all morning.

He leaned back in the simulation chair, feeling the system begin to calibrate the match parameters.

“Good,” he murmured to himself, his voice low and determined. “Let’s see how far behind I really am.”

The arena began to load around him, the environment rendering piece by piece.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Atlas drove his fist into the ground and the earth obeyed. A massive pillar of stone erupted beneath Viper, aiming to launch her skyward.

She twisted mid-leap, claws flashing as she sliced through the top of the pillar, using the momentum to propel herself sideways. She landed in a crouch, those poisonous claws gleaming purple-black in the light.

“Nice try,” she said.

Atlas was already moving. He stomped hard and the ground between them buckled, sending a shockwave of cracking earth racing toward her.

Viper ran straight at the shockwave. At the last second, she jumped, using a raised chunk of broken earth as a springboard. She closed the distance in seconds.

Atlas raised a wall of stone, thick as a fortress. Her claws punched through it like paper, purple venom dripping from the tips. The wall crumbled and she was through, swiping at his chest.

He jerked backward, felt the claws whisper past his shirt. Too close. He slammed both palms together and twin columns of rock shot up on either side of Viper, trying to crush her between them.

She dropped flat, rolled forward between his legs, and her claws raked across his calf as she passed.

The pain was immediate and wrong. Not just the cut—though that hurt—but the burning that came after. Poison. Already working its way through his bloodstream like acid.

Atlas spun and brought his fist down. The ground where Viper had been standing exploded into rubble. But she was already gone, circling him with predatory patience.

“You’re fast,” she observed, watching him. “But every move costs you.”

He didn’t answer. Stone flowed up his arms, hardening into armor. He pulled metal ore from deep below, reinforcing it, making it denser.

Viper darted in. He swung a stone-coated fist and she ducked under it, her claws finding the gap between his armored forearm and elbow. Just a graze, but he felt the venom enter.

Atlas roared and the earth erupted around him in a circle of jagged spikes, forcing her back. He was breathing harder now, and his left leg was starting to feel heavy.

“Problem?” Viper asked, staying just outside his range.

He answered by ripping a boulder from the ground and hurling it at her. She sidestepped and he pulled up another, then another, sending a barrage of stone flying.

Viper wove through them all, reading his patterns, learning his rhythm. When the last boulder passed, she sprinted forward.

Atlas created a wall. She went over it. He raised spikes. She twisted between them. He tried to catch her with a stone fist rising from the ground—

Her claws found his ribs.

The burn was instant and excruciating. Atlas stumbled, his breathing ragged. Through his blurring vision he saw Viper land gracefully, waiting.

His right arm was going numb. He raised his left, calling the earth. The stone rose slower, shakier, responding to commands that were getting harder to form.

“Strong as the earth itself,” Viper said softly, circling. “But you can’t use that strength if you can’t move.”

Atlas tried to armor up again, but his hands were trembling. The poison was shutting him down piece by piece, severing the connection between his will and his power.

Viper struck twice more—chest and shoulder—with surgical precision.

He fell to one knee, trying to raise one final wall, but his fingers barely sparked against the ground before going still.

Viper retracted her claws and crouched in front of him as darkness crept into his vision.

“You could’ve buried me,” she said quietly. “But I only needed a few cuts.”

Viper won, her avatar shortly disappears, atlas was grinning cheek to cheek, her avatar enjoyed every bit of the fight although he had lost, he wasn’t too bothered by that.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep