SSS-Rank Talent: Super Upgrade System
Chapter 93: From Retirement to Eternal Rest!

Chapter 93: From Retirement to Eternal Rest!

Daniel, Lia, and Ayra had found a sheltered spot near the base of the central mountain, a safe distance from the now placid, but still deeply menacing, Yang Lake.

Ayra was methodically sharpening her great-axe, the rhythmic scrape of stone on steel a strangely comforting sound in the quiet aftermath.

Lia, her A-Grade Staff of the World Ash leaning against a nearby rock, was cataloging the herbs she had managed to gather, her calm grey eyes occasionally flicking towards the distant, dormant teleportation array.

The team was flush with an absurd number of Yin Cards and a respectable starting collection of Yang Cards.

They were strong, rested, and ready. The path to the exit, and to their Class Transitions, seemed clear.

It was Daniel who felt it first.

His S-Grade [Aura Sense+], a passive skill that was always tasting the ambient energies of the world around him, suddenly tingled.

It wasn’t the chaotic, greedy signature of the thugs they had just dealt with, nor the primal, overwhelming power of a great beast.

This was different. It was a single, focused signature, moving with an unnerving stealth that was far more refined than any of the desperate recruits they had encountered so far.

It was approaching their position from the direction of the dormant teleportation array, as if it had been waiting there all along, a patient spider in the center of its web.

"Hold on," Daniel whispered, his voice a low command that instantly cut through the quiet.

Lia and Ayra froze, their heads snapping up.

"We’re not alone. And this one... this one is different. This one is a professional."

Lia’s hand immediately went to her staff, its emerald light flaring to life.

Ayra rose silently to her feet, her great-axe held in a deceptively casual grip, her earlier boisterousness replaced by a coiled, predatory stillness.

They trusted Daniel’s senses implicitly. Nyx, who had been dozing at Daniel’s feet, let out a low, guttural growl, the fur on her back bristling, her Soulfire eyes fixed on a patch of tall, rust-colored grass near the base of the mountain.

"Impressive senses, kid," a voice drawled from the grass, smooth and laced with a condescending amusement.

"Most of the fresh meat that stumbles up here wouldn’t notice me until my knife was already tasting their kidney."

A man rose from the grass, not with a sudden movement, but with a fluid, almost lazy grace that was deeply unsettling.

He was dressed in worn but high-quality leather armor, marked with scars from countless battles.

He had a lean, wiry frame, sharp features, and cold, calculating eyes that seemed to have seen far too much of the verge’s cruelty.

In his hand, he casually tossed a wicked-looking dagger, its edge shimmering with a faint, dark energy.

Ayra frowned. "You’re not one of the recruits from this assessment cycle," she stated, her voice tight. "Your gear, your presence... you’re from a higher level of the verge, aren’t you?"

The man grinned, a flash of white teeth in his weathered face. "Sharp one, the redhead.

Name’s Ragnar. And yes, I came down from the fifth level a while back. Decided I preferred the easy life down here on Level Three.

The newcomers are so... trusting. So full of shiny things and misplaced hope."

He chuckled, a dry, unpleasant sound. "It’s a very profitable retirement plan, preying on the weak."

Lia’s expression hardened. "You prey on your own kind? On those just starting their journey?"

"Kind?" Ragnar scoffed. "In the verge, you are either the predator or the prey."

His cold eyes swept over them, lingering on Lia and Ayra with an appreciative but deeply unsettling gaze.

"And you two look like particularly fine prizes. I must say, it’s been a while since I’ve seen such high-quality goods on this level. After I deal with your little captain here, you two will serve me. It will be... educational."

"Boom!"

Ayra had heard enough. She didn’t shout. She didn’t warn. She exploded.

The ground shattered beneath her feet as she activated her S-Grade [Primal Fury Berserker] talent, a crimson aura flaring around her.

The wind shrieked as she launched herself at Ragnar, her great-axe a blur of motion aimed to split him in two.

Ragnar just smiled, a cruel, mocking twist of his lips. "Predictable," he whispered.

He moved with a speed that was utterly shocking. It wasn’t the raw, explosive velocity of Daniel’s [Twilight Phantom Step]; it was a practiced, preternatural grace.

He sidestepped Ayra’s furious charge as if she were moving through molasses, the wind from her axe stirring his hair.

In the same fluid motion, he blurred, appearing directly behind her.

"Too slow, little berserker," he hissed. His dagger, now coated in a sickly green energy, plunged forward. "[Backstab]!"

Ayra roared in pain and fury as the dagger bit deep into her back, bypassing a significant portion of her berserker resilience.

The green energy spread through her, a potent toxin that made her muscles seize.

She stumbled, her powerful charge broken, her crimson aura flickering violently.

"Ayra!" Lia cried out, her staff instantly glowing as she began chanting a powerful healing incantation.

Ragnar laughed, preparing to press his attack on the injured Ayra.

"See? This is the difference between a real expert and a noisy child."

He never got to finish his sentence.

One moment, Daniel was standing near Lia.

The next, he was gone. Ragnar, his senses honed by years of survival on higher levels, felt a sudden, terrifying drop in the air pressure beside him, a flicker of distorted reality. He spun, his dagger raised defensively, his eyes wide with shock.

Daniel was there, right beside him, his expression cold and utterly unimpressed.

He had activated his S-Grade [Twilight Phantom Step], and to Ragnar, it felt as if the world itself had just broken its own rules.

"My turn," Daniel said softly.

He didn’t use a flashy skill. He just punched.

His fist, clad in its A-Grade Kinetic Void Gauntlet and Phantom Edge Striking Wrap, moved with a speed that Ragnar’s experienced eyes could barely track.

"Boom!"

The ground exploded as Daniel’s fist collided with Ragnar’s hastily raised defense.

A visible shockwave of pure kinetic force erupted outwards, shattering the nearby rocks and sending a tremor through the valley floor.

Ragnar was sent flying, his leather armor cracking, a choked gasp escaping his lips.

He slammed into the side of the mountain with a sickening crunch, leaving a man-shaped crater in the stone.

He slid to the ground, coughing up blood, his dagger clattering from his numb fingers.

He stared at Daniel, his arrogant smirk replaced by a mask of sheer, unadulterated disbelief.

"That... that speed... What are you?!" he wheezed.

Daniel didn’t answer. He blurred again, appearing directly in front of the injured Ragnar.

"You hurt my teammate," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He raised his fist again.

"That was your first mistake." He delivered a single, precise punch to Ragnar’s chest. "And thinking we were prey," he delivered another, shattering Ragnar’s ribs, "was your last."

With a final, brutal blow, Daniel ended the higher-level predator’s short and violent retirement.

The valley fell silent once more, leaving only the sound of the wind whispering through the pass.

Ayra, now being tended to by Lia, stared at Daniel, then at the broken form of the man who had so easily defeated her.

The casual, overwhelming power Daniel had just displayed was on a completely different level.

The gap she had been so determined to close now seemed like a vast, impossibly wide ocean.