Vince stood frozen in the military base's training dome, the alarms' wail piercing his skull. The Class-5 beast—a serpentine colossus with molten eyes and scales like molten obsidian—loomed over the chaos. Its roar shook the ground, a primal force that mocked the gods Vince despised. His Godsealed System was silent, the interface dark: *Energy: 0/100.* Zaroth's voice, that sardonic "dumbass" guide, had faded after urging him to "find the spark." He was drained, useless, watching recruits scatter as the beast's tail lashed, shattering a holo-screen into sparks. His hatred for the gods burned—real or not, they'd let this happen, just as they'd let his parents die.
The dome's wasteland simulation flickered, rocky canyons glitching under the portal's red glow. Lila, his teleporting partner, flickered in and out, dodging the beast's claws. Other recruits unleashed abilities—fireballs sizzling, ice shards splintering against scales, all futile. A boy with speed blurred past, but the beast's tail whipped, sending him crashing into a wall with a sickening crunch. Vince flinched, the sound echoing his parents' final battle, their screams haunting him. Were they crushed like that, believing in gods who never answered?
"Move, maggots!" the drill sergeant bellowed, firing a plasma rifle. The bolts glanced off, enraging the beast. Officers poured in, their rune-etched armor glowing, but the beast's claws tore through steel like paper. Vince's chest tightened. He'd bent reality minutes ago, scattering a Class-3 beast's scales, but now? Nothing. The system's pulse was gone, orb fragments under his skin dim. He doubted the gods' existence, but if they were real, they'd rigged this world to break him.
A scream snapped his focus. A girl with water powers conjured a torrent, but the beast's molten breath vaporized it, scalding her. She fell, writhing, skin blistering. Vince's stomach churned—that agony, that helpless thrashing, was it his parents' fate? He saw them in his mind, fire and earth abilities failing against a beast swarm, praying to a Pantheon that ignored them. His hatred surged, not just for gods but for their lies, their so-called "gift" of powers that couldn't save anyone.
"Vince, run!" Lila teleported beside him, grabbing his arm. Her face was pale, eyes wide. "You're out of juice—go!" He shook her off, rooted by rage and memory. Run? Like a coward, like Bob Stokes betraying him in class? No. But he couldn't fight either, not with zero energy. The beast's tail swept, flattening a squad of officers. Blood sprayed, and Vince's breath caught. A soldier, gutted by claws, crawled, gasping, eyes pleading for gods who didn't come. Vince's vision blurred—his father's face, bloodied, begging him to live.
The beast's molten eyes locked onto Vince, as if sensing his defiance. It slithered forward, scales scraping stone, tail rising like a spear. Lila vanished, teleporting to aid another recruit. Vince stood alone, heart pounding, the tail's shadow falling over him. Time slowed, his thoughts racing. *This is it,* he thought. *Like Mom and Dad, skewered, abandoned by gods I don't believe in.* His doubt gnawed—were they real, watching him die? No, they were myths, or worse, cowards. Zaroth's system was his only truth, but it was silent.
The tail struck, a blur of obsidian death. Vince braced, but a pulse flared in his chest, raw and desperate. The orb fragments glowed, not with power but instinct. A new interface flickered, faint: *Survival Instinct Unlocked: Temporal Shift.* Reality shuddered, and the tail slowed, inches from his heart. Vince gasped, stumbling back as time crawled, the beast's snarl a low drone. The system drained something deeper than energy—his very will—but kept him alive. *Energy: -5/100.* Negative? He didn't care; he was breathing.
The temporal shift faded, time snapping back. The tail grazed his shoulder, drawing blood, but missed his chest. The beast roared, distracted by a fireball from a recruit. Vince collapsed, panting, the interface gone. Zaroth's voice chuckled faintly: *"Nice trick, kid. You're not done yet."* Vince's hatred flared—gods didn't save him; Zaroth's system did. He doubted their power, their existence, but this survival instinct was real, a spark to defy their lies.
Officers rallied, a commander in glowing armor summoning a lightning storm. Bolts cracked, searing the beast's flank, but it retaliated, crushing the commander under its coils. Lila teleported, dragging the wounded away, her face grim. Vince watched, helpless, his shoulder throbbing. The beast's eyes found him again, but a new portal opened, sucking it back with a howl. The dome fell silent, littered with bodies and rubble. The sergeant, bloodied but alive, barked, "Survivors, to Command!"
Vince staggered to his feet, Lila supporting him. "What was that?" she whispered, eyeing his glowing shoulder. He shrugged, hiding the truth. The system's survival instinct had saved him, but at a cost—his body ached, as if his soul had paid the price. Command awaited, and with it, questions about his power. He'd face them, not for gods or glory, but to tear apart the Pantheon's lies, to avenge his parents with Zaroth's spark.
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**Meanwhile, at the School**
Back at the school, the parade ground was empty, the students dispersed after Vince's dramatic exit. Bob Stokes slouched in the cafeteria, his "I'm the MC" t-shirt stained with sweat. He'd avoided the military test, claiming a sprained ankle, but whispers followed him—coward, traitor, the guy who sold out Vince. His classmates, now packing for the mandatory military training, ignored him. The test wasn't optional; every teen faced the base soon, ready or not.
In the dorms, students buzzed about Vince's stunt. "He bent fire," a girl with blonde hair said, folding her uniform. "Think he's got a god's blessing?" Her friend, scoffed. "Gods? More like trouble. He's on Command's radar now." They packed, nervous but eager to be trained in elemental control and beast tactics. The school's holo-board flashed updates: beast sightings up, portals unstable. Military training wasn't just duty—it was survival.
Jones, the fiery instructor, stood at the school's gate, watching buses load. His burns from Vince's defiance stung, but he hid it. "They'll break him at the base," he muttered, believing the gods would humble Vince. Yet doubt crept in—Vince's power felt wrong, not divine but rebellious, like the heretic Zaroth. Jones prayed to the Pantheon, but deep down, he feared Vince's spark could ignite something bigger, something the gods couldn't control.
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Vince limped toward Command, the base's spires looming. His survival instinct had saved him, but the beast's eyes haunted him, like his parents' final moments. He hated the gods, doubted their existence, but Zaroth's system was real, a weapon to expose their failure. The military would test him, maybe break him, but he'd defy them all—gods, beasts, lies—with the power pulsing in his veins.