SSS-Rank Talent: Super Upgrade System-Chapter 137: The Fight For Vance! Pt 2

The overworked power grid groaned as emergency lights blinked on, casting the plaza in a faint, unsettling light and sending the gathered aspirants into brief chaos.

"What happened?!"

"Did he break it? He actually broke the whole system!"

"The power’s out! We’re trapped!"

The panic was short-lived. Principal Alistair Finch, still standing calmly on the dais, simply raised a hand.

A gentle, pure white light emanated from him, washing over the plaza.

The emergency lights stabilized, the secondary systems hummed back to life, and a sense of profound calm settled over the terrified crowd. His control was absolute.

The door to Daniel’s test pod hissed open, revealing him standing calmly inside, the unreleased singularity arrow having dissipated from his bowstring.

He blinked, adjusting to the dim emergency lighting, a look of faint disappointment on his face.

He had really wanted to see what that arrow would do. He stepped out, his final official result flashing on a nearby, now-rebooting auxiliary screen:

[ASPIRANT: DANIEL VANCE]

[TEST DURATION: Minutes]

[MAXIMUM OPPONENT DIFFICULTY REACHED: 9x Strength (Defeated)]

[SYSTEM STATUS: CATASTROPHIC OVERLOAD (PRE-ATTACK)]

[FINAL SCORE: ERROR - BEYOND MEASURABLE PARAMETERS]

The crowd erupted, whispers and shouts blending into a wave of raw, overwhelming awe.

They were screaming his name, not just chanting it.

He had defeated an opponent nine times stronger than a standard Level 12 Awakened and was preparing to fight a tenth before the simulation itself committed virtual suicide out of self-preservation.

This was no longer just a record, this was a legend being born before their very eyes.

Daniel, however, simply walked back towards his teammates, a small, almost tired smile on his face.

The intense focus required to create the singularity arrow had left him feeling drained, but a deep, satisfying hum of power still resonated through his very core.

"So," Ayra said, her voice a mixture of awe and her usual bravado, "I take it you passed?"

Lia just shook her head slowly, her serene grey eyes wide with a reverence that was becoming her default expression whenever Daniel did anything.

"Daniel, the entire platform just... blinked."

Before Daniel could respond, he was swarmed. It wasn’t a gentle approach. It was a desperate, almost feral scramble for his attention.

The four Vice-Principals, their earlier dignity and composure completely forgotten, descended from the dais like hungry vultures spotting a divine-tier steak.

"Vance!" roared Travis Standen, Vice-Principal of the Combat Techniques School, his scarred face alight with a manic, almost terrifying grin.

He shoved his way through a group of stunned aspirants, his immense presence parting the crowd.

"That power! That control! The sheer, unadulterated combat instinct! Forget being a disciple, boy! You will be the masterpiece I’m remembered for!"

My school will grant you access to every forbidden combat art, every lost martial technique!

We will turn you into a living god of war!" He grabbed Daniel’s arm, his grip like iron, trying to physically drag him towards the Combat Techniques banner.

"Unhand him, you ignorant brute!" a sharp, clear voice cut through Travis’s enthusiastic roar.

Vice-Principal Aslaug Winnick of the Command School glided forward, her serene expression replaced by one of fierce, intellectual determination.

"Can you not see beyond the punches, Standen? The boy did not just fight, he calculated.

He systematically tested his abilities, assessed his opponent, and chose the perfect moment to unleash overwhelming, yet controlled, force.

That is not the mind of a mere brawler; that is the mind of a grand strategist, a future admiral of humanity’s fleets!

He belongs in my Command School, where we will nurture his intellect, not just his knuckles!"

"Intellect is useless if you can’t even forge your own weapon!" a cold voice interjected.

Robb Naharis, the stoic Master of the Weapons and Armaments School, appeared at Daniel’s other side, his eyes gleaming with an almost fanatical light.

"Did you not see the weapons he wields? The bow that channels impossible energy? The blade that cuts reality itself? His battle record states he forged them! Forged them! At his level!

That is a gift from the very soul of creation! Give him to me! In my forges, he will not only learn, he will revolutionize the very art of weaponcraft!

He will create artifacts that will win wars before they are even fought!"

He produced a small, exquisitely crafted gear from his pocket, offering it to Daniel like a holy relic.

"This is a relic from a dimension-hopping clockwork dragon. We could study it. Together."

"Oh, please," a warm, melodic voice sighed, and Yara Fairley, the beautiful Vice-Principal of the Logistics and Support School, drifted forward, her emerald eyes sparkling with a competitive fire that belied her gentle demeanor.

"You all speak of weapons and war, but you forget the most important thing: the warrior himself.

Look at his team! He has nurtured them, gifted them S-grade equipment, guided them. He understands that a single god of war is useless without a well-supplied, well-healed army behind him.

His potential is not just for destruction, but for creation, for support, for building a foundation upon which all of humanity can stand!

He belongs with us, where he can learn to manage his immense resources and lead not just with power, but with compassion!"

She then turned to Daniel, her smile dazzlingly bright. "And besides, Daniel, our school has the best snacks. And the most comfortable dorms. Just saying."

The four Vice-Principals were now in a heated, almost comical standoff around Daniel, each making increasingly desperate and extravagant promises.

They offered him personal discipleship, unlimited access to secret libraries, the keys to legendary forges, and, in Yara Fairley’s case, a lifetime supply of very high-quality almond cookies.

The crowd of aspirants watched, utterly dumbfounded. This wasn’t a recruitment drive; it was a bidding war for a demigod.

Daniel stood in the center of the storm, feeling a headache begin to form.

He respected all of them, he saw the value in each of their schools, but their intense, competing claims were overwhelming.

He was a powerhouse, yes, but he was also just a guy who wanted to level up, unravel the mysteries of his SSS-Rank talent, and maybe, eventually, figure out how he ended up in this crazy, wonderful, terrifying universe in the first place.

He needed a way out of this. He was about to politely but firmly state his need to consider his options when a new, yet familiar, voice cut through the chaos, calm, ancient, and utterly absolute.

"That’s quite enough."

Principal Alistair Finch had reappeared on the dais, his unassuming presence instantly silencing the four squabbling Vice-Principals.

They turned, their expressions shifting from competitive zeal to sheepish deference, like children caught fighting over the last cookie.

The Principal looked down at them, a faint, amused smile on his wrinkled face.

Then, his gaze, which held the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes, settled on Daniel.

The bidding war was over. The final judgment was about to be passed.

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