Ethan’s pulse quickened as scenes unfolded: arrows slicing through rain, javelins hurled with lethal precision, a titanic berserker bellowing challenges in a fog-drenched town.
"True combat," Ethan murmured. "No safety protocols. No compromises."
Combat Tiers
- Stellar Rank: Novices (Base Combat Rating <150)
- Lunar Rank: BCR ≥150
- Solar Rank: BCR ≥400
- Celestial Rank: BCR ≥1,000
"Advance through tier milestones or bypass them via Promotion Trials," the guide explained. "A BCR of 576 could leap directly to Solar with a successful trial."
Ethan’s Combat Profile flashed:
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- Player: Ethan Gray
- Protocol: Serpent Ascension (Novice 5%)
- Physical Index: 63
- Skills: Spearmanship (Tier II 71%), Footwork (Tier II 11%)
- BCR: 756
"Global top-ten spearman… only Tier II?" Ethan scowled.
"Skill tiers reflect实战 mastery," the guide said. "Evolution amplifies potential, but the technique requires bloodshed."
Luna’s Island Sanctuary
Ethan materialized on a sun-kissed atoll. Luna twirled barefoot in the surf, her villa shimmering coral-white.
"Ten grand for this slice of paradise," she grinned. "But you’re missing the real spectacle."
She pulled up a live feed: snowy tundras where shieldmaidens parried axes, their blades kissing throats in pixel-perfect lethality.
"Combat streams are rewriting entertainment," a lecturer’s hologram droned elsewhere. "Education, concerts—all reimagined here."
Ethan zoomed a duel—steel clashing centimeters from his virtual eyes. "This… this is art."
Dawn of a New Combat Era
As night fell in the real world, Ethan returned to the canyon. The Serpent Protocol’s sinuous forms flowed through him, muscles memorizing alien geometries.
Somewhere, a rookie fumbled a javelin throw. A streamer’s axe split a dummy’s skull. A million battles raged—each death a lesson, each victory a step toward evolution.
The guide watched silently. Let the games begin.