My Life Changed with the Unlimited System

Lucien strode toward Ethan, his footsteps echoing with a steady, almost leisurely confidence. His expression was contemptuous, with a faint smirk lingering as he closed the distance. The knowledge that Ethan had reached the High Star Apprentice rank didn't seem to rattle him.

In his mind, he was already certain of the outcome. "So you managed to climb a little higher, Cole," Lucien drawled, his tone dripping with disdain. "But I know a novice when I see one. Just how long has it been since you reached this rank? A day? Less?"

Ethan stood firm, his expression calm, betraying none of the inner resolve that had brought him this far. He watched Lucien's every move, assessing him carefully, knowing that Lucien's arrogance was both his greatest strength and his biggest weakness.

Lucien continued, chuckling as if amused by the challenge before him. "Power without control, that's all you've got. It takes time and experience… something you don't have. You're just playing at strength while I—" He spread his arms, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. "I've been honing this for years."

Ethan held his gaze, unflinching. "Oh. I see. Then, all that time..." he replied calmly, "this is what you've become? A man who hides behind his own illusions of superiority."

Lucien's smirk faltered, irritation flaring in his eyes. "You'll eat those words, Cole," he hissed, his tone darkening. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

But as he spoke, Ethan's gaze shifted, taking in the Warlords and Lucien's allies locked in combat. Despite their own challenges, the Warlords held their ground with unyielding tenacity, reflecting the strength Ethan had helped them reach in such a short time.

And then, he turned back to Lucien, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe you should worry less about my strength and focus more on your own."

Lucien's eyes narrowed as anger twisted across his face. "You think this is some kind of game, Cole?" he spat, his voice laced with barely controlled fury. "I'll show you what real power looks like—the kind that grinds arrogance like yours into dust."

He stepped forward, fists clenched, the air around him thickening with the force of his rising energy. "This isn't just about payback for that pathetic prank you pulled, making a mockery of me, of SilverWave," he sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. "That humiliation you caused? It'll be the last mistake you ever make."

His voice dropped, taking on a dangerous, satisfied edge. "And there's more. Eliminating you won't just end this little life of yours—it'll secure me Anton's favor."

A dark smile spread across Lucien's face, his eyes glinting maliciously. "I'll be the one to remove the thorn in his side, and when Anton sees that, my standing… LaRue's standing… will soar!"

A faint chime resonated in Ethan's mind as Lucien's twisted smile lingered, and his system panel flickered open. A new mission appeared, its text standing starkly against the translucent backdrop.

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[Mission: Defeat or Kill Lucien LaRue]

Objective: Defeat or eliminate Lucien LaRue

Rewards for Defeating Lucien:

1. 5000 EXP

2. 20 Ascension Points

3. 20 Free Attribute Points

Rewards for Eliminating Lucien:

All of the rewards for defeating Lucien and a Special Item: Ascendant's Leapstone (Upon use, promotes user from current rank to one full tier above perfectly.)

=====

Ethan's eyes lingered on the last line. A tool that could propel him directly from High Star Apprentice to High Star Soldier Ascendant, he could leap in rank and every aspect of his abilities. It was a game-changer, a reward designed to lure anyone thirsty for power. Yet, even as he felt the weight of the choice, a calm settled over him.

Ethan studied Lucien, who was still basking in his imagined victory. There was no personal vendetta here, no real reason to take his life. As much of a threat as he was then, Lucien was another piece in a much larger game.

'The power might be tempting,' he thought, his gaze steady, 'but not every battle has to end in blood.'

Lucien's eyes glinted with fierce determination as he steadied himself; without warning, he shouted, "Gale Strike!"n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Ethan saw the punch coming, sidestepping just in time to avoid the full brunt of it. Still, the force grazed his side, leaving a faint burn from the sheer precision of Lucien's technique.

"Seriously?" Ethan scoffed, regaining his balance. "Do you really have to announce every move like that?"

Lucien sneered, a touch of pride flashing in his eyes. "That's to show you the difference, Cole. LaRue martial arts aren't like the crude fighting styles you're used to."

Without hesitation, Lucien closed the distance again, his body flowing smoothly into the next move. "Gale Palm!" His palms struck out rapidly, each movement tight and controlled, aimed to drive Ethan back step by step.

Ethan weaved through the strikes, his mind cycling through techniques from his own arsenal. Muay Thai provided quick, defensive counters, his elbows and knees moving to block where he could. He followed up with a quick Krav Maga strike to Lucien's shoulder, aiming to break the rhythm of his attack.

But Lucien barely flinched, smoothly shifting into the next form, his feet gliding as he stepped back and prepared his stance for another series of attacks. "Gale Sweep!" he called, spinning low and aiming a sweeping kick toward Ethan's legs.

Ethan jumped back, narrowly missing the strike, his eyes narrowing as he studied Lucien's form.

'This guy's technique is solid,' Ethan thought, feeling the tension in his muscles from blocking and countering each move. 'His moves are precise, drilled to perfection. He's filling every gap with that LaRue discipline.'

Ethan surged forward, mixing Close Quarters Combat strikes with his Muay Thai stance, throwing a hard elbow toward Lucien's jaw. Lucien countered with a quick twist, catching Ethan's arm and redirecting the force into a throw. Ethan tumbled to the side but recovered, springing to his feet.

Despite Ethan's slightly superior Strength and Speed, Lucien's martial arts balanced the difference. He met Ethan's attacks with fluid responses, each form blending into the next.

Lucien's smirk widened, his confidence bolstered by Ethan's struggle to maintain an advantage.

"Gale Flow," Lucien murmured, his movements shifting into a seamless chain of strikes and evasions, the fluidity of the LaRue style on full display.

Ethan pushed back renewedly, his fists and elbows driving forward with practiced precision, each move calculated to break Lucien's rhythm.

Yet, each time he found an opening, Lucien was there, his form unyielding, adapting and responding like water filling every crevice.

For a brief moment, they paused, circling each other. Ethan felt his pulse quicken, frustration simmering beneath the surface. He hadn't expected Lucien to be this difficult to break through.

Lucien's smirk returned, taunting. "Struggling, Cole? Guess brute force can't keep up with true discipline."

Ethan's gaze hardened, his jaw tightening. "Maybe not," he said, his tone low, "but I'm not done yet."

Ethan studied Lucien carefully, his sharp gaze catching the faintest flickers of strain in Lucien's stance. He could tell the effort was wearing on him; each move's flashy yet demanding precision and formality couldn't be sustained forever.

In the back of his mind, he recalled passages from countless novels he'd read, stories of fighters with elegant, energy-draining techniques that couldn't hold up in drawn-out battles.

The more polished the technique, the more it sapped the user's stamina. Here, Ethan could see the same pattern unfolding.

'You won't keep this up for long, Lucien,' Ethan thought, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Lucien threw another rapid series of strikes, each move sharp and calculated. Still, Ethan noticed the faintest hesitation in his timing. He deflected a punch with his forearm, angling his body to control the fight, waiting for the inevitable slip.

Lucien's breathing grew heavier as they clashed, though he masked it with a determined expression. Ethan blocked another "Gale Palm" with a counter elbow. He ducked to avoid the follow-up, his movements fluid as he kept up the pressure, forcing Lucien to use more energy with every step.

'I just need to hold out a little longer,' Ethan thought, his focus unwavering. 'Soon, he'll be down to simpler moves.'

Each time Lucien reset his stance, Ethan could see the cracks widening. He kept his defenses tight, conserving his energy, his body ready for that pivotal moment when Lucien's complex style would falter, leaving him exposed.

And when that happened, Ethan would be ready to strike.

Meanwhile, Lucan moved in sync with Flint, their motions honed through years of training together. They exchanged brief glances as they advanced on the Illusionist, who stood smugly, watching them like they were merely entertainment.

"You think Ethan can hold up?" Lucan muttered to Flint, his voice low but edged with concern. He sidestepped one of the Illusionist's phantom attacks, carefully watching the shifting surroundings, knowing that any step could lead them into a trap.

Flint chuckled, his eyes darting as he analyzed the mirages forming around them. "You're actually worried? I've never seen you this tense," he quipped, though his attention was razor-sharp.

Lucan kept his focus, but he couldn't shake his unease. "Ethan's strong, I know. But I've never seen him in a fight like this. And against someone like Lucien…"

Before Flint could respond, the Illusionist interjected, his voice dripping with disdain. "Perhaps you should worry about yourselves before fretting over your 'weak' leader," he sneered. His fingers traced delicate patterns in the air, and with a flick of his wrist, the room around them warped, twisting into a maze of shifting walls and shadows.

Flint rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Oh, we're worried, alright," he shot back, his tone laced with sarcasm as he pressed forward. "Worried you'll bore us with more cheap tricks."

Lucan chuckled, though his tone was tight as he dodged another illusionary strike. "Cheap or not, he's good," he murmured to Flint. "Let's not give him too much ground."

Flint nodded, his gaze sharp as he focused on breaking the Illusionist's concentration. "If we can just get close enough…"

They coordinated their movements, each countering the illusion's disorienting effects by relying on each other's presence, pushing forward despite the illusions swirling around them. The Illusionist's smirk began to falter as he realized that, despite his illusions, these two were advancing.

He scowled, redoubling his efforts, but Lucan and Flint were relentless. They pushed back with every feint and every dodge, weaving through the illusions, each step closer to the Illusionist tightening the trap around him.