They two lines ant... completed dinsional rift passes.
Not simulated training dinsional rifts. Not classroom events.
Real, full-fledged dinsional rift access. Completed. Recorded. Cleared.
There was a collective gasp across the crowd.
"Woah!"
"He’s got two passes already?!"
"But he’s just a first-year!"
"No way!"
"That’s not even supposed to be possible!"
The whispers beca louder, feverish.
Because for every Superhero in Academy High, acquiring a dinsional rift pass ant more than just guts. It ant:
Topping every class on dinsional rift theory.
Submitting hours of flawless combat records.
Fulfilling mandatory community labor under high-tier Hero supervision—which often ant scrubbing the blood-soaked armor and broken suits of A-rank veterans after battles.
And then, still passing a brutal written evaluation just to apply.
Even one line was considered high honors for a first-year.
Two?
That was near-mythical.
"Is... is he betting his dinsional rift access?!"
"He’s betting those two lines?!"
"He’s out of his mind!"
"That’s more than magic crystals! That’s entry into life-and-death gates!"
The noise swelled until the crowd turned to the Vanguard Justice Juniors, now suddenly on the defensive.
"Co on! If he’s betting two full dinsional rift passes, the least you can do is cough up so crystals!"
"Yeah! What’s fifty to you big shots?!"
"You’re Vanguard! Aren’t you supposed to be the elite?!"
The pressure mounted. So students were even recording now, live-streaming the confrontation.
The Juniors exchanged glances—pride, hesitation, calculation dancing in their expressions.
Then, with the grace of soone pretending it had always been their decision, Star-Spangled finally scoffed and nodded.
"Tch. Alright. Fine. Fifty it is. But..."
He stepped forward again, face inches from Elius, voice low and biting.
"If even one of your sidekicks dies... the bet’s nullified."
Elius stared at him. And smiled.
"Naturally... but I am only betting one dinsional rift pass to your group."
Then, he folded his arms and added, voice loud enough for everyone to hear:
"Sa for you. If even one of your precious Vanguard mbers dies inside the dinsional rift—you lose. I get the crystals. Deal?"
Star-Spangled gritted his teeth.
"Deal."
"Deal."
A confirmation echoed from the others.
That was it. The wager was struck.
Monts later, automated robots rolled forward from the portal station. Gleaming black, single-wheeled constructs with robotic arms and scanning lenses, the official dinsional rift diators for Academy High.
One halted in front of Elius. "Please state your intent for entry."
"Single dinsional rift," Elius replied smoothly.
"Specify group paraters."
Elius nodded toward his sidekicks, still floating in disbelief behind him.
"Party of five. One Superhero—. Four sidekicks. Register all. If any one of them dies, I forfeit the crystals. If none of us dies, and we complete the dinsional rift, I win."
"Confird," the robot said, beams scanning all five of them. "dinsional rift paraters locked. Betting clause accepted."
The robot slid a sleek digital slip from its side—proof of the bet, stamped with Academy High’s official sigil.
Then it rolled to the Vanguard Justice Juniors.
Star-Spangled stepped up.
"If Elius and all of his sidekicks survive and complete the dinsional rift, transfer fifty Earth or Fire elental crystals to his account," he said grudgingly. "If even one of them dies, nullify the bet."
"Confird," the robot replied, scanning their credentials and printing a second digital slip.
A hologram ford above both robots.
WAGER CONFIRD.
dinsional rift ID: 77-X. UNEXPLORED. NO RETURN GATE. ENTRY IN PROGRESS.
The crowd watched, electrified by tension.
Elius took one final step forward, the shimring portal pulsing with dinsional energy before him.
Behind him, Jiro, Monkaar, Clint, and Balkan stood frozen with terror and awe.
And then—
"Party," Elius said.
The cultivation screen flickered into life before his eyes, invisible to all but him.
But just before he could tap the confirmation—
He froze.
His hand halted mid-air.
The cultivation screen shimred faintly before Elius’s eyes, displaying the party mbers he’d brought into the rift.
> Party Ford:
Clint, "The Bullet"
Balkan, "The Insect Tar"
Jiro, "The Sand User"
Monkaar, "The Floating Boy"
But instead of an influx of overwhelming boons like the last ti—when he’d partied with Lina and Ron—this ti, the screen showed only minimal buffs.
Buffs Applied:
60% Earth Elental Endurance
20% Firepower Output
No special skill acquisition.
Elius’s pupils contracted slightly.
"...That’s it?" he muttered under his breath, frowning.
He tapped the air in frustration, trying to refresh the screen, hoping the full benefits were just delayed. But no. No fire-bullet mastery from Clint. No beast-awareness from Balkan. No sand manipulation abilities from Jiro. No magnetic effect power from the floating Monkaar.
Just flat stat boosts.
Then, a red prompt blinked on the screen.
System Notification:
The Host may have detected the buff nerf.
The system only granted enhanced bonuses during the first-ti party experience.
From now on, standard buffs apply based on teammate compatibility and relationship level.
Elius sighed. "Figures..."
He wasn’t shocked. Sowhere deep in his mind, he had suspected it all along.
That first ti had felt too convenient—too good to be true.
The system had pampered him to teach him the ropes. But now?
Now, just like in the ga, he had to earn every shred of advantage.
"No free lunch, huh..." he muttered to himself.
He squared his shoulders, closing the cultivation screen with a ntal command. No ti to brood. This was still a dungeon. And it wasn’t going to wait for him to adjust.
He turned to his party—who stood nervously near the portal, still breathless from the tension of everything before.
Clint, tall and built like a speed-velocity boy.
Balkan, lean and wiry with twitching fingers that slled faintly of fernted bark.
Jiro, masked and silent, with shifting grains of sand collecting around his boots.
And Monkaar... the awkward, round-eyed boy floating a few inches above the ground, arms outstretched like a nervous balloon.
Elius lifted his chin, the wind fluttering the hem of his robe as he declared:
"From this point onward... do not call Elius."
The four blinked.
He turned, his black hair swaying in the breeze as his swords clicked into formation on his back.
"Call ... Sword Immortal."
And with that, he stepped through the portal.
Swoooooooosh!
The sensation hit like a flood.
Ti and space unraveled, stretching like an infinite ribbon of color and sound. The world twisted, kaleidoscopic lights pulsing around them like stained glass dipped in lightning. It wasn’t just swirling—it boiled.
Yellows twisted into acidic greens.
Greens rged into glowing erald shards.
Rivers of static-like thread ran through the dinsional path, crackling like living vines of light.
Geotries bled into one another—triangles folded into circles, hexagons lted into orbs, and in the center of it all, Elius stood still.
A blade in the storm.
Every second felt like hours.
Every breath, a lifeti.
Monkaar twirled sideways, his body spinning like a leaf in water.
Balkan gripped his stomach, trying not to vomit.
Jiro closed his eyes, not knowing that he’s already sinking into a sand cloud from his powers to brace himself from the spatial barrage.
Clint reached for his belt, trying to find sothing solid.
They tumbled through color.
And then—
WHOOOOM!!
Elius’s boots touched down softly on a field of glowing yellow-green moss.
He exhaled calmly.
His surroundings pulsed with life.
Trees stood like skyscrapers, their trunks thick and pulsating with pale bioluminescent veins.
The canopy above shimred with green lightning running across translucent leaves.
Vines dangled from every direction, softly humming. And the air slled... electric.
But Elius didn’t need to confirm it. He already knew.
This wasn’t a normal forest.
This was—
"The Buzztric Dungeon..." he whispered.
The mont his feet touched the ground, his flying swords—hovering like loyal hounds—darted behind him in a blur of motion.
Clank-clank-clank!
With inhuman precision, they intercepted the four falling sidekicks mid-air.
Clint grunted as a flat blade caught him under his feet.
Jiro floated down like a feather, cushioned by a dancing blade.
Balkan fell into a cross-guarded formation of two curved sabers.
Monkaar was gently pushed onto a levitating sword that shimred with golden qi.
Elius’s eyes never left the horizon as he softly whispered, "Down."
The swords descended.
Each sidekick touched the yellow-green grass with the lightness of falling petals.
Clint blinked. "You... caught us?"
"Obviously," Elius replied, not even turning. "You think I’d let my sidekicks embarrass themselves on first landing?"
They looked around, unsure of what to say.
But then... the realization hit them.
Jiro froze. "Wait... this isn’t a simulation."
Balkan looked up. "I... I’ve never seen a tree like that before."
Clint’s eyes narrowed. "The air’s charged. Feels like I’m standing inside a battery."
Monkaar’s face paled. "Where... are we?"
They backed together instinctively.
Panic.
Fear.
The realization was dawning, and it was hitting hard.
"This... this is an unexplored rift!" Balkan hissed. "Nobody’s been here before! There’s no map! No exit gate! No safety net!"
"This wasn’t supposed to be real!" Jiro said, panic creeping into his voice. "F-Class rift or not—this is suicide!"
"There’s no support team monitoring us!" Clint barked. "If anything goes wrong, no one’s pulling us out!"
Monkaar clenched his fists. "I-I don’t want to die..."
Elius finally turned to face them.
His gaze was sharp. Focused.
"This is an F-Ranked Buzztric Dungeon," he said flatly, voice cutting through their panic like a blade. "Yes. It’s unexplored. Yes, it’s dangerous. And yes, there are no safety gates."
The four quieted, gulping air.
"But you also have sothing new," he added.
They blinked.
Elius pointed at them. "You’ve awakened. Enhanced. Your powers are growing. And this dungeon? It’s the perfect trial."
He snapped his fingers.
Shing!
A ripple of qi burst beside him.
A translucent figure ford—a clone of Elius, mirroring his exact form, posture, and expression, though slightly flickering.
"My clone," Elius said, gesturing to it. "It’ll last two minutes. During that ti, practice."
"W-What?"
"I want you to get used to fighting under pressure," Elius said. "Try out your powers. Push yourself. But..."
His expression darkened slightly.
"Do not disturb while I cultivate."
And with that, Elius turned from them.
He walked forward a few steps and sat cross-legged in a shallow bed of moss that crackled under his weight like static snow.
The Sword Immortal closed his eyes.
Qi began to rise around him—golden currents of energy coiling from the air, entering his skin, his bones, his dantian.
Leaves rustled.
Lightning danced through the canopy.
And Elius... began to cultivate.
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