The Awakening Error - The system's Greatest Error

A flicker of movement. A shadow shifting against the endless expanse.

Ethan's breath slowed, his pulse steady despite the unknown before him.

He wasn't alone.

A figure had materialized from nothingness, an eerie presence wrapped in a translucent mist, neither solid nor spectral. It stood tall, faceless, its body made of pure energy that pulsed like a dying star.

A construct? A will? A manifestation of the test?

Ethan didn't know. But it was watching. Studying.

Then, it moved.

Fast.

The ground cracked beneath its force. The moment it lunged, the air screamed in protest.

Ethan barely dodged.

A sharp slice of wind followed, carving the air where he had stood moments before. Not an illusion. A real attack.

Ethan landed, feet skidding across the uneven terrain. His instincts screamed at him—react. Respond. Resonate.

His mind sharpened.

The floating sword he had resonated with moments ago still hovered in the air, untouched, waiting.

This was the test.

Not brute force. Not overwhelming strength. Understanding.

The construct struck again—this time, faster. A flurry of attacks. Each blow was precise, calculated, meant to kill.

Ethan gritted his teeth. Dodging wasn't enough. He needed to fight back.

His gaze flickered to the sword—and then beyond it.

His power wasn't just about wielding weapons. It wasn't just about resonance.

It was about connection.

He extended his will—not toward the sword, but toward everything.

The ground beneath him. The air currents shifting in response to the attacks. The vibrations humming through the space.

And then—

He reached into the construct itself.

His power latched onto it, like finding a thread within an endless weave. The resonance flared, flickering between them.

For a fraction of a second—he felt something.

Not just energy. Not just motion.

Something deeper. A presence.

And then, the construct hesitated.

Ethan's eyes widened. It can feel me.

A mistake. A flicker of uncertainty.

That was all he needed.

His will surged, pulling.

The floating sword responded instantly, its blade humming to life in the air. Not held by his hands—but by his intent. By his understanding.

The construct reacted too late.

Ethan's sword moved—not just with his mind, but with purpose.

The blade danced, cutting through the space like it was part of him. The construct shifted to block, but Ethan's resonance surged again—not at the sword, but at the very air around it.

A ripple of energy exploded.

The construct's form wavered.

Ethan saw the opening and struck.

The blade passed through like cutting mist. No resistance. No impact. But the moment it touched—

The world shattered.

Silence.

Ethan stood in a void, weightless, breathless.

Then, like glass reforming from fragments, the world stitched itself back together.

And he was no longer alone.

He was back at the entrance of the Academy.

Ronan stood a few feet away, breathing hard, eyes sharp with the same realization—they had been tested.

Across from them, the examiner stood, arms folded, his gaze unreadable.

Then, for the first time, he smiled.

"Welcome to Celestial Apex Academy."