SSS-Rank Talent: Super Upgrade System-Chapter 47: The Intrepid Ayra Sand!

The training field on Platform Alpha, usually a place of structured drills and nervous energy, was now crackling with an entirely different kind of tension.

A crowd of recruits had formed a wide, wary circle, their eyes glued to the two figures in the center.

Daniel, the SSS-Talent anomaly who had rewritten the Academy’s record books, stood looking remarkably calm, though a faint sheen of sweat still clung to his brow, a remnant of the bathroom that was transformed into a sauna and then a warzone.

Opposite him stood Ayra Sand, her hastily worn grey training tunic and pants doing little to conceal the furious power thrumming beneath.

"No more dodging like a frightened rabbit," Ayra declared, her voice low and resonating with a dangerous undercurrent.

She took a deep, deliberate breath. This wasn’t just anger; this was her S-Grade [Primal Fury Berserker] talent stirring, eager for release.

Daniel sighed internally. He’d really just wanted a nice, relaxing, power-boosting herb bath.

Now he was about to engage in a "proper duel" with an S-Grade close-combat prodigy who he had, admittedly, startled mid-shower.

His social skills clearly needed an SSS-Grade upgrade of their own.

"Look, Ayra, can we just call this a misunderstanding?"

Daniel made one final attempt, raising his hands, the A-Grade Phantom Edge Striking Wraps appearing deceptively harmless.

Her only response was a guttural snarl. She stamped her foot.

"Boom!"

The plasteel ground cracked beneath her heel, sending a small shockwave rippling outwards.

The crowd gasped, stumbling back. This wasn’t just a spar; this was a declaration.

"[Primal Fury Berserker: Second Stage - Tyrant’s Mantle]!" Ayra roared, her voice deepening, taking on a guttural edge.

"BOOM!"

A visible shockwave of raw, crimson-tinged power erupted from her, far more potent than the pressure wave in the bathroom.

The air shrieked around her as her aura intensified, her muscles seeming to become even more defined under her training gear.

The recruits in the crowd scrambled further back, faces pale.

"Gods, she’s using her Second Stage already!"

"Vance is toast! He looks like he’s barely out of basic training!"

Daniel watched, a grim smile touching his lips.

He wanted to test his close combat and new S-Grade forms without relying on the overkill of his SSS-talent’s advanced abilities or his A-Grade Kinetic Void Gauntlets, which felt like cheating. The Phantom Edge Wraps would be enough for a simple spar.

"Alright, Tyrant’s Mantle it is," Daniel murmured, settling into a relaxed fighting stance.

He decided to test his S-Grade Solar Flare Fist Art, but only the foundational movements and energy channeling, not the full, cataclysmic release.

This was, after all, supposed to be an apology duel, not an orbital bombardment.

Ayra lunged.

"BOOM!"

She wasn’t a blur; she was a crimson comet, each step shattering the earth beneath her.

Her fist, cloaked in that furious crimson aura, aimed for his chest with the force of a speeding truck.

Daniel met her charge. He didn’t activate [Ghoststeps+]. He relied on his raw, Level 5 attributes.

He sidestepped, the punch thundering past his ear, the displaced air struck him with the force of a tangible blow.

He could feel the heat radiating from her fist.

"Fast," he noted internally, then countered with a swift jab, channeling a tiny spark of the Solar Flare Fist Art’s initial energy into his wrapped knuckles.

"Boom!"

His fist met her forearm as she expertly blocked.

A shockwave, smaller than Ayra’s but still potent, pulsed outwards.

The crowd oohed.

Daniel felt a jolt up his arm; her raw strength in this state was immense, easily matching his own non-boosted punches.

His Phantom Edge Wraps absorbed the impact perfectly.

"Not bad, peeper," Ayra growled. "But you’ll need more than that!"

She unleashed a furious combination, hooks, uppercuts, knee strikes, each blow carrying her S-Grade Berserker momentum.

The wind howled around them as their limbs blurs.

Daniel found himself relying on his vastly superior Agility to weave and deflect. He deflected her blows with his wraps, occasionally landing a light counter-strike powered by a fragment of Solar Flare energy.

From the edge of the growing crowd, Lia, the A-grade healer, watched with calm, analytical grey eyes.

She’d followed them from the dorms, her curiosity piqued by the bathroom explosion and Daniel’s subsequent panicked apologies. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

Now, she observed the sheer power radiating from both combatants, making mental notes.

Roxa Rourke, the S-Grade Berserker with the giant axe, walked over with a bucket of greasy fried food, watching with a big, appreciative grin.

"Now this is a proper welcoming party!" she boomed to no one in particular, narrowly avoiding a stray piece of plasteel shrapnel.

Daniel, focusing on the fight, realized his base attributes, even without his S-Grade forms fully active, were giving him a significant edge in endurance and recovery.

Ayra was burning through her berserker energy at a phenomenal rate.

His Solar Flare Fist Art, even used in this restrained manner, provided potent offensive bursts.

He could probably end this quickly if he committed to a full-power strike.

But the guilt still gnawed. And he was learning.

Her furious, unpredictable assault was an excellent test of his reflexes and defensive maneuvering.

"You’re holding back!" Ayra roared, sensing his restraint. Frustration warred with the berserker rage.

"Fight me properly, you... you overgrown weed-clutcher!"

She punctuated her insult with a devastating axe kick aimed at his head.

"Boom!"

Daniel ducked, the kick whistling inches above his hair, a few strands singeing from the sheer friction and heat of her aura.

He felt the ground tremble as her foot slammed down where his head had been.

"Okay, maybe a little less holding back," Daniel conceded, feeling a thrill course through him. This was exhilarating.

He shifted his stance, letting a bit more of the Solar Flare energy flow. His wraps began to glow with a faint orange light.

"You want a proper fight? You got it."

He met her next charge head-on. Their fists collided again.

"BOOM!"

This time, the shockwave was significantly larger. The ground beneath them cracked further.

Ayra stumbled back a step, her eyes widening slightly in surprise at the sudden increase in his power.

"That’s more like it!" she grinned, a feral light in her crimson eyes.

The spectators gasped as the two S-Grade talents truly began to unleash.

"They’re monsters!"

"I thought Vance was an SSS-Talent anomaly, not an S-Grade brawler too!"

"Ayra Sand is terrifying! That Primal Fury is no joke!"

Ayra, pushed by Daniel’s increased output and her own pride, felt a surge of frustration.

"This isn’t over!" she screamed, planting her feet. "I haven’t even begun to get serious!"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, her entire body tensing. The crimson aura around her pulsed violently, then began to concentrate, to solidify.

"She’s... she’s going for her Third Stage!" a knowledgeable senior recruit in the crowd gasped, his face pale.

"She’s never successfully maintained it before! It’s too unstable!"

"[Primal Fury Berserker: Stage Three - Titan’s Wrath]!" Ayra bellowed, her voice distorted, inhuman.

"KRA-KA-THOOOOOM!"

The ground didn’t just crack; it shattered, huge chunks of plasteel flying into the air like shrapnel.

The wind shrieked and howled with hurricane force, tearing at the clothes of the spectators, who were sent tumbling backwards despite their distance.

The pressure wave effortlessly destroyed several nearby equipment racks and training dummies.

Daniel felt the terrifying surge of power. This was different.

This was an S-Grade Berserker pushing past their known limits.

Her crimson aura now burned with an almost black intensity at its core, and her physical form seemed to have subtly grown, her muscles looking denser, harder than stone.

A genuine smile, fierce and excited, finally spread across Daniel’s face.

"Now this," he said, his voice barely audible above the roaring wind, "is a proper apology."

He locked eyes with here fiery gaze. He, too, took a deeper breath, letting the true, foundational power of his S-Grade Solar Flare Fist Art begin to gather.

They stood for a heartbeat, ready to collide.

The crowd, those who hadn’t been blown away, watched in terrified, breathless anticipation.

Then, they moved.

The subsequent clash was not just a sound; it was a cataclysm.

"BOOM! CRACK! KABOOOOOOOM!"

Their fists collided, unleashing an even more powerful explosion of force.

The shockwave, a ripple of distorted space and energy, blasted outward, hitting one of the Adamantium Impact Pillars at the edge of the training field, built to withstand and measure extreme force.

The pillar, a ten-foot-tall column of nigh-indestructible metal, didn’t even register the impact initially. Then, its internal sensors overloaded.

The numerical display on its side, designed to show impact scores, flashed erratically, numbers climbing at an impossible rate.

1,000... 5,000... 8,000...

It hit 9,999, the supposed peak reading, indicating an attack strength far exceeding Level 10.

And then, the display went blank, smoking.

The pillar itself, the Adamantium designed to test the limits of Vanguard recruits, shuddered violently.

Fine cracks began to appear on its lustrous surface, spreading like spiderwebs.

The crowd stared, their minds unable to process the sheer, ludicrous scale of power on display.

Their combined force, even in this "spar," was literally breaking the unbreakable.