SSS-Rank Skill Copy: I Can Steal Every Class

Three days.

That was how long Glen lay in the medical bay, unable to move, unable to feel the void, unable to do anything but breathe and stare at the ceiling. The void was gone. Not suppressed — empty. The deep indigo that had been permanent in his chest since the Tower was absent. His body felt wrong without it. Like a house with the furniture removed. The walls stood but the rooms were hollow.

He kept reaching for it. Every few minutes, some reflex deeper than thought would reach into his chest and try to grip the void the way you’d grip a railing in the dark. And find nothing. The reach would close on empty air and his stomach would drop. Each time, the drop was smaller. By the second day his body had started to accept the absence, and that was almost worse — the way he could feel himself learning to live without it, the way the nerve that kept firing was going quiet.

His hands were the strangest part. Since the merge, the void had sat behind his fingers like a second pulse. He’d stopped noticing it the way you stop noticing your own heartbeat. Now he noticed. His hands felt light. Thin. Like the bones were closer to the surface than they should be. He’d flex them under the blanket and the muscles would respond, the tendons would pull, and it would all be correct and mechanical and dead. The machinery working without the current.

Sleep came in fragments. He’d drift under and the void would be there — he could feel it, full and dark and vast — and then he’d surface and it would be gone again. Each waking was a small loss. A reminder delivered fresh. He stopped trying to sleep on the second night and just lay still, counting the cracks in the ceiling, listening to the medical bay’s ventilation hum through the wall.

Mary sat with him the first day. She didn’t speak much. She checked his vitals, adjusted the IV, and read from Arthur’s tablets. On the second day, Caleb came with data. On the third, Vera stood in the doorway for ten minutes without entering, then left.

Isla came on the evening of the second day. She didn’t knock. The door opened and she was there, a sealed container in one hand and a data tablet in the other. She set the container on the table beside his bed. Rice, still warm. She placed the tablet next to it.

"Court signal data through hour thirty-six," she said. "Caleb asked me to bring it down."

"Thanks."

She stood there for a moment. Her eyes moved over him — the IV line, the monitors, the way his hands lay flat and still on the blanket. She didn’t ask how he felt. She didn’t sit. After a few seconds she nodded once, the way she nodded at everything, and left. The rice was good. He ate it slowly. The tablet stayed on the table until morning, unread, because he didn’t want to know the numbers yet.

On the morning of the fourth day, Glen felt it. A flicker. Deep in his chest, where the void lived. Not the full reservoir — a spark. An ember. The first sign that the void was coming back.

He sat up. The movement cost him. His arms shook. His vision swam. But he sat up.

"Slowly," Mary said from the chair beside his bed. She’d been there all night. The dark circles under her eyes had dark circles of their own.

"The void is coming back."

"I know. I can feel it through the ring." She held up his hand. The ring was warm again — dim, but warm. "It’s recharging. But slowly. Another two days before you’re at full capacity."

"Two days is too long. The court—"

"The court is holding." Caleb’s voice came from the doorway. He stepped in, tablet in hand. "Your stabilization of Khartoum hit it harder than the first two combined. You cut a primary relay. The signal is disrupted. The reversion rate has dropped to its lowest point since this started."

"How low?"

"Thirty percent of pre-crisis acceleration. You bought us time. But it’s temporary. The court is rerouting again." Caleb pulled up the data on his tablet. "The remaining reverted Towers are picking up the slack. The signal will rebuild. You have maybe five days before it’s back to where it was before Khartoum."

"Five days. And I need two to recover. That leaves three for three Towers."

"Three Towers in three days. One per day. No recovery time between."

"Then I need help."

The idea had been forming since Khartoum. Glen couldn’t do this alone. Six Towers, each one harder than the last, each one costing more, the void recovering slower each time. The math was impossible for one person. But it wasn’t impossible for a team.

"The stabilization method requires a carrier of pre-System energy," Glen said. "Someone whose body can channel the raw ley-line flow and interface with the Tower’s core. That’s me. But the sequence has steps that don’t require the carrier directly."

He looked at Caleb. "Step two — phase synchronization. That’s frequency matching. The ring does the work, but someone has to monitor the alignment and call the adjustments. Mary can do that. She’s been doing it."

Mary nodded.

"Step three — foundation. That’s the energy channel. The carrier does this. But step four — load balancing — that’s distribution. The energy needs to be spread evenly across the Tower’s structure. The carrier holds the channel open, but someone else could manage the distribution if they had the right equipment."

"What kind of equipment?" Caleb asked.

"Something that can interface with the Tower’s surface glyphs. Read the energy distribution and adjust the flow. The same sensors your team uses to monitor pre-System energy, but modified — bidirectional. Not just reading but writing."

Caleb’s eyes lit up. The analytical mind spinning up. "I could build that. The sensor arrays we have are already calibrated to pre-System frequency. If I add a modulation circuit — essentially a speaker that can output at the Tower’s frequency — someone could adjust the distribution in real time while you hold the channel."

"How long to build?"

"Two days. If I have the right components."

"You have the right components. I’ve seen your workshop."

Caleb nodded. He was already designing it in his head. Glen could see the gears turning.

"And step five — bridge structure. That’s me. Step six — the lock. Me again. But step seven — feedback stabilization — that’s verification. Someone else could do that. Someone who can feel the pre-System frequency."

"Mary," Glen said. "And one more."

He was thinking about the perimeter. Vera had held three Towers alone. She was fast, strong, and unflinching. But the court was escalating. Each Tower would be harder. The interference would come. One person couldn’t hold the perimeter and watch for threats at the scale the court would bring.

"I need another S-Rank for the perimeter," Glen said. "Someone who can work with Vera. Someone who won’t break."

"I know someone," Caleb said. "Yuki Tanaka. S-Rank. The Monarchs deployed her to our sector two weeks ago. She’s a Barrier class — she creates force fields. Not offensive, but defensive. She could hold a perimeter that Vera can’t."

"Barrier class. How strong?"

"Strong enough. She held a gate during the Second Wave for six hours. Alone. The Monarchs gave her a commendation."

"Can she work with Vera?"

"Can anyone work with Vera?"

Glen almost smiled. Almost. "Ask her. Tell her what we’re doing. Tell her the risk. If she says yes, she’s on the team."

Yuki Tanaka arrived at the compound the next morning. She was compact — five foot four, lean, with short black hair and steady eyes that assessed everything in the room before committing to a position. She moved like someone who’d learned to fight from a standing start, not a family tradition. No wasted motion. No posturing.

Glen met her in the training bay. She looked at him the way all S-Ranks looked at him now — with the wary respect reserved for things that didn’t fit the classification system.

"Caleb briefed me," she said. Her voice was level. Controlled. "You’re stabilizing Towers. You need perimeter. The court will interfere."

"Yes."

"What kind of interference?"

"Unknown. The court has been pushing energy. At Khartoum, it pushed hard enough to crack the ground. At the next Tower, it might send something physical. Corrupted energy constructs. Lost. Or something we haven’t seen."

"And you want me to hold the line while you work."

"While I work. While Vera covers the approaches. While Caleb manages the distribution from a modified sensor array. While Mary guides the sequence."

"A team of five."

"A team of five. You’re the wall."

Yuki considered. She extended her hand and a shimmer of force field appeared around her palm — translucent, faintly blue, solid enough to reflect the bay lights. It vanished when she closed her fist.

"I held a gate for six hours," she said. "A Tower should be easier."

"Don’t count on that."

"I never count on anything." She dropped her hand. "When do we start?"

"Two days. I need to recover. Caleb needs to finish the equipment. We train as a team on day three. We move on day four."

"Fine. Where do I set up?"

"Barracks, east wing. Caleb will show you." Glen paused. "One thing. The stabilization process takes twenty to thirty-five minutes. During that time, I’m vulnerable. I can’t fight. I can’t move. If something gets past the perimeter and reaches me, the sequence breaks. The Tower destabilizes. We fail."

"Then nothing gets past the perimeter."

"The court is older than the System. It might send something you can’t stop."

"Everything can be stopped. The question is what it costs." Yuki looked at the training dummy on the far side of the bay. "I’ll set up in the east wing. I’ll be ready."

She left. Glen watched her go. Another piece of the team. Another person betting their life on Arthur’s method and Glen’s ability to execute it.

He’d looked her up after Caleb mentioned her name. The records were thin — S-Rank files were sealed beyond a certain clearance — but the public service log told the story. Barrier class awakener, Japanese national, contracted to the Monarchs’ global response roster three years ago. She’d deployed to eleven incursion sites. Held structural barriers at four of them through full breach events. The gate during the Second Wave was the one that went into the commendation file. Six hours, solo, against a sustained Lost surge that had overrun two A-Rank teams before her unit arrived. She’d walked in, raised the barrier, and held it until the gate sealed. The log noted minor mana exhaustion. No structural failure. No casualties behind her line.

Her combat philosophy showed in the way she carried herself. She didn’t move first. She didn’t position for advantage. She’d plant and hold and let the fight come to her, because her entire class was built on the premise that you didn’t need to win the exchange — you needed to survive it. Defense wasn’t passive for her. It was a decision, made once, and maintained until the job was done. Glen could see why Caleb had recommended her. The stabilization didn’t need a sword. It needed a wall.

The team assembled on the third day. Glen, Mary, Caleb, Vera, Yuki. Five people in the training bay, surrounded by Caleb’s modified sensor equipment and the holographic Tower model.

Caleb demonstrated the distribution array. A handheld unit — two sensors and a modulation circuit, mounted on a grip. When pointed at a Tower’s surface, it could read the energy distribution in real time and output corrective frequencies to balance the flow. Not as precise as the ring, but precise enough to handle step four while Glen focused on the channel.

"I operate this?" Caleb asked.

"You operate this. You stand at the Tower’s base, fifteen meters from me. You read the distribution on the display and adjust the modulation to keep the flow even. If the energy starts concentrating in one area, you spread it. If it starts to collapse, you reinforce it."

"And if the array fails?"

"Then I handle distribution manually through the ring. Slower, but functional. The array is a help, not a requirement."

Mary walked through the sequence with Yuki and Vera. Her role was clear — she guided the steps, monitored the ring’s output, and called the timing. She’d done it three times. She was the expert.

Vera’s role was mobile perimeter. She would patrol the outer ring — three hundred meters from the Tower. Fast response. If something approached, she hit it first. Lightning at range. Close combat if it closed.

Yuki’s role was the wall. She would establish a barrier around the Tower’s base — a force field dome covering Glen, Mary, and Caleb while they worked. The barrier wouldn’t stop everything, but it would slow anything that got past Vera long enough for the team to react.

"What about the court’s energy push?" Yuki asked. "The ground cracking. The air distortion."

"The barrier can absorb kinetic energy and mana-based attacks. Pre-System energy is different. I don’t know if the barrier will hold against it."

"Then I’ll adapt. The barrier is responsive. I can adjust its frequency in real time. If pre-System energy has a pattern, I can tune to it."

"Can you?"

"I held a gate for six hours against unranked Lost. The energy was different but the principle was the same. Read the pattern. Match it. Hold."

Glen looked at her. The steadiness in her eyes. The confidence without arrogance. She’d earned the commendation. She’d earned the S-Rank. And she’d earned a spot on the team.

"Then we train. Full simulation. The model gives us the Tower. Caleb’s array gives us the distribution. Mary calls the steps. I run the sequence. Vera and Yuki hold the perimeter. We go until it’s smooth."

"How many runs?" Vera asked.

"Until we can do it in our sleep."

"That might take a while."

"Then we start now."

They ran the simulation fourteen times. By the seventh, the sequence was smooth. By the tenth, Caleb’s distribution array was working in sync with Glen’s channel. By the fourteenth, the whole team moved like a machine — Mary calling steps, Caleb adjusting distribution, Glen channeling energy, Vera patrolling, Yuki holding the barrier.

The first three runs were rough. Timing broke at step four. Caleb would call a distribution spike a half-second late, the energy would pool on the Tower’s north face, and Mary would have to pause the sequence while Glen rebalanced through the ring. Slow. Clunky. The holographic model flickered red at the hot spots like a bruise. After the third run, Glen called a stop and they reset.

Run four was better. Caleb found the rhythm — he stopped watching the display and started listening to Mary’s cadence, anticipating the step transitions. When she called "phase two, hold," his thumb was already on the modulation dial. The distribution stayed even. Glen felt the difference in his chest: the channel ran cleaner when he wasn’t fighting the flow sideways. A small thing that changed everything.

By the fifth run, Vera had figured out her patrol loop. Three hundred meters, three points, sixty seconds per circuit. She’d break left at the northeast corner, sweep the tree line, and rejoin the perimeter. The first time she’d done it, she’d cut across Yuki’s barrier line and the force field had rippled. Yuki hadn’t flinched. She’d adjusted the field’s edge to leave a gap for Vera’s path, and the next circuit was clean. They didn’t discuss it. The barrier simply opened where Vera needed it and closed behind her.

Run seven was where it clicked. Mary called the steps and no one hesitated. Caleb balanced the distribution without being told. Glen held the channel and felt the ring do work he’d been doing alone — the structuring, the spreading, the fine adjustments — because someone else was carrying that weight now. He could feel the difference in his void. The drain was lighter. The sequence took the same time but cost him less. He mentioned it to Mary after the run.

"The load distribution works," she said. She was checking the ring’s output log on her tablet. "Your void expenditure dropped eighteen percent compared to the solo runs at Khartoum."

"Eighteen percent."

"Per sequence. Over three Towers, that compounds."

It did. Eighteen percent less drain meant eighteen percent more recovery between Towers. Three days of compounding. The difference between finishing the third Tower and collapsing on the second.

Runs eight through twelve added pressure. Caleb programmed interference into the simulation — energy surges on random faces of the Tower, distribution collapses, feedback spikes. The team adapted. Yuki’s barrier absorbed the external pulses. Caleb compensated for the internal ones. Vera tracked phantom contacts on the perimeter, calling them out so the inner team knew what was coming. The calls were short. "Contact, northeast, closing." "Contact, west, two signals." No wasted words. The information flowed and the team responded.

By the fourteenth run, the whole sequence took twenty-two minutes. Mary’s voice was steady from start to finish. Caleb’s hands moved on the array without pause. Yuki held the barrier without shifting her stance. Vera’s patrol was silent — she only spoke when something changed. Glen ran the channel and the lock and felt, for the first time, like he was part of something larger than his own capacity. The void pushed and the team absorbed the push together.

It wasn’t perfect. The simulation couldn’t replicate the court’s interference. It couldn’t replicate the seven-times density of a primary node. It couldn’t replicate the feeling of something ancient pushing back. But it gave them coordination. Timing. Trust.

After the fourteenth run, Glen sat on the floor of the training bay. The void was at sixty percent. Recovering. By tomorrow, it would be at eighty. Not full, but enough. Enough for the standard sequence. Enough for one more Tower.

"Tomorrow," he said. "Accra. The fourth Tower."

"How are you feeling?" Mary asked.

"Sixty percent."

"You need eighty for the standard sequence. The direct method needs less, but—"

"We’re not using the direct method. That was a contingency. The standard sequence with the team is safer. Caleb handles distribution. You guide the steps. I focus on the channel and the hold. The work is distributed. The cost is distributed."

"The void still depletes," Mary said.

"But slower. The team means I’m not doing everything alone. The ring does the structuring. Caleb does the distribution. I do the channel and the lock. Less drain. Faster recovery."

Mary looked at him. The expression was different now. Not just pride and fear. Something new. The look of a mother watching her son become the thing she’d spent eighteen years preparing him to be.

"Arthur would be proud," she said.

"Arthur would be taking notes."

Mary smiled. Small. Tired. Real. The first real smile Glen had seen from her since the signal.

"Tomorrow," she said. "Accra."

"Accra."

The team dispersed. Vera to the ready room. Yuki to the east wing. Caleb to his workshop to calibrate the array. Mary to the archives to review the tablets one more time.

Glen stayed in the training bay. Alone. The void pulsed in his chest — sixty percent, climbing. The ring sat warm on his finger. The holographic Tower model glowed in the empty room, steady, balanced, alive.

Tomorrow, they’d do it for real. A team. Not one person carrying the weight alone. Five people, each one a piece of the mechanism. Arthur’s method. Mary’s key. Caleb’s engineering. Vera’s speed. Yuki’s wall. And Glen — the carrier, the channel, the bridge between the world that was and the world that came before.

Three Towers. Three days. The court waking. The race continuing.

But for the first time, he wasn’t running it alone.

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