SSS-Rank Skill Copy: I Can Steal Every Class

Dawn came grey and heavy. The cloud cover sat on Johannesburg like a lid, pressing the air flat. Glen stood on the helicopter pad with the team assembled behind him — Mary with the modified ring, Caleb with the recalibrated distribution array, Vera in full kit, Yuki with her barrier bracers charged.

Addis Ababa. The sixth Tower. The last priority. The hybrid.

But first, Glen had to make the call.

Caleb had laid out the numbers at 0300. Fourteen reverted Towers. Eleven flickering. Four stabilized — two fallen. The math said Glen couldn’t save them all. The cascade propagation from a hybrid Tower at Addis Ababa could stabilize eight more within a three-hundred-kilometer radius. That was thirteen total. But the remaining twelve — the ones outside the cascade radius — would revert fully.

Twelve Towers. Twelve relays for the court. Millions of people in their zones.

Glen couldn’t save them. The arithmetic didn’t allow it. One carrier. One team. One hybrid attempt. The rest was triage.

"The decision," Caleb had said. "Which Towers do you let fall?"

Glen had spent the hours between 0300 and dawn working through the answer. Not with Caleb’s data. With something simpler. A map. Population density. The lines Caleb had drawn — the three-hundred-kilometer cascade radius around Addis Ababa. Inside the radius: eight Towers, roughly forty million people. Outside: twelve Towers, varying populations, some dense, some sparse.

The cascade would save the ones inside. The ones outside were the cost.

But not all outside Towers were equal. Some protected major population centers — cities of millions. Others sat in remote areas, anchor points with low population density. The court needed relays, but a relay in a populated zone was worth more to the court than one in empty grassland. More energy. More mana. More signal.

If Glen was going to lose twelve Towers, he could choose which twelve. Not by geography — by value. Give the court the Towers that hurt it least. Keep the ones that protected the most people.

"The six priority Towers," Glen said on the helipad. The team was listening. "Johannesburg, Lagos, Khartoum, Accra — already stabilized. Addis Ababa — today, the hybrid. That’s five. The sixth priority is the one inside the cascade radius that gives us the best coverage."

Caleb checked the map. "Nairobi. One point nine million. Inside the cascade radius — two hundred ninety kilometers from Addis Ababa. If the hybrid works, Nairobi gets stabilized by propagation. You don’t even need to visit it."

"Then Nairobi is six. Total: six priority Towers stabilized. Plus eight from the cascade. Fourteen total."

"And the other twelve."

"The other twelve revert. We accept the loss. The Monarchs deploy conventional forces to the populated zones. The S-Ranks hold the perimeter around the reverted Towers. We contain the damage."

Caleb was quiet. The analytical mind accepted the logic. The human mind behind it didn’t. Twelve Towers. The people near them. The gates that would open without warning. The Lost that would come through.

"The math," Caleb said.

"The math is the math. I didn’t write it. I’m just reading it."

"Mary?" Caleb turned to her.

Mary stood with the modified ring on her finger — she’d worn it overnight to test the dual-frequency channel. The second channel, built from Arthur’s tablet stone, sat parallel to the original. Two pathways. Two frequencies. One ring.

"The decision is his," Mary said. "He’s the carrier. He’s the one who pays the cost. He gets to choose which cost."

"Six hundred million people in the zones of the twenty-four Towers you can’t reach," Caleb said. "You’re choosing which of them lose their protection."

"I’m choosing which of them I can save. The ones I can’t — I’m not choosing to abandon them. I’m accepting that I can’t reach them. There’s a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yes. One is a decision. The other is a limitation. I’m limited. I’m not deciding to let people die. I’m unable to prevent it. The distinction matters because when I find a way to prevent it — and I will — the distinction is what keeps me going."

Caleb looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded. Acknowledgment, not agreement. The acknowledgment of a man who understood the math and hated it and accepted it because there was nothing else to accept.

"Addis Ababa," Caleb said. "Let’s go."

The helicopter lifted at 0530. Two hours to Addis Ababa. Glen sat in the back with the modified ring on his finger and the hybrid sequence in his mind.

The sequence was different from the standard stabilization. Seven steps, but the steps diverged at step five. Instead of building a bridge structure that replaced the extraction engine, Glen would build a bridge structure that ran parallel to the extraction engine. Two architectures. Two frequencies. One Tower.

Mary had walked him through the modification at 0400. The ring’s second channel — the one built from Arthur’s tablet — would handle the System-regulated mana frequency. The original channel would handle the pre-System bridge frequency. Both channels active simultaneously. Both frequencies structured in parallel.

The lock was the hard part. Sixty seconds. Two frequencies held in equilibrium. The ring’s dual channels would do the structuring, but Glen’s body would carry both energy flows. The direct method — ley-line energy through his nervous system, bypassing the void — meant the raw energy hit him on both frequencies. The void would sit in reserve, a safety net, but the primary channel was his body.

"Two frequencies through your nervous system," Mary had said. "The pre-System frequency and the System-regulated frequency. They operate on different wavelengths, but they’ll both be present in your body simultaneously. The sensation will be... unprecedented."

"Unprecedented how?"

"I don’t have a word for it. Arthur didn’t either. He wrote ’the carrier will know.’ That’s all he said."

The carrier will know. Arthur’s handwriting on the back of the seventh tablet. A father’s faith in a son he’d never meet. The carrier will know what it feels like. The carrier will handle it. The carrier will survive.

Glen looked at the ring. The dual channels gleamed — the original metal and the new stone, intertwined. Mary’s work. Arthur’s theory. His mother’s hands and his father’s mind, brought together on his finger.

One more Tower. One more sequence. One more step in the race.

And then — if the cascade worked, if the hybrid held, if the propagation reached — the turning point.

One hour into the flight, Caleb’s comm crackled.

"We have a problem." His voice was tight. "The flickering Towers. Three of them just crossed over. Fully reverted. The court’s signal just jumped."

"How bad?"

"The signal intensity increased twenty percent. Three new relays. The court is absorbing them into the network. The timeline shortened."

"How much?"

Caleb was quiet. Running the numbers. "Seven days. Maybe six."

Six days. The defector’s original estimate was ten. The stabilizations had pushed it to twelve. The fallen Towers and the new reversions had dragged it back to six. Every Tower Glen stabilized was matched by two more reverting. The math was winning.

"Then the hybrid has to work," Glen said.

"It has to work and the cascade has to propagate. If either fails—"

"Then we’re back to the math. And the math says we lose."

"The math says the court wakes in six days and consumes everything."

"Then let’s make sure it doesn’t."

The helicopter banked east. Addis Ababa was an hour ahead. The cloud cover broke for a moment and the sun hit the landscape — rolling highlands, green and brown, the African plateau stretching to the horizon. Beautiful. Worth saving. Worth the cost.

Glen closed his eyes. The modified ring hummed on his finger — two frequencies, two channels, ready. The void sat at thirty-five percent in his chest. Recovered overnight. Not full, but enough for the direct method. The direct method didn’t need the void. It needed the ring and the body and the will.

Sixty seconds. Two frequencies. One equilibrium.

The carrier will know.

He would.

The Addis Ababa Tower stood on a highland plateau, five kilometers from the city’s edge. The city was visible in the distance — a sprawl of buildings and streets, four million people going about their morning, unaware that the anchor point protecting them was about to become something that had never existed.

The Tower was flickering. System gold and pre-System indigo alternating in irregular pulses. The extraction engine was still functional — barely. The System’s architecture was holding, but the reversion was eating at it. Forty-eight hours, Caleb had estimated, before this Tower crossed over fully.

Forty-eight hours to build a hybrid. They had six days before the court woke. The margin was thin. The margin was always thin.

The team deployed. Vera to the perimeter — three hundred meters, bracers charged, eyes on the highland scrub. Yuki to the barrier — she placed her palms on the ground and the force field dome expanded, forty meters radius, covering the Tower’s base. Two frequencies threaded into the barrier — pre-System and System-regulated. The dome shimmered with both colors.

"Barrier holding," Yuki said. "Dual frequency stable. I can feel both — they’re different textures. The pre-System is deeper. The System is sharper. Like holding two notes at once."

"How long can you hold?"

"Forty minutes. The dual frequency drains faster. Maybe thirty-five."

"We need twenty for the sequence. Plus sixty seconds for the lock. Twenty-one minutes total."

"Within margin."

Caleb set up the distribution array fifteen meters from the Tower’s base. The recalibrated display showed two frequency channels — pre-System in indigo, System-regulated in gold. Both active. Both ready.

"Distribution array calibrated for dual frequency," Caleb said. "I can monitor and adjust both channels independently. If the pre-System energy concentrates, I spread it. If the System energy destabilizes, I reinforce it. Two hands, two channels."

Mary stood beside Glen. The tablets were packed away — they didn’t need them anymore. The sequence was memorized. The ring was modified. Everything Arthur had built and Mary had refined and Caleb had engineered was ready.

"Ready," Mary said.

"Ready," Caleb said.

"Ready," Vera called from the perimeter.

"Ready," Yuki said from the barrier.

Glen pressed his palm to the stone.

The ring activated. Both channels. Two frequencies. The glyphs on the Tower’s surface lit up — indigo and gold intertwined, climbing the structure in parallel chains. The Tower recognized the ring. Both frequencies. Both languages.

The hybrid sequence began.

Step one. Alignment. The ring connected to the Tower’s core on both frequencies simultaneously. The pre-System channel found the bridge architecture — dormant, damaged, waiting. The System channel found the extraction engine — active, failing, sputtering. Both channels locked on.

Step two. Phase synchronization. Two frequencies matched to two rhythms. The pre-System pulse — deep, slow, ancient. The System pulse — faster, sharper, mechanical. Glen held both in his awareness. Two heartbeats. Two tempos. The ring structured them into parallel channels that didn’t interfere.

"Phase locked. Both channels," Mary said.

Step three. Foundation. The pre-System energy flowed through the first channel. The System energy flowed through the second. Both entered the Tower’s core. The foundation formed — not one lattice but two. Interlocking. Parallel. The pre-System lattice for the bridge. The System lattice for the extraction engine.

"Dual foundation at fifty percent," Mary called. "Caleb, distribution."

Caleb worked the array. Two channels on the display. The pre-System energy was concentrating at the base — he spread it. The System energy was thinning at the upper levels — he reinforced it. Two hands, two channels, two adjustments.

"Even distribution. Both channels. Foundation at seventy. Eighty. Ninety. Set."

Step four. Load balancing. The dual foundation settled into the Tower’s architecture. Two lattices. Two frequencies. One structure. The energy flowed through both — parallel, balanced, stable.

"Load balanced. Both channels stable."

Step five. Bridge structure. The critical divergence. Glen built the bridge — not to replace the extraction engine but to run alongside it. The pre-System channel formed the bridge architecture. The System channel maintained the extraction engine. Both active. Both functional. Both coexisting.

The court’s signal stirred. Not a push — a query. Something vast and ancient felt the dual frequency and paused. Confused. The court’s signal was used to fighting the bridge or fighting the extraction engine. It had never encountered both at once.

"It’s confused," Mary said. "The court doesn’t know what to make of the dual frequency."

"Good. Let it be confused. Step six."

Coherence lock. Sixty seconds. Two frequencies held in equilibrium.

Glen gathered everything. The ring’s dual channels. The ley-line energy flowing through his body. The void in reserve. He compressed it all into the sustained hold and pushed.

One second. The dual frequencies stabilized. The bridge hummed. The extraction engine hummed. Two notes. One chord.

Two. Three. Five. Ten.

The court’s signal changed. Not confusion anymore — recognition. Something vast realized what was happening. The bridge was forming alongside the extraction engine. The cage was getting a door. The court pushed. Not at the bridge — at the extraction engine. Trying to destabilize the System frequency. Trying to make the dual structure collapse from the System side.

"System frequency destabilizing," Caleb said. His hands moved on the array. "Correcting. The court is pushing the System channel."

"Can you hold it?"

"I can hold it. But the modulation is maxed. If the court pushes harder—"

Fifteen seconds.

The court pushed harder. The System frequency wavered. The extraction engine stuttered. The dual structure flexed.

Glen released the void. Not as a filter — as a brace. The void flooded the System channel, holding the extraction engine’s frequency steady while the ring restructured the bridge. The pain hit — dual frequency, both channels, raw energy through his nervous system. The pre-System frequency and the System frequency intertwined in his body like two rivers merging.

Twenty seconds.

The carrier will know. Arthur’s words. Glen knew. He knew what it felt like to carry two worlds in one body. The pre-System world — ancient, deep, alive. The System world — mechanical, structured, controlled. Both present. Both real. Both his.

Twenty-five.

The court pushed with everything it had. The signal surged. The ground shook. Yuki’s barrier flared — dual-frequency, blue-white, holding. Vera’s voice crackled over the comm — "The highlands are shaking. The ground is cracking. Something’s pushing up from below."

"Hold the barrier," Glen said through gritted teeth.

Thirty.

The dual structure bent. The bridge and the extraction engine pressed against each other — two frequencies trying to occupy the same space. The ring held them apart. Two channels. Two pathways. The same structure, carrying both.

Thirty-five.

The court’s push peaked. A crescendo. The full weight of something ancient leaning against the door Glen was trying to build. The ring screamed. The void screamed. Glen’s body screamed.

Forty.

And then — equilibrium.

The two frequencies found their balance. Not Glenn forcing them. Not the ring structuring them. The frequencies themselves reaching a state of coexistence. The bridge and the extraction engine settling into parallel operation. Two systems. One Tower. A cage with a door.

Forty-five. Fifty.

The court’s push faltered. The signal wavered. Something vast pulled back — not in defeat but in reassessment. The court had never encountered this. It didn’t know how to fight it.

Fifty-five.

The lock clicked. The dual structure solidified. The bridge was live. The extraction engine was live. Both frequencies stable. Both channels flowing. The Tower stood as something new — not a cage, not a bridge, but both. A hybrid.

Sixty.

Glen pulled his hand away. He didn’t fall this time. His knees buckled but he caught himself. The void was at five percent — spent on bracing the System channel. The ring was hot but functional. His body was shaking but intact.

"Step seven," he said. "Verification."

He placed his hand on the stone. Lightly. Listening.

The Tower hummed. Two frequencies. One steady, ancient, deep — the bridge. One sharp, mechanical, precise — the extraction engine. Both self-sustaining. Both stable. The Tower regulated itself on both channels.

"It’s holding. Both channels. The hybrid is live."

Mary exhaled. Her whole body released. She sat on the ground. Caleb leaned against the distribution array, his hands trembling. Vera walked in from the perimeter, bracers still charged, eyes wide. Yuki dropped the barrier and sat down hard, her bracers smoking.

"Did it work?" Vera asked.

"It worked."

"The cascade?"

Glen reached out with his ley-line sense. Past the Tower. Past the highland plateau. Into the ley-line network. The bridge frequency — the pre-System channel — propagated outward from the hybrid Tower. Along the ley-lines. Through the network. Reaching.

He felt it hit the first Tower. Two hundred kilometers north. A flickering Tower — its reversion stuttering. The bridge frequency washed over it. The reversion slowed. Stopped. The System’s architecture stabilized. The extraction engine steadied.

The cascade was real.

He felt it reach the second Tower. Two hundred sixty kilometers east. Reverted — fully crossed over. The bridge frequency penetrated the reversion. The pre-System energy restructured. The Tower began to stabilize. Not instantly — slowly, over hours. But the process had started.

The third Tower. The fourth. The fifth. Each one within the cascade radius. Each one receiving the stabilization signal. Each one responding.

Eight Towers. The cascade was reaching eight Towers.

"It’s propagating," Glen said. "Eight Towers within range. The reversion is stopping. The cascade is real."

The team was quiet. The weight of it settled over them. Eight Towers. Millions of people. The math had changed. From net negative to net positive. From losing the race to winning it.

Not a victory. Not yet. Twelve Towers still reverted. The court still waking. Six days left. But the math was different now. The hybrid worked. The cascade was real. The third option existed.

Glen stood on the highland plateau with the sun breaking through the clouds and the hybrid Tower humming behind him — two frequencies, one structure, a cage with a door — and for the first time since the signal had hit, he allowed himself to think the word.

Hope.

Not much. A sliver. A crack in the math. But real.

The court was still out there. Still waking. Still hungry. But the cage had a door now. And the carrier held the key.

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