My goal was to get stronger, but not at the cost of breaking myself in the process.

  That was a lesson I had learned the hard way in my first dive. Power gained recklessly always demanded repayment later, usually with interest. This body wasn’t truly mine; it was a vessel borrowed from this world, with a future that would continue long after I left it behind. If I pushed it too hard, ignored its limits, or twisted it into something unnatural, then whatever came next, whether for me or for the person who originally belonged here, would suffer for it.

  So I needed to be deliberate.

  Careful.

  The real me didn’t grow stronger by lifting heavier weights or enduring harsher drills. Those things mattered, yes, but they were secondary. My true growth came from my book.

  Records.

  If I recorded an ability, I needed to practice using it here until it stopped feeling like an external attachment and became second nature. If I recorded a creature, I needed to observe it, fight alongside it, test its limits, and understand its instincts, not just rely on raw stats written on a page. And if I recorded an item, I needed to know every nuance of how it functioned, when it failed, and how it interacted with other systems.

  A record without understanding was just dead weight.

  With that in mind, there was one problem I could no longer put off.

  My slime.

  It had followed me through worlds, evolving in ways that didn’t always align with the logic of the places we visited. In this world, summoning creatures wasn’t unusual, but using them without proper registration was.

  And unlike my other abilities, my slime was very visible.

  So that was how I found myself standing at a sleek, well-lit government counter just outside one of the SDA’s administrative branches. The design was minimalist, glass and white metal accented with faint Spectrum patterns pulsing beneath the surface, more for intimidation than decoration.

  A woman in a neatly pressed uniform looked up from her terminal, her expression professional but not unfriendly.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  I didn’t hesitate. “I want to register as a white energy user.”

  Her fingers paused mid-typing.

  That reaction, subtle, controlled, told me everything I needed to know. White Spectrum users weren’t rare, but they weren’t common either. And among new recruits? Even less so.

  She studied my face for a moment, probably checking my ID through the system as she did. “Are you aware of what that entails?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I replied honestly. “Or at least… I’m aware enough to accept the conditions.”

  That seemed to satisfy her. She nodded once and reached beneath the counter, pulling out a thin tablet and a physical booklet. The booklet was heavier than it looked, its cover embossed with a faint white sigil that didn’t glow but somehow felt present.

  She slid it toward me.

  “This is the White Spectrum User Handbook,” she said. “You’ll need to review it carefully. Registration is provisional until you pass a performance evaluation.”

  I picked it up, feeling a faint resistance as my fingers brushed the cover, like static without the sting.

  “To summarize,” she continued, clearly used to explaining this, “white energy authorization is entirely performance-based. There are no compatibility tests, no aptitude ratings. Anyone can theoretically become a white energy user.”

  The emphasis wasn’t accidental.

  “Upon registration,” she said, “you will be given one week to prepare for a performance test. During that time, you are not permitted to deploy white energy in live operations. The evaluation will determine whether you are granted limited-use permission, conditional permission, or denied entirely.”

  “And the criteria?” I asked.

  Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Control. Judgment. Risk management. Results.”

  That lined up with everything I already knew.

  White energy wasn’t about power output. It was about responsibility.

  Capturing Frades, controlling them, summoning them back into the world, it wasn’t just dangerous for the user. A single mistake could get civilians killed, destabilize an entire operation, or unleash something far worse than what the SDA had intended to contain.

  Privileges for those who succeeded.

  Severe consequences for those who failed.

  I flipped through the handbook briefly. Diagrams of summoning circles. Case studies of failed captures. Psychological evaluations. Long sections dedicated to ethics, accountability, and chain-of-command protocols.

  This wasn’t a power you were given.

  It was one you were trusted with.

  I closed the handbook and met her eyes. “Understood.”

  She tapped a few keys on her terminal, then nodded. “Your provisional registration is complete. Your evaluation will be scheduled one week from today. You’ll receive the details through your agent interface.”

  As she handed back my ID, she added, almost as an afterthought, “One piece of advice?”

  I paused. “Yes?”

  “Don’t treat white energy like a shortcut,” she said. “Most people who fail do.”

  I gave a small, genuine smile. “I don’t plan to.”

  As I stepped away from the counter, the weight of the handbook under my arm felt heavier than before, not physically, but conceptually.

  Registering as a white energy user wasn’t just about being able to summon my slime freely.

  It was a statement.

  That I was willing to be judged not by how strong I was …but by how well I understood the consequences of my strength.

  And for once, that felt like a challenge worth taking.

  The handbook was far more thorough than I expected.

  After leaving the registration office, I sat on a bench outside the SDA facility and flipped through its pages properly this time, letting the noise of passing agents and distant training grounds fade into the background. It wasn’t just a list of rules, it was practically a condensed textbook on an entirely different branch of Spectrum energy.

  The first section listed contact channels.

  Each white energy user was required to log their intended usage beforehand, submitting a request through designated supervisors depending on the operation scale. Unauthorized deployment wasn’t just grounds for suspension, it was treated as criminal negligence. Names, codes, emergency override procedures, and escalation chains filled several pages.

  White energy wasn’t something you tested on impulse.

  Then came the abilities.

  The simplest was summoning.

  A white energy user could call forth a registered Frade from their Spectrum domain and deploy it into the real world. The handbook stressed that summoning itself wasn’t combat-oriented; it was merely the act of opening a gate and allowing the controlled entity to pass through. Any offensive or defensive action afterward depended entirely on the Frade’s original traits and how well it had synchronized with the user.

  Next was capturing.

  That section was… unsettling.

  To put it simply, a white energy user would infuse their energy directly into a Frade’s body. This wasn’t a quick process. White energy didn’t overpower, it replaced. Once enough energy was infused, the Frade could be forcibly pulled into the user’s Spectrum domain, a kind of pocket dimension tethered to the user’s soul and energy signature.

  Inside that domain, the Frade would slowly synchronize.

  Page after page explained the process in clinical detail: the gradual erosion of the Frade’s native energy, the replacement with the user’s Spectrum, and the eventual result, a hollowed shell. Not dead, not alive. A construct that could be controlled like a puppet, obedient to commands and incapable of acting outside the parameters given.

  There were warnings plastered everywhere.

  Failed synchronization could result in backlash. Partial control could lead to violent rejection. Mental strain could fracture the user’s domain. In worst-case scenarios, the Frade could escape mid-process, corrupted and enraged.

  And yet… people still did it.

  Because white energy users were irreplaceable.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The handbook went on to describe auxiliary techniques: binding fields to restrict movement, suppression traps designed to weaken Frades long enough for capture, emergency seals to sever a summon instantly if it went berserk. There were even specialized formations where white users acted as battlefield controllers rather than frontliners.

  It was an entire discipline of its own.

  I closed the handbook with a quiet exhale.

  Learning any of this would take months. Maybe years.

  And I wasn’t going to be here that long.

  “I’ll just focus on learning red energy,” I muttered under my breath.

  The whole white energy registration was, frankly, a technicality. An excuse. A way to legally explain why I had a strange creature following me around and occasionally interfering with reality.

  My slime didn’t need permission.

  I did.

  With that settled, I headed for the shooting range.

  “Alright. Time to get-”

  I stopped mid-step.

  Someone else was already there.

  Luis.

  He stood near the center of the range, sleeves rolled up, posture straight but relaxed. Across from him was Asha, the senior agent he had saved during the Frade incident. Her stance was sharp, authoritative, the kind that radiated experience without needing to raise her voice.

  She was training him personally.

  Of course she was.

  The protagonist treatment was already in full effect.

  Not wanting to get involved directly with him, or risk being pulled into whatever narrative gravity followed him, I quietly moved to the opposite side of the range. The facility was large enough that we could train simultaneously without crossing paths.

  That suited me just fine.

  My goal for red energy was simple for now.

  Accuracy.

  Power didn’t matter if I couldn’t hit anything. I had already learned that the hard way during sparring sessions. Raw output meant nothing without control.

  I took my position, focusing on steady breathing, recalling the sensation of red Spectrum energy as it gathered in my core. Heat. Pressure. Directional intent.

  I was just about to begin when-

  BOOM.

  A violent explosion echoed through the range.

  I flinched despite myself.

  Turning my head, I saw one of the reinforced training dummies on Luis’s side split cleanly down the middle, molten scorch marks still glowing along the edges. Asha stood beside him, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.

  He had already done it.

  Red energy.

  Not just generated, used.

  I activated my record ability reflexively, my vision overlaying data onto the scene.

  Red Spectrum: Piercing Shot

  Rank: Bronze

  Record Size: 40 (60)

  Rating: 10

  My jaw tightened.

  It had taken me over a month, weeks of pain, drills, trial and error, to reach my current level with red energy. And even then, my shots were inconsistent at best.

  Luis had been here for what?

  Days?

  And he’d already mastered a rated ten ability.

  I felt a flash of irritation bloom in my chest before I could stop it.

  “…You know what?” I muttered.

  Before I could overthink it, I activated my book.

  The pages flipped on their own, red glyphs etching themselves into place as the record locked in. I felt the familiar pull as the ability integrated, the sensation of new pathways forming, energy patterns snapping into alignment.

  It just so happened that I had the exact amount of record space left.

  Lucky.

  Or maybe ironic.

  I turned back to my own dummy, raising my hand. The red energy gathered more cleanly this time, sharper, more focused. I aligned my stance the way Calder had drilled into us, visualized the trajectory, and fired.

  A beam of red energy shot forward.

  It missed.

  The blast scorched the wall just past the dummy, leaving a smoking crater in the reinforced plating.

  I lowered my hand slowly, exhaling.

  “…It’s a start.”

  The energy had flowed properly. The discharge hadn’t collapsed. The ability worked.

  Now all that was left was to make it mine.

  The radio crackled to life with a sharp burst of static, cutting through the low hum of the transport’s engine.

  “High mobility quadrupedal Frade sighted at the south border of Sector Seven, heading west.”

  The words snapped everyone awake.

  “Squad 7B responding,” Dmitri answered immediately, his voice calm but carrying unmistakable authority.

  The armored vehicle lurched forward as the driver slammed the accelerator. The city blurred past the reinforced windows, neon signs, concrete buildings, elevated walkways, all of it streaking into lines of color as we sped through the streets.

  Three months.

  It had been three months since I joined the Spectrum Defense Agency. Three months of relentless training, bruises, burns, lectures, and drills that left my muscles screaming. Three months of learning how to survive in this world without relying too heavily on my book.

  And now, this was my first real deployment as a full member of a squad.

  I tightened my grip on the harness strap as the vehicle swerved around a corner.

  Across from me sat Dmitri, our squad leader. He was a broad-shouldered man in his late thirties with steel-gray hair cropped short and eyes that missed nothing. His Spectrum affinity leaned toward yellow and blue, but his real strength was his tactical sense. He didn’t waste words. He didn’t panic. And when he gave an order, you followed it.

  To my left was Yuri, a blue-spectrum specialist. Thin, sharp-eyed, and precise to the point of obsession. If there was a barrier to be made or terrain to be controlled, Yuri was the one you wanted.

  Marco and Imelda sat near the rear. Both were yellow-spectrum users, frontline interceptors. Marco was built like a linebacker, all muscle and brute force. Imelda, leaner and faster, specialized in momentum-based strikes, hit hard, disengage, repeat.

  And then there was me.

  Jayden Brise.

  Red-spectrum shooter. Secondary yellow enhancement. Still the least experienced member of the squad.

  The vehicle screeched to a halt.

  “There,” the driver said.

  We poured out into the street.

  The air was already vibrating.

  I felt it before I saw it, a deep, rumbling pressure that made the pavement shudder under my boots.

  The Frade burst into view at the far end of the avenue.

  It was massive.

  The creature moved on four limbs, its body low to the ground like a predatory beast. Its hide was a patchwork of dark, chitinous plates layered over sinewy muscle, each step cracking asphalt beneath its weight. Jagged protrusions lined its spine, glowing faintly with unstable Spectrum residue. Its head was elongated and smooth, no eyes or mouth, just a featureless helm of bone-like material that somehow still conveyed hunger.

  High mobility quadrupedal, the report had said.

  They weren’t exaggerating.

  The Frade launched itself forward, clearing an entire intersection in a single bound. Cars were tossed aside like toys, alarms screaming as civilians scattered in panic.

  “We’re in a civilian area,” Dmitri barked. “Eliminate the target without hesitation!”

  Everyone moved at once.

  Yuri slammed his palm into the ground, blue energy flaring around him. Translucent constructs erupted from the pavement, angular barriers rising in a wide arc around the street.

  “Perimeter up!” Yuri shouted. “Redirecting civilians away from the engagement zone!”

  The blue fence shimmered into place just as the Frade charged again, its claws scraping sparks from the road.

  Marco and Imelda surged forward, yellow energy wrapping their bodies like living armor.

  “I’ll take the left!” Marco roared.

  “Right side’s mine!” Imelda replied, already accelerating.

  They split, flanking the creature with practiced ease.

  “Jayden,” Dmitri said sharply. “Aim for its legs. Slow it down.”

  My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

  I nodded, lifting my hand as red Spectrum energy gathered at my fingertips. The familiar heat bloomed in my chest, flowing down my arm in controlled pulses.

  Don’t rush. Control first. Accuracy over power.

  I exhaled and fired.

  A beam of red energy streaked across the street and slammed into the Frade’s rear leg. The impact scorched its armor, carving a glowing line across the chitin.

  The creature stumbled.

  Not much, but enough.

  “Good hit,” Dmitri said. “Again!”

  I fired another shot, this time adjusting for its movement. The beam struck lower, right at the joint.

  The Frade roared, a soundless vibration that rattled windows and sent a shockwave rippling through the air. It twisted violently, lashing out with its tail.

  Marco barely raised his arms in time. The blow sent him skidding backward across the pavement, yellow energy flaring as he absorbed the impact.

  “Still standing!” Marco growled, pushing himself up.

  Imelda darted in from the side, her body a blur. She leapt, twisting midair, and drove a yellow-enhanced kick into the Frade’s flank. The impact detonated with a concussive boom, sending fragments of chitin flying.

  The Frade reeled, but then it adapted.

  Its legs flexed, muscles bulging as it accelerated instead of slowing down. It surged forward with terrifying speed, smashing straight through one of Yuri’s blue barriers.

  “Barrier breached!” Yuri shouted. “Reinforcing!”

  I felt a cold spike of fear.

  This thing was learning.

  “Jayden,” Dmitri said, his voice steady despite the chaos. “You see how it’s shifting weight before it jumps?”

  “Yes,” I answered automatically.

  “Predict it. Fire where it will be.”

  I swallowed and focused.

  The Frade crouched, its rear legs compressing like coiled springs.

  I didn’t aim at where it stood.

  I aimed ahead.

  I fired.

  The red beam struck the ground just as the Frade launched, and clipped its leg midair. The creature lost balance, crashing down hard and skidding across the street in a shower of sparks and debris.

  “That’s it!” Dmitri barked. “Marco, pin it!”

  Marco charged, yellow energy blazing. He slammed into the Frade’s side, grappling one of its limbs and driving it into the pavement.

  Imelda followed, hammering its exposed joints with rapid strikes, each blow landing with surgical precision.

  The Frade thrashed violently.

  A spike erupted from its back, launching like a projectile.

  “Down!” Dmitri shouted.

  I dove as the spike tore through the air where my head had been a moment earlier, embedding itself in a building fa?ade with explosive force.

  The creature wasn’t done.

  Dark energy surged around it, and for a split second, I recognized the pattern.

  “Dmitri!” I shouted. “It’s charging a burst!”

  “Yuri, suppress!” Dmitri ordered instantly.

  Yuri thrust both hands forward. Blue energy exploded outward, forming overlapping constructs that slammed into the Frade’s torso, locking its movement.

  The Frade fought back, cracks spreading across the blue barriers as it pushed against them.

  “Jayden,” Dmitri said quietly. “End it.”

  My breathing steadied.

  I gathered everything.

  Red energy surged, denser than before, compressing into a narrow, focused point. The heat was intense, almost painful, but I held it together.

  I fired.

  The beam pierced straight through the Frade’s head.

  The creature froze.

  Then it collapsed, its body disintegrating into black ash that scattered across the street like burned paper.

  Silence fell.

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  Then Marco let out a breathy laugh. “Well damn. That was clean.”

  Yuri slumped slightly, sweat dripping down his face. “Barriers held… mostly.”

  Dmitri turned to me.

  “Good shooting,” he said simply.

  The words hit harder than I expected.

  As recovery teams moved in and the perimeter was lifted, I looked down at my trembling hand.

  This was a real world

  If I missed...

  People would die.

  I clenched my fist.

  This was what it meant to grow stronger.

  Not for glory. Not for records.

  But because someone had to pull the trigger when it mattered.