Solo Cultivating in Superhero Academy
Chapter 122: Battle 1

Chapter 122: Battle 1

Elius stood upon the cracked, smoking edge of a cliff overlooking a shallow crater—a wound in the earth where the dimensional rift shimmered with an eerie crimson-orange hue.

The dimensional veil swirled like molten glass, twisting with turbulent flames, seething quietly as though something deep inside was breathing.

A dry wind blew across the rocks, carrying with it the acrid scent of rusted metal and scorched oil.

This... was the rift.

"Keith," Elius murmured, his eyes narrowing. "You’re trying to force open a dungeon... so monsters will pour out." His words were heavy, filled with both dread and irritation. "And with the cube... you might actually succeed."

He clenched his fists. If this was some kind of higher-ranked rift—C, B, or worse—it could be a catastrophe. Not just for the civilians nearby. Not just for the city.

But for every ranked Superhero in the nation.

Even the so-called S-Class might be drawn into this chaos if the dungeon rampaged long enough. And Keith... he wouldn’t be seen as a rebel anymore.

He’d be forever branded as a villain. Not someone to rehabilitate.

But someone to exterminate.

Elius stepped forward, letting the dimensional breeze wash over him.

He focused, letting the soft glow of his cultivator’s system arise in his mind.

A golden system screen materialized before him in a flicker of light:

[Dimensional Rift Detected: F-Ranked]

Name: BURNING LABORATORY

Primary Element: Fire

Secondary Elements: Steel, Heat, Radiation Traces

For a moment, Elius blinked. Then he chuckled.

"Burning Laboratory, huh?" he muttered, a smile forming on his lips. "Fire and Steel... Just my luck."

He stretched out his arms, cracking his shoulders audibly.

Then he twisted his neck left, then right, letting it crack like snapping twigs.

The warm wind whipped against his face, but he barely noticed.

"All my new powers are Earth based," he said, his grin widening. "This might actually be fun."

If he doesn’t have a system, he would’ve stopped Keith and others and now that this is just F ranked, it seems Elius didn’t need to worry about monsters popping out.

A faint glow sparked around his feet as he activated his Dirt like Skin Qi, a soft brown aura rippling up his calves and waist like a gentle quake.

Beneath his coat, a second internal glow flickered—Earth Pulse Resonance, the energy technique that allowed his strikes to reverberate through matter.

And lastly...

He glanced down at his palm, where a dark, wormlike sigil squirmed faintly beneath the skin—his Earth Gu Curse. Dangerous, unpredictable. It fed on damage and paid it back tenfold.

"Maybe I won’t need it," he muttered, closing his hand. "Or maybe... I will."

The moment felt peaceful. Too peaceful.

Then—

Clack.

A boot on loose gravel.

A shadow stepped forward from a jagged slope behind the rift, dust swirling around him. A smug voice pierced the silence.

"Well, well, well," the man said lazily. "Look who showed up. A hero."

Elius slowly turned.

Standing on the slope was a familiar figure.

Lean build, crackling sparks jumping across his shoulder blades, a black-and-blue combat suit with circuits snaking along the arms like lightning veins.

His short, spiked hair shimmered faintly with electricity. His smile? Arrogant, practiced.

Zhark.

And behind him—emerging like a ghost through a veil—stood a girl in a dark coat, her presence almost dreamlike.

Long black hair framed a pale face, her eyes calm and sharp, her lips neutral, almost bored.

Shania. The Illusion Master.

Elius didn’t flinch. He just stared back, eyes unreadable, boots grounded, arms loose.

Zhark’s grin didn’t fade. If anything, it grew wider, more eager.

"So, what are you going to do now, hero?" Zhark said, descending slowly down the rocky incline. Sparks rolled from his fingertips. "You look like you’ve been waiting for a very long time now..."

Shania said nothing. She simply stood there, arms crossed, like an observer rather than a participant. But her eyes were sharp—too sharp.

Zhark turned to her with a smirk. "Don’t interfere. Let me handle this."

She nodded wordlessly.

Then, with a sudden surge of static—ZAP!—Zhark jumped down, landing in a crack of electricity ten meters in front of Elius. The stone under his boots cracked from the impact.

Elius didn’t move.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Lightning crackled faintly around Zhark’s body, twitching through the air like hungry snakes.

"What’s your name?" Zhark asked.

Elius said nothing.

The silence lingered.

Zhark’s smirk never wavered.

"You’re strong. I can feel it. Probably stronger than me. Just a little," he added, tapping his chest. "But that’s fine. You know why? Because I’ve been waiting for someone like you."

He paced left, then right, never breaking eye contact. His voice grew louder.

"Ever since I awakened my Lightning Flow core, I’ve never met anyone worth my full output. All those idiots in the F ranks? Pathetic. Weak. They scream and cry and collapse the moment I hit them with ten percent."

His fingers sparked. A bolt of static jumped from his palm and sizzled against a nearby rock.

"They call me crazy, you know. They say I like hurting people. That I enjoy breaking heroes. But it’s not about that." He pounded a fist against his chest. "It’s about proving I’m not bound by those limitations. By the pathetic system that shackled us under the name of ’F rank’."

He pointed toward the rift. "Keith gets it. Keith saw the truth. He’s not some villain—they just call him that because he wants more. And me? I want a fight. A real one. One where I don’t have to hold back."

He took another step forward, crackling with blue-white power.

"You... you look like the first real fight I’ve had in my life."

The sky above them crackled faintly, as if echoing his power.

Elius still didn’t respond. His expression remained stoic, passive. But his aura had subtly shifted—denser now. Like a mountain waking from slumber.

Zhark’s grin thinned into something sharper. "Say something, man. Don’t just stand there like a rock."

Elius’s lips finally parted.

His voice was calm. Quiet.

But heavy like falling stone.

"You talk too much... for a weakling."

Zhark’s laughter echoed like thunder rolling through a summer storm.

He tilted his head back, cackling as arcs of lightning surged from his arms and danced across the ground.

Sparks flared under his boots with every chuckle, scorching the stone in little black cracks.

"HAHAHAHA! You got some mouth on you!" he shouted, clapping once, thunder booming from the impact. "Calling me a weakling? Damn! I like you even more now!"

Elius didn’t move. His expression was unchanged, like a stone idol unmoved by wind or rain.

"You’ve got that look," Zhark said, pointing a finger at him, lightning gathering around his arm like a viper. "The look of someone who’s not bluffing. Makes this even better!"

Then, without another word, Zhark’s body flashed forward in a brilliant burst of white-blue.

His feet sparked with pure current, surging with enough energy to light up an entire district grid.

He vanished for a breath.

Then reappeared behind Elius in less than a blink—his fist glowing, eyes wild.

But before the punch could connect to Elius head—

"Sand Tomb."