My Life Changed with the Unlimited System

Ethan stepped into the cafeteria, letting the door swing shut behind him with a soft thud.

The place was larger than he expected. Bright lights lit up every corner, and the steady hum of voices filled the air. It was busy, but organized. Tables lined up neatly. Trays clattered. Laughter echoed here and there.

He paused for a moment at the entrance.

There were at least a hundred and twenty people inside, maybe more. Most of them looked close to his age. Some were probably still teenagers, others maybe in their early twenties.

All of them wore the same black training suit, but that was where the similarities ended.

It didn't take long for Ethan to notice the differences.

He scanned the room slowly. 'These people must be part of the same intake as the Vanguard batch I got thrown into, he thought.'

But not everyone here was a Vanguard.

He could see it in how they carried themselves. The groups, the way they sat, the way they looked at others or ignored them entirely—it all told a story.

A few tables were filled with laughter. Friends gathered like they had known each other for years, shoving and teasing while they ate. At other tables, people sat alone, eyes on glowing holographic screens, their hands moving through mid-air controls only they could see.

Ethan picked an empty seat near the entrance. It gave him a good view of the room without being in the middle of it. He placed his tray down but didn't touch the food. His eyes kept moving.

'This has to be one of Nemesis's cafeterias,' he thought. 'Maybe this one is just for our batch.'

That would explain the numbers. It would also explain the strange mix of people.

Ethan looked again, this time more carefully.

The Combat Core stood out the most.

Not because they were the biggest. Some of them were lean, others tall and wiry. But every single one of them carried the same sharp presence. It was in the way they sat, the way their eyes moved. Calm, steady, and always alert—like they were ready to react at a moment's notice.

They didn't need to show off their muscles. Their aura alone said they had been through real fights.

Some had faint scars, others carried themselves with a kind of ease that only came from surviving pain. They spoke with confidence, laughed loudly, and had nothing to prove. You could feel it from across the room. Like their bodies remembered battle, even when they were just eating.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. 'I wonder how strong they really are.'

That familiar itch returned. A quiet pull inside him. The desire to test himself. To measure his growth. To see if all his training, all the pain, and all the system rewards actually meant something.

He had the Unlimited System.

That should mean he was ahead of the rest.

But if he wasn't?

Then maybe… he didn't deserve to own it.

Then there were the Techno types.

They didn't look as physical as the Combat Core. Their builds were leaner, their movements more reserved.

But they had this constant look of focus, like their bodies were here, but their minds were running a dozen programs somewhere else.

Most of them had devices floating around them. Holographic screens, blinking tools, and even drones hovering silently by their shoulders. A few were eating with one hand while the other danced in mid-air, tapping through translucent panels only they could see.

Ethan watched them closely. 'So, I need to be smarter than these people, too.'

Somehow, with the system in his possession, he couldn't forgive himself if he was the weakest in any Core.

And then, there was the Stealth Core.

They moved like shadows. No loud voices. No sudden motions. Some stood alone, leaning against the walls like they were guarding the exits. Others sat in corners, always with their backs protected. Their eyes scanned the room calmly, never staying too long on one thing.

There was a strange quiet about them. An air that said, 'I'm watching you. I know more than you think.'

Cool. Distant. Maybe even a little arrogant.

Ethan could feel it. 'They don't talk much, but they see everything. They probably already know I'm new.'

Their footsteps were soft. Their presence was light. It was almost like they weren't even there until you looked straight at them.

He glanced down at his own black uniform.

And yet, among all of them, the Vanguards were the hardest to spot.

That included himself.

He saw a few faces he recognized from the morning drills, but none of them looked alike. One looked like he could wrestle a bear.

Another had a Techno Core's stare, always blinking at something only he could see. A third sat still, quiet, and calm. Just like the Stealth types.

'So this is what it means to be a Vanguard,' Ethan thought. 'No fixed style. No fixed look.'

That was their strength.

They didn't fit into one mold.

They could blend in. They could stand out.

They could be anything.

Ethan then stood up and grabbed a tray. He walked toward the food line, his steps slow and steady, eyes still drifting from group to group.

He wasn't hungry. Not really.

But he needed to be here.

He needed to see everything.

The food. The cafeteria. The equipment. The way people moved. The flow of things. Even the smallest detail might be useful later.

'If I'm going to build something for Nova Tech... it starts here, Ethan told himself. 'I want to see how Nemesis trains their people, how they organize things, how they use tech in real time. The way they run this place, it's all valuable.'

He wanted to understand it all, not just from books or reports, but from being right in the middle of it. That was the only way he could make something that truly mattered.

Not just another project.

Not just another device.

But something that could change the game.

Still, as much as he admired the structure and discipline of Nemesis, he knew better than to rely on them blindly.

'I need allies like Nemesis. I need Lena Volkov on my side,' he thought. 'But I can't fully trust any of them.'

No matter how helpful they seemed, they had their own agendas. Everyone here did.

Ethan clenched his jaw lightly as he moved along the food line, picking a few things just to keep up appearances.

'I need my own strength. My own path. And maybe, someday, my own people.'