The Blue Trash Grass was not merely a convenient disguise; it was my tactical prison. To maintain the façade of F-Rank mediocrity in The Ascendant City, I had to deliberately hide my entire operating capacity: my Hyper-Focus, my battle instincts, and the infinite knowledge that rendered every problem trivial.
The first test of my cover came immediately. The Jade Feather Clan, finding themselves saddled with a new, utterly useless member, assigned me to the most tedious, low-status task possible: Inventory Management and Waste Disposal in the Clan's central storage unit.
For a true F-Rank hunter, this task was mind-numbing labor, requiring manual lifting and basic identification. For me, it was an unprecedented challenge in self-suppression.
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My Hyper-Focus naturally processes input at an exponential rate. When surveying the chaos of the main storage room, my mind instantly computed the optimal inventory flow, identified three decades-old logistical errors, and located a hidden cache of Rank B materials stuffed behind a faulty cooling unit. I could have solved the Clan's entire structural waste problem in six minutes.
Instead, I had to spend six hours deliberately moving boxes inefficiently, adopting the sluggish, bewildered movements of a true novice.
The Inventory Test: The Clan required all new F-Ranks to correctly identify and categorize twenty common low-level monster materials.
The Reality: My infinite knowledge instantly cross-referenced the unique molecular degradation pattern of each item, identifying its exact origin dungeon, its primary elemental affinity, and its optimal market price.
The Performance: I forced myself to misclassify four items, confusing Ironjaw Beetle Carapace (Rank G) with Rust Moss Hide (Rank F). I fumbled two items, pretending to struggle with their weight. When asked by the supervising Rank C clerk why I made the mistake, I stammered, "They just... looked the same, sir. The colors were confusing."
The clerk sighed in predictable frustration. "Just stick to the disposal carts, Jackal. Try not to trip."
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My greatest struggle was suppressing the Controller's Instinct. When faced with inefficiency or a logistical flaw, my primary impulse is to correct the system. Here, every single operation in the lower tiers of the Ascendant City was plagued by inefficiency—flawed mana conduits, illogical security patrol routes, and wasteful energy consumption. My mind screamed at the tactical stupidity on display.
When working the waste disposal detail, I was forced to observe patrol routes. A basic Rank B security team maintained a visible, predictable route around the lower perimeter, creating a twelve-minute blind spot every hour. My mind instantly generated thirty-seven different infiltration plans utilizing that flaw.
I did nothing. I continued to push the disposal cart, staring blankly ahead.
I had to train my body and mind to accept incompetence. I learned to breathe slowly, maintaining the bare minimum Arcane Catalyst flow to keep my system idling, but never enough to give off the signature of sustained power. I masked my absolute control with the common, universal sign of youth: inattentiveness.
This forced mediocrity was the hardest physical and mental discipline I had ever faced. Fighting the Mythic Enforcers was simple; their actions were governed by rigid code. Fighting myself—constantly overriding my own Hyper-Focus and Controller's Instinct—was agonizing.
But the plan was working. The Jade Feather Clan classified me as "Low Aptitude, High Compliance". They saw a useless grunt who was easily managed and, critically, not worth further investigation.
I was the single most dangerous being on the planet, armed with infinite knowledge and a Mythic-grade cheating core, completely hidden behind the perfect mask of utter, forgettable mediocrity. I was a nuclear warhead stored in a closet full of dull spoons.
The first step of infiltration was complete. Now, I could begin the silent, internal climb.