Athena didn’t follow them out of the room.
She stood there, arms folded, eyes fixed on the closed door as the echoes of their footsteps faded down the corridor.
Garos stayed seated behind his desk, already typing something on the transparent console in front of him. Calm. Focused. Like he hadn’t just thrown a bunch of kids toward one of the most lethal gates in the country.
Athena didn’t move for a while.
Then quietly, flatly—
Garos didn’t look up. "No. That was necessary."
She stepped forward. Her boots didn’t make a sound on the polished floor.
"He’s a student, Garos. They all are."
"They’re not normal students."
"That doesn’t mean you throw them into an S-Rank Gate and watch what happens."
Garos finally looked up. "You saw the match. You saw what he did. That wasn’t a fluke. That wasn’t luck. He’s beyond what we were supposed to contain. He doesn’t need books or lectures. He needs weight."
Athena’s jaw tightened. "Weight and death aren’t the same thing."
Garos stood now. Slowly. His expression didn’t change.
"Then let him prove it."
Athena’s voice dropped low. "And what if he dies in there?"
Garos looked at the wall beside her, where an old framed plaque rested—names of former students etched in silver. A few names had stars beside them. Fallen during official academy missions. The cost of raising Hunters.
"That’s the job," he said.
Athena’s voice was quieter now. "No. That’s the job after they graduate. Not before."
Garos turned away, pacing slowly to the side table, pouring water from a glass carafe. His tone stayed even.
"If Lucian’s going to walk into something worse than that gate, I’d rather it happen while he still has people around him."
"You didn’t give him a choice."
"I gave him exactly what he wanted. He said he’s ready. So I’m letting him prove it."
Athena didn’t say anything for a moment.
"He’s not the only one who’ll go."
Garos nodded. "I know."
"And if something happens to them?"
He sipped his water. "Then it means we weren’t strong enough."
Athena turned sharply and walked toward the door.
Garos called after her.
"You care about them."
She didn’t stop. "I trained them."
Garos stared at her back.
"Then let them be what you trained."
The door hissed open, then shut.
And the office fell quiet again.
Lucian sat alone in his dorm.
No lights. Just the faint silver hue of moonlight spilling through the tall windows, slashing across the stone floor in sharp lines.
His uniform jacket hung from the chair. Bloodstained and torn from the Zenith finals. His boots were still dusted with arena gravel. And on the desk, resting in a black alloy case that shimmered faintly with protective glyphs—five S-Rank Monster Cores.
Each one pulsed with deep violet energy. Alive. Cracking softly with the echo of whatever ancient beasts had been torn apart to forge them. Each core was worth enough to buy a noble title. Or start a private guild. Or retire ten times over.
Lucian stared at them.
Then reached forward—
—and tipped the case off the desk.
The cores hit the ground with a dull clack-clack-clack-clack-clack.
They rolled under the bed, across the floor, one of them stopping at the edge of the window.
If any of the others had seen it—Reia, Evelyn, Silas—they’d have flipped. But they weren’t here. And Lucian didn’t need them here.
He closed his eyes, exhaled once, then spoke low under his breath.
The system responded instantly.
A ripple passed through the air like a static wave. Faint glowing rings materialized in front of him, shifting blue and gold as the interface opened.
Lucian stared forward.
"Begin my Advancement Trial."
[ADVANCEMENT TRIAL – RANK B ➝ RANK A]
Restriction: No system assistance.
No rewinds. No anchors. Just you.]
Lucian nodded once. "I’m ready."
Just a hard crash of energy as the dorm split like glass, and he dropped into darkness—
—then landed hard in the middle of a wide battlefield that stretched for miles.
A sky of deep red bled overhead, thunder rolling across the clouds.
Wind screamed through jagged mountain peaks. The air stung with mana.
Lucian stood on scorched ground, blades of rusted grass beneath his boots. No HUD. No map. No system tips.
Just the old, familiar pressure in his lungs.
The first wyvern dropped from the sky like a falling meteor—black wings tearing through the clouds, jaws snapping open with a screech that split the earth. It landed hard, tail whipping sideways like a falling tower.
He shifted to the left in a tight Fold Step, his body blurring as time thinned around him. The wyvern’s claws tore into where he’d just stood—crushing stone. Then a second wyvern screamed and joined the first.
They came at once—one from the ground, one from above.
Lucian ducked the first lunge and pulled his energy into his palm.
A crescent-shaped blade of condensed space-time whipped forward, splitting the first wyvern’s wing mid-air. Blood burst in the sky like black ink. The beast shrieked, spun out of control, and smashed into a boulder.
But the second one was already on him.
Its tail lashed forward, but Lucian caught it.
His arms buckled—but he held on.
He grounded his heels, twisted, and hurled the entire creature sideways into a cliff face. The impact cracked the mountain.
But even before the dust settled—
A roar rolled across the battlefield. Deep. Cold. Bone-shaking.
Each easily twenty meters long. Scaled bodies pulsing with mana. Their eyes glowed with primal rage, and they didn’t wait.
The center one charged first, spewing a river of white-hot flame.
Lucian raised a barrier—half-formed—and rolled sideways.
The fire still clipped him. His jacket caught. Skin burned.
He gritted his teeth and snapped his fingers.
"Dimensional Rift Drive."
He vanished—and reappeared behind the lead drake.
In one clean motion, he unsheathed the blade at his hip, the tip glowing with folded time, and drove it between the plates of its spine.
The drake screamed—and exploded.
Its body ruptured from the inside, swallowed by a collapsing rift.
The others didn’t stop. Another lunged—Lucian ducked under its jaw, drove a Spatial Anchor into its chest, locking it in place.
Then he pivoted, leapt backward, and detonated the anchor.
The drake convulsed mid-air and dropped like a corpse, its body freezing as time locked for 0.7 seconds—enough for Lucian to land on its skull and stab downward, ending it.
Another drake tackled him from the side.
Lucian crashed across the ground—skidding, flipping, slamming into rock.
Face bruised. Ribs cracked. Breathing hard.
The final two drakes circled overhead. Then descended in unison.
Lucian looked up, breath ragged.
Then something shifted behind his eyes.
He raised one hand—palm open.
Mana swirled. Space twisted.
"Chrono Field: Distortion Lock."
The drakes’ movements dropped to a crawl.
Lucian moved forward slowly—calm, quiet, walking through molasses, but untouched by it. He approached the first drake, climbed its slowed neck, and stood atop its skull.
A pulse of energy ruptured outward.
The distortion collapsed.
Time surged back all at once.
And both drakes exploded from the inside—crushed by the reversion snap.
Chunks of flesh and scale rained across the field.
Lucian dropped to one knee, panting.
He looked up at the sky—where one final silhouette floated.
Draped in black. No face. No aura. Just presence.
But before the figure moved, the system voice returned—louder this time, and final.
[Advancement to Rank A confirmed.]
[Unlocking system modules...]
The world began to collapse around him again. Fading into gold.
Lucian stood there a moment longer, watching the faceless silhouette as it vanished with the rest of the dream.
He woke up in his dorm again. Sweat-soaked. Blood dried on his skin. Shirt torn.
But on his status screen:
Lucian leaned back in the chair.
His power was rising—
But something in the trial told him it still wasn’t enough.
Something bigger was coming.
And he was only scratching the surface.