But her words were deaf to his ears. Or maybe... he simply didn’t hear them.
Either way, it didn’t matter. She was ignored. Like she was air.
A low heat of frustration burned in Freya’s chest. Her heart was pounding from everything she’d seen, everything they’d endured, but this? This constant disregard? It was infuriating.
So she stepped forward.
One foot after the other, cautious but determined, her boots scraping against the fractured earth. The distant crackle of magma provided the only backdrop. The once-living battlefield was now dead silent.
Her gaze remained fixed on him. His back turned to her. Rigid. Emotionless.
The moment she came within a few meters, he moved.
His head slowly turned toward her.
At first, she felt relief. A flutter of hope in her chest. Finally—finally—he was acknowledging her. He saw her.
She stepped closer, her lips curling into a tentative smile.
But then she saw his face.
And the blood drained from hers.
Her legs froze, her breath hitched, and instinctively—without thought—her hand shot up to cover her mouth.
It was no longer the face of Cassius Lancaster.
The entire right side of his face... was gone.
Not scarred. Not wounded.
In its place, a distortion—a swirling, translucent mist that refused to follow the laws of reality. It bent space around it like a ripple in still water. It had no definite shape, no boundary, and no origin.
Just... unformed existence.
His left eye—the only human part left—stared at her.
But that was what made it worse.
That hollow, void-filled stare of his pierced through her soul. She didn’t feel like she was being looked at—
She felt like she was being studied. Like a puzzle. Or a problem to be solved. Or... something less.
No. She wanted to speak.
She didn’t know what she wanted.
Her heart beat wildly in her chest.
And silently prayed that he was still there.
That somewhere beneath that distorted face, Cassius still existed.
But the minutes passed.
His body stood frozen. His lone visible eye unfocused, gaze hovering in her direction but never on her.
She waited. She trembled. She hoped.
Like a stirred storm, the distortion on his face twisted and spun with increasing velocity. The air around him crackled, flickered—warped. The tension in the air thickened to the point that it was hard to breathe.
Then, his eye sharpened.
Without a word. Without a single glance.
Cassius launched himself— In the opposite direction.
Away from the battlefield.
Away from... everything.
The ground cracked beneath where he’d stood. A low wind followed in the void left by his departure.
A suffocating, absolute silence. Even the wind had gone still.
Only the distant sizzle of lava pouring from the corpse of the Elder Crocdaemon remained.
A death-rattle that echoed faintly in the now-barren canyon.
Freya dropped to her knees.
Her strength, her poise, everything—gave out.
Sweat rolled down her temples in thick beads, soaking her clothes. Her arms trembled. Her breath came in rough, uneven gasps, the weight of all the pent-up tension slamming into her like a delayed avalanche.
She pressed her hands to the cracked ground, trying to hold herself up, but she couldn’t stop shaking.
’Cassius... what was that?’
The fight alone had been nightmare enough.
But that transformation—the way his face had melted into nothingness, the way his power had shifted—
She didn’t even know if what she’d seen was human anymore.
And she didn’t have the strength to question it.
All she could do was sit in the eerie quiet of the aftermath, her pulse thundering in her ears, and hope—
That when next she saw him...
He’d still be Cassius.
The grand atrium of Rose Academy’s Central Academic Wing was abuzz with a different kind of tension than the brutal combat zones—this was a battlefield of intellect.
Tall marble pillars stretched to the ceiling like white spears of knowledge, and translucent lamps floated overhead, casting soft silver-blue light onto the rows of students seated at long crystalwood desks.
Among the many students seated in the wide, marble-tiled hall, Mia sat still as a statue. Her quill rested between her fingers, untouched.
Her attention was fixed not on the parchment in front of her, but on the glowing notification projected in her vision.
—— Rose Academy Entrance Examination ——
Creator: Principal of Rose Academy
Description: You will be teleported into the Rose Academy’s Central Academic Wing. There, your task is to solve a set of 100 questions curated by the exam invigilator. The questions will range from multiple choice, short-form, to high-level theoretical queries.
Objective: Achieve the highest total score.
— Official admittance into Rose Academy
— Recognition as the Academic Division’s Student Leader of this year’s incoming class
Penalty: Immediate rejection from Rose Academy
The text faded as her surroundings returned to focus.
Frankly speaking, it was more than generous. Exams back on Earth usually ranged between three to five hours. But she wasn’t on Earth anymore.
And this wasn’t just some national-level entrance test. This was Rose Academy, the highest-ranked institution of the entire continent.
Mia exhaled slowly, her heart calm.
Isolde had trained her for this.
She was more than ready for this examination.
Dozens of students sat at the long crystalwood desks, each one with the same parchment and quill. Everyone was isolated, a small field of mana separating them in invisible bubbles to prevent distraction.
The invigilators—stoic figures in ceremonial robes—sat quietly behind their raised podiums, faces unreadable, sipping from porcelain cups as if bored of the proceedings.
Mia chuckled mentally.
The invigilators were mostly for show. The difficulty of the exam rendered cheating irrelevant. Even if they handed someone the answer key, few would understand it.
Her quill dipped into the mana-ink as the exam began.
The first few questions were multiple-choice. Straightforward. Warm-ups.
Q1. Which is the most common elemental affinity?
The answer was ’A’. Fire. No contest. It was the most naturally abundant and easily awakened affinity among low-tier strength people.
Q2. Which among the options below is considered a rare affinity?
’C’, Space. An extremely rare and borderline mythic affinity. The others were uncommon, sure, but not at that level.
Q3. What is the amount of EXP required for breakthrough to Rank ★★★★?
’D’. 100,000 EXP. The Rank progression curve increased exponentially. Starting from 100 EXP to break into ★, it multiplied tenfold with each Tier. Simple math, once you memorized the growth curve.
And so, the questions continued.
Two hours passed. She didn’t rush. She didn’t need to. Every now and then, she leaned back, rolled her shoulders, or closed her eyes for a few moments of mental reset.
It wasn’t about speed—it was about endurance. And precision.
When she reached Question 20, she paused, raising a brow at the phrasing.
Q20. What is the best way to attack in a direct confrontation?
A. Controlling mana and attacking
C. Using Artifacts and Equipment
A tricky question. Not in difficulty, but in intent.
She smirked slightly.
This was where opinion and fact blurred. In theory, the answer was ’B’. Abilities were structured, honed forms of combat art, accessible and devastating in the right hands.
But then again... she remembered him.
One of Arawn’s—no, Cassius’s—favorite characters. A Rankless brawler who never harnessed mana—couldn’t. Who never wielded a single artifact.
And yet, he was revered as a monster in human skin. One of the strongest characters in the game’s lore.
His fists had brought even divine beasts to their knees.
But even so, the exam wasn’t asking for legends. It asked for the "best" way in a general context. What worked for the majority.
So she wrote down: ’B’.
When she finished, she let out a sigh and pushed back her chair.
A small bell chimed in her vision, acknowledging her break.
Students were allowed to exit and re-enter the Academic Wing as they pleased.
She walked calmly to the edge of the testing hall and out through the mana veil. Her boots echoed softly across the pristine white floor as she emerged into the outer courtyard.
Tall pillars wrapped in gold-trimmed ivy framed the open space. At the center stood a fountain, crystal-clear water bubbling from an orb suspended mid-air by runes. Petals danced in the air, carried by soft wind.
Mia leaned against one of the pillars, arms crossed.
She stared at the fountain and smiled subtly.
Everything was going fine.
At least, until a voice cut through the silence like a dagger.
"You’re a Lancaster? How?"