Seth came to a standstill near the center of the ring, about thirty yards away from his opponent. The brown-haired young man wore a green cloak that covered half of the sleeveless leather armor underneath. Aside from the scar on his left cheek, nothing about his physique stood out—average height and below-average size. But Selena was the living proof that appearance meant nothing for Wielders. Ranks and attributes were all that mattered.

  Seth’s heart skipped a beat as he read the numbers.

  That was nearly double his own. He clenched his fists, feeling the gap in power like a physical blow.

  Seth then glanced at the sheathed sword at Herbin’s belt and activated Identify once more.

  he thought, gritting his teeth

  "Both participants, get ready," Professor Reat shouted.

  Thousands of tiny twinkling particles appeared and began dancing around his raised arm. Then, in a blink, the shimmering mist vanished and materialized all over both Seth and his opponent. After hovering for a moment, the clouds of blue dust turned into a thin cyan layer that coated their skin and clothes.

  As the information about the Tempered Steel Sword faded from the corner of Seth’s vision, he remembered how Identify didn't show spells of other people.

  The moment Seth began infusing aether into Quick Step’s grooves, a cold, tingling sensation shot through his body dozens of times. All the spectators were probably Identifying him. It wasn’t rude given the circumstances of the selections—at least he assumed.

  Ahead, Herbin drew his sword with a vicious grin. In response, Seth immediately pulled his bow out and nocked an arrow. .

  Professor Reat swung his hand down. "Fight!"

  Without hesitation, Seth took quick aim and fired. Before even seeing if it hit the target, he snatched out another arrow and shot it through the same motion.

  Strangely, Herbin charged in a straight line as if he didn't care about the projectile heading toward his face—yet Seth knew it couldn't be the case. Even with eighteen Toughness, it would still drain some of the Professor's precious aether layer. Suddenly air blurred in front of Herbin, and the arrow shattered into tiny pieces just inches away from his face.

  Seth fired again then dashed away, Quick Step’s aether surging into his leg’s muscles and nerves. Even if he pulled the hardest he could onto his bowstring, he doubted a regular arrow would break through that protective shield. But he also couldn't just charge in and hope to win in a fistfight—especially not with half his opponent's Strength and Toughness. His best bet would be to outlast him, make him burn through his aether, then take advantage of his own higher Regeneration to win. Like he had planned to do against melee classes since the start.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  Herbin had closed some of the distance and was now only about fifteen yards away, but the barrier around him was gone. Seizing that opportunity, Seth quickly loosed another arrow while keeping up his pace. Just as the projectile was about to hit, the air in front of the Warrior shimmered once more and shattered it. But in that brief instant, the gap between them grew wider almost immediately.

  Seth frowned and funneled more aether into Quick Step to dash away while keeping a close eye on the Warrior. As expected, Herbin's speed surged again; seconds later, the barrier vanished.

  , he thought. .

  Exploiting that finding, Seth kept Herbin at a distance. Whenever the Warrior was about to reach him, he fired an arrow or two in his direction, forcing the man to bring his barrier back up or dodge, both of which slowed him down significantly. As they ran around in the ring, the other participants and the spectators began complaining on the sidelines.

  "Stand your ground! We came for a duel, not a footrace!"

  “Come on! Fight! I didn't wake up early for .”

  The heckling didn’t affect Seth. There was no shame in capitalizing on his opponent's weakness. All that mattered was the victory. And getting into Trogan Academy.

  Minutes passed, and the booing grew louder, but Seth knew he was wearing his opponent down.

  Then, as he reached for another arrow, his hand grasped nothing but air—his quiver was empty.

  Turning around, Seth drew his hunting knife and looked at Herbin. The young man was drenched in sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead and dripping. Seth had spent his entire life running through dense undergrowth in the woods; the Warrior clearly hadn't.

  Seth charged at the Warrior and swung his blade toward his opponent’s head while pouring aether in his free hand. His plan was simple: feint with the knife, then punch Herbin in the face. But instead of blocking, Herbin lunged at Seth and rammed a shoulder into his chest, sending him flying. He then crashed into the ground and cried out in pain, his knife clattering a few feet away.

  Roaring, Herbin leapt forward and thrust his sword down with both hands. Seth’s core finally ignited, and he jerked his head to the side. The tip of the Warrior’s blade brushed his cheek and plunged into the dirt.

  Not wasting that opportunity, Seth drove his fist, still full of aether, into Herbin's stomach. As the young man doubled over in pain, Seth didn't give him a second to breathe and stepped in, hammering two more savage blows into the Warrior's exposed ribs. He then snapped his knee up into his face.

  Herbin reeled, clutching his face. Seizing the opportunity, Seth lunged for his hunting knife a few feet away—but before he could reach it, a hand clamped around his arm. The next instant, the Warrior heaved him overhead like a ragdoll and slammed him into the arena floor.

  Pain shot through Seth’s back and the protective layer of aether covering him flickered. Instinctively, his hand clawed for anything to grasp and use, closing around a handful of dirt.

  Herbin stood over him, his sword just above Seth's neck. "You're such a pain in—"

  Before he could finish, Seth threw the dirt in his face and slammed his foot into the Warrior's left knee. As the young man stumbled back, wiping at his eyes, Seth dashed toward his hunting knife and scanned his Well

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  Grabbing his blade, Seth forced two-thirds of his remaining aether into his arm. Dragging the fight any longer without arrows would be pointless. That was his last chance.

  In a desperate attempt, he lunged, thrusting his knife toward Herbin's throat. But the Warrior, apparently having anticipated the attack, jumped to the side and dodged before raising his sword in a two-handed grip.

  Air wavered around the weapon and blue aether appeared, coating its surface. Before Seth could even react, the blade started descending toward him in a deadly arc. His core screamed and pure instinct surged through him. There was no time to dodge—he had to block it.

  Seth raised his knife, but as the weapons clashed, Herbin’s sword kept advancing on its unstoppable path, and sliced Seth’s blade in half as if it were nothing more than a . What a joke—had he really thought he could win against a Warrior with an enchanted weapon in close combat?

  The thin barrier around Seth absorbed the hit and rebuffed the sword before vanishing instantly.

  "Seth, you're dead. Herbin, you won," Professor Reat announced. "Both of you go back to the sideline and wait for your next fight."

  Seth rose slowly, his legs shaking as he still clutched onto the handle of his broken knife. Herbin walked past him without a word, shooting him a glare full of venom.

  "Lucius Faertis and Mickael, you're next," Professor Reat called out.

  Seth trudged forward, feeling the disdainful stares of the other participants. In the stands, some of the spectators hid their smirks behind raised hands while others laughed outright.

  "Did you see that rusty piece of junk?" he heard someone snicker to his left.

  "Who brings a hunting knife to a duel?"

  As he neared the edge of the ring, one of the next competitors bumped into him on purpose.

  "Commoners like you shouldn’t be allowed here," the young man hissed, his blond ponytail bouncing against his majestic purple-and-black robe. It was lined with gold and silver thread and likely cost more than most residents of Sunatown earnt in a lifetime. Yet this boy wore it to duel.

  He noted Seth’s gaze, blue eyes brimming with contempt. "Stop starring like a country bumpkin and go back to whatever backwater hole you crawled out of. You’re wasting everyone’s time. Mine in particular. House Faertis’ should be kept waiting."

  Seth swallowed his anger and kept walking, pretending he had not heard the jibe. House Faertis lived up to their awful reputation once again. No wonder Marcus wanted to stay away from nobles. The hard-working citizens of Sunatown struggled to make ends meet under oppressive taxes, all so the arrogant spawn of House Faertis could parade around in lavish outfits and call them useless? One week in this city and he would end up assaulting five of them.

  Taking his place among the participants on the sideline, Seth overheard some of them actually mocking Herbin.

  "You almost lost to a Rank 6! How pathetic!" one exclaimed.

  "Yeah, you should’ve worked on carving Quick Step like he did," another one laughed. "Would've saved all of us some time."

  "Oh, shut up," Herbin snapped back. "I only awakened two months ago. No one can learn that spell that fast."

  "Rogues can," a slender woman with hazel eyes retorted next to him. "And apparently Primalists too."

  "Nah, I'm pretty sure they aren't naturally gifted at it," another young man chimed in. "Got an uncle who is... well, a Primalist."

  "Maybe he crafted it because he was fleeing from a pack of wolves or something," the man suggested with a shrug. "Desperation, you know?"

  "Crafting spells takes time, not emotion, dumbass," the woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wanting it isn't enough for grooves to appear in your body."

  Seth stood perfectly still, the words echoing in his mind.

  But that was exactly what had happened. When he had faced the Boreal Wolves, he hadn't sat down to meticulously carve the grooves of Quick Step; his core had simply reacted to his desperate need. And yesterday, Nightmare had also learned Shadow Bite in the heat of the moment, bypassing the weeks of study humans usually required.

  he mused, glancing down at his hands.

  Seth took a deep breath and remained silent, lost in thoughts.

  In the ring, the arrogant Faertis noble stood to the left, wearing his expensive robe and holding a small wand topped with an enormous crimson jewel. Seth knew Identifying that man’s equipment would only make him feel bitter, but he just couldn't help himself.

  Seth sighed inwardly.

  He knew it was stupid to be surprised. With the selections held only two months out of the year, of course some participants had awakened nearly a year ago. That was just how the academic system worked.

  Still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he’d rushed in too soon. Maybe he should’ve waited— for the final selection round, which Sericar had warned would be flooded with the highest-ranked applicants—but maybe the next one, just a month or two away. Those extra weeks could’ve given him and Nightmare the time to gain a few more precious Ranks, to better prepare.

  "Hey, mate, wanna bet on how long it's gonna take Mister Rich Prick to beat the other poor sod?" came a voice from the left.

  Seth looked at the short, tanned young man with cropped dark hair beside him. A large round shield hung on his back, its rim reflecting the sun’s rays, while a long spear with a dark blade and red runes was strapped along its side.

  Seth had never gambled before and wasn’t sure how to respond. "U… I don't have anything valuable to bet."

  "I was joking, man," the young man in leather armor said, flashing a grin so wide it scrunched up his nose. He then stretched his back, looking way too relaxed for someone about to fight for his future. "You're Seth, right?"

  "Yeah," Seth answered, sliding his broken blade back into its sheath. He wiped his palm on his pants before extending it, a bit surprised. It was the first time all day someone had looked at him without disdain. "And you are?"

  "Devus, but everyone calls me Dev," the tanned boy replied. He gripped Seth’s hand and gave it a pump that nearly rattled Seth's shoulder—all enthusiasm, zero restraint. "No House name yet, but I’ll get one someday. Mark my words."

  He then puffed out his chest and thumbed the straps of his armor while gazing off into the middle distance as if envisioning a statue of himself. "Probably Devus Towering Shield... or maybe Guardian of Gaia. Sounds awesome, right? Still can’t decide between the two."

  Seth chuckled and shook his head. "I didn't know you could choose your House name."

  "Oh, you sure can! When the king gives you permission to found a House, you get to pick the name yourself," Devus answered, grinning. "But it’s gotta be something cool! Your descendants don't want a lame name like Faertis."

  "I'm pretty sure that ‘lame’ Faertis out there could kick both our asses," Seth said with a laugh before watching Professor Reat cover both participants with his aether barrier.

  Devus grimaced. "If that bastard were Rank 10, or even 11, I’d beat the crap out of him."

  "Good to know I’m not the only one who isn’t a fan.”

  "Trust me, you’re far from alone, mate." Devus gave him a sidelong look. "You’re not from Arthuri, are you?"

  "No, why?"

  Devus paused, then leaned toward Seth and lowered his voice."Everyone here hates our dear overlords and their taxes. Especially people from non-Wielder families.”

  Seth’s gaze drifted toward the weapons strapped to Devus' back—an enchanted spear and shield. How could he complain about taxes with gear like that?

  "They’re from my sponsor," Devus said, as if reading Seth's mind. "He'd probably be furious if he heard me badmouthing the Faertis like this. He’s always telling me to keep my head down and stay out of trouble."

  Before Seth could ask what a sponsor was, Professor Reat’s hand moved down.

  "Fight!"

  Lucius wasted no time, stretching his arm forward and creating a head-sized Fireball a few inches above his wand's tip. With a flick of his wrist, he then flung the blazing spell at the young man in plate armor charging toward him. The Guardian tried dodging to the side, but the spell was too fast and crashed into his left shoulder, sending him flying a few feet backward.

  ''He’s done for,'' Devus said, scowling. "Doesn’t look like he has any barrier spells."

  "Why didn't he use his shield?" Seth asked.

  "It’s not enchanted. Without defensive runes, that shield’s useless against an Elementalist," Devus explained. "It’ll just catch on fire."

  Seth's brow creased. "An shield? Catching on fire?"

  The Guardian staggered to his feet, glaring at Lucius, who was already summoning his next spell. Raising his round shield, the injured man charged forward, trying to close the distance. But three steps later, the noble’s new blazing orb surged from his wand and exploded onto the youngster’s shield, knocking him down once more.

  "No way," Seth muttered, staring at the bright flames flickering on the Guardian's shield—the youngster was forced to unstrap it and toss it aside. "How the hell is that even possible?"

  "It's not the iron that's burning, but the aether residue of Fireball," Devus explained. "That's the issue when you have enchanted armor but a regular shield. Blocking spells without runes or defensive spells is almost impossible."

  Seth glanced down at his broken knife.

  An instant later, he looked back at the arena. Despite the Guardian dropping his shield and crossing the distance with a desperate sprint, Lucius remained rooted to the spot with his wand held upfront.

  "He's not moving," Seth noted, narrowing his eyes. "The guy is getting closer, but Lucius hasn't taken a single step. Can't he cast and move at the same time?"

  "It takes quite some practice for an Elementalist to do so because of their complex spells," Devus replied. "I guess Lucius never found a reason to train that yet since he could just bombard people from a distance. That's also why he's so lazy in his aim."

  Before Seth could say anything the Guardian continued. "Word is, the guy trains in a way for eighty percent of his attributes to be in Arcane Power and Well Capacity."

  Seth raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit reckless, isn't it? If someone closes the gap, he's finished."

  "I know," Devus answered with a shrug. "But he'll learn to cast and run sooner or later. And also he's betting on always having a wall of soldiers in front of him. He'd be like a heavy cannon in the back that keeps firing while those frontliners take the hits."

  Less than a minute later, Professor Reat put an end to the fight when yet another Fireball struck the Guardian’s chest, marking the fourth hit in total. Watching that one-sided fight had been both enlightening and depressing for Seth. The Guardian had nearly three times his Toughness and twice his Strength, yet he had been bullied as if he were a child in a grown man's fight.

  "That lazy prick could easily pass in later selections, but he still chose to join the first one," Devus said, glaring at Lucius. "Another reason to hate him."

  "Why give up on the rewards that come with a better academy ranking?"

  "He's the son of the head of the Faertis House. His Path is already set, with all the spell-scrolls and resources he’ll ever need. He probably just wants the academy diploma for some reason."

  Seth thought, looking at the massive grin on the Elementalist's face following the victory.

  Swallowing his frustration, he began filling Identify's grooves for the next participants.

  January 15, 2026 (7h15PM)

  ----

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  extra chapter: #20

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