No wonder we couldn’t hear anything. The door was a teleportation device.

  Adam slowly panned his head, taking in the empty training arena. The tiled walls glowed with a sterile white light, accompanied by a low, persistent hum.

  “Student 009?”

  The instructor’s voice echoed throughout the arena.

  “Yes.”

  “You are registered as an E-rank combatant,” she said, as though reading from a prepared file. “Prepare yourself. The test will begin shortly.”

  Adam rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms, scanning the room once more. Fighting a mere D-rank Familiar was a waste of time—but rushing things would only invite suspicion. He needed to pace himself.

  The lights dimmed.

  The eastern wall began to tremble violently. Thin seams split across its surface, expelling a cloud of dust as the wall segments slowly parted. High-pitched squeaks pierced the air, followed by a sulfurous stench that made Adam wrinkle his nose.

  He turned fully toward the opening.

  A slender Familiar emerged in halting steps. Its blackened skin was smooth—almost polished—like the marbled tiles beneath its feet. Each elongated step produced a shrill squeak. Crimson eyes stretched across the length of its face, bisected by a jagged slit of a mouth that exhaled a yellowish gas.

  “The test will now begin,” the instructor announced. “There is no time limit. Death constitutes automatic failure. Good luck, Student 009.”

  The walls slammed shut. The lights flared back to full brightness.

  [The Omen will not permit a being of a lower rank to challenge you!]

  “Huh?” Adam froze.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  A sharp, piercing cry cut through his thoughts.

  Adam snapped his gaze back to the Familiar.

  It lay sprawled across the floor—motionless. The crimson in its eyes had faded into dull darkness. The gas had stopped leaking from its mouth.

  “It… died?”

  Adam blinked several times. The Familiar did not move.

  The lights shifted to blue. The corpse dissolved into nothingness.

  “Congratulations on passing the test, Student 009,” the instructor announced—hesitant. “Would you like to proceed to the next test, or return to the waiting area?”

  Adam could hear the confusion in her voice.

  Damn it.

  How am I supposed to explain this?

  [The Omen is disappointed by your thoughts!]

  [The Omen will not permit a being of a lower rank to challenge a Lord candidate!]

  Adam stared at the notifications.

  This… never happened before.

  The Omen communicating directly with him was entirely unexpected.

  [Connection to The Omen has strengthened!]

  Adam exhaled slowly and looked away. “I’ll proceed to the next test.”

  “You will have one hour to—”

  “Let’s start now.” Adam lifted his head, eyes narrowing slightly toward the unseen observers. “I didn’t exert much energy. There’s no need to wait.”

  A pause.

  “Very well,” the instructor replied.

  The lights dimmed again. The remains of the crimson-eyed Familiar disintegrated as the northern wall parted.

  Something far worse crawled out.

  A scaled aberration with two reptilian heads and six limbs slithered forward. Slit pupils locked onto Adam the moment it emerged. Its armored tails thrashed against the floor, movements growing more violent—as if it had found a worthy opponent.

  “The test will now begin,” the instructor repeated. “There is no time limit. Death is an automatic failure. Good luck, Student 009.”

  [The Omen will not permit a being of a lower rank to challenge you!]

  The creature released a mournful, echoing cry—then collapsed.

  The lights turned blue once more.

  A portal opened. Two instructors emerged; immediately examining the Familiar’s lifeless body. After a brief inspection, they exchanged looks and returned through the portal, which vanished behind them.

  “Congratulations on passing the test, Student 009. Would you like to proceed to the next test, or return to the waiting area?”

  “I’ll take the next test,” Adam said.

  That the instructors hadn’t accused him of foul play surprised him—but he didn’t hesitate.

  A colorless portal opened at the far end of the room.

  “Step through,” the instructor instructed. “The next arena will conduct tests for C- to B-ranked Awakened.”

  Adam cast one last glance at the corpse before stepping into the portal. It closed behind him.

  In a sealed chamber deep within the Registration Hall, several instructors gathered around floating screens displaying test arenas and waiting rooms. One replay dominated their attention.

  “Scapha. Asina,” Ouin said. “Did you detect any foul play?”

  Scapha—the taller of the two—bowed slightly. “No. There were no traces of Omen interference or Xyrath wavelengths.”

  Asina remained seated. “The Familiar’s heart imploded. Likely a visual-type ability.”

  “Good,” Ouin muttered, turning to Doneuuald. “Should we inform the deans?”

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  The elephant-headed Aviskin shook his head. “He hasn’t broken any rules. Plenty of people possess unique abilities.”

  He folded his arms. “Let’s continue observing. His connection to his Blessing appears unusually deep. The next test will tell us more.”

  Ouin nodded silently.

  Doneuuald leaned against the table. “We’ll notify the deans if anything suspicious occurs—or if he reaches the S-rank test.”

  His eyes darkened slightly.

  “We don’t want another Romolu incident.”

  “You’re right,” Ouin agreed with a low hum. He turned toward Scapha and Asina. “Return to your stations. Remain alert for any changes.”

  Both men nodded and returned to their seats.

  Ten minutes passed in a blur. Once again, the instructors fixated on the same screen—this time displaying Adam’s battles against Demonkin comparable to C- and B-rank Awakened.

  “This… makes no sense,” Ouin muttered.

  “Scapha. Asina. Labrax,” Doneuuald said, unable to hide his confusion. “You’re certain you detected nothing unusual?”

  “There was nothing abnormal beyond the imploded hearts,” Labrax replied carefully.

  Ouin rose and began pacing the room, glancing at the projection every few steps.

  “Doneuuald,” he said at last, “we should inform the deans.”

  “Not yet.”

  “What do you mean not yet? This is already—”

  “Calm yourself,” Doneuuald interrupted. “This isn’t the first E-rank Awakened to climb the ladder. He’s only reached the A-rank test.”

  Ouin clearly wanted to argue, but Doneuuald pressed on. “And don’t forget—the deans are in the middle of a very important meeting today.”

  Ouin shut his mouth.

  “Can you imagine their reaction if we interrupt them over a non-issue?” Doneuuald added dryly. “Are you really that eager for a tongue-lashing?”

  Ouin exhaled and sank into a nearby chair.

  “Be patient,” Doneuuald said firmly. “We’ll report this if—and only if—he attempts the S-rank test. Protocol exists for a reason.”

  He turned to Labrax. “Bring out the recent capture for the A-rank trial.”

  Labrax hesitated, adjusting his glasses. “Sir… are you certain? That Demonkin is bordering on è?ù-class. It could—”

  “I’ll take responsibility,” Doneuuald said sharply. “This is the only way to determine the extent of his abilities.”

  Labrax nodded and vanished through a portal.

  Scapha and Asina leaned forward in their seats.

  “Temporarily halt tests in other locations,” Ouin finally said. “I want all attention on this one.”

  Adam emerged from another portal into a vast training arena.

  This one’s much larger than the last, he noted, surveying the pristine space.

  The Omen shouldn’t interfere with an A-rank test… right?

  Before the thought settled, a familiar voice echoed through hidden speakers.

  “The test will now begin.”

  Adam stiffened. He recognized Doneuuald immediately.

  “There is no time limit. Death constitutes automatic failure. Good luck, Student 009.”

  The northern wall shuddered and slowly parted.

  A humanoid figure stepped forward, cloaked in loose robes. Neon-green tattoos flickered across its gray skin like living circuitry. Its posture was hunched, and its jade-green eyes locked onto Adam the moment it emerged.

  Adam’s brows lifted slightly. Apart from Nokum and Salma… this is the first Demonkin I’ve seen that looks human.

  The Demonkin halted a few meters away, scanning the arena as if searching for something unseen. Then its gaze returned to Adam.

  It struck its chest and released a high-pitched squeal, pointing at him while making strange, deliberate gestures.

  [An Omen being has initiated communication in Omen tongues!]

  [The Omen has granted you permission to comprehend Omen Tongues!]

  A voice echoed inside Adam’s mind.

  “You—who are you?”

  “Why do you smell of the Omen?”

  “Are you serving humans? Answer me!”

  System, deploy my mask.

  The mask materialized from his inventory and settled over his face.

  Adam met the Demonkin’s gaze. “Who do you think you are to question me?”

  The Demonkin recoiled.

  Not only had Adam spoken in Omen Tongues—a language reserved for worshippers—but his words carried a weight far denser than anything it had ever heard.

  “Who… who are you?” the being demanded, growing agitated. “How can you speak like my Lord? Who do you serve?!”

  How am I supposed to answer that? Adam thought, his expression calm and cold.

  He chuckled softly, offering no response.

  Notifications flooded his vision.

  [The Omen is intrigued by your actions!]

  [The Omen is testing your candidacy!]

  [A defeat will strip you of eligibility for Lordship!]

  [A victory will reveal the Lordship you qualify for!]

  [The Omen is observing the outcome of your battle!]

  Adam’s smile vanished.

  He looked back at the Demonkin.

  A small system window hovered before it.

  Fuck.

  I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

  The Demonkin screamed.

  Its body began to swell violently. Muscles tore and reknit as its size doubled. Its eyes bulged before shattering, spilling blood and pus that merged into a pale, squirming mass—threadlike worms writhing where vision once existed.

  Its jaw cracked apart.

  Six spike-lined tentacles erupted from its torso, while jagged black growths tore through its hunched back.

  “I don’t care who you are anymore,” the thing laughed, voice wet and broken. “Thanks to you, I’ll become an è?ù once I kill you!”

  Adam exhaled slowly.

  So that’s what the Omen promised it.

  “System,” he said calmly, “retrieve Cataclysm.”

  Twin axes materialized in his grip as he stepped back.

  “Dreams are free,” Adam said, leveling one axe at the monster. “The problem is—reality is a bitch.”

  The sound of shattering glass echoed across the arena as a suffocating bloodlust poured from Adam’s body. It was dense enough to stain the air itself, forming a crimson mist that clung to his skin.

  Adam tightened his grip.

  Cataclysm answered with a deep, mournful howl.

  The Demonkin shrieked in response. This time, two hands tore through its own abdomen as it lunged forward. Each step shattered the marbled tiles beneath its feet.

  Adam burst into motion, pushing his stealth mode to its absolute limit.

  He crossed the distance in an instant.

  Before the Demonkin could blink, Adam swung both axes toward its skull.

  The creature roared. Its tentacles snapped outward, wrapping around Cataclysm’s blades while the abdominal fists struck upward and its original arms came crashing down from above.

  “I have you now!” the Demonkin bellowed in Omen Tongues. “I will never release what I capture!”

  Adam snorted. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  An explosion ripped through the air.

  The tentacles around the first axe detonated into a spray of flesh and blood. The others withered instantly, crumbling into ash before they could retreat.

  The Demonkin screamed. “You’ll pay for that!”

  Its abdominal fists lashed out, catching Adam’s legs. The original arms slammed into his chest, launching him into the eastern wall.

  The Demonkin charged.

  A relentless barrage followed—each blow cracking the arena further. Dust filled the air as fractures spiderwebbed across the walls and floor.

  “Die! Die!” it roared again and again.

  Then—it stopped.

  The creature rolled aside just as an axe slammed into the ground where it had been standing.

  The weapon rose, floating across the arena.

  The Demonkin followed it—and froze.

  Adam stood unscathed.

  “I told you,” he said calmly, stepping forward. “Reality is a bitch.”

  The Demonkin snapped its gaze back to the spot it had been pulverizing moments ago.

  Nothing remained but shattered stone.

  “Illusion…?” it muttered.

  “Maybe.”

  Adam’s voice came from behind.

  The Demonkin spun, lashing out wildly—but struck nothing.

  “Your death is inevitable,” Adam’s voice whispered, closer now. “Why prolong it?”

  “Show yourself!” the creature roared, panic bleeding into its voice.

  “Where are you looking?” Adam said lightly. “I’m right here.”

  He appeared behind the Demonkin and drove an axe into its back.

  The spikes shattered. Flesh tore open with a muffled explosion. Blackened blood sprayed into the air as the Demonkin howled in agony, striking blindly at empty space.

  “I’m right here.”

  Adam appeared at its side.

  The second axe cleaved deep into its shoulder. The limb shriveled instantly, blood flowing into Cataclysm as the creature staggered back, swinging its remaining arm in desperation.

  That arm crumbled—skin without bone.

  Adam appeared behind it again.

  He struck.

  Its right leg exploded into gore. The left withered into brittle husk.

  The Demonkin collapsed, writhing in agony. It managed to lift its gaze, meeting Adam’s eyes.

  “I—I curse you!” it screamed. “You disgrace the Omen with such tactics! Even the Xyraths have more honor!”

  Adam laughed.

  Cataclysm vanished into his inventory at a silent command.

  He snapped his fingers.

  The sound of shattering glass rang out once more.

  The Demonkin blinked—and found itself standing where it had first emerged. The arena was pristine. No blood. No destruction.

  “It… it was all an illusion?” it whispered.

  Its gaze trembled as it looked at Adam.

  Without hesitation, it dropped to its knees.

  “I apologize for my disrespect,” it said solemnly. “I do not know why a being of your stature walks among humans—but I will not obstruct your path.”

  It tore a spike from its own back.

  Maintaining eye contact, it drove the spike into its heart.

  Blackened blood spilled from its mouth as the light faded from its eyes. A moment later, it collapsed.

  Blue lights flooded the arena.

  Elsewhere, the instructors stared at the screen in stunned silence.

  “That was a grand illusion,” Ouin whispered. “He’s a Domain user.”

  He stood abruptly. “We’re going to the arena. We need to confirm whether he intends to proceed.”

  A portal opened in the arena.

  Six instructors stepped out, led by Ouin and Doneuuald.

  Adam looked at them and chuckled.

  “Oh?” he said lightly. “What’s this? Am I fighting you next?”