Ouin chuckled softly, though his gaze remained sharp and vigilant. He waved a hand dismissively.

  “Relax. We’re not here to fight you.”

  He gestured to his subordinates, who immediately moved to examine the Demonkin’s corpse.

  Adam watched them briefly before shifting his attention back to the Aviskins. Noticing his gaze, they addressed him.

  “Congratulations,” Doneuuald said, arms crossed. “You’ve passed the test. Would you like to proceed to the next one?”

  Adam shook his head. “No. I barely have enough energy left to stand. I’m satisfied with my current rank.”

  Doneuuald and Ouin exchanged glances. The elephant-headed instructor snapped his fingers, and a blue portal opened in the arena.

  “Unfortunately,” Doneuuald said apologetically, “we can’t escort you out of the Registration Hall until the reappraisal concludes.”

  “I understand,” Adam replied easily. “So where will you be sending me?”

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate to return you to the E-rank waiting area,” Ouin said.

  Adam didn’t need further explanation.

  So, the A-rank waiting area.

  “Oh—one more thing,” Doneuuald added. “Don’t forget to register your advancement. You may leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  Adam stepped into the swirling portal. It closed behind him moments later.

  Doneuuald and Ouin remained, watching as instructors examined the Demonkin’s corpse, muttering in tongues foreign to the eastern regions.

  “Should we report this to the deans?” Ouin asked quietly.

  “There’s no need,” Doneuuald said, eyes still fixed on the direction Adam had gone. “They’ll see it in the reports. What they do after that is their decision.”

  “You’re right,” Ouin agreed after a pause. He clicked his tongue. “Still… that Domain of his. I can’t believe it fooled the mirrors.”

  He shook his head. “I pity anyone trapped in an illusion like that.”

  Doneuuald hummed thoughtfully as the instructors wrapped up their examination. “It almost feels unfair—for someone to wield a power like that.”

  His expression hardened. “I wonder which progenitor he draws from.”

  “There are countless illusion-based progenitors,” Ouin replied with a sigh. “Speculating would be a waste of time.”

  He turned to the instructors. “They’re finished. Resume the tests in the other arenas.”

  Doneuuald snapped his fingers. A portal opened, and the instructors filed through one by one. Once the last vanished, the Demonkin’s corpse crumbled into ash, and the arena lights dimmed.

  Meanwhile, in the E–D rank waiting area, students chatted and laughed, confident as they awaited news of Adam’s failure.

  “Don’t you think something’s off?” Simeone asked.

  “What do you mean?” Nicholas replied. He was the only one present who had already taken the test.

  “I’m talking about that playboy,” Simeone muttered. “It’s been almost twenty minutes. Nothing’s happened.”

  By all rights, Adam should’ve returned, win or lose.

  Nicholas chuckled, slinging an arm around Simeone’s shoulder. “Are you pissed because you lost the bet?”

  A few others laughed.

  “He’s just an E-rank,” Nicholas said casually. “It’s normal to take that long.”

  “Yeah,” someone added. “He’s probably getting wrecked—or trying to flirt with the Familiar.”

  Laughter erupted.

  Simeone waved a hand. “You’re probably right. Guess I worried for nothing.”

  The group resumed their chatter. Everyone there had prepared thoroughly; not a single one doubted their chances.

  A sharp click echoed.

  The room fell silent as the door opened.

  An instructor wearing a paper bag over his head stepped inside. “Apologies for the delay. The test will resume now.”

  He pointed at Simeone. “You’re next. Follow me.”

  “Uh—excuse me, Instructor,” Nicholas said, raising a hand.

  “Yes?”

  “What happened to the previous student?”

  Curious eyes turned toward the instructor.

  “Oh. Student 009?” he hummed. “He won’t be returning to this waiting area. Student 0687—come along.”

  He left as abruptly as he’d arrived, Simeone hurrying after him.

  The moment the door shut—

  Laughter exploded.

  “I knew he was trash,” Nicholas said, leaning back. “But failing after fifteen minutes? That’s impressive.”

  “I’m not surprised,” another student said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Pretty boy only knows how to mess around.”

  “I don’t get why people like him,” someone scoffed. “Weak to the core.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Enough about him,” Nicholas said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Let’s make another bet.”

  He grinned. “How long do you think Simeone lasts? Ten minutes.”

  “I’ll take that,” someone replied, raising a hand. “Fifteen—at least.”

  Adam arrived at a new location—the entrance to the A-rank waiting area.

  He grasped the door handle and twisted. A soft click echoed as the lock disengaged, and the door swung open.

  His gaze swept across the room.

  Twelve students sat within a luxurious lounge adorned with sublime furniture and abstract wall art. Golden harps occupied each corner, playing a gentle symphony of their own accord. Beneath a radiant crystal chandelier stood a long table laden with eye-watering delicacies.

  I didn’t expect this many people, Adam mused. I wonder how many will actually succeed in reaching S-rank.

  The disparity in treatment didn’t surprise him. Varidan Academy never pretended to be impartial.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Adam turned toward the snarl.

  A blond student with a sharply chiseled face rose to his feet, confusion quickly giving way to irritation.

  Adam regarded him briefly, then looked away.

  “Hey, I asked who you—wait.”

  The young man froze, staring intently at Adam.

  Recognition dawned.

  “It’s you.”

  Another student leaned forward. “You know him?”

  “Casimiro, who is he?”

  More eyes turned toward the blond man as anger overtook his features.

  Casimiro stepped forward, fury radiating off him. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “This place is for A-ranks—not E-rank trash.”

  He stopped directly in front of Adam, towering over him. “Did you think no one would recognize you just because you’re wearing a mask?”

  Adam felt the weight of every gaze in the room.

  He said nothing.

  Instead, he walked past Casimiro toward an empty seat.

  “I’m talking to you,” Casimiro growled. “Do you think this another place to pick up girls?”

  He reached for Adam’s shoulder.

  Adam slapped his hand away with casual precision.

  He paused and looked up at Casimiro. “You have a brain,” he said calmly. “Use it.”

  Adam settled into a leather chair, utterly relaxed. As if to worsen matters, he nodded toward Alexandra and the other women in the room.

  Casimiro’s face twisted as veins bulged along his temples.

  Adam hummed softly, matching the tranquil melody drifting through the lounge.

  After several tense seconds, Casimiro finally turned away and returned to his seat—though his murderous glare never left Adam.

  I can’t blame them, Adam thought. Jumping from E to A in minutes isn’t exactly normal.

  The door opened again.

  An instructor entered.

  “I see you’re already getting acquainted with your new classmates.”

  Several students shot glances at Adam, barely restraining their reactions.

  “It’s not uncommon for lower-ranked Awakened to experience sudden breakthroughs,” the instructor continued. “But gossip and speculation won’t be tolerated.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Treat him with the respect befitting his rank.”

  Some faces darkened.

  “Now then,” the instructor added, “the starting time will be moved forward.”

  A few gasps rippled through the room.

  “You’re still entitled to your rest period,” he continued, “but if anyone wishes to begin their test immediately, raise your hand.”

  “I’ll go,” Casimiro said instantly.

  “Follow me,” the instructor replied, turning toward the exit.

  Casimiro rose, shooting Adam a look filled with unfiltered malice.

  “Good luck,” Adam said pleasantly. “Break a leg.”

  Casimiro stiffened, jaw clenching, before storming out without a word.

  Would be nice if you broke a few more bones, Adam mused.

  Then, someone stood.

  Adam’s smile faltered.

  Alexandra approached in light steps.

  Surely not…

  The masked redhead stopped in front of him.

  “Give me your hand,” she said softly.

  Adam frowned. “What?”

  “I said, give me your hand.”

  She reached for his right hand.

  Adam pulled it back. “Don’t you think you should explain—hey!”

  Alexandra moved faster this time, catching his left hand. She held it for a brief second—then released it.

  “Thank you.”

  She returned to her seat as if nothing had happened.

  What… the fuck was that?

  Adam inspected his hand.

  Does she have a few screws loose? he wondered.

  When she sat, Adam looked away. The others were staring again, but he ignored them.

  He leaned back and closed his eyes halfway. With a thought, the system notifications he ignored earlier unfolded before him.

  [You have slain multiple beings of Omen origin!]

  [You have completed a challenge issued by The Omen!]

  [Connection to Omen has strengthened!]

  [The Omen is intrigued by your existence…]

  [You have fulfilled a condition for Lordship candidacy!]

  [You have acquired a new Skill!]

  [Skill Acquired: Omen Tongues!]

  [Your Race has been updated!]

  [Race: Human | è?ù | Xyrath]

  [Your Rank has been updated!]

  [Rank: A | Xyrath (Embryo)]

  [Domain Updated!]

  [Devour — World of Gluttony]

  [The Omen permits you to declare yourself a Lord candidate!]

  [Permission expires in 30 seconds…]

  [The Omen awaits your decision.]

  Adam’s eyes snapped open.

  For a moment, he simply stared.

  This… isn’t real.

  He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The information remained; expanded, and unsealed, the hidden sections no longer blurred behind restrictions.

  Then, a hollow, mournful cry echoed from deep within his subconscious.

  “Why does it have to be you?” the demonic voice wailed. “Why wasn’t it me?”

  Adam exhaled slowly. “What’s wrong with you now?”

  “Gluttony,” the voice spat, bitter and resentful. “Of all things—it had to be Gluttony. This isn’t fair…”

  A brief silence followed.

  “If you know what’s good for you,” it said quietly, “you won’t declare yourself a Lord candidate.”

  Adam didn’t respond.

  “This place will drown in chaos if you do,” the voice continued. “The Varidan will strike you down—assuming the other Lords don’t get to you first.”

  “I don’t need the reminder,” Adam whispered. “I haven’t forgotten Targarth.”

  Back then, curiosity had outweighed caution. He’d been far from Varidan; free to gamble.

  I’m not risking my life over uncertainty, he thought, eyes flicking to the countdown.

  The timer expired.

  [Permission revoked!]

  [The Omen is displeased by your inaction, but acknowledges that you are not yet prepared to assume the vacant Lordship…]

  [Connection to Omen has strengthened!]

  Adam skimmed the notifications… then he growled.

  A sudden, violent hunger surged from the depths of his soul. His stomach clenched, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth as a primal craving threatened to swallow him whole.

  Just as abruptly, it vanished.

  “You should eat if you’re hungry.”

  The voice shattered his trance like breaking glass.

  Adam jerked upright.

  Alexandra stood beside him.

  He wiped his mouth quickly, scowling. What the hell was that…?

  The sensation lingered—every second etched into memory.

  Fuck. His jaw tightened. That hunger was worse than before.

  Forcing a smile, he looked up at her. “What is it this time? Here to hold my hand again—or something else?”

  Alexandra took the seat beside him, legs crossing gracefully. “I’m not here to hold your hand. I’m here to guide you.”

  “…What?”

  She spoke as if the confusion were expected. “Earlier, my Blessing compelled me to approach you. I can see truths others cannot.”

  Adam remained impassive. “And?”

  “You’re a husk,” she said calmly. “Filled with rage, pain, and hatred. I don’t know what you endured to carry so much darkness—but you must not let it consume you.”

  He said nothing.

  “You’re fighting yourself every moment,” she continued. “You’ve found comfort in the dark, but it will devour you someday.”

  She met his gaze.

  “Stay steadfast. I believe you’ll see the light.”

  Adam smiled faintly, fingers tapping the armrest. “Finished? Should I thank you now, or later?”

  “My conscience wouldn’t allow silence,” she replied. “Your aura resembles those who sold their souls to demons—beings condemned to endless torment.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” the demonic voice snarled. “She knows nothing of us. Nothing of what we survived.”

  Adam ignored it.

  Alexandra rose. “That’s all I wished to say. I hope you live without regrets.”

  She turned away.

  On her third step, the door opened.

  Casimiro returned with the instructor.

  His expression was carefully blank—but fury burned in his eyes.

  Looks like the test didn’t go well, Adam thought dryly.

  “Is anyone interested in—” the instructor began.

  “I’ll go next,” Alexandra said.

  “Very well.”

  She followed him out.

  Most eyes tracked her departure.

  Adam’s didn’t. Casimiro was walking toward him.

  Of course he is.

  “What was Alexandra doing here?” Casimiro demanded, glaring. “I don’t know what game you’re playing but stay away from her. She’s not some lowborn—hey! Listen when I speak!”

  Adam had already closed his eyes.

  He yawned.

  “I’ll make you pay for this,” Casimiro hissed.

  “Sure,” Adam muttered, waving him off. “Stand there, leave—do whatever.”

  He leaned back, eyes closed again, indifferent to whatever rage followed.