It would be the first time Xavier watched Kyle fight.
Or anyone did.
'I need to watch closely.'
Xavier steadied his breathing and forced his battered body to recover, his eyes never leaving Rank One.
This was a chance.
A chance to learn.
A chance to see what stood at the very peak of Spades.
Even if they shared the same potential, Lightbearers had always stood above the rest of their generation.
Kyle may have had a head start, born into wealth, training, and privilege—
but Xavier was not someone who hid behind excuses.
The beast and Kyle remained still, locked in a silent stare.
Then Kyle moved.
The wood beneath his feet folded.
He shot forward like a black streak through the arena.
No flourish.
No grand technique.
Just one slash.
The beast met it with a single limb.
Just as effortlessly as it had blocked Xavier.
Then Kyle spoke.
"No resistance."
Something changed.
There was no burst of mana.
No radiant pressure.
No visible force at all.
And yet the beast's limb parted cleanly in two.
Kyle's spear continued through flesh as though it had never been blocked in the first place.
It drove toward the smiling face—
but the head suddenly retracted, twisting away from the strike.
'This is the null attribute...'
Xavier's eyes widened in realisation.
Kyle did not pursue.
He simply watched.
His red eyes rested on the beast as if urging it to try harder.
A small smile touched his lips.
Not amusement.
Mockery.
The furious face twisted further. Its frown deepened past anything natural, the expression warping into something ugly and wrong.
Then the whole body leaned back.
Roots snapped.
Flesh tore.
Muscle shifted beneath bark with a wet, grinding sound as the creature reshaped itself once more.
Now it stood on four elongated limbs, its lower body planted in the ground—a grotesque centaur. Its torso rose upright from the mass of roots and flesh, broader than before, with two arms hanging at its sides.
And where a head should have been—
there was none.
Instead, the three faces were embedded in its chest.
The smiling one sat highest.
The furious one beneath it.
The crying one lower still, black tears trailing down its torso like spilled rot.
Its front legs struck the ground.
Dead wood surged across the arena floor, thorn-covered and twisting, racing toward Kyle.
Then, just before reaching him, it dived beneath the earth.
Kyle dashed forward.
At once, spikes of dead wood erupted from below.
The floor burst apart.
Large wooden splinters shot across the arena—
straight toward the students.
Kyle paid them no heed.
His spear was already driving toward the beast.
Luke stepped in front of the students.
"Impervious."
At the same time, Lyra swept out an arm.
Thick domes of ice rose around the students, sealing over them just as the wooden splinters crashed against the surface.
Yet no one looked away.
As if their lives had never been in danger to begin with, every eye remained fixed on Kyle.
"No weight."
The moment his feet touched the ground, he vanished.
No one saw him move.
His speed had already gone beyond the limits of C-rank.
Then his voice came from beneath the beast's crying face.
"No resistance."
The head came off in a single, perfect cut.
For a moment, it did not seem real.
Then black blood sprayed through the air.
A scream tore from the beast as it stumbled backward.
And woven through that scream—
was laughter.
Pain.
Joy.
All at once.
The arena floor split open.
Dead wood surged into the wound.
From within it, a new face began to grow.
This time, it was disdain.
The same look Kyle had worn earlier.
Then its mouth opened.
Within it swirled a multitude of colours.
Red. Blue. Yellow. Brown.
The residual mana it had absorbed.
The colours spun faster and faster, compressing into a single point as the beast prepared to unleash them in a beam.
Kyle raised one arm.
And it stopped.
Not slowed.
Not weakened.
Stopped.
Frozen in place as though time itself had been denied permission to move.
"Emperor's Decree."
Xavier inhaled sharply.
'Did he know this beforehand?'
'Was that why he let it keep absorbing the mana?'
The thought settled heavily in Xavier's chest.
Maybe Kyle had never failed to understand the danger.
Maybe he simply had not cared.
Then the new face suddenly began to bloat.
Kyle's eyes narrowed—
and the smiling face did something unexpected.
It sliced the swollen face free.
Then hurled it at him.
Kyle frowned, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he braced himself.
Its own stolen attack had been turned into a projectile.
And sent back to kill him.
The explosion shook the entire arena.
Dust rained from the ceiling. Roots coiled and tightened above them, the dungeon groaning as it struggled to keep itself from collapsing under the force.
When the blast cleared, a round pit had been carved into the battlefield.
At the edge of the crater, Luke stood with Impervious still active, shielding the students. A frown pulled across his face as he tried to see through the smoke.
Then he felt it.
The air stopped moving.
The smoke dispersed on its own. Mana in the atmosphere recoiled, drifting away as though unwilling to remain near him.
Kyle stepped out of the crater.
His sleeves had been torn away, and burn marks lingered across his skin, but there was no blood—as if it had been stopped halfway through leaving his body.
It was the most dishevelled Xavier had ever seen him.
And yet Kyle's face remained blank, as though the explosion had meant nothing at all.
Then Xavier heard him speak.
"Before me, all restraint is void. No Restriction."
That was all it took.
The beast stepped back.
It was far larger than Kyle.
Yet it stepped back.
The creature could feel nothing.
Not the mana in the air.
Not the pain.
Not the rage twisting through its body.
Not even its own limbs.
Its control had been stripped away so completely that it stumbled like a newborn, unsteady and wrong.
It had no idea what was happening.
Kyle simply walked toward it.
For the first time, only fear remained in the creature's eyes.
Kyle's red eyes glowed as he stared at the beast with a quiet, twisted satisfaction.
Then his lips moved.
The beast heard nothing.
Its senses had been severed, after all.
"Kill yourself."
And yet—
it understood.
Its trembling limbs jerked into motion. Dead wood and flesh twisted together into a crude stake.
Then, with shaking arms, it turned the point toward the smiling face.
The smile finally looked afraid.
Then the whole dungeon shook, as if trying to rouse the defeated beast.
From beneath its body, Kyle saw it.
A glowing dark-green orb, swirling with corrupted light.
The dungeon core.
Kyle's eyes widened.
His teeth clenched.
A branch intertwined with the core drove itself into the defeated monster. Black blood poured out, only to seep back in just as fast.
Then the whole creature began to glow.
Branches coiled tighter around its flesh.
Folding it.
Compressing it.
Crushing it.
The monster only grew smaller and smaller, its body forced inward until the shell was barely larger than Luke.
Then the shell cracked open.
Dead wood blackened and flaked away into ash.
What emerged was humanoid.
It was still wrapped in wood, but the flesh beneath had been drawn taut—tight enough for glowing green veins to pulse beneath the skin.
The dungeon core sat lodged in its throat, burning like a second heart.
There was only one face now.
The smiling one.
Yet the expression it wore was wrong.
Sadness.
Rage.
Joy.
All of them twisted together into a single look no human face should have been able to make.
Kyle's expression changed.
So did Lyra's.
Xavier stopped recovering.
'I'm at about ninety percent.'
His eyes fixed on the monster's throat, where the dungeon core pulsed beneath the skin.
'It's doable.'
He knew Kyle still had stronger cards to play.
But he also knew Kyle did not want to use them.
'The cost must be severe.'
And Xavier could already see the strain.
Kyle hid it well, but not perfectly.
His chest rose and fell a little too quickly. His breathing was controlled, but only on the surface.
Xavier shook his head.
'There won't be anyone left to impress if we all die here.'
He glanced at Lyra.
She was an SS+ talent too, yet Xavier still had not seen her fight properly. And there was something strange about her expression.
As though she were searching for something.
But Xavier had no idea what.
The beast twitched.
His attention snapped back to it.
"No wei—"
The beast was in front of him before he could finish.
A simple swing.
That was all it took.
Kyle was launched sideways, ribs folding inward as he was hurled across the arena.
A ripple of horror ran through the students.
Then the beast moved again.
Luke was next.
The sound of shattering glass rang out—
followed by a sonic boom.
His body crashed down on the far side of the arena and lay still, blood pouring from his mouth and ears.
Lyra was just beginning to move—
but the beast was already in front of her.
"Cleanse."
The despair vanished.
At once, the beast's head twisted around in a full one-eighty.
Its eyes locked onto Xavier.
It looked at him like an insect.
Annoyed.
The same insect had interrupted it three times now.
This time—
it would make sure he died.
.
.
.
Aeron POV
While the others fought for their lives, Aeron was busy robbing the dungeon.
Aeron hacked through another cluster of vines.
These ones were different.
They were still black, but within them ran a faint sliver of life mana. And the farther the two of them travelled, the stronger that trace became.
They were getting closer.
"You sure they don't need help?"
Iori paused mid-step, his heavy-lidded eyes drooping even lower.
"I mean, even your Rank One is down."
"Iori, if you go over there, you'll ruin the whole plot progression."
Iori raised an eyebrow.
"Plot progression?"
Aeron sighed and changed the subject.
"So, what exactly are we doing here again?"
"This beast absorbs life mana from corpses and dumps the remains in one area of the dungeon."
Aeron flashed a greedy smile.
"I need credits, and there just so happens to be plenty of monster parts down here. I also have a strange feeling we might find something for you too, Iori."
Yes, Aeron had entered this dungeon fully prepared to rob it.
There were things in here he needed to account for, but no real danger.
Iori ignored the second half of that completely.
"Credits mean more food, right?"
This glutton.
"Yes, yes," Aeron replied absent-mindedly.
"Does the dungeon not sense us?"
"You're with me, Iori. Even S-ranks have a hard time finding me."
Aeron's eyes swept over the tangled roots ahead.
'Now where is this storage room?'
In the original story, the Academy had found it long after the main cast had already left. So there was no real risk of interfering with the main plot.
The surroundings gradually grew brighter.
Wet moss spread across the roots, and small fireflies drifted through the air, their soft glow lighting the path ahead.
The branches here were thick with life.
Then Aeron saw it.
Beyond the final wall of tangled growth lay a vast chamber wrapped in thorn-covered branches.
He had prepared for this.
But with Iori here, they could simply drop in, take everything, and leave.
"Would you like to do the honours, Iori?"
Iori yawned and opened a single eye.
Then the two of them stepped through the black rift.
'Oh my—'
Even Iori paused at the sight.
Bodies and corpses were piled high like treasure. Artefacts lay strewn across the floor, glittering in a myriad of colours.
"You have the space, Iori?"
He gave a half nod and left a rift open for Aeron before sitting down and immediately starting to doze off.
There was one item in here Aeron wanted badly.
A rune.
The Academy had never understood what it was, but much later, when rune embedding was rediscovered, Aeron had drawn the connection.
'Where is it?'
Then he found it.
A palm-sized plate of polished black stone, etched with golden sigils that glowed faintly in the dark. The script was unfamiliar.
A language he would have to learn eventually.
He lifted it with care.
It felt far more fragile than something this valuable should have been.
'Finally.'
Then Aeron remembered.
Seers and diviners were real in this world.
The student council president was proof enough.
He had too many secrets. Too much knowledge. Too many things that should never be seen.
If the rune worked as he thought it did, it would hide him from those eyes—clouding any attempt to read his past, trace his future, or divine the shape of his path.
Aeron pressed the rune to the centre of his chest and stirred his mana.
Threads wound around it.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the rune softened.
Aeron frowned.
The black stone sagged like wax under heat. The golden sigils flickered, then dimmed one by one, as though answering a question they did not understand.
A heartbeat later, the entire rune collapsed into black sand and slipped through his fingers.
Then even the sand faded away.
Aeron stood still, staring at his empty palm as the last grains of black sand vanished.
'What just happened?'
That was not how it was supposed to go.
He turned his hand over once, as though the rune might somehow still be there.
Nothing.
Aeron glanced down at his chest, then back at his fingers.
'Did I do it wrong?'
No.
Rune embedding was simple once you knew the method.
Mana.
Contact.
Activation.
That was all.
His eyes narrowed.
'Was it too old?'
Possible.
Artifacts decayed. Enchantments wore thin. But if it had been dead, it should have crumbled the moment he touched it.
Instead, it had reacted.
'Then was it broken?'
His lips pressed into a thin line.
That was even worse.
Broken artifacts cracked. Shattered. Misfired.
They did not simply melt into nothing.
Aeron's expression darkened.
'Was someone targeting me?'
The thought sounded paranoid.
But paranoia was often better than regret.
Still...
That made little sense either.
No one should know enough about him yet to prepare something like this.
Unless they did.
Unless this world had more variables than the story ever showed.
Aeron exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
'Great.'
Now he had questions and no answers.
From beside the open rift, Iori's sleepy voice drifted over.
"Maybe it didn't like you."
Aeron turned. Iori had not even opened his eyes.
"That is not how runes work."
"Then maybe you broke it."
"I barely touched it."
"Mm."
Silence lingered.
Then Iori spoke again, still half-asleep.
"Maybe it was looking for something."
Aeron blinked.
"What does that even mean?"
This time Iori opened one eye halfway.
"No idea."
Then he closed it again.
Aeron frowned.
'Useless.'
And yet...
His gaze drifted back to his empty hand.
Maybe it had been looking for something.
A hidden condition.
A trigger the Academy never discovered.
Yes.
That made more sense.
Far more sense.
Aeron gave a small nod to himself.
'So it was incomplete, conditional, or damaged.'
That had to be it.
There was no other explanation.
Definitely not me.
From the side, Iori yawned.
"You done?"
Aeron looked back at the mountain of corpses and scattered artefacts.
His earlier confusion dulled beneath a familiar gleam.
"No," he said.
From his subspace, a brush, black grave-ink, and a bottle of ground white bone slid into his hands.
There was one more thing.
Those were only what the Academy had found.
What Aeron wanted had been hidden deeper.
'This whole dungeon is just a nest.'
He walked past the piles of corpses and broken relics until he reached the far end of the chamber, where the roots had thickened into a wall of black thorns.
To anyone else, it looked no different from the rest of the room.
Aeron crouched.
"In the story, they never found this part."
He dipped the brush into the black ink and dragged three slow lines across the roots.
Nothing happened.
Then he uncorked the bottle and scattered a thin stream of powdered bone over the wet surface.
At once, pale grooves emerged beneath the paint.
A hidden circle.
Ancient.
Faded.
And wrapped around something at the centre.
Aeron's eyes sharpened.
"Found you."
Behind him, Iori cracked one eye open.
"Is that the thing?"
"The real thing," Aeron corrected.
He reached back into his subspace and pulled out four thin silver pins wound with thread so fine it almost vanished in the air.
One by one, he placed them around the circle.
North.
South.
East.
West.
The moment the final pin sank into place, the roots shuddered.
Golden lines lit up beneath the black surface, and the wall slowly split apart.
Behind it hung a cocoon the size of both his hands.
Black.
Silken.
Veined with faint gold.
It swayed in the centre of a cradle woven from roots and invisible thread.
Even from where he stood, Aeron could feel how delicate it was.
A Threadmoth cocoon.
Rare even in the late story.
Valuable enough to start a war if anyone recognised it. In the original story, it had died after the main cast defeated the dungeon.
Iori yawned.
"Can I pull it down?"
"No."
Aeron answered so quickly that even Iori blinked.
"If you touch the wrong thread, it dies."
That seemed to kill the last of Iori's interest. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes again.
Aeron exhaled slowly and took out one final item.
A small glass vial filled with preserved life-moss suspended in green liquid.
'I already broke one thing. Please don't let me break another.'
Using the tip of a silver pin, he dabbed the liquid onto three points of the circle.
The cocoon pulsed once.
Then the golden threads around it became visible.
Seven in total.
Six true.
One false.
Aeron narrowed his eyes.
In the original story, the Academy had torn the nest apart by accident and never realised what had been inside. Later records only mentioned fragments. Descriptions. Theories.
But Aeron knew better.
He knew the false thread was there to punish greed.
And he knew only one chance existed to remove it safely.
His fingers moved carefully.
A silver pin anchored the left side.
Then the right.
Then the lower thread.
The cocoon swayed again, but this time it did not resist him.
Good.
Now only the severing remained.
Aeron pulled out a thin black needle.
Not for stitching.
For unmaking.
His eyes traced the seven lines again.
One thread pulsed faintly.
One pulsed slower.
One did not pulse at all.
There.
He moved the needle toward it.
Behind him, Iori spoke without opening his eyes.
"If you fail, will it explode?"
Aeron's hand did not waver.
"No."
A beat passed.
"That's somehow worse," Iori muttered.
Aeron ignored him and slid the needle through the false thread.
It parted without resistance.
For one terrible second, nothing happened.
Then the other six golden threads loosened all at once.
The cocoon dropped.
Aeron caught it instantly in a square of black cloth he had already prepared.
'Oh my days, I finally did something right.'
The moment it touched his hands, warmth spread through his palms.
He froze.
The gold veining along the cocoon brightened.
Once.
Softly.
As if it had recognised him.
Aeron stared at it.
'...Was it supposed to do that?'