"David, come in," Ryan commanded.
The door creaked open. David bowed low, his voice steady with respect. "Sir, all preparations will be complete tonight. We can depart tomorrow morning. And... congratulations on your evolution, sir."
Ryan leaned back, his eyes tracking the subtle shifts in David's aura. "Hmm. David, you are my shadow—my only trusted aide. Your talent rivals my own; I have no desire to see you lagging behind."
David lowered his head further, a flicker of shame crossing his face. "I have disappointed you, sir."
"Enough. Guilt is useless," Ryan interrupted, holding out the shimmering remains of the Silver Pearl. "There is still Silver-stage mana coursing through this. It is enough to trigger your own evolution."
David reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he took the pearl. He held it with a reverent grip, as if his very life depended on it.
"Cultivate tonight," Ryan said, his voice dropping to a cold, expectant edge. "I want a Silver-stage warrior waiting for me at dawn."
David's heart hammered against his ribs. Between them, formalities were rarely needed, but the weight of the gift was immense. He remembered being a simple town guard, betrayed and left for dead in the jungle when he was only at the Stone Stage. Ryan had not only saved him but had granted him the path of the assassin—the lethal, 2nd-Grade techniques that had turned a victim into a predator.
As the moon reached its zenith, David sat cross-legged in his room. When he finally opened his eyes, the world looked different. The memories of every failed assassination attempt from his past played back in his mind, now as clear as still water. He saw the openings he had missed, the breaths he should have taken.
He looked at his hands, feeling the raw power of the Early-Phase Silver Stage humming in his veins. He let out a low, jagged laugh. "Ryan, sir... I swear, I will die for you."
By morning, two horses stood ready outside the Adventurers' Association. David stood like a statue beside them, waiting.
"Inform the City Lord of our departure," Ryan instructed. "I will handle the final formalities with the Association."
Ryan climbed to the third floor, where the air began to thicken. This was the domain of Augustus Kanji, a man at the Middle-Phase Gold Stage. Ryan knocked.
"Come in," a gravelly voice called.
Inside, Kanji, a sixty-year-old veteran sipping tea, sat surrounded by an immense density of mana. The pressure was suffocating. Had Ryan not just completed his own evolution, he might have buckled under the sheer weight of Kanji's presence.
"So, you've made your choice," Kanji said, setting his cup down. "Reaching the Middle Phase at your age is a talent one in a thousand. Stay here, and the Association will treat you like royalty. Go to the Academy, and you will find many like you—and some much better. Think carefully."
Ryan didn't blink. "Leader, my mind is made up. Wish me luck."
Kanji's eyes narrowed. "I tried. But before you go, you owe me a debt. Don't think I haven't noticed how many people 'disappear' as your strength continuously improves."
Ryan met the old man's gaze with cold, ruthless eyes. Not a trace of regret or fear touched his face. "I am aware. Please, instruct me."
Kanji stared him down for a long beat, then burst into a boisterous laugh. "Chill, kid! I'm joking. Who among the high-ranking is a saint? You may go. But remember—the Association's door is always open if you need a place to hide."
Ryan offered a thin smile. He understood. This wasn't a joke; it was an investment. Kanji was betting on Ryan's future.
The Road to the Academy
Four days blurred into a cycle of dust and blood. They cut through jungles and bypassed towns, leaving a trail of beast carcasses in their wake. They were on the edge of the final forest before the West Wing Academy when a piercing shriek shattered the silence.
"Aaaaaahhh! Help!"
David's hand went to his blade, looking to Ryan for the word.
"Let's take a look," Ryan muttered.
They dismounted, masking their presence as they crept through the underbrush. In a clearing, they saw three youths—two boys and a girl, all at the Bronze Stage—struggling against a 2nd-Grade beast. It was a slaughter. One boy already lay mangled under the beast's claws.
Ryan's expression turned to one of pure boredom. He straightened up, no longer caring if they were heard.
"Let's go, David," Ryan said, turning back toward the horses. "I thought it might be a treasure. It's just some idiots who don't know their own limits. Their lives aren't worth the mana it would take to save them."