The tension in the jungle arena was a physical weight. Alex turned his head toward Ryan, his golden aura flickering with exhaustion and hope. Before he could utter a word, Ryan simply tilted his head toward the ring.
"You go," Ryan said, his voice as flat as a grave marker.
"Wait, why should he—" Alex started, but a shrill, arrogant voice cut him off from the crowd of defeated freshmen.
"You're just a coward, aren't you, Ragnor?" A bronze-middle stage student, emboldened by the chaos and his own bruised ego, stepped forward. "You've watched us get slaughtered all day. If you're so 'Elite,' why are you hiding behind Kellen? Maybe you're just weak and—"
The air didn't just turn cold; it vanished.
In an instant, a crushing wave of killing intent slammed into the loud-mouthed student. Lucas's eyes sharpened with a rare, dangerous light, and Jasmine's expression turned into one of pure disgust. But it was David who truly transformed. His hand didn't just rest on his saber—it white-knuckled the hilt, his shadow seemingly lengthening as he prepared to ignore every Academy rule to erase the stain of that insult.
The boy was slammed face-first into the dirt by the sheer atmospheric pressure. He struggled, gasping for air, until a pair of polished boots appeared in his blurred vision.
"You were saying something..." Ryan's voice drifted down, silk-wrapped in ice, "...about me being weak?"
Suddenly, Ryan released a fraction of his true aura. It wasn't just silver mana; it was a dense, suffocating frost that made even Gideon and Amy on the ridge stiffen in shock.
"He hid his strength," Alex muttered, his eyes wide. "That bastard was holding back even against me."
"I... I didn't mean it that way! Please!" the boy whimpered, his face pressed into the mud.
Ryan didn't look at the boy. He looked at Lucas. "Lucas. Break his hands."
The area went deathly silent. Lucas froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Ryan... are you sure? The Professors—"
"A dog that bites its master needs to be disciplined, Lucas," Ryan said, his gaze never wavering. "This is your test. Do you want to be a 'genius' who gets robbed by seniors, or do you want to be part of the future? Choose."
Lucas looked at the shivering heap on the ground, then at Ryan's immovable silhouette. With a shaky breath, he stepped forward. "Sorry, kid. You should have learned when to keep your mouth shut."
CRACK! CRACK!
"AAAAAAHHH!"
"STOP!" Alex lunged forward, his spear glowing, but he was too late. The boy lay cradling his shattered fingers, sobbing in the dirt. Alex turned on Ryan, his face contorted with hate. "Was that necessary?! He's one of us! We're supposed to be a team!"
"Team?" Ryan chuckled, a hollow, terrifying sound. "I am not part of a team, Alex. I am a leader. And as I told you before the match—never question my actions. I am not obliged to answer to a 'Hero' who can't even protect his own resources."
Ryan leaned back against the spirit-vine. "Now, go. If you don't step into that ring now, I will simply surrender my stones and walk away. I have the points to spare. Do you?"
The Battle of Wills: Alex vs. Amy
Alex, vibrating with a mix of fury and necessity, stormed into the ring. Amy was already waiting, her mana pool significantly drained from her bout with David, but her eyes were sharp with professional spite.
"Your friend is a monster, Kellen," Amy spat, swirling a condensed sphere of wind.
"He's not my friend!" Alex roared, launching a Solar Thrust.
The fight was a desperate dance. Amy used her remaining mana to blink across the arena, raining down Wind-Gashes that shredded Alex's robes. But Alex was a man possessed. Driven by the guilt of the injured freshmen and his hatred for Ryan's methods, he pushed his golden core to the absolute limit.
After ten minutes of high-speed clashing, Alex caught Amy in a mid-air transition. He didn't use the point of his spear, but the haft, slamming it into her side and knocking the wind from her lungs. Amy crashed to the ground, disqualified by a hair's breadth.
Alex stood over her, gasping, his mana flickering. He had won, but he was nearly empty.
The Final Vulture
"Enough play," a deep, booming voice echoed.
Gideon stepped down from the ridge. His aura wasn't like Amy's refined wind; it was a heavy, suffocating pressure of Silver Peak martial arts. The ground beneath his feet cracked as he landed.
"You've done well, little hero," Gideon sneered, looking at the exhausted Alex. "But the 'Initiation' ends here."
"Look at this greasy bastard," Lucas muttered from the sidelines, nursing his own bruises. "Thirty-five years old and still picking on teenagers. Talk about a pathetic life."
"He's just a bottom-feeder," David spat, his hand twitching on his saber. "If he had half the talent my Lord has, he'd be at the Dharma Stage by now instead of begging for freshman stones."
Gideon's eyes snapped toward them, his face twisting. "Enjoy your tongues while you have them, runts. Once I break your Rank 1, I'm coming for the Ragnor brat—Olivia or no Olivia."
Ryan stood in the shadows, a faint, cruel smile touching his lips. He watched Gideon's heavy aura and began to circulate his Frost-Bound Sovereign mana. The trap was almost set.