A/N: Check the ending of the chapter for the meaning of any word with an (*)---Everyone waited anxiously for the test to begin. It felt natural to expect that this year's would turn out better than the tests of the past few years.Then it happened—a loud, echoing sound reverberated through the air, signaling the arrival of someone important. Very important.Only a select few warranted that kind of announcement.The top guild leaders.Courtis—the leader of the Arcane Guild.Zyn—the master of the Seven Blades.Tera—the renowned leader of The Ashen Saints.These figures were like kings in this vast city of Guilds. Within this territory, no one but the Royal Family held more authority. Not even the Great Families.In fact, this wasn’t a good place for Great Family members to visit freely. Here, they were vulnerable—this city was the one place where enemies could hunt them down with minimal consequences.Not because the top guilds were openly hostile—though exceptions existed—but because

"What? Did he just say a race?""I think so." Murmurs filled the room as some participants tried to wrap their heads around what they’d just heard.A lean boy with spiky black hair and sharp blue eyes looked down at his legs, which were covered with a hard yet flexible black material—engineered specifically to enhance and protect them during sudden bursts of speed caused by his attribute.A smirk formed on his face.'This is it. My time has come.'Meanwhile, another boy stared down at his large, protruding belly. “I’m cooked,” he muttered.Art frowned beneath the black-silver mask. Those closest to him subtly shifted away, sensing the slight but menacing aura that radiated from him.He hadn’t realized that his mana aura was slowly being affected by the mask. Others were very wary of him.Their goal here was simple: perform well enough to get noticed and chosen by a good guild. This wasn’t a deathmatch, so the best course was to avoid serious threats—unless forced.Well, that was how

Lowering his mana aura, Art walked through the forest, which was indeed less dense than the one used during the raid.He didn’t want to scare off any beasts by giving off too much presence, which was why he suppressed it. Deep down, he also hoped some contestants would underestimate him enough to attack first. He didn’t want to go around starting fights as he had to build and mold his reputation as an adventurer, and it all began here.So far, he hadn’t encountered any beasts or contestants, nor had he found another ribbon.It was safe to assume the arena was large enough to accommodate all participants without forced conflict. A smart design choice.His vision was currently amplified by the third ability of his mask. Although it was draining his mana, he wasn’t bothered—thanks to the mask, he had a lot more mana than usual.With his current mana points, he could use the enhanced vision for three straight days before running out—assuming he didn’t recover any along the way. His stamin

"Arghh!" A young man brushed bits of beast flesh off his sleeve. The remains clung like dried paste. Disgust twisted his face.“Ugh, revolting,” he muttered, flicking off a speck with the tip of a silver-polished nail.The battle had been brief—unworthy of him, but also messy. The blood wasn’t his, obviously. He never allowed himself to be touched. Still, the gore had the audacity to stain his imported, spellwoven tunic, which had been pristine moments ago.He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes narrowing.“This terrain is absolutely barbaric,” he said aloud, brushing down his white pants with more care than he’d shown his opponent. “Wild, dirty, uncivilized. What were they thinking, holding a prestigious competition in a place like this?”He tugged the yellow ribbon tied above his brow, adjusting it like a crown. It glowed faintly beneath the shafts of sunlight, piercing the forest canopy—a symbol of refinement amidst the filth.He didn’t particularly like the yellow—it was far to

Talor crouched slightly, his blackened claws flexing, his slit eye gleaming with bloodlust. The ruined clearing crackled with residual energy from the earlier spellstorm. Across from him, the young man stood firm, wand glowing faintly green, jaw tight with pride and pain. "What form of transformation is this? Are you even human?" the man growled, his wand glowing brighter. "It doesn't matter. I'll be sending you back to whatever pit you came from."Talor grinned, fangs flashing. "You better."With that, he charged.The ground split beneath his feet as he launched forward with explosive speed. The young man shouted, raising his wand high."Whirlwind Warden!"A massive gust erupted between them, spiraling into a twisting barrier of air blades. Sharp currents spun with such velocity that they distorted the surroundings. Talor, however, didn’t slow.He punched straight through the cyclone.The wind tore at his clothes, dug shallow cuts into his arm—but his momentum never faltered. One cl