The air in the storage room tightened to a blade’s edge.Elder Stoneclaw — sober, upright, eyes blazing with clarity — stood in the doorway like a revenant pulled back from extinction. Gone was the slouched drunk, the muttering corpse-in-waiting. What remained was the last heir of a fallen lineage, the martial master whose name once shook half of Arken.Lucien Cross did not recoil.He smiled.“It seems,” he said softly, “the rumors about your decline were exaggerated.”Stoneclaw didn’t answer.He attacked.His fist tore through the air toward Aveline, a strike heavy enough to smash bone. Aveline’s shield flared to life just in time. The blow slammed into it with a deafening crack, hurling her into a wall. Crates toppled. Dust exploded.Lucien stepped forward, meeting the second strike head-on.The impact sent a shock up his arm, but he didn’t falter.His grin widened.“So this is the Stoneclaw legacy.”Stoneclaw’s eyes flashed with animal fury.“You snakes!” he roared. “Stealing from

Aveline and Lucien sat across from each other in Stoneclaw’s dim residence. The curtains were half drawn, letting in faint gray morning light that cast muted stripes across the dusty floorboards. A silence lingered between them — not tense, but deliberate. They had both rehearsed their roles in their minds, and now the true performance would begin.Lucien rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “I will report the death to Principal Voss. Alone.”Aveline nodded once, fingers tapping rhythmically against her thigh. “Correct. You found him. I did not. I must appear unaware of anything until the moment you inform Voss. I cannot be directly linked to the scene.”Lucien drew a slow breath, adjusting the rehearsed weight in his expression — sorrowful, yet restrained. “And the inheritance?”“You present the claim,” Aveline replied smoothly. “I do not support it as witness. I support it afterward as policy. Policy is unassailable.”She smoothed her sleeve as though preparing for cou

Three days before the examination, the academy entered a state of sharpened alertness. Conversations quieted, eyes became watchful, and every cultivator in the top 20 ranking list began pushing their limits… or pretending not to.At noon on Day –3, Principal Voss revealed the official format, his voice echoing through the Central Hall.“The Thalara Military Force has requested a direct combat deployment. This year, you will face real beasts at the frontier perimeter of Arken. The examination is a live operation — not a simulation.”Shock. Murmurs. Excitement tinged with dread.“The participants are the top 20 from Thalara Academy’s Genius Ranking List. Candidates below rank 20 will undergo alternate examinations not related to this briefing.”Many students exhaled in relief. Twenty others only felt the noose tightening.Ronan Crowne said nothing merely absorbed the weight.***That evening, in his private cultivation pod, Ronan sat cross-legged. Essence built inside him like coiled li

Ronan walked through the academy courtyard while fragments of rumor drifted past him like dust in sunlight. The murmurs were carried by students huddled on benches, by whispering clusters of upperclassmen leaning against pillars, by casual voices that thought themselves subtle.“…Lucien mastered Ravencore…”“…they say he’s accelerating faster than expected…”“…he might even catch up to Ronan soon…”Ronan didn’t flinch.He didn’t clench his fists.He didn’t even slow his pace.His strides remained calm and steady as he crossed the courtyard, as if these voices were nothing more than wind against stone.If Ravencore gave Lucien wings — Ronan had never relied on anything but his own strength.He wasn’t competing with Lucien.Lucien was competing with him.That distinction mattered.Ronan’s concern was aimed elsewhere.Stoneclaw.A man of habit and chaos interwoven tightly— buy alcohol daily, return half-stumbling, wake at noon, sleep at dawn, start over.A drunk. A relic. A disappointme

The main plaza of Thalara Academy was packed, buzzing with voices, footsteps, excitement, and nerves. A sea of uniforms — dark blues, silvers, forest greens, crimson reds — filled the open courtyard like scattered banners of competing armies. Overhead, the flags of each participating academy from different nations across Arken fluttered in the dry wind, casting shifting shadows across polished stone tiles.The announcement had gone out… Only the Top 20 ranked students from each academy in every country would represent the youth troops in the Frontier Beast Examination.That meant: elite talents, hand-picked prodigies, and heirs of great bloodlines.And in the center of that plaza stood Ronan Crowne.He stood there as if none of this was remotely important, hands in his pockets,posture relaxed, expression unreadable.He looked like someone simply waiting for a bus.Which made him an easy target.Students from another academy, the silver-uniformed Northern Myrien Academy, passed near a