The plaza was alive with energy, a riot of excitement painted across countless faces. Joy, exhilaration, and anticipation surged in waves, each apprentice sorcerer seeming to compete with the next in their display of spirited eagerness. Yet amidst the cacophony, one figure remained apart, almost entirely detached from the celebratory atmosphere. Grimm, clad in his gleaming metal armor and carrying the formidable Hydra Greatsword on his back, stood quietly among the throngs. At his side, a One-Time Space Pouch hung from his belt, and beneath his pale mask, his eyes were heavy with fatigue, constantly analyzing and calculating as if no rest had ever been permitted. The events of the previous night, the grand ball with Lafey, had not led Grimm to lingering in personal delight. Instead, he had chosen solitude, dedicating himself to the meticulous study of the Undying Flame Sorcery. Even now, his mind worked tirelessly, calculating the final foundational Annihilation

The dim sky screamed in sudden, agonizing wails, and several sorcerer apprentices scattered in all directions, plummeting helplessly toward the ground. Only one, caught in a strange spatial distortion as he fell, managed to exit the Secret Realm entirely. On the jagged stone below, a wide-hemmed robe concealed a pair of murky, drowsy eyes. Those eyes swept over the falling apprentices with a detached, almost predestined calm. No flicker of emotion passed across the dull gaze; he seemed entirely unmoved by the chaos around him. A faint breeze, peculiar to the Secret Realm of the trials, stirred the edges of his robe, and for a brief moment, the true horror beneath was revealed. His face was a grotesque map of countless black-and-red pustules, growing not only across his skin but extending deep down his neck. Among the clusters, only the eyes, nose, and mouth remained unblemished. The sight was enough to turn stomachs and curdle courage alike.

Two days had passed. “Hmph, surrender already, Hurricane Vigana. Your two companions made the wise choice!” Rogan’s voice cut coldly across the mire, his eyes fixed on the female Sorcerer hovering above the ground. Beneath him, seven or eight massive tendrils of swirling mud writhed and slithered, responding to his slightest movement. Every attack Hurricane Vigana launched was effortlessly neutralized, while columns of water shot skyward, creating spectacular arcs that contrasted with the mud’s dark grip. Hurricane Vigana was ranked tenth among the top Sorcerers of Ossuary Clocktower Academy, a wind-element prodigy with enough raw potential to compete for the title of apprentice Demon Hunter. Her teal robes whipped violently around her, earrings and necklace bouncing with the relentless gales, while her long black hair streamed behind her like dark ribbons caught in a storm. Her sharp eyes glinted as she scanned the enci

The crystalline wings of the Ice Phoenix radiated a chilling frost, each beat of its majestic span sending torrents of jagged ice spikes swirling through a violent blizzard that scattered across the area around the Solar Child. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though all present had been thrust into the fabled northernmost regions, where eternal winter reigned supreme. “Ice Phoenix! That’s… Ice Age Mirra! Retreat! Everyone, get out of here!” Several apprentice sorcerers gasped in hushed tones, their panic spreading like wildfire. They froze for barely a heartbeat before fleeing in all directions, abandoning any semblance of order. Over thirty others, though unfamiliar with Mirra’s identity, were struck by the bone-chilling pressure emanating from her presence. They halted in terror, then instinctively followed their fleeing peers. A few weaker apprentices barely had time to react before they were en