The air hissed as three rows of translucent, venom-dripping fangs closed toward Eldon’s ribs.But he wasn't scared.With zero System auto-pilot to force his body into a pre-scripted dodge animation, Eldon shifted his weight, dropping his hips to alter his center of gravity mid-stance.He unanchored his left hand from the dorsal scale, pivoting his entire torso on his back heel. Reversing his grip on the leather hilt, he swung the twelve-pound cold steel broadsword in a tight, violent semicircle behind his back.CLEAVE.The heavy, matte-finished blade caught the snapping third head right along the soft tissue of its lower jaw hinge.A sickening crunch of bone rang across the black lake as the sheer physical weight of the dark iron sheared clean through scale, muscle, and jawbone. The lower half of the head dropped into the mud with a heavy splash, spraying a thick curtain of black, corrosive blood across the shoreline.The hydra screeched in agony—a guttural, multi-toned howl that sho

The courtyard erupted into confused, shocked muttering. Aurelia’s small smile froze instantly. Her emerald eyes widened, her hands clenching into tight fists within her silk sleeves. "Second?" Balthazar barked, taking an aggressive step forward. "That’s impossible! We cleared the eastern high-tier hunting grounds! Who could possibly have scored higher than four thousand points?!" Headmaster Roste didn't look at Balthazar. He looked down at his parchment ledger, a strange, unreadable expression settling across his weathered face. "In first place," Headmaster Roste announced, his voice echoing off the tall marble pillars with absolute clarity, "with a total score of twelve thousand five hundred points... Eldon." A suffocating, stunned silence slammed over the plaza. Nobody cheered. Nobody moved. Students looked at one another in utter, bewildered disbelief,

The royal decree hung over Sol-Caelum Academy like a waiting guillotine. Two weeks. Fourteen days until the Trials of the Crown, where Eldon was scheduled to step into the blood-stained sands of the central arena for an official Death Match against House Golden-Lion's champion.Duke Volvo’s word was absolute, but so was his hatred. Eldon knew that two weeks was far too long for a High Councillor to wait passively. The moment Eldon stepped beyond the academy gates or lingered too close to the dark alleys of the Pits, a level-capped assassin would put a crossbow bolt through his spine to ensure the "cheater" never lived to make it to the arena floor.He needed a place to disappear.A place where the Duke’s gold could not buy scouts, and where System tracking runes were useless.Rain drummed a relentless, heavy rhythm against the cracked roof of Orik’s smithy in the lower forge district.Inside, the forge fire burned low, casting long, dancing shadows acro