MY DEVOURER SYSTEM

009. The Private Arena

The private training estate of House Revenhall sat atop a secluded cliffside overlooking the neon-lit spires of the military capital. Inside the estate's subterranean testing bay, the walls were lined with heavy, kinetic-absorbing alloys designed to withstand Tier-6 damage.

Isolde Revenhall stood at the center of the white, pristine floor, her dark-purple trench coat hanging on a nearby rack. She wore a skin-tight silver combat bodysuit, her platinum hair tied tightly. In her hand, she casually tossed a heavy, gravity-weighted alloy sphere.

The heavy blast doors hissed open. Ren Kestrel stepped into the room, wearing a standard, unadulterated cadet uniform. The Revenhall Aegis-Suit was draped over his arm, visibly cracked and smoking from Corbin's final strike.

"You ruined the suit," Isolde said, her violet eyes locking onto his with an icy intensity.

"Corbin Reyes was a Tier-4 Beast-Soul user," Ren replied flatly, setting the broken gear on a nearby console. "The shield broke on his first serious lunge. I had to use the gravity daggers to cause a localized collapse and knock him out. Like I told the High Council—I got lucky."

WHOOSH.

Without a word of warning, Isolde flicked her wrist. The heavy alloy sphere tore through the air, propelled by her Tier-5 gravity manipulation. It traveled at supersonic speed, aiming directly for Ren's left temple. It was a strike meant to kill anyone who wasn't hiding a high-tier defensive attribute.

Ren didn't flinch.

Thanks to [Primal Reflexes (Tier 4)] and [Void-Strand Nervous System], his perspective of time dilated. The sphere slowed to a crawl in his vision. He didn't drop his human facade; his eyes remained dark brown. He simply tilted his head backward exactly three centimeters.

The sphere grazed his bangs, smashing into the alloy wall behind him with a thunderous BOOM, leaving a massive indentation.

Isolde didn't look surprised. A sharp, predatory smile spread across her lips. "Lucky? You didn't even drop your shoulder, Ren. You knew the exact trajectory before I even released my gravity grip. The High Council might buy your 'lucky proxy' story, but I don't."

She stepped closer, her gravity aura flaring, making the tiles beneath her boots crack from the artificial weight. "Corbin didn't just have his wrist broken. His core was systematically emptied. He's an empty husk. You didn't just defeat him, Ren. You took something from him. Show me your true class."

Ren stood his ground, though his stomach growled ominously.

[Warning: Hunger Meter at 29%]

[Passive depletion accelerating. Host requires high-density biomass within 19 hours.]

Instead of raising his fists to fight her, Ren let out a low, cold breath. His golden irises flared for a fraction of a second, just enough to let her see the black sclera beneath his eyes, before fading back to human brown.

"If I show you my true class in this room, Lady Isolde," Ren whispered, his voice sending a sudden, instinctual chill down her spine, "the residual energy will alert the academy's orbital scanners within thirty seconds. Your father's political shield won't be enough to stop a High Council execution squad from turning this estate into ash."

Isolde's smile faltered slightly. For the first time, her gravity aura wavered under the sheer, unbothered weight of his gaze.

"Besides," Ren continued, taking a step toward her, completely ignoring the crushing gravity pressure in the room. "I'm empty. The power I use requires a specific... fuel. And right now, my tank is running on fumes. If you want me to survive the Inter-Academy Selection in two months, you need to feed your asset."

Isolde recovered her composure, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed him. "What kind of fuel?"

"I know House Revenhall holds the hunting rights to the Underbelly Slums," Ren said, referencing the lawless, subterranean sectors beneath the capital where rogue, mutated beasts escaped from the rifts frequently nested. "There’s a rumor of a Tier-4 Variant—a Gloom-Crawler—that has been butchering your family's extraction workers in Sector 3."

He looked directly into her eyes. "Give me the deployment codes to the lower vents tonight. Let me handle the beast alone. I will clear your sector's problem for free, and in return... I get to keep whatever 'fuel' I harvest from the corpse."

Isolde stared at him, her mind rapidly calculating the political and strategic benefits. A Tier-4 Variant was currently stalling her family's multi-million credit mining operations in the slums. Sending a standard elite squad would draw too much public attention. But sending a "Zero" who could erase an entire entity without leaving a trace of standard human mana?

"You're a dangerous investment, Ren Kestrel," Isolde murmured, walking over to the console and typing in a secure, digital clearance key. She tossed the data-drive to him. "Those are the vent bypass codes for Sector 3. The automated perimeter guards will turn off for exactly two hours starting at midnight."

She leaned in close, her silver hair brushing his shoulder. "If you die down there, House Revenhall will officially declare you a runaway thief who stole our clearance keys. But if you survive... I expect your scorecard at the Inter-Academy trials to make the Halvern family look like historical footnotes."

Ren caught the data-drive, his lips curling into a dark, satisfied smile.

"Don't worry, Lady Isolde," Ren said, turning his back to walk out the blast doors. "The Gloom-Crawler won't be the only thing disappearing in the dark tonight."

As the doors closed, the system chimed merrily inside his head.

[Quest Triggered: The Underbelly Harvest]

[Objective: Infiltrate Sector 3 Slums and locate the Tier-4 Variant: Gloom-Crawler.]

[Time Window: 02:00:00]

[Potential Yield: High-density Abyssal Biomass. 100% Hunger Stabilization. Estimated Stat Growth: Strength +10, Agility +12.]