The day had passed in what felt like an instant. As darkness settled over the Dabie Mountains once more, Azrael's massive black and red hand gently patted the trembling tiger beside him, a magnificent specimen that now cowered like a common house cat.
"Don't be so rude in the future," he advised with dark amusement, his merged voice carrying harmonics that spoke of inhuman transformation. "Not everyone you encounter will be as... considerate as I am."
The tiger could only manage a pitiful mewling sound, its proud feline dignity completely shattered by the incomprehensible ordeal it had just endured. One moment it had been settling down for a peaceful evening's rest after a successful hunt, and the next this nightmare creature had materialized from nowhere to pin it helplessly against the forest floor.
What followed had been beyond its animal comprehension, tendrils of alien substance flowing into its body, extracting something essential before withdrawing with clinical efficiency. The violation hadn't caused physical harm, but something fundamental had been taken from it.
Azrael remained oblivious to the psychological trauma he'd inflicted, simply patting the creature's muscled flank with what he considered reassuring gentleness. "You're free to go now."
The tiger tested its liberty with a single cautious paw, amber eyes never leaving the monstrous figure looming above it. When no punishment followed, it exploded into motion with desperate energy, rolling and scrambling through the undergrowth until the darkness swallowed its retreating form entirely.
"Time to head back," Azrael decided, studying the deepening twilight with satisfied eyes.
While darkness was only beginning to claim the mountains, he couldn't afford to remain until dawn. Tomorrow's practical training demanded his full attention and energy, whatever challenges the academy had prepared would require careful preparation rather than exhausted stumbling through exercises.
More importantly, his genetic harvesting expedition had yielded far more than he'd dared hope.
"The module collection has been remarkably productive," he reflected, already planning the optimal combinations for future encounters.
Since these were all biological templates extracted from common animals, their individual potency couldn't match the supernatural capabilities he'd obtained from the shadow demon. However, quantity sometimes possessed its own form of quality, the diversity of available options would provide tactical flexibility that single powerful modules couldn't match.
After accessing Pride's genetic database through their mental link, Azrael replaced the [Muscle Efficiency] module with something more immediately relevant to his transportation needs.
Currently active genetic modules: [Pointed Wings] 1/1
[Pointed Wings]: Dramatically increases flight speed and maneuverability through optimized wing structure and muscle coordination.
The moment the module integrated with Pride's biological matrix, Azrael felt the symbiote's form shifting beneath his skin. In his enhanced state, he could now manifest a pair of muscular wings that resembled those of a bat crossed with something far more predatory, sleek membranes stretched between reinforced bone structures that promised both power and precision.
Taking a deep breath of the mountain air, Azrael gathered himself for takeoff. A brief running start provided momentum before he coiled his enhanced leg muscles and launched himself skyward with explosive force.
Without the [Muscle Efficiency] module, his jumping capability had decreased noticeably, the altitude and velocity were good but hardly spectacular. However, this limitation only applied to the initial ascent.
The moment his wings caught the evening air currents, everything changed.
Powerful membrane beats carried him forward with remarkable speed, each stroke propelling him through the darkening sky with grace that would have made actual birds envious. The sensation was intoxicating, pure freedom combined with supernatural capability that transcended normal biological limits.
"This is significantly faster than Pidgeot," Azrael observed with growing satisfaction, the wind rushing past him as he carved through the air toward civilization.
The cold night breeze that should have been uncomfortable felt invigorating against his enhanced form. Pride's biological adaptations protected him from temperature extremes while allowing him to fully appreciate the exhilaration of unassisted flight.
"Unfortunately, I'm still well below sonic speeds," he mused, already planning future acquisitions. "If I encounter aerial demons later, I might be able to extract more advanced flight modules."
The fact that ordinary animal genetics could provide such remarkable enhancement filled him with optimism about what supernatural specimens might offer. Demons, magical creatures, or entities from higher-tier secret realms could theoretically provide capabilities that defied conventional understanding.
The lights of Pixar appeared ahead, twinkling like fallen stars scattered across the landscape. As beautiful as the sight was, Azrael deliberately reduced his speed before entering the city's airspace, the last thing he needed was unwanted attention from patrol forces or air traffic control.
Despite his precautions, several figures on flying mounts materialized from the darkness ahead, their formation clearly indicating official authority rather than casual nighttime riders.
"Aerial contact ahead!" one of the figures called out, his voice carrying clearly across the distance. "Reduce speed immediately and descend for mandatory inspection!"
Azrael sighed internally but complied without protest, executing a controlled descent toward the designated checkpoint area. Fighting aerial patrol units would create far more problems than it solved, especially when he'd done nothing actually illegal.
A middle-aged Cardian Master approached him as he touched down, his experienced eyes studying Pride's intimidating form with obvious surprise and growing concern. Behind him, several younger team members maintained defensive positions, their hands resting on weapons they clearly hoped they wouldn't need to use.
"Where is your Cardian Master?" the leader asked, his tone carefully neutral despite the implied threat radiating from his subordinates.
The question confused Azrael until he realized the misunderstanding. From an external perspective, Pride appeared to be an independent biological card rather than a symbiotic fusion. The officer naturally assumed some Cardian was concealed nearby, directing this obviously powerful creature's actions.
His team members remained on high alert, their nervous energy practically crackling in the air. If their leader hadn't been maintaining careful control, they would have already launched preemptive attacks against what they perceived as a dangerous threat.
The patrol leader was genuinely curious about Pride's unique appearance, he'd never encountered anything quite like the symbiotic aesthetic during his years of service. The creature seemed too sophisticated for amateur work, yet its design philosophy differed dramatically from any established Lore Cardian traditions he recognized.
Pride's form suddenly shifted, the intimidating outer shell retracting to reveal Azrael's perfectly human features beneath. The transformation was so seamless that several patrol members took involuntary steps backward, their minds struggling to process what they'd just witnessed.
"I am the Cardian Master," Azrael explained simply, studying the middle-aged officer whose expression had shifted from confusion to professional assessment. "Is there some problem, officer?"
The patrol leader quickly recovered his composure, producing his official credentials with practiced efficiency. "Routine speed enforcement patrol," he explained, scanning Azrael's youthful appearance with growing interest. "Our instruments detected velocity violations near the city perimeter. May I see your identification, please?"
"I deliberately slowed down before entering the city limits," Azrael protested mildly, though he produced his certification without argument. "I was under the impression that I'd maintained legal speeds."
The officer accepted his credentials and began the standard verification process, comparing the photograph against Azrael's actual appearance while running digital authentication checks. His expression gradually relaxed as the scans confirmed everything was legitimate.
"Your documentation is in order," he said, returning the card with a respectful nod. "However, I'm obligated to inform you that flight speeds exceeding two hundred kilometers per hour within municipal airspace constitute violations regardless of intent."
Azrael nodded his understanding. "I'll be more careful about monitoring my velocity in the future."
"Am I free to continue now?"
The patrol leader smiled with genuine warmth, his earlier suspicion replaced by professional courtesy. "Thank you for your cooperation, sir. You're cleared for departure."
He turned toward his team with obvious relief. "Stand down, everyone. False alarm."
As Azrael resumed Pride's enhanced form and launched himself skyward once more, the patrol members watched his departing figure with a mixture of awe and bewilderment.
"So that's what Pixar University students are capable of these days," one of them observed with envious admiration. "Those cards are absolutely unique."
"I have to admit, the aesthetic is actually quite impressive," another added with grudging appreciation.
"You have questionable taste," a third voice interjected with skeptical humor. "In the darkness, I genuinely thought we were facing a demon incursion."
The patrol leader shook his head with weary amusement. "I've been doing this job for over a decade, and I've never encountered anything quite like that creature. The integration between Cardian and card was so seamless that my mental energy couldn't detect any separation between them."
The observation highlighted something that had puzzled him throughout the encounter. Initially, he'd assumed Pride was an independent biological card because his spiritual senses had failed to detect Azrael's presence within the symbiotic form. When the young man had revealed himself, the leader had briefly considered whether Pride might be some form of advanced armor or biological colonization suit.
But the unmistakable life force radiating from the symbiote had eliminated that possibility entirely. Whatever Azrael had created, it existed in a category that transcended normal classification systems.
"Remarkable," he murmured as the black and red figure disappeared into the night sky. "Absolutely remarkable."
Returning to his apartment, Azrael settled into his favorite chair and began the systematic analysis of his genetic harvest. The day's expedition had yielded an impressive array of biological templates, each one representing potential tactical advantages for future encounters.
"Time for the exciting inventory review," he announced to himself with anticipation, spreading Pride's accumulated data across his consciousness like a collector examining rare treasures.
The habit stemmed from his gaming experiences in his previous life. Regardless of the specific title, whenever he'd obtained items with randomized properties, he'd always preferred to collect everything first before examining individual statistics. The delayed gratification made each discovery feel more rewarding than immediate evaluation could provide.
After extensive sorting and categorization, most of the modules proved to be either useless or genuinely amusing in their specificity. However, several entries showed genuine promise for practical application.
Beyond the [Muscle Efficiency] and [Pointed Wings] modules he'd already tested, two additional templates caught his attention with their potential utility:
[Streamlined Muscles]: Provides moderate improvement to explosive muscle contractions and burst movement capabilities.
[Acute Scent Detection]: Significantly enhances olfactory sensitivity and tracking capabilities.
The tiger and bear that had provided these genetic templates had both been magnificent specimens in their own right, apex predators whose evolutionary refinements over millions of years had produced remarkable biological efficiency.
With the current limited selection of useful modules available, Azrael could still manage manual switching between different genetic templates as tactical situations demanded. However, as his collection expanded, such micromanagement would become impractical during active combat scenarios.
Fortunately, Pride possessed the intelligence and experience necessary to make optimal choices autonomously. Combined with the symbiote's [Battle Master] trait, Azrael felt confident that his partner could select appropriate genetic configurations faster than conscious thought could manage.
"The real test will come tomorrow," he mused, already anticipating the challenges that Pixar University's practical training would present. "Time to discover whether all this preparation will prove worthwhile."
The following morning found Azrael in the familiar classroom, his usual energy somewhat diminished by the previous day's extensive expedition. Despite his satisfaction with the genetic harvesting results, the physical and mental demands of systematic biological absorption had left him feeling less sharp than normal.
"You'll be operating independently today, Azrael," Harold announced without looking up from his phone, his attention absorbed by whatever message had captured his interest.
Azrael supported his chin with one hand and released a jaw-cracking yawn. "Being Silver-level does come with certain... adjustments to standard procedures."
Arnald glanced over with characteristic bluntness. "You look terrible. What happened to your usual composure?"
"Late night entertainment," Azrael replied with deliberate vagueness. "Didn't get nearly enough rest."
The twin brothers exchanged meaningful looks, clearly preparing to launch into their usual interrogation routine about his mysterious activities. However, before they could voice their curiosity, Alice's presence materialized beside their desk.
Her gentle gaze fixed on Azrael with obvious intent, and he immediately understood that his senior sister required his attention for official business.
Following Alice out of the classroom, Azrael posed the obvious question. "This is about the practical training modifications, I assume?"
Alice nodded confirmation, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll escort you to the appropriate venue now. Silver-level students receive specialized instruction rather than standard group exercises."
They walked in comfortable silence through corridors that led to a section of campus Azrael hadn't previously explored. The architecture here suggested administrative importance, wider hallways, more elaborate fixtures, and an atmosphere of serious academic purpose.
Their destination proved to be a substantial lecture hall where perhaps twenty students sat scattered throughout the tiered seating. The arrangement suggested selective participation rather than mass enrollment.
"A faculty member will arrive shortly to provide briefing details," Alice explained softly, her social anxiety making even routine explanations feel strained. "I need to return to my other responsibilities now."
After his senior sister departed, Azrael selected an empty seat and settled in to observe his fellow students. Their ages varied considerably, some appeared to be upperclassmen with several years of experience, while others seemed roughly equivalent to his own academic standing.
Several students recognized him from recent Battle Club activities, their whispered conversations carrying clearly across the lecture hall's acoustics.
"That's the new Battle Club main member," one voice observed with obvious interest.
"I heard Kevaugn didn't stand a chance against him," another added with the enthusiasm of someone who enjoyed dramatic stories.
"Really? The disparity was that significant?"
"Why would I lie about something so easily verified? There were dozens of witnesses to their confrontation."
"Good thing I never worked up the courage to challenge him myself."
Azrael maintained his neutral expression throughout their commentary, though he noted Kevaugn himself sitting in the front row with an expression that suggested ongoing frustration about their previous encounter. The defeated opponent's dark mood was understandable, losing so decisively in such a public forum would be difficult for anyone's pride to accept.
However, no confrontation materialized. Whatever Kevaugn's feelings about their battle, he apparently possessed enough wisdom to avoid escalating the situation further.
Shortly after Azrael's arrival, a middle-aged male instructor entered the lecture hall with brisk efficiency. His bearing suggested military background, straight posture, clipped movements, and eyes that assessed everything with tactical precision.
"Attention, students," he announced, his voice carrying easily throughout the space. "Settle down for briefing."
The conversations died immediately, replaced by the focused attention that experienced instructors commanded through presence rather than volume.
"Since most of you have participated in previous practical training exercises, I'll dispense with unnecessary explanations," he continued with professional directness. "Those planning to form teams for today's operation should register with me immediately. Anyone who doesn't register will be classified as operating solo."
A substantial portion of the students rose from their seats and approached the instructor's position, clearly preferring collaborative approaches to whatever challenges awaited them. Azrael remained seated, his decision influenced by two primary factors.
First, he recognized no one in the lecture hall apart from Kevaugn, hardly an ideal teammate given their competitive history. Second, his confidence in his personal capabilities made team formation seem unnecessary rather than beneficial.
The registration process consumed several minutes as the instructor documented team compositions and reviewed standard protocols with each group. When the administrative requirements were complete, his expression grew markedly more serious.
"Although today's mission involves final cleanup operations rather than primary exploration, do not allow yourselves to become complacent," he warned, his gaze sweeping across every face in the lecture hall. "No one will be held responsible if you encounter difficulties within the secret realm environment."
"After all, you signed comprehensive liability waivers when you applied to the Card Making Department."
The stern reminder served multiple purposes, Azrael realized. While the instructor's words might seem like standard bureaucratic protection, they reflected genuine concerns based on historical precedent.
Even supposedly "safe" cleanup operations could turn deadly without warning. Secret realms were inherently unpredictable environments where hidden dangers could emerge from the most routine circumstances. The previous year's incident involving an undetected Gold-level demon had resulted in significant student casualties, a tragedy that had prompted enhanced safety protocols but couldn't eliminate risk entirely.
Of course, registered Cardian Masters now conducted more thorough preliminary sweeps before student operations commenced. Any entity above Gold-level would be eliminated proactively, while Silver-level threats were considered acceptable challenges for properly trained students to handle.
After all, if Silver-level students couldn't manage Silver-level opposition, they had no business pursuing careers as professional Cardian Masters.
The lecture hall remained silent as the instructor's words sank in, each student processing the implications according to their own experience and risk tolerance.
"Finally," the instructor concluded with slightly less intensity, "prioritize your safety above mission objectives. No academic exercise is worth permanent injury or death."
He gestured toward the exit with practiced authority. "Everyone up. Time to move."
As the students filed out of the lecture hall, Azrael joined the procession with growing curiosity about what challenges the university had prepared. Since this was his first practical training exercise at Pixar, he lacked context for understanding standard procedures or expectations.
The journey led them toward campus transportation facilities where a fleet of buses waited with destinations clearly marked. Azrael followed other students aboard a vehicle labeled "Silver Level" and settled in for whatever journey awaited them.
Through the bus windows, Azrael observed an increasingly desolate landscape as they traveled further from civilization. Heavy rain obscured much of the terrain, creating an atmosphere of gloom and isolation that seemed appropriate for their mysterious destination.
After several hours of travel through progressively more remote territory, their convoy finally reached its objective, a heavily fortified military installation that dwarfed any security measures Azrael had previously encountered.
The contrast with his welfare secret realm experience was immediately apparent. Where that facility had maintained minimal oversight with casual security protocols, this base projected serious military authority. Multiple checkpoints lined their approach route, each one staffed by Cardian Masters whose spiritual pressure marked them as Silver-level minimum.
As their bus penetrated deeper into the installation's secure perimeter, Azrael detected several individuals whose power signatures exceeded his ability to analyze safely. The slight tingling sensation in his mental energy served as a warning that higher-tier entities were monitoring their arrival, beings who possessed the capability to obliterate his consciousness if he pressed his investigation too aggressively.
Wisely, he retracted his spiritual senses and focused on more immediate concerns.
Their final destination was an assembly area where a stern-faced officer waited beside what was obviously a secret realm portal, the swirling dimensional gateway that would transport them to whatever challenges the academy had selected.
"Mission parameters and operational maps have been transmitted to your personal devices," the officer announced without preamble, his tone suggesting years of military command experience.
Azrael retrieved his phone and accessed the newly received information:
[Mission Objective: Eliminate all Silver-level entities within designated operational zone]
[Attachment: Detailed topographical survey and threat assessment]
The mapping data revealed a substantial area of mountainous terrain dotted with various structures, some intact, others showing significant damage from previous conflicts. Threat markers indicated the locations where Silver-level demons had been detected during preliminary reconnaissance.
"Now that everyone has reviewed their assignments," the officer continued with military precision, "mission commencement begins immediately."
As students began moving toward the portal in small groups, Azrael felt anticipation building in his chest. This would be his first real test of Pride's enhanced capabilities in genuine combat conditions, an opportunity to discover whether his genetic harvesting expedition had truly improved his tactical options.
More importantly, whatever challenges awaited within the secret realm would provide valuable experience for future encounters with more dangerous opponents. The path to Gold-level advancement would require far more than theoretical knowledge, practical combat against supernatural entities was the only way to develop the skills necessary for long-term survival.
Taking a deep breath, Azrael stepped through the dimensional gateway and felt reality shift around him as he entered the unknown dangers that awaited within.
Deep within the secret realm, far from the insertion point where students would soon begin their operations, an ancient drama was playing out in the ruins of what had once been a prosperous mountain community.
The heavy rain that obscured the landscape had been falling for days, turning the remnants of civilization into a water-logged nightmare where collapsed buildings and eroded hillsides bore witness to the devastating conflicts that had claimed this realm.
Inside one of the few structures that remained partially intact, a young man knelt respectfully beside the bed where his ancestor lay dying. The old one's breathing was labored, each exhalation carrying the weight of accumulated years and the bitter knowledge of inevitable defeat.
"Honored Ancestor," the younger man said with carefully controlled emotion, "the Cardian Master offensives have diminished significantly in recent weeks. Could it be that their forces have suffered casualties severe enough to force tactical withdrawal?"
The old man coughed weakly before responding, his voice barely above a whisper. "We are but a single secret realm, child, while they possess an entire empire's resources to draw upon. How could we possibly prevail against such overwhelming numerical superiority?"
His ancient eyes reflected the wisdom of someone who had witnessed the rise and fall of countless struggles. "The major powers within our realm have been systematically eliminated. What remains are only the old, the weak, and the wounded, survivors like myself who pose no meaningful threat to their objectives."
"I suspect they simply consider the remaining cleanup work unworthy of significant effort."
Bitterness flickered across the young man's features as he processed this grim assessment. "Honored Ancestor, what course of action should we pursue now?"
The old man struggled to achieve a sitting position, his descendant quickly moving to provide support. "The underground chambers we prepared before the initial invasion should remain undiscovered," he said with effort. "Gather the surviving tribal members and relocate our most precious artifacts to those hidden spaces. We must preserve what we can for future generations."
The young man's silence stretched uncomfortably before he voiced the frustration that had been building within his heart. "The humiliation burns like fire, Ancestor. If our people hadn't been captured initially, how could our proud tribe have fallen to such degradation?"
The old man's turbid gaze sharpened with sudden intensity, fixing his descendant with a stare that carried decades of accumulated wisdom and terror. "Guard your words carefully, child. Do not assume that His attention cannot reach you simply because He has chosen to manifest in distant realms. You remain alive only because your insignificance has not yet warranted His notice."
"After all, we are all merely His instruments in a game whose rules we cannot comprehend."
Cold sweat broke out across the young man's body as understanding dawned. The true power behind their realm's transformation wasn't the Cardian Masters who served as its public face, it was something far more ancient and terrible, an entity whose influence extended across dimensions and whose purposes remained beyond mortal understanding.
"I... I spoke without thinking, Honored Ancestor," he stammered, his earlier bravado completely evaporated. "I'll make the arrangements immediately."
As the young man hurried from the chamber to begin their people's final evacuation, the old man settled back against his pillows with a expression of profound weariness. They had become pawns in a cosmic game whose stakes they could barely comprehend, and survival now depended entirely on remaining beneath the attention of forces that could unmake reality itself.
Outside, the rain continued falling with relentless persistence, washing away the last traces of a civilization that had once thrived in harmony with the natural world. Soon, even those memories would be lost to the endless cycle of conquest and renewal that defined the secret realms' existence.
But in hidden chambers deep beneath the mountains, a few precious artifacts would survive to bear witness to what had been, assuming the new arrivals didn't discover their concealment before the evacuation could be completed.
The game was entering its final phase, and only time would reveal whether any pieces would remain on the board when it reached its inevitable conclusion.
...
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