Two days passed like fleeting whispers. Zane, now dressed in stolen—borrowed—adventurer gear, moved like a phantom through the nearby settlement. Every time he needed something, he'd Voidwalk in and out of buildings, taking only the bare minimum. A bed to rest in. A book to read. A pouch to carry food.
And then came the rumors.
"Did you hear about the shadow in the library?"
"Yeah, my friend saw it too. She said the air bent around it—like a ghost!"
"The Ghost's real. I saw him disappear through a wall."
They called him "The Ghost." A legend born from whispers and fear. And Zane, completely unaware of the growing lore around him, just smirked whenever Nyx said "You're trending, apparently."
Now, standing just beyond the tall, imposing walls of the examination arena, Zane stared at the massive crowd. Hundreds of candidates, all with dreams of entering the academy, had gathered. Some wore pristine armor. Others wielded enchanted weapons. But all had one thing in common—hunger.
Zane cracked his knuckles, Ace lazily curling around his feet with a soft yawn. The trial was an elimination battle. One round. No rules. Just survive and stand.
And Zane knew something they didn't.
He wasn't just there to survive.
He was there to leave a mark.