As Lucas advanced through the bone-littered ruins, the chilling creak of skeletal joints echoed through the air. More undead emerged from the shadows—Skeleton Archers, Skeleton Warriors, each burning with eerie blue soul flames in their hollow sockets.
He didn't flinch.
With each step, his dagger rose and fell, slicing through brittle ribs, severing limbs, extinguishing soul fires. The battlefield was a symphony of bone shatters and echoing steel.
And then, the horizon changed.
Before him stood a strange structure—taller, darker, and vastly different from the abandoned ruins he had seen earlier.
It was an altar.
But not an ordinary one.
Its surface was jagged like obsidian, with arcane glyphs pulsing faintly. The architecture twisted unnaturally, as if the stones themselves resisted their own arrangement.
This... was not human craftsmanship.
Lucas's eyes narrowed. "...So it's true."
One of his earlier hunches had just been confirmed—this was the lair of the undead.
And it was no small infestation.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of skeletons clustered around the altar, patrolling mindlessly, their gaze unfocused... until he arrived.
Then, they turned.
Hundreds of soulfires locked onto him, all at once.
A lesser man would have frozen in terror.
But Lucas simply adjusted his grip on his dagger.
"Now I see why it's called the Blue Secret Realm," he muttered.
Under the dying sky, the altar grounds resembled a surging sea of blue—not water, but the flickering flames of the undead's gaze.
"Could the final boss be... a lich?" he wondered aloud.
But he dismissed the thought just as quickly.
Liches were high-tier Transcendents—beings of immense magic, usually Level 80 or higher. No way one would appear in a Level 40 Secret Realm designed for freshmen.
Besides, these skeletons were Level 30-something trash mobs, not the elite minions a lich would summon.
"More likely... a Necromancer."
That made sense.
A Level 40 Necromancer was dangerous, but still within the design scope of the trial. Lucas's lips curled into a grin.
"Perfect. Let's see what you've got."
---
The skeletons began to move.
Click. Clack. Snap.
The rattling of bone grew louder as the undead rushed him—an ocean of death closing in.
Their movements were jerky, uneven, like puppets pulled by forgotten strings. But what they lacked in grace, they made up for in sheer numbers and brute aggression.
Lucas didn't retreat.
He charged.
His dagger slashed through the neck of the first skeleton warrior. Its skull spun in the air, jaw clacking wildly, before shattering on the stones. The blue fire in its sockets snuffed out.
Another skeleton raised its rusted axe—but Lucas had already vanished.
Teleportation.
He reappeared behind it, plunging his blade deep into its socket. The soulfire burst like a blown fuse.
One after another, they fell.
Even though their bones could reform and move without heads, Lucas's attacks were precise, always draining their HP until the system recognized them as defeated.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty...
He danced through the horde like a reaper, blades whispering through marrow and magic alike.
Within minutes, the altar's guardians lay shattered.
---
Up in the spectator stands, the arena audience was in awe-struck silence.
"I... I finally get it," one student whispered. "This is how he reached Level 20 in just one month."
"He's not even stealthing!" another cried. "Isn't he a Shadow Assassin?!"
But what they saw before them didn't match the class profile at all.
There were no shadows, no lurking, no surprise stabs.
Lucas charged in head-on, overwhelming enemies like a berserker on a rampage.
His damage output was ridiculous—some skeletons were ten levels above him, yet he crushed them like twigs.
"How is this guy real?"
"What kind of insane Talent did he awaken?!"
The entire crowd wanted to drag him out and interrogate him on the spot.
But of course, they couldn't.
The competition was ongoing, and the old headmaster wouldn't allow it.
---
Down below, the battle raged on.
Lucas now stood at the base of the altar itself, bones crunching beneath his boots.
He had killed hundreds to get here.
He looked up.
The final climb.
The altar had a narrow stairway leading upward, winding between cursed glyphs and flickering torches that hadn't been lit by human hands.
At the top sat a throne—not made of stone, but skulls fused together, held in place by black tendrils of necrotic energy.
And on that throne—
A figure stirred.
Thin as death, robed in a decaying mage's cloak, and crowned with a skeletal helm. Its staff was forged of spine bone, and blue flames burned in its sockets, brighter and colder than any other skeleton Lucas had seen.
Lucas squinted. "So it's true."
He pulled out a Detection Scroll and threw it.
A screen flickered into view.
> Name: Necromancer Ugwoma
Level: 40
HP: ???
Attack Power: ???
Defense: ???
Skills: ???
Lucas cursed under his breath.
"Great. All question marks."
The system couldn't identify Ugwoma's full stats because the level gap was too wide—over 15 levels. Only the name and title appeared.
"Ugh. No HP bar? How the hell am I supposed to plan around this?"
Lucas paced, thinking.
"This thing could have high attack, crazy defense, and skills I can't predict. What if it kills me in two hits?"
He frowned.
One wrong move... and the entire match could slip from his hands.
---
Up in the audience stands, Jade Walker's eyes never left the screen.
"Lucas…" she whispered his name, her gaze intense.
She had watched dozens of competitors before—but no one like him.
No one with this kind of raw, unstoppable presence.
He wasn't just strong.
He was unshakable.
She leaned forward in her seat, gripping the rail. "This can't be the limit. There's more to him. I know it."
---
Back inside the Secret Realm, Lucas faced a decision.
He looked down at his leaderboard status.
> Rank: 1st
Points: Far above second place.
He had a solid lead.
If he just walked away now, no one could challenge him.
But... he stared back at the throne.
"This boss…"
It wasn't just about points anymore.
He wanted to test himself.
He wanted to know if his instincts, his build, and his strength could take down a final-level Necromancer, fifteen levels above him.
But...
If he failed—if he died—
He'd be ejected from the Secret Realm.
Someone else might band together, kill the boss, and steal the victory right out from under him.
Risk.
Or reward?
Lucas stood still, blade in hand, weighing fate.
Then he whispered...
"Let's give it a shot."
He began to climb the stairs.
---
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