My low-level status in the Jade Feather Clan and my seemingly pathetic Blue Trash Grass spirit had secured my place as a forgettable grunt. But the Ascendant City's rigid structure demanded more than just a place; it demanded compliance. To advance, a youth had to earn a Hunter's Permit through the Clan Academies. My next destination was the Jade Feather Clan's Hunter Academy, a necessary and agonizing step in my infiltration.
The Academy was a bustling microcosm of the city's hierarchy. It was a place where futures were forged and broken by the public display of power. It was the worst possible place for me to be, a walking paradox of infinite potential masked by utter mediocrity.
I entered the Academy, a bustling building where youths gathered, their spiritual auras on full display. I immediately suppressed my Arcane Catalyst, forcing my aura to match the lowest common denominator: a barely perceptible blue flicker, the signature of a true F-Rank.
---
The first challenge was not a test of strength, but a test of my ability to become socially invisible. My past-life knowledge of human psychology and group dynamics was more valuable here than my Epic Gauntlet. I needed to manipulate my classmates into not just ignoring me, but actively underestimating me.
I identified the two dominant social archetypes:
The Over-Achievers (The Elite): Led by a confident C-Rank youth named Kael with a powerful Azure Falcon spirit. They were constantly showcasing their skills, competing for the top ranks.
The Bruisers (The Reckless): Led by a rowdy B-Rank youth named Rork with a fiery Lava Bear spirit. They relied on brute force and were dismissive of those they considered weak.
My strategy was to avoid both and cultivate a third, far more useful persona: The Reliable Loser.
My first opportunity came during the introductory combat simulation. We were tasked with defeating a simple holographic Rock Golem. The test was graded on speed and efficiency.
Kael's group went first, their combined Azure Falcon and Wind Sprite spirits overwhelming the golem in seconds. Rork's group followed, a chaotic but powerful display of physical strength, shattering the golem's core in a single, uncoordinated charge.
My turn came. I moved with the purposeful, hesitant movements of a true novice. My Blue Trash Grass spirit, a pathetic blue flicker, was an instant source of amusement.
The Goof: I fumbled my basic mana strike, pretending to miscalculate the trajectory. The strike hit the golem's shoulder instead of its core, causing a minor flicker instead of any real damage.
The Plea: "Oops! Sorry! I'm still working on my aim," I stammered, projecting a perfect image of panicked inadequacy.
The Useless Spirit: I commanded my Trash Grass spirit to help. It did its only thing: it emitted a weak, blue glow around the golem's feet, a gesture of absolute futility.
The entire Academy floor erupted in laughter. The instructor, a bored Rank B hunter, simply sighed and assigned me a remedial combat course.
I accepted the humiliation with a perfect smile of awkward gratitude. The Bruisers jeered, calling me "Trash Grass," a name that instantly stuck. The Over-Achievers simply ignored me, bored by my complete lack of potential.
---
The strategy paid off immediately. The Bruisers stopped viewing me as a threat and started viewing me as an easy target for their pranks. They would try to push me, trip me, or shove me out of line. I, in turn, would pretend to stumble, my Perfect Density Shunt effortlessly absorbing the force while my face registered the appropriate look of clumsy helplessness.
The Over-Achievers never once bothered to look at my test scores or my combat logs. Why would they? My initial, clumsy performance had classified me as a permanent, non-threatening low-tier entity. I was an afterthought.
This social invisibility was a goldmine. While everyone else was focused on public displays of power, I was free to observe the Academy's network. I analyzed the mana-flow protocols, memorized the security patrol routes, and began to secretly audit the energy signatures of every student and instructor.
I had successfully erased my formidable aura with the mask of mediocrity. The Controller, a being who could single-handedly dismantle a city, was now just another shy, stumbling kid with a Trash Grass spirit, completely hidden in the noise of a bustling Academy. The second phase of my infiltration was underway.