The next morning, the Summit Academy Grand Hall was buzzing with a nervous energy that smelled like cheap cologne and desperation.
It was Guild Selection Day.
Recruiters from the top ten Guilds in the country had set up booths along the perimeter of the hall. They were looking for the next generation of meat shields and artillery cannons.
The Golden Lions: Looking for Tanks (B-Rank min).
Arcane Syndicate: Looking for High-Mana Mages.
Shadow Walkers: Looking for Scouts.
Ren walked into the hall, his hands in his pockets. He felt... heavy. But in a good way. The [Void Mana] he had absorbed from the crystal and from Vanessa was settling into his bones, making his skin feel denser, like armor.
He ignored the booths. He knew no Guild would look at an F-Rank student, even if he had grown three inches overnight.
He scanned the crowd.
"Ren."
The voice was soft, but it cut through the noise like a knife.
Ren turned. Vanessa was standing near a pillar. She looked impeccable in her dress uniform—white and gold, with the Student Council armband. But Ren noticed the details others missed.
Her cheeks were slightly flushed. Her eyes darted to his lips, then down to his belt, then back up to his eyes. She was fidgeting, playing with a ring on her finger.
"President," Ren nodded coolly. "You're blocking the hallway."
Vanessa stepped closer, invading his personal space. "I saved you a seat. In the front row."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "The front row is for the Top 10 rankers. I'm Rank 400."
"I don't care," Vanessa whispered, a hint of her new obsession leaking into her voice. "I want you near me. The mana... I can still smell it on you. It's distracting."
Ren smirked. The Imprint was strong. She was addicted to his energy.
"Careful, Vanessa. People are watching."
Ren walked past her, brushing his shoulder against hers. He felt a jolt of electricity arc between them, making Vanessa gasp softly. He walked to the front row and sat down in the seat marked 'Reserved', right next to Damon's empty chair.
The whispers started immediately.
"Why is the Trash sitting in the VIP section?"
"Did you see the President talking to him?"
"Look at Damon. He looks like he's seen a ghost."
Damon was sitting three seats away, pale and sweating. He refused to look at Ren.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the back of the stage slammed open. The chatter died instantly.
A woman walked onto the stage. She didn't walk; she marched. The floorboards groaned under her weight.
Instructor Valerica. The Head of Discipline.
She was a giantess. Over six feet tall, with muscles that threatened to rip the seams of her tight black military uniform. A jagged scar ran from her jaw down to her collarbone. Her red hair was tied back in a severe ponytail.
She didn't use a microphone. She didn't need one.
"Sit down and shut up!" she barked. The sound waves rattled the windows.
Valerica scanned the room with predatory yellow eyes. She hated Selection Day. She hated watching soft, weak children get sold off to Guilds who would get them killed in a week.
"Today, you sell your souls," Valerica growled, crossing her massive arms. "The Guilds are here to buy cannon fodder. If you are weak, you will die. If you are slow, you will die. If you are stupid... well, I'll kill you myself before the monsters do."
Her gaze swept across the front row. She looked at Damon. She looked at Vanessa.
Then, she stopped on Ren.
Valerica frowned. Her nostrils flared.
She had a skill called [Predator's Sense]. It allowed her to gauge the threat level of anyone she looked at.
For three years, Ren had registered as a "Rabbit." Harmless. Food.
Today, her senses were screaming. He didn't smell like a rabbit. He smelled like something ancient and dark. He smelled like... the Void.
"You," Valerica pointed a finger—thick and calloused—directly at Ren.
Ren didn't flinch. He leaned back in his chair, meeting her gaze.
"Me?" Ren asked.
"Stand up," Valerica commanded.
Ren stood up slowly. He wasn't intimidated. Compared to Isolde (the Queen in the dungeon), Valerica was just a loud human.
Valerica jumped off the stage. She landed with a heavy thud, cracking the floor tile. She walked up to Ren, towering over him by two inches. She leaned down, sniffing the air near him.
"You smell like blood," Valerica whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "And you smell like... sex."
The students in the front row gasped. Vanessa stiffened, her face going pale.
Valerica poked Ren in the chest with a finger hard enough to bruise. "And you smell like you stole something, boy. An F-Rank doesn't walk with that kind of confidence unless he's hiding a weapon."
Ren smiled. It was the smile of a wolf who had just found a new sheep.
"I'm just happy to be here, Instructor," Ren lied.
Valerica narrowed her eyes. She felt the heat radiating off him. Her own body responded to it—her [Berserker Corruption] flared, making her blood boil. Usually, she suppressed it with medication. But standing next to Ren, her blood felt hot.
"We'll see," Valerica grunted. She turned back to the crowd. "Selection is over for the morning. Everyone to the Combat Arena. We're doing sparring matches."
She looked back at Ren over her shoulder.
"And you, Ren. You're up first. Against me."