Once the echoes of Major Karl's instructions had faded into the metallic rafters of the hall, the atmosphere among the students of Class 001 shifted.
It was no longer a simple gathering of survivors; it was a cold assembly of competitors.
Isolde, the blonde-haired scion of the Adler family, stepped forward with a grace that felt as sharp as a razor.
"Everyone, gather round," she commanded, her voice carrying the innate weight of authority.
"We have matters to discuss before the trial begins."
Obeying the unspoken hierarchy she had established, the class moved toward a cluster of eleven chairs arranged in a loose semicircle.
It was a surreal moment—the first time they sat together not as students in a lecture hall, but as a unit under the flickering fluorescent lights of the training facility.
Seeing that everyone had taken their place, Isolde began her address.
"As you heard from Master Karl, the evaluation is bifurcated. There are two paths, tailored for those with different proficiencies." She scanned the group, her gaze lingering a second too long on each face.
"I want everyone to state their chosen path now."
She paused, her expression hardening.
"This way, we can partition our training zones efficiently. More importantly, it ensures we don't need to waste energy being... wary of one another."
'Wary?' Ash mused internally, leaning back into the shadows of his seat.
'What is she playing at? Is she trying to foster cooperation, or is she just mapping out the threats?'
Despite his skepticism, he remained silent, observing.
"First," Isolde continued, "the Theoretical Examination.
This is for those who prefer the pursuit of knowledge over the brutality of the field. If you intend to take the desk over the sword, raise your hand."
Immediately, five hands rose into the air. Isolde nodded, her eyes memorizing the list.
"Kairos, Leo, Lyra, Aurelia, and Seraphina."
Ash wasn't particularly surprised. Through the lens of his past week, he had categorized these five as the quiet ones—the observers who lacked the raw, jagged edge of a fighter.
His gaze drifted to the two he hadn't identified yet: Lyra and Seraphina. He knew Seraphina by sight; she sat directly behind Kael in class, a girl who seemed to blend into the furniture.
But Lyra was new to his mental ledger. She was slender, almost fragile, with long hair the color of crushed amethysts.
Her eyes were a haunting mixture of silver-gray and violet, and her pale skin was almost translucent.
She wore long sleeves that covered her entire body, as if trying to hide herself from the world's harsh light.
"I'm honestly not built for brawling," Kairos admitted with a self-deprecating smile.
"I'm not confident in my combat score, so the theory path is my best bet for survival."
Ash looked at his own scarred palms. He was the polar opposite. Academic history and biology were luxuries his life in the ruins had never afforded him.
For him, the only path was the hunt.
Beside Kairos, Leo nodded in silent agreement, clearly sharing the sentiment of avoiding the gore if possible.
"Understood," Isolde said, her tone shifting into something colder, more lethal.
"That leaves the remaining six of us for the 'Hunters' trial."
She stood up, the light catching the sharp angles of her face.
"I have a piece of advice for the rest of you: withdraw. Switch to the theoretical path while you still can. Because the first place—and the position of Class Leader—already belongs to me."
The silence that followed was like a taut wire.
Then, Fenrir exploded out of his seat. He pointed a finger directly at Isolde's face, his voice a low, threatening growl.
"Don't get cocky, little princess. You think because of your name you can just bark orders and we'll roll over? I don't owe you a damn thing."
Soren, usually the most stoic of the group, looked as if he wanted to speak, but he merely settled deeper into his chair, casting a freezing glare toward the Adler girl.
Isolde didn't even flinch at Fenrir's outburst. Instead, her lips curled into a mocking, elegant smirk.
"Ha... a lone dog from some backwater forest dares to show his teeth here? Know your place, mongrel."
The insult hit like a physical blow. Fenrir's pupils narrowed into slits, and his human teeth began to lengthen into lupine fangs.
A suffocating pressure, a mix of gold and violet aura, erupted from him, directed entirely at Isolde.
"You dare say that to me!" he roared.
Isolde matched his intensity instantly. A radiant, golden halo of power flared around her, clashing with Fenrir's pressure.
The air in the room began to vibrate, the tension reaching a breaking point.
Suddenly, Kael stood up. A calm, deep blue aura surged from him, acting as a buffer that forced the two combatants to draw their attention toward him.
"Enough, both of you," Kael said, his voice ringing with the discipline of a commander. He turned to Fenrir first.
"Control yourself. The academy has strict rules against infighting. You don't want to be disqualified before the trial even starts, do you?"
Fenrir snarled, but the logic pierced through his rage.
His fangs receded, and he slumped back into his chair, fuming. Isolde, too, let her aura dissipate into a faint shimmer.
Kael then turned his gaze toward Isolde.
"Lady of the Adler house, everyone entering the 'Hunters' trial has the same ambition. You won't convince us to quit with threats. We are here to prove our worth, not to bow."
'Not everyone,' Ash thought dryly, watching the drama unfold.
'I just want to pass and get a room with a lock.'
He had considered intervening, but Kael had beaten him to it. The "Modern Knight" was clearly the stabilizing force of the class.
Isolde didn't back down.
"Fine. Compete if you wish. I only said it so you wouldn't be too disappointed when you inevitably lose."
Her arrogance was an irritant that made the entire class frown. It wasn't just confidence; it was a challenge to everyone's existence.
She turned her eyes toward the group, her gaze finally landing on Ash. She enunciated each word as if carving them into stone:
"Class... Leader... will be... ME."
Ash knit his brows.
'Why is she so obsessed with the title? Kael too. Soren and Fenrir seem to want it for the prestige, but for those two, it's a desperate necessity.'
He realized then that there was a hidden layer to the hierarchy—a secret benefit to the Class Leader position that only the Great Families knew.
As Isolde continued to stare at him, Ash felt a cold sweat prickle his neck.
'Lady, please stop looking at me like that. I have zero interest in leading this circus.'
However, he realized something was wrong.
Every time his eyes met someone else's, they flinched. He hadn't noticed it at first, but his Core of the Void had altered him in ways he couldn't yet quantify. His gaze had become deeper, an unsettling abyss that seemed to swallow the light around him.
It was strangely magnetic yet utterly terrifying.
'Like that statue in the cathedral,' he sighed inwardly.
'I wonder if staring into the Void changed the windows to my soul.'
The meeting disbanded shortly after. Isolde was the first to leave, heading straight for the training zones. Kael, Fenrir, Soren, and Riven followed suit in a grim procession.
Eventually, only Ash remained in the hall.
He didn't sit for long. With only four days until the hunt, every second of rest was a second wasted.
He entered the training hall, which had been partitioned into private simulation rooms. Five were already occupied, their status lights glowing red.
Ash selected an empty zone on the control panel. Instantly, the gray walls dissolved, replaced by a hyper-realistic simulation of a dense, ancient forest.
'Since the trial is in the woods, it's best to get used to the shadows again.'
He stood before a wooden training dummy, his mind racing. He was at a severe disadvantage.
His Core abilities were purely utilitarian—no fireballs, no enchanted armor, no explosive strikes. Just adaptation, apathy, and a hollow soul.
He had never been formally trained in weaponry; he was a scavenger who swung a stick until the thing stopped moving.
"Sigh... one step at a time."
He summoned a standard-issue wooden spear from his storage watch. He took a stance and began a series of experimental thrusts.
Thwack—Thwack—Thwack—
The spear hit the dummy repeatedly, but the impact felt hollow. Ash knew that as an Opener, his physical stats were roughly seven times that of a normal human.
He should have been able to shatter the wood, but these dummies were crafted from high-grade materials designed to withstand an Opener's might.
He remembered Riven punching a hole through one of these the previous night. A wry, bitter smile touched his lips.
"So I'm not even as strong as a girl yet? My pride is taking a beating."
It was time to test the skills he had been too afraid to use in public.
"First... [Eyes of the Void]."
Instantly, the world tilted. A wave of vertigo washed over him, accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain in his optic nerves.
He gasped, clutching his face until the sensation stabilized. When he opened his eyes, the forest had transformed.
Everything was hyper-defined. He could see the microscopic veins in a leaf a hundred meters away. He could see the way the simulated wind brushed against the bark of the trees.
But when he looked at the wooden dummy, something extraordinary happened.
Small, pulsating blue dots appeared on its surface.
'Are those... weak points?'
He gripped the spear, his knuckles white. He lunged, driving the tip of the weapon toward a blue dot on the dummy's shoulder.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Four hits. On the fifth strike—CRACK!
The spear didn't just hit the dummy; it punched clean through the reinforced wood, the tip protruding from the other side. Ash stared at the hole, his breath hitching.
He hadn't needed more strength. He had simply needed to know where the structure was flawed.
A cold, calculated joy filled his chest.
He didn't have the flashy powers of Isolde or the raw fury of Fenrir. He had something much more dangerous: the ability to see the end of all things.
He withdrew the spear and looked into the dark simulated forest, ready to spend the next four days refining his lethality.