In the observation sanctum, a wall of flickering monitors cast a cold, clinical glow over the faces of four hundred homeroom instructors.
At the center of this web of surveillance stood General Hildart Watson, his silhouette imposing and motionless.
Hidden cameras, meticulously placed throughout the simulated forest, relayed the brutal reality of the trial in high definition.
This was not merely an exam; it was a harvest, a way to evaluate potential and cull the fraudulent.
Hildart's eyes, sharp and predatory, flitted across the screens with a veteran's precision.
"The Steelborne scion in Class 004 is demonstrating adequate efficiency," Hildart observed, his voice a low rumble.
"The girl from House Veilros in Class 002 has already neutralized five Semi-Spawns," an aide added.
"Candidate from Class 015 is being encircled by eleven Semi-Spawns. His survival probability is dropping below ten percent."
The instructor for Class 015 didn't flinch. In this academy, a student's death was often treated as a mere clerical error, a testament to the harsh meritocracy they served.
Hildart shifted his gaze, his pupils suddenly dilating as they locked onto a specific feed.
On the screen, a figure draped in obsidian-black moved through a whirlwind of violence.
Ashfei was facing a pack of twenty Dark Dogs—a species notorious for their hive-like coordination and bone-crushing jaws. For a typical Opener, such an encounter would be a death sentence.
Yet, Ash wasn't just surviving; he was dominating. He moved with a terrifying economy of motion, transforming the hunt into an organized slaughter.
'Keen intuition, ruthless execution, and an unnerving level of composure,'
Hildart analyzed inwardly. 'His spear technique is raw, unpolished... but it is the technique of a man born from adversity, not the academy.'
He glanced at Karl, who stood like a statue of ice nearby.
"You have some interesting seeds this year, Karl."
"Thank you, General," Karl replied, his tone as flat as a gravestone.
He didn't offer more. Hildart knew Karl's history—the man was sensitive to the word "talent," having seen too many geniuses burned to ash in the fires of the past.
....
Ash's POV
The metallic tang of Dark Dog blood still lingered in the air as I pushed deeper into the verdant gloom.
Along the path, five more Semi-Spawns fell to my silver spear, their lives extinguished before they could even register my presence. Each kill felt like a cold transaction.
[Current Score: 260 Points | Ranking: 7 / 5,000]
Curiosity tugged at my mind, and I summoned the real-time leaderboard.
[ 1.Soren (530 pts)
2.Isolde (450 pts)
3.Riven (400 pts)
4.Dorn (390 pts)
5.Vey (350 pts)
6.Fenrir (320 pts)
7.Ash (260 pts)
8.Rook (240 pts)
9.Kael (220 pts)
10.Layra (200 pts) }
A flicker of surprise crossed my mind. All six participants from Class 001 were currently occupying the Top 10.
The "worst class in history" was currently outperforming the entire grade.
Soren's position at the top was the most unexpected—I had assumed Isolde or Kael would take the lead, but Soren's easy-going nature clearly masked a formidable lethality.
I closed the menu and continued my slow, methodical advance.
"Arghhh... someone help me!"
The scream pierced the artificial forest's quiet.
I didn't hesitate, pivoting and sprinting toward the sound. I burst into a clearing to find a girl backed against a massive oak, surrounded by sixteen Dark Dogs.
I didn't move to save her out of heroism. I moved because I saw sixteen bags of points waiting to be collected.
Swish!
My spear found the first dog's throat before the pack could even turn. I blurred through their ranks, the silver tip of my weapon dancing like a needle through silk.
Four more fell in the first three seconds.
The survivors realized their prey had changed. They snarled, their serrated jaws dripping with saliva, and lunged at me in a desperate wave.
One beast leapt for my throat, its maw wide.
I didn't waste the spear; I drove the butt of the shaft into its open mouth, shattering its jaw, then used the momentum to hurl the carcass into two others, knocking them back.
I stepped into their guard, the silver spear flickering again and again. When a final dog tried to flank me, I didn't even look.
I retracted my left hand and delivered a punch reinforced by the Void. The blow shattered its skull instantly, blood splashing across my duster.
The carnage was over in less than two minutes. The girl stared at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and sheer terror.
[You have slain 16 Semi-Spawns] [Current Score: 420 Points | Ranking: 3 / 5,000]
I didn't spare her a glance. I didn't ask if she was hurt. I simply turned and walked back into the trees, my black coat sweeping over the blood-stained grass.
She looked as if she wanted to call out, to ask for protection, but one look at my cold, vacant stare and the blood dripping from my knuckles silenced her.
In this forest, help was a double-edged sword. I wasn't here to kill other students for points—I wasn't that desperate yet—but I knew that those who cried the loudest were often the ones most likely to plant a knife in your back once you turned around.
...
[Notification: You have dropped to 4th Place]
In another part of the forest, Riven paused, her brow furrowing as she checked the update. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name that had surpassed her: Ashfei.
'How?' she wondered, her grip tightening on her weapon.
'I've been hunting relentlessly, and I only barely held 3rd. He must have found a massive nest.'
Dismissing it as a stroke of luck, she accelerated her pace, her movements becoming more frantic. She wasn't the only one; across the forest, the sudden surge of the "Ghost of Ash Area" sent a ripple of urgency through the Top 10.
The hunt was no longer a trial; it was a race.
....
Ash's POV
Ash was unaware of the shock he had caused. he was focused on a sound—a massive, rhythmic crashing from the thicket ahead.
CRACK!
Ash crept closer, blending into the shadows. In a devastated clearing, a battle between two titans was unfolding.
A two-meter-tall armored rhino, its body a mass of corded muscle and four obsidian horns, was locked in combat with a massive black wolf.
He narrowed my eyes. The pressure radiating from the rhino was suffocating. It wasn't a Semi-Spawn.
It was a Spawn-level monster—a creature whose hide was tougher than industrial steel.
The wolf was equally impressive. Its black fur was streaked with gold, and its eyes glowed with a predatory amber light.
To Ash surprise, the wolf was winning.
The rhino was covered in deep, gouging lacerations and bite marks, its reinforced defense seemingly useless against the wolf's claws.
As he watched, the rhino charged, a ton of muscle moving with the speed of a freight train.
The wolf didn't dodge; it leapt high into the air, its claws suddenly elongating and shimmering with a dark, ethereal mist.
"Rawlll!!!!"
The wolf descended like a falling star, its claws tearing through the rhino's back. Before the beast could recover, the wolf clamped its jaws onto the rhino's armored head.
A dark smoke began to pour from the wolf's teeth, corroding the rhino's supernatural defense.
CRUNCH.
The rhino's skull imploded within the wolf's jaws. Blood erupted, painting the wolf's black fur a visceral crimson.
Ash stood frozen. To crush the skull of a Spawn-level beast—an animal that could reinforce its body with mana—required a terrifying amount of raw power.
Then, a notification pinged in his mind.
[Notification: You have dropped to 4th Place]
He checked the rankings again.
[1.Fenrir (820 pts)
.....]
Ash looked back at the clearing. The massive black wolf began to shimmer, its form shrinking and shifting.
The fur receded, the claws shortened, and the monstrous silhouette dissolved into the form of a young man with wild hair and a savage aura.
The figure stood over the carcass, wiping blood from his mouth.
It was Fenrir.