The hall was vast.
Grand pillars stretched toward a ceiling lost in shadow, carved with symbols that glowed faintly in a deep violet hue. Golden chandeliers hung above, radiant yet cold, their light unable to fully chase away the darkness that clung to the corners.
It looked extravagant.
But it felt oppressive.
Nearly a thousand young boys and girls, no older than seventeen or eighteen, stood in ordered rows across the marble floor. Their faces carried different emotions—fear, confusion, determination—but none of them understood why they were there.
The air was heavy.
As if the hall itself was alive and watching.
Outside the massive obsidian doors stood a middle-aged man with striking green hair and sharp green eyes. His robes flowed gently despite the still air, embroidered with ancient patterns that shimmered faintly with power.
His presence alone was suffocating.
He wasn't guarding the hall.
He was overseeing it.
Silently.
Carefully.
Suddenly—
A scream tore through the chamber.
Raw. Agonizing.
"AAARRRGHHH!"
Every head snapped toward the source.
A seventeen-year-old boy had collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest as if something inside him were being ripped apart. Veins of dim light pulsed beneath his skin. His scream echoed against the high ceiling, distorting unnaturally.
The green-haired man's eyes narrowed.
Without panic.
Without emotion.
He raised his hand and snapped a small metallic token between his fingers.
The sound was sharp.
Final.
In the next instant, space itself twisted.
The screaming boy vanished from inside the hall—
—and reappeared outside, kneeling at the feet of the green-haired overseer.
The boy's body trembled violently.
His eyes… were no longer normal.
They glowed faintly.
As if something inside him had awakened.
Or broken.
The green-haired man crouched slightly, studying him with cold interest.
The green-haired man looked down at the trembling boy.
There was no anger in his expression.
Only disappointment.
"So… another failure."
Inside the grand hall, every young candidate had been given a token.
Not an ordinary object—but a spiritual catalyst.
The token forced the soul to confront itself. It awakened hidden potential, strengthened spiritual roots, and revealed whether one possessed the foundation required for true soul cultivation.
Those with strong souls would endure the experience and emerge refined.
Those with weak souls…
would break.
The boy at the man's feet was proof.
His agony was not caused by pain.
It was caused by insufficiency.
His soul lacked depth. Lacked weight. Lacked resonance.
The green-haired overseer sighed quietly.
"Your foundation is thin."
His voice carried neither cruelty nor sympathy. Only cold assessment.
Around them, the air vibrated faintly. The hall continued its silent selection.
Yet despite his disappointment, the man did not abandon the boy.
With a swift movement—too fast for mortal eyes—he flicked his wrist.
A small blue pill appeared between his fingers, glowing faintly like condensed moonlight.
Before the boy could react—
The pill shot forward.
It struck his lips and dissolved instantly, sliding down his throat before he could even close his mouth.
The boy's eyes widened in shock.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A cool sensation spread from his chest outward.
The violent trembling began to slow.
The suffocating pressure eased.
The tearing sensation inside his soul gradually softened, like cracks being temporarily sealed.
The boy gasped for air.
The agony faded.
Not gone.
But suppressed.
The green-haired man watched carefully.
"This will stabilize you… for now," he said calmly.
"But stabilization is not strength."
His green eyes flickered slightly.
....
The young man staggered backward, his breathing uneven.
His mind was in chaos.
What was that pain?
Where was he?
Who was this man?
His eyes slowly lifted—
And met the gaze of the green-haired overseer.
The moment their eyes locked, his body froze.
It wasn't just fear.
It was pressure.
An overwhelming, suffocating aura pressed down on him like an invisible mountain. The air felt heavy, difficult to breathe. His instincts screamed at him to kneel, to lower his head, to submit.
The man's green eyes were calm.
Too calm.
As if he were not looking at a human… but at an object being evaluated.
The young man's voice trembled.
"W-What is—"
Before he could finish, the green-eyed man spoke.
"Your envoy will arrive shortly, Richard Devereux."
The name struck him like lightning.
Richard… Devereux?
His heart skipped.
That was his name.
But how?
He had never seen this place before.
Never seen this man.
Confusion turned into terror.
"I—"
Suddenly the massive doors behind the overseer opened.
Without sound.
Without warning.
Three figures stepped into the chamber.
Their presence alone shifted the atmosphere.
One wore silver armor that seemed forged from starlight itself.
Another was cloaked in deep crimson, their face hidden beneath a hood.
The third—tall, silent—radiated a faint golden aura that distorted the space around them.
The pressure in the room intensified.
The green-haired man stepped aside slightly.
"They have come," he said quietly.
Richard's pulse thundered in his ears.
'Envoy?'
The three figures stopped a few steps away from him.