Sunlight spilled across the central plaza of Celestia Arcane Academy as dawn broke.
The massive stone square was already teeming with life, a cacophony of excitement and noise. The registration booth for the Centennial Gauntlet sat at the very center, with thousands of students forming long, eager lines.
At the very end of one line stood a slender girl.
She wore a threadbare, faded cloth dress, her signature auburn hair tied loosely behind her head. On the ring finger of her left hand sat a dark, unassuming band that concealed a profound secret. Elena Nocturne kept her head bowed, eyes fixed on the pavement, suppressing every trace of her presence.
Despite her attempts to stay low-profile, the stinging whispers of the crowd found their way to her ears.
"Look at the one in the back... is that Elena?"
"It really is! The cripple with the shattered Mana Core?"
"God, she actually has the nerve to sign up for the Centennial Gauntlet? Has she lost her mind?"
"She was hot stuff back when she was an S-Rank Shadowdancer, but now she hasn't got a lick of mana. Why is she even here?"
Faced with the crushing weight of mockery and disdain, Elena remained expressionless, as if she hadn't heard a word. She moved forward with the queue in silence.
This was exactly the effect she wanted. The harder they trampled her now, the more they dismissed her as trash, the more devastating her eventual counterattack would be.
The line moved quickly. Before long, it was finally Elena's turn.
A middle-aged woman in academy uniform sat behind the registration desk, her expression cold. When she looked up and saw the girl standing before her, her professional mask slipped, replaced by a deep, disgusted scowl.
"You? Elena Nocturne?" Her voice dripped with unconcealed loathing.
Elena lowered her head and whispered, "Yes. I'm here to register."
The staff member scoffed, slamming a registration form onto the desk. "A waste of space with a shattered Mana Core thinks they can handle the Centennial Gauntlet? You think this is some playground for children? Registration is 100 gold. Pay up!"
Her tone was sharp with impatience. She didn't even bother to look at Elena twice.
Elena didn't argue. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small pouch of gold, and handed it over with practiced hesitation.
It was the last of her savings.
The woman snatched the bag, gave it a quick weight check, and tossed it into a drawer beneath the desk without a word.
"Take your token and get moving. You're blocking the line!"
A rough wooden tablet was hurled onto the desk, landing with a sharp clack.
Elena picked it up. Carved into the surface was a single number: 387.
[System Notification]
[Gold Deducted: 100]
[Item Obtained: Centennial Gauntlet Entry Token - No. 387]
Elena pocketed the token and turned to leave.
As soon as she turned, a group of students who had been loitering nearby closed in, their sneers and snickers rising like a tide.
One student stroked his chin, his voice laced with contempt. "Tsk tsk. Talk about overestimating yourself. Spending your last dime to register? What's the point?"
Another laughed in agreement. "She'll probably be carried out before she even clears the 5th floor!"
A third student, a girl with long blonde hair, tossed her head. "The 5th floor? You're being too generous. I bet she'll be torn to shreds by the monsters on the 3rd. She'll be out in minutes."
Just then, a male student in polished light armor swaggered over, blocking Elena’s path.
He crossed his arms, looking down his nose at her. "Elena, you don't actually think you can pull off a miracle, do you? There's a limit to how much you should embarrass your family. If I were you, I’d be hiding at home, not showing my face in public."
Elena hunched her shoulders, clutching the wooden token in her palm. Her voice was low and trembled slightly. "I... I just wanted to try."
The student barked a laugh, as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. "Try? Hah! What do you think the Centennial Gauntlet is?"
He took a step forward, looming over her with a mocking grin. "What’s your Combat Power now? Even 100? I’ll give it to you straight—the monsters on the 10th floor have a Combat Power of at least 300. With your body, you’re just walking to your death. You won't make it."
The surrounding students erupted in laughter, the atmosphere turning festive at her expense.
Elena buried her head even lower, looking utterly helpless. Even the hand holding her token shook visibly.
Yet, behind the curtain of her auburn hair, there wasn't a trace of despair in her eyes—only a deep, frigid calm.
The performance was flawless.
As the mockery reached a crescendo, a sudden commotion broke out at the back of the crowd.
The students scrambled to clear a path, their faces shifting into expressions of awe and sycophancy.
Vincent Nocturne approached, flanked by a retinue of followers. He wore a magnificent Warlord’s Mantle, a glowing blade at his hip. The oppressive pressure of an A-Rank Shadow Blade radiated from him.
"Sister?"
Vincent stopped in front of her, his face wearing a mask of deceptive shock and concern.
Elena looked up, her eyes rimmed with red. "Vincent..."
Vincent stepped forward, grabbing her arm. His voice was low, filled with feigned tenderness. "What are you doing here? Your body... can you really handle a trial this intense? Maybe you should just... forget it."
He paused, his voice heavy with forced sympathy. "I wouldn't want you to... humiliate yourself, or get hurt."
As these "touching" words spread, the surrounding students broke into praise.
"Lord Vincent is so kind! Even now, he cares about that useless sister of his."
"Indeed. House Nocturne is lucky to have a genius like him."
"It's a shame his sister is so stubborn. She doesn't appreciate everything he's doing for her."
Hearing the praise, a flicker of smug satisfaction crossed Vincent's eyes.
Elena gently pulled her arm back and shook her head stubbornly. "I want to try."
Vincent let out a long, weary sigh. He turned to the crowd, looking helpless. "My sister has always been headstrong. Even in her condition, she insists on pushing herself."
He turned back, patting her shoulder affectionately with a smile. "Then I wish you luck. Just do your best. Don't force yourself—if it gets too much, just give up and come out."
The moment he turned to leave, the mask of warmth vanished. A look of pure, unadulterated malice and disgust flashed across his face.
The cold, destructive sneer lasted only a fraction of a second, but Elena caught it perfectly.
She sneered inwardly.
Then, a sharp, piercing voice rang out from behind Vincent.
Vivienne Duskwood approached, clad in vibrant Flame Mage robes and high-heeled boots. As Elena’s cousin, her face was twisted in profound revulsion.
"Oh, look. You still haven't given up?"
Vivienne walked up to Elena, arms crossed as she scanned Elena’s ragged clothes. She scoffed. "Trash should know its place. Why can't you just accept your fate? What are you here for, other than to embarrass our families further?"
She turned to Vincent, her voice sweetening. "Don't bother with her. Some people just love to suffer for the sake of their pride. If she wants to throw her life away, let her."
Vivienne looked back at Elena, pointing at her yellowed shirt with a mocking laugh. "You can't even afford decent protective gear. You’re actually going into the Centennial Gauntlet wearing those rags? It’s pathetic!"
Elena said nothing, keeping her head down like a stray who had been beaten into silence.
Emboldened, Vivienne raised her chin. "See? She can't even talk back. Trash will always be trash."
Vincent gave a faint smile. "Alright, Vivienne. Let's go."
Surrounded by their entourage, the two walked toward the VIP entrance like royalty.
Elena quietly tucked her token away and slipped through the mocking crowd, leaving the plaza in silence.
Half an hour later.
The chaos at the registration booth continued, with thousands of students still waiting in line.
Suddenly, an indescribable, heavy pressure descended upon the square without warning.
The noisy crowd went still, as if someone had hit a pause button. Everyone turned toward the entrance.
A man in jet-black battle robes strode slowly into the plaza.
He was tall and lean, his 185cm frame radiating an overwhelming sense of dread. Ink-black hair fell over his shoulders, and a cold half-mask covered his face, leaving only a sharp jawline and abyssal black eyes visible.
At his waist hung a longsword glowing with a faint, dark purple light. The aura of myth and legend radiating from the blade caused the very air to tremble.
As he walked, a terrifying, suffocating killing intent bled into the surroundings.
The packed crowd parted like a tide, instinctually clearing a wide path for him to pass.
"Who... who is that? That aura is terrifying!"
"God, just looking at him makes my skin crawl."
"When did the academy get someone this powerful? I've never seen him before!"
Under the weight of hundreds of shocked and reverent gazes, the man in black walked straight to the registration desk.
It was Zephyr.
The middle-aged woman who had been so cruel to Elena trembled. Her cold expression flipped instantly into a sycophantic, fawning smile.
"Ex... Excuse me, sir. Are you here to register for the Centennial Gauntlet?" She bowed slightly, her tone bordering on servile.
Zephyr looked down at her, his eyes behind the mask devoid of warmth. His voice was low and raspive. "Registering."
Just one word, but it carried an undeniable authority.
The woman scrambled to produce a high-grade Mana-Sealed Registry, offering it with trembling hands. "May... may I have your name, sir?"
"Zephyr."
The name fell from behind the mask.
She recorded it quickly, then added tentatively, "Sir, the registration fee for the Centennial Gauntlet is 100 gold..."
Before she could finish, Zephyr reached out and tossed a heavy leather pouch onto the desk. He had earned this by hunting two Elite Shadowspawn on the outskirts of the city just hours before—a trivial task for someone with a Combat Power over 2000. It served its purpose perfectly now.
Thud.
The pouch hit the table with the heavy clink of metal.
Curious, the woman peeked inside and froze. It was filled to the brim with pure gold coins—at least 500 of them.
"This... Sir, this is too much! The fee is only 100 gold..." She swallowed hard, not even daring to touch the bag.
Zephyr turned away, not sparing the pouch a second glance. He left four cold words behind.
"Keep the change."
He began to walk away.
The woman's face flushed with excitement. She stood up and called out, "Sir! Wait! As a premium applicant, you are entitled to the academy’s highest-grade VIP lounge! I can arrange for personal attendants immediately!"
Zephyr didn't even slow down. He threw back a chilling response without turning his head.
"Unnecessary."
His black robes whipped in the wind. With a blur of motion, he vanished at the edge of the plaza, leaving behind only the silhouette of a cold, solitary powerhouse.
The plaza remained silent for a few seconds before erupting in an absolute frenzy.
"Holy sht! He just threw 500 gold and told her to keep the change? That's insane!"
"So cool! That's what a real expert looks like!"
"Did you see that sword? That's Duskfang! A legendary-tier weapon!"
"Jesus, who is he? An SS-Rank Shadow Spellblade? The Centennial Gauntlet is about to be a bloodbath!"
In the distance, Vivienne stared at the spot where Zephyr had disappeared, her eyes shimmering with strange intensity. A faint, unnatural blush colored her cheeks.
"So strong... Such a masculine presence..." Vivienne clutched her chest, her heart racing with newfound desire.
Beside her, Vincent’s face was grim. He clenched his fists, staring at the empty space where the man had stood, his brow furrowed deeply.
"Where did he come from?" he muttered, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
Meanwhile, hundreds of meters away in the shadow of a tall building.
The real Elena stood quietly beneath the trees.
Through their dual Consciousness Link, everything Zephyr had experienced, seen, and heard was synchronized perfectly with her mind.
The system recorded the two contrasting scenes that had occurred at the same window.
[System Prompt]
[Behavioral Contrast Assessment]
═════════════════════════════
Location: Centennial Gauntlet Registration (Same Window / Same Staff)
Subject A: Elena Nocturne (Origin)
- Staff Attitude: Cold, mocking, disgusted
- Interaction: "Trash dares to come?" "Pay up!"
- Action: Token #387 slammed onto desk
- Extras: None; forced away
Subject B: Zephyr (Avatar)
- Staff Attitude: Deeply reverent, fawning, cautious
- Interaction: "Honored Sir," "Are you registering?"
- Action: Registry offered with both hands; eye contact avoided
- Extras: Proactive offer of highest-tier VIP lounge
Integrated Spirit Contrast Rating: Extreme
Looking at the comparison, Elena’s lips curled into a cold, satisfied arc.
One moment, she was the "trash" mocked by everyone; the next, she was the peerless expert admired by all, even by the arrogant nobility.
The feeling of playing everyone in the palm of her hand was exhilarating.
Vincent, Vivienne, House Duskwood... keep guessing.
When the trials truly begin, I'll show you the meaning of despair.
On the other side of the plaza, Vincent’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon long after Zephyr had gone.
He turned to the middle-aged man approaching him and whispered, "Marcus, look into this man called Zephyr."
The man beside him was the head of House Duskwood and Elena’s uncle—Marcus Duskwood.
Marcus frowned, sounding dismissive. "Vincent, he's just some stray from who-knows-where. He has some skill, but surely he isn't worth this much concern?"
Vincent shook his head, his eyes wary. "No. He isn't simple. The killing intent from that sword, and that strange pressure—a mix of divine and Umbral energy... no ordinary adventurer possesses that."
He paused, his voice grave. "I have a very bad feeling about this. This man could be our biggest obstacle in the Centennial Gauntlet!"
Seeing Vincent’s seriousness, Marcus dropped his arrogance. "Fine. I'll send House Duskwood's shadows to investigate immediately. If he's left even a single footprint in Astervale, I'll find out who he is."
"Do it quickly," Vincent said coldly.
Little did they know that no matter how hard they searched, they would never find a trace of Zephyr’s past. He wasn't a natural inhabitant of this world—he was Elena’s masterpiece, forged from her own soul and Umbral Force.
Elena adjusted the ring on her left hand.
[System Prompt]
[Status Update - Real-time Character Panels]
[Elena Nocturne (Origin)]
- Identity: Discarded Eldest Daughter of House Nocturne
- Class: Shadowdancer (S-Rank)
- Level: 1
- HP: 60 / 60
- MP: 0 / 0
- Shadow Energy: 68 / 300
- STR: 40 | AGI: 65 | VIT: 28
- Combat Power: 1350
- Physical Skills: Shadow Breathing (58.6%)
- Official Skills: All Locked (Mana Core destroyed, Fate System offline)
- Equipment: Shadowfang Dagger (Rare)
- Title: [The Fallen Genius] (Mandatory)
- Status: [Undercover Trash] [Camouflage Successful]
- Items: Centennial Gauntlet Token #387
[Zephyr (Avatar)]
- Identity: Independent Physical Clone
- Class: Shadow Spellblade (SS-Rank)
- Level: 3
- HP: 400 / 400
- MP: 550 / 550
- Combat Power: 2650
- Equipment: Duskfang (Legendary), Voidplate Armor (Epic), Swiftstride Boots (Rare), Shadowgrip Gauntlets (Rare)
- Skills: 3 Active (Epic/Legendary) + 3 Passive (Maxed/Unique)
- Status: [Intimidating Presence] [Hidden Identity] [Ready]
Elena withdrew her gaze and vanished into the deepening shadows.
The curtain was about to rise.