The timer was bleeding out. Outside the shimmering maw of the Initiate's Rift, the crowd of spectators and parents had begun to thin. Most students from the various academies had already checked out, their levels recorded and their futures tentatively decided. Yet, Nira Ashford remained anchored to the spot, her gaze burning into the fading white light of the portal.
Where was he?
Anxiety twisted in her gut. She had encountered Ashveil early in the trial; his level had been higher than hers even then. Logically, he should have emerged hours ago. She prided herself on her efficiency—if they had entered at the same time, she was certain no one could outpace her. But now, even the laggards from Verdant High were trickling out in groups, and the man who had occupied her every thought was still nowhere to be seen.
Then, the portal flared.
A silhouette stepped through the blinding haze. Nira’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening as she leaned forward. That frame, that height—it was him. It had to be. She would never forget the back of the man who had stood between her and a Dragonblood Colossus when her world was collapsing into despair. He had carved his mark into her soul that day.
But as the radiance died down and the features became clear, Nira’s excitement curdled into sharp, jagged confusion.
"Ethan Lyle?" the name left her lips like a curse. "What are you doing here?"
Her expression went from radiant to frigid in a heartbeat. The mere sight of him made her skin crawl. Images of him turning tail and abandoning her to the Colossus flashed through her mind. To her, Ethan was the antithesis of Ashveil—a coward whose only saving grace was a physical build that vaguely resembled her hero. That similarity felt like a personal insult to Ashveil’s memory.
She didn't hide the disgust in her eyes. "Why are you still here?"
Ethan wiped a smudge of dust from his sleeve, his gaze level and utterly unimpressed by her vitriol. "The trial ended. I walked out. Is there a problem?"
"Don't speak to me," Nira snapped, her voice dripping with elitist disdain. "Stay away. You make me sick."
To her, he was nothing more than atmospheric trash, a stain on the prestige of the trial.
"Get help," Ethan muttered, not bothering to waste another breath. He moved to walk past her, but a frantic figure intercepted him.
"Ethan! You’re finally out!" Principal Gao scrambled forward, his forehead slick with sweat. As the head of Verdant High, his career was riding on his two SSS-rank Awakened. "How did it go? What’s the final tally?"
Ethan didn’t offer a verbal boast. He simply willed his status to manifest, the holographic interface shimmering into existence for the faculty to see.
[Ethan Lyle | Forbidden Incantator | Level 16]
In the final hours, after shaking off the hidden observers, Ethan had pushed just hard enough to squeeze out one last level.
"Level 16? Good, good... that’s—" Gao froze. The words died in his throat as his brain finally processed the digits. "Wait. Level... 16?!"
The Principal’s shriek was so undignified it cut through the ambient noise of the clearing like a siren. Every head turned. Parents, teachers, and students alike stared at Ethan as if he had just grown a second head.
Until today, the record for Verdant City's Initiate Rift had stood at Level 11—a record that had held for years.
"Level 1 to 16... that’s 120,000 total experience points," Gao stammered, his fingers twitching as he performed the frantic mental math. "The highest-level mobs in the Rift are Level 10. Even if you only hunted Level 10s... that’s twelve hundred kills. In seven days?"
Gao’s face went pale. He looked like he was about to faint.
"That’s... 172 Level 10 kills a day. Non-stop. Without sleep. You would have had to kill seven or eight of the Rift’s strongest monsters every single hour for a week straight."
The silence that followed was heavy. Most students required a full party and thirty minutes of tactical combat just to bring down one Level 10. The numbers didn't just suggest Ethan was strong; they suggested he was an impossibility. An anomaly.
Nearby, Caelum Ashford—Nira’s father and a man of immense standing—narrowed his eyes, his interest piqued for the first time that day.
Ethan remained silent, rubbing his nose awkwardly. In truth, the math was simpler than they thought. He hadn't spent his time 'fighting.' He had spent 90% of his time searching for mobs. Once found, a single Forbidden Incantation turned the battlefield into a graveyard. The 'combat' part took seconds.
"Incredible!" Gao finally found his voice, slamming a heavy, approving hand onto Ethan's shoulder. "You are the pride of Verdant High! With you and Nira leading the charge, we won't just compete in the Grand Trial—we’ll dominate it!"
The old principal was practically glowing, his smile so wide it looked painful. He could already see the headlines, the funding, and his prestigious retirement.
"Level 16 isn't a miracle," a cold voice cut through the celebration.
Nira stood at the edge of the circle, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed in mockery. "Have you all forgotten what he is? He’s a Forbidden Incantator. If a man is suicidal enough to spam Forbidden Incantations until his veins burst, of course he’ll level up fast. It’s not talent. It’s a death wish."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The awe in the crowd evaporated, replaced by a mixture of pity and cynical realization.
"Right... Forbidden Incantator," a teacher from a rival school whispered. "He’s trading his lifespan for a stat sheet. What a waste."
"He's probably burned ten years of his life just to look good for one afternoon," someone else jeered. "Most of them don't see twenty-five. At this rate, he won’t see twenty."
The praise turned to mockery. Ethan went from being a prodigy to a tragic joke—a man who had set himself on fire just so people would notice the light.
"Ethan, my boy... why?" Principal Sutton of Prodigy High stepped forward, his voice a theatrical display of 'concern.' He looked at Gao with daggers in his eyes. "I assume Victor Gao pressured you into this? Using a student’s life to chase a school ranking? It’s disgraceful."
"Don't you dare!" Gao barked, though his voice lacked conviction. He had indeed given Ethan a ring to boost his gains, hoping for a high result. "I would never force a student to risk their life!"
"Then why did he do it?" Sutton pressed, turning his gaze toward Ethan. "Tell the truth, son. No one will hurt you here. Did your Principal induce you to burn your life force for these levels?"
The crowd leaned in. If Ethan nodded, Gao was finished. Career over.
Ethan looked at the predatory Sutton, then at the trembling Gao. Finally, his gaze drifted to the crowd.
"No one forced me," Ethan said, his voice calm and resonant. "The choice to push was mine alone."
Gao exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding for a lifetime. Sutton’s face soured.
"Ethan, be reasonable," Sutton pushed. "Why would any sane person choose this?"
Ethan met the man's eyes. "If you were born a Forbidden Incantator, what would you choose? To live eighty years as a coward, terrified of your own shadow? Or to live one year as a sun, burning so bright the world can't look away?"
He tightened his fist. "I’d rather be a hero for a minute than a coward for a century."
The sheer conviction in his voice silenced the jeers. Even those who thought he was a fool couldn't help but feel a flicker of respect for the raw, nihilistic ambition of his words.
"Well said," a new voice joined the fray. Caelum Ashford stepped forward, clapping slowly. He looked at Ethan with a piercing, analytical stare. "Level 16 is Level 16. Regardless of the method, Ethan Lyle is the undisputed number one of this trial. That is a fact."
With Lord Ashford speaking, the petty squabbles of the principals ceased. Nira, however, wasn't finished.
"Father! He’s not the best," she protested, her face flushed. "Wait until Ashveil comes out. He’ll make Ethan’s Level 16 look like child's play!"
"Ashveil?" Caelum turned to the gathered principals. "Which academy is this 'Ashveil' from?"
The principals exchanged confused glances, shaking their heads. No such name was on any roster.
"It doesn't matter!" Nira insisted. "Just wait. He’s the real genius!"
Caelum chuckled softly, a polished, diplomatic sound. He reached into his coat and handed Ethan a refined, minimalist business card. "You’ve piqued my interest, Ethan. If you ever find yourself in need of... resources, or perhaps a different perspective, contact me."
As Ethan took the card, their eyes met for a split second. Ethan felt a chill. Behind Caelum’s glasses, there was an intelligence that felt like a scalpel, peeling back his layers. He felt as though the man was looking at his very soul.
"Thank you, Lord Ashford. I’ll be going now." Ethan didn't wait for a second look. He turned and walked away, his pace hurried.
"Don't forget the Grand Trial in three days!" Gao shouted after him, desperate to keep his star pupil in his orbit.
The crowd lingered, fueled by Nira’s insistence that a 'true' genius was coming. They waited as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold.
Then, with a low, humming groan, the white portal of the Initiate's Rift flickered and died. The gates were closed. No one else was coming out.
Nira stood frozen, her face ashen. "No... that’s impossible. I watched everyone. I didn't miss anyone..."
She racked her brain. There was only one moment she had been distracted—when Ethan had emerged. She had been so blinded by her anger and disgust for him that she hadn't paid attention to the gate for several minutes.
"That idiot Ethan!" she hissed, her eyes stinging with frustrated tears. "He distracted me! Ashveil must have slipped past while I was dealing with that trash!"
The spectators, feeling cheated by the promise of a 'hidden genius' who never showed, began to disperse with annoyed murmurs.
"Come, Nira," Caelum said, placing a gentle hand on his daughter's head as they walked toward their limousine.
"Dad, I’m telling you, he’s real! He saved my life!" Nira was practically vibrating with indignation as she recounted the story of the Dragonblood Colossus for the tenth time.
Caelum pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes reflecting the passing streetlights. A faint, knowing smile played on his lips.
"Nira," he said softly. "Has it ever occurred to you that the 'Ashveil' you’re looking for... and the Ethan Lyle you despise... might be the exact same person?"