As the exam unfolded, the professors watched with heightened interest, their eyes glued to the various screens displaying the chaos within the forest.
“Headmaster, which of the students has captured your attention the most?” Professor Jupiter inquired, his tone calm but curious.
“It’s difficult to choose just one,” Headmaster Ashe admitted, his voice tinged with anticipation. “But the upcoming convergence will be pivotal.”
“Convergence?” Warren raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Care to elaborate?”
“By sheer coincidence—or perhaps fate—all of the most exceptional students are about to cross paths in a single area,” Ashe said, his excitement barely concealed.
Jupiter folded his arms, his expression thoughtful. “Ah, I see. My niece and nephew will be among them. They’re skilled, but this clash will be a true test of their mettle. I wish them luck.”
Ashe nodded and began to elaborate, his voice steady and analytical. “Let’s start with Isaac and his team. Isaac and Karma work together seamlessly, compensating for each other’s weaknesses. Kenji, despite being the newest addition, survived an encounter with the Sentinel—a feat that speaks volumes. Each of them brings something formidable to the table.”
“And then there’s the four-way clash,” Jupiter added, his voice carrying a note of pride. “June and Mars have impressed me. June’s mastery of the Phoenix''s traits is remarkable, and Mars, though lacking those abilities, compensates with skillful use of his ability. Lyra, as a descendant of Tiamat, brings the fury and grace of the primordial ocean. Then there’s Xander, who may lack a primordial lineage but is proving his worth with the highest elimination count so far.”
Warren leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "And let’s not overlook the other remarkable players. Markus is a prime contender, his stealth and assassination skills are unmatched among his peers. The fact that he descends from the primordial madness, Lovecraft, makes him a wildcard, unpredictable and dangerous. Then there’s Deon Solace, the newly appointed Spear Lord. It’s like watching a master chess player, every move he makes is calculated ten steps ahead.”
Fraser chuckled, his voice laced with excitement. “And finally, we can’t forget the young king’s forces. The boy’s ambition is impressive, but what really intrigues me is his companion. Who would have thought we’d see the wielder of the Demon Sword among the students this year? This is shaping up to be a historic class.”
Warren’s curiosity seemed to shift gears. “Out of curiosity, what’s the pecking order among the professors? Obviously, the Headmaster sits at the top, but what about the rest of you?”
Fraser and Jupiter exchanged knowing glances before speaking in unison. “Doctor Sanguine takes second, without a doubt.”
Warren raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? I’ve never seen him fight. I assumed it would be Willow.”
Jupiter smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Willow is undeniably powerful and takes third place. After him, there’s a three-way tie between Fraser, Mr. E, and myself. Each of us excels in different areas, making it impossible to rank definitively.”
Fraser’s grin turned mischievous. “Now that’s a match I’d like to see—just to settle the score.”
Warren shrugged nonchalantly, standing to leave. “Noted. Anyway, once the exam concludes, send me the list of students who pass. The disciplinary committee will need to memorize every name.”
Fraser quirked an eyebrow, watching Warren walk away. “Isn’t he the entire disciplinary committee?”
Ashe chuckled, his tone one of genuine amusement. “Yes, he is. Truly an exceptional individual. If the current Hero were to fall, Warren is undoubtedly the most likely candidate to take their place. His raw talent and adaptability are unmatched among the students.”
Jupiter nodded in agreement. “There’s no denying it. Warren’s potential is terrifying.”
The professors fell into contemplative silence as the screens before them flickered with images of the forest’s chaos, each battle and strategy bringing them closer to understanding the unprecedented potential of this year’s candidates.
As Isaac''s group reached a clearing, they noticed silken threads glinting faintly in the sunlight, intricately woven into a massive, inescapable web encircling the area. Before they could react, more threads materialized behind them, snapping taut and sealing their retreat. The air grew colder as a figure descended from above, landing gracefully before them.
He wore a pristine white button-down shirt, neatly paired with a black tie that contrasted sharply against his striking appearance. Purple, tentacles framed his face, and crimson eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity. A pirate’s hat adorned his head, a purple feather jutting from its brim, swaying lightly in the breeze. His gloved hands bore small, razor-sharp blades at the fingertips, each one tethered to faintly visible threads that hummed with eerie energy. Clearly, the gloves were his Regalia.
Around his neck hung a golden chain holding a ring with a brilliant blue gemstone, radiating an aura of frosty cold that chilled the surrounding air. Frost crept along the ground near him, emphasizing his presence.
Karma raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk undeterred. “Oh, good, an assassin. Just the kind of person we need. Care to join us?”
Markus responded with a sharp glare, his voice calm yet filled with menace. “Not a chance,” he said as he conjured a spear of glimmering ice in midair.
The ice spear hovered ominously before launching at Karma with unrelenting speed. Though Karma dodged to the side, the spear abruptly changed direction mid-flight, slicing deep into his side from behind. Karma staggered, clutching the wound, his smirk replaced by a grimace.
Isaac’s Demonic Eye, Tactician’s Vision, flared to life, revealing the intricate mana arrows Markus was using to control the spear. Invisible to ordinary sight, the arrows snaked through the air like a deadly puppet master’s strings.
“So that’s your trick…” Isaac muttered, narrowing his eyes. Markus’s ability, The Compass, allowed him to alter the trajectory of any object under his influence. Unless someone could perceive the arrows of mana themselves, avoiding his attacks would be nearly impossible.
Markus smirked as he raised his hand, guiding the ice spear back into position above his head. “Impressive eyes. Too bad they won’t help you.”
“Clever,” Isaac admitted, cutting his wrist and conjuring twin blades of blood, the crimson weapons gleaming like liquid rubies. “You two—save your strength. I’ll deal with him.”
Karma, still pressing a hand to his side, chuckled despite the pain. “Sure thing, boss. Don’t get too cocky, though. This guy’s no pushover.”
Kenji nodded, stepping back but keeping his daggers ready. “We’re here if you need backup.”
Markus’s crimson eyes gleamed with malice. “A noble sentiment, but futile. None of you will leave this clearing.”
With a flick of his hand, the ice spear shot forward again, now splitting into a hailstorm of smaller shards, each guided by his threads. Isaac lunged forward, his blood blades slicing through the air with precision as he deflected the incoming projectiles, the clash of ice and blood filling the clearing with sharp, ringing echoes.
Markus spun gracefully, his tentacle hair flowing as he manipulated more arrows, causing nearby rocks and debris to rise into the air. With a flourish, he sent the objects hurtling toward Isaac at impossible angles, the invisible arrows guiding them like a masterful conductor leading an orchestra of destruction.
Isaac dodged and countered with lethal precision, his Demonic Eye allowing him to anticipate the trajectories. His blood blades arced in fluid, crimson streaks, slicing through Markus’s web of attacks. “I see your every move,” Isaac growled, his voice steady despite the chaos around him.
Markus laughed coldly, pulling the threads tighter. “And yet, you still can’t touch me.”
Markus flicked his wrist, and the threads extending from his gloves danced like living vipers, cutting through the air toward Isaac. They glinted with an otherworldly sharpness, slicing through branches and leaves as if they were paper. Isaac rolled to the side, his blood blades flashing as he parried the incoming strikes, each movement precise and deliberate.
“You’re quick,” Markus admitted, stepping back with a smirk. “But let’s see how you handle this.”
With a sweeping motion, Markus raised his hand, conjuring a wave of jagged ice shards that hovered in midair before launching them at Isaac. The shards flew in unpredictable arcs, guided by invisible mana arrows. Isaac’s Demonic Eye flared, tracking the shifting trajectories with razor-sharp clarity. He spun, his blood blades forming a whirling barrier as he shattered the icy projectiles mid-flight, red mist mingling with shards of blue in the air.
“Nice try,” Isaac taunted, dashing forward. He swung his blood blade in a wide arc, aiming for Markus’s midsection.
Markus reacted instantly, threads shooting out from his gloves to intercept the strike. The threads coiled around Isaac’s blade, halting its momentum. With a sharp tug, Markus yanked the weapon from Isaac’s grasp, sending it flying into the trees.
“Careless,” Markus sneered, stepping forward to press his advantage. A cluster of threads lashed out, aiming for Isaac’s throat.
But Isaac was already moving. He crouched low, slicing his palm open to summon another blood blade with his free hand. The crimson weapon materialized just in time to deflect Markus’s threads, their clash creating a high-pitched metallic whine. Isaac lunged upward, slashing toward Markus’s chest.
Markus pivoted, narrowly avoiding the attack, and retaliated by stomping the ground. A jagged pillar of ice erupted beneath Isaac, forcing him to leap backward to avoid being impaled. As he landed, Markus raised his arm, manipulating the ice shards scattered around the clearing. They rose into the air, spinning into a deadly vortex above him.
Isaac’s Demonic Eye glowed as he analyzed the pattern of the vortex, his mind racing. “He’s controlling them all with those mana arrows.”
Before Isaac could act, Markus extended his arm, and the vortex collapsed into a storm of sharp, spinning shards, each one aimed at Isaac. With a roar, Isaac thrust both hands forward, summoning a wave of blood to meet the onslaught. The crimson wave clashed with the icy storm, the clearing erupting in a chaotic burst of energy as blood and ice shattered and sprayed in every direction.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
As the dust settled, Markus emerged unscathed, his threads lashing out once more. This time, they wrapped around Isaac’s limbs, pulling him off balance. Markus yanked the threads hard, slamming Isaac into the ground with a sickening thud.
“You’re weak compared to me,” Markus said coldly, tightening the threads around Isaac’s arms and legs. “Without your flashy tricks, you’re nothing special.”
Isaac coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. A grin spread across his face despite the pain. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got more than tricks.”
In a flash, the blood that had pooled beneath him surged upward, severing the threads that bound him. Isaac rolled to his feet, the crimson liquid swirling around him in serpentine shapes. His wounds began to close as he focused his energy, his Demonic Eye glowing brighter than ever.
“Let’s see how you handle a real fight,” Isaac growled, launching forward with renewed vigor.
Markus narrowed his eyes, threads snapping back into position. “Impressive... but it won’t be enough.”
The two clashed again, Isaac’s blood blades slicing through the air with unrelenting force, while Markus’s threads danced and weaved, countering every strike. At the same time, Markus manipulated the surrounding debris with his Compass ability, sending rocks, shards of ice, and even broken branches hurtling toward Isaac from all angles.
Isaac twisted and dodged, his Demonic Eye tracking every object in the chaotic flurry. He deflected some with his blades, while others grazed him, leaving shallow cuts that closed almost instantly. Each moment of the battle became more frenetic, the clearing transforming into a whirlwind of red, white, and shimmering threads as neither combatant gave an inch.
Isaac stood tall, his grin twisting into something feral and unrestrained. “I was saving this trick for the Sentinel,” he began, his voice low and laced with an eerie confidence. “But you’ve earned it. I refuse to lose to anyone, least of all to someone who underestimates me.”
Raising his hand to his temple, he formed a makeshift finger gun, blood pooling at his fingertip in a perfect, crimson sphere. The tension in the air thickened as he pressed the makeshift weapon against his head. His breathing slowed, a wild gleam lighting up his already intense eyes.
“Trump card: Overdose.”
With that, the blood bullet shot into his skull. A violent surge of energy exploded outward, a shockwave rippling through the clearing, forcing Markus to take a cautious step back. Isaac’s sclera turned a glowing, ominous yellow as dark veins pulsed across his temples, his draconic horns crackling with untamed power.
The transformation didn’t stop there. Black scales, glossy and menacing, erupted along his arms and hands, their surface shimmering faintly as though charged with some malevolent energy. A chilling dark aura emanated from his entire being, distorting the space around him. Two small, jet-black wings burst from his back, unfurling with a rustling sound, though they appeared more ornamental than functional, like a harbinger’s herald.
But most unsettling of all was the scar on his neck, the one left by Inari. It glowed a vivid crimson, pulsating rhythmically like a second heartbeat, and seemed to fuel the transformation further. The scar emitted faint tendrils of energy that intertwined with the darkness enveloping him, as though binding him to some deeper, unspoken force.
Isaac’s posture was unnervingly calm, his smile soft yet brimming with overwhelming confidence. His aura was no longer one of a reckless fighter; it was that of a predator who knew he had cornered his prey. He raised his now-scaled hand, flexing his claws experimentally, as though savoring the new power coursing through his veins.
“May I know your name before I eliminate you?” Isaac asked, his voice unnervingly serene, as if the raging storm within him had reached perfect equilibrium.
Markus didn’t flinch, but the smirk on his face faltered ever so slightly, betrayed by the flicker of uncertainty in his crimson eyes. Still, he straightened, refusing to show weakness.
“My name is Markus Lovecraft,” he declared, his voice steady, though tinged with an edge of wariness. “And I’ll even tell you the name of my Regalia: Arachne. But let me assure you, your cheap transformation won’t make a difference.”
Markus raised his hands, threads of glimmering mana twisting and writhing around him like a living web. Ice began to form at his feet, spreading outward as his Compass ability manipulated invisible arrows, directing debris to hover menacingly in the air around them.
Isaac chuckled, the sound dark and guttural, as if it came from deep within. “Cheap? Let’s see if you still think that once I tear you apart.”
And with that, the transformed Isaac surged forward, his newfound power turning the clearing into a battlefield of chaos and destruction.
Isaac’s feral grin widened as his body began to shift further. The black scales on his arms spread rapidly across his chest, neck, and face. His wings grew larger, their edges serrated like blades. Shadows flickered unnaturally around him, crawling across the ground and merging with his form. His draconic horns twisted upward, crackling with shadowy energy, and his eyes now glowed with a sinister brilliance.
Markus narrowed his eyes, threads lashing outward to form an intricate web around him. The ice spear floated nearby, its edge gleaming with a frosty sheen. With a flick of his fingers, the spear launched toward Isaac’s chest, the invisible arrow guiding it with perfect precision.
Isaac’s body shimmered as he dissolved into the shadows beneath him, the spear passing harmlessly through. He reappeared behind Markus, his claws now elongated and dripping with dark energy. With a swift slash, he aimed for Markus’s back, only to meet a sudden barrier of ice.
“Clever,” Markus muttered, spinning around to counter with threads from his gloves, each strand imbued with icy shards. The threads lashed out like whips, slicing through the air with deadly precision.
Isaac danced between the attacks, his movements a blur as he phased through each strike, emerging unscathed from every shadow he touched. “You’re predictable,” Isaac taunted, his voice reverberating from every corner of the clearing. “I can see every move you make.”
Markus clenched his jaw, realizing the futility of aiming directly. Instead, he manipulated his mana arrows, commanding nearby debris to spin violently in a deadly vortex. Shards of ice, branches, and rocks hurtled toward Isaac from every angle.
Isaac stood his ground, his wings wrapping around him like a shield of darkness. The projectiles collided, shattering into harmless fragments as the shadows devoured them. When his wings unfurled, Isaac’s form had grown even more draconic, his claws radiating with shadow energy, his fangs bared.
“You’re persistent,” Isaac said, his tone laced with mockery. “But persistence won’t save you.”
In one fluid motion, Isaac vanished into the ground, merging with the shadows beneath Markus. Before Markus could react, Isaac emerged directly in front of him, his claws slashing upward. The strike connected, tearing through Markus’s defenses and leaving a jagged wound across his chest. Markus stumbled back, blood staining his pristine shirt.
“Damn you!” Markus spat, clutching his chest. With a furious gesture, he summoned another ice spear and directed it at Isaac, this time with more ferocity. Invisible arrows guided the weapon, its speed and trajectory shifting unpredictably.
Isaac smirked, sidestepping the attack with ease. As the spear came within inches of his face, he caught it mid-air, his shadow-infused claws shattering the ice into mist. The mist swirled around him, darkening as it was absorbed into his growing aura.
“It’s over, Markus,” Isaac declared, his voice now deep and guttural. He inhaled deeply, shadows swirling around his body, converging toward his mouth. His chest expanded, glowing with an ominous black light.
“Shadow Dragon Roar!”
Isaac unleashed a devastating blast of pure shadow energy, a torrent of darkness that obliterated everything in its path. The force was overwhelming, tearing through the clearing, uprooting trees, and disintegrating Markus’s threads and ice defenses.
Markus crossed his arms in a desperate attempt to block the attack, but the sheer power overwhelmed him, launching him backward into the forest. He collided with a tree, the impact shaking the ground as he crumpled to his knees, coughing and clutching his wounds.
Isaac stood amidst the destruction, his form still radiating dark energy, his breathing steady as if the attack had barely strained him. “Stay down, Markus,” he growled, his voice echoing with the remnants of draconic power.
“Not yet... I refuse to lose!” Markus shouted, his voice resonating with defiance. He raised his hand, the golden ring around his neck glowing with a blinding light, its blue gemstone pulsing with power. “Dwell within my body, my great ancestor—the Second Apocalypse who engulfed this world in frost. Oh, Apocalypse of Permafrost, Randall Ashborn...Soul Release!”
The air around them grew frigid in an instant, freezing the ground solid. Frost crept over trees, encasing them in crystalline ice, and the temperature plummeted to an unbearable chill. Markus’s tentacles of hair turned stark white, their movements slow and serpentine, as if imbued with sentient malice. His sclera darkened to pitch black, and enormous black angel wings erupted from his back, their feathers jagged and icy. The golden ring on his neck fused into his skin, disappearing in a flash of light. From the frozen air, a massive sword of glacial ice materialized in his hands, its surface etched with ancient, glowing runes.
Markus—or rather, the entity now inhabiting his body—lowered the sword with a flourish. He extended his free hand in a mocking gesture of greeting, a smirk curling his lips. “It has been quite some time since that brat allowed me to awaken. It feels... exhilarating to stretch my wings again.” His voice was calm yet chilling, reverberating with an otherworldly resonance. “I am the world’s Second Apocalypse, Randall Ashborn. A pleasure to meet you, Shadow Dragon.”
Isaac, his scaled form still radiating dark energy, remained still, his golden eyes locked onto Randall with an unflinching glare. His wings shifted slightly, their edges glimmering with shadowy energy as if preparing for an attack.
“Oh, don’t be so hostile,” Randall said with a cold chuckle, lowering his hand. “I would much prefer we talk. After all, I want my dear descendant to get along with his peers—especially you and that red-haired companion of yours.”
Isaac’s narrowed eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. “What are you talking about?”
Randall’s icy smirk widened. He raised the massive ice sword and rested it on his shoulder, his gaze scanning Isaac and then shifting briefly to Karma. “You, Isaac Fafnir, are not just a skilled fighter. You are the incarnation of the world’s Seventh Apocalypse, Vanitas Sanguine, The Apocalypse of Calmaity. Your very essence is steeped in his power.”
Isaac’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, his claws twitching at his sides. “What nonsense is this?”
“Oh, it’s no nonsense, I assure you,” Randall continued, his tone laced with amusement. “As for your companion over there...” His black eyes settled on Karma, whose masked face betrayed no emotion, though tension radiated from his body. “You, Karma Morgan, are not a reincarnation yourself. However, your lineage is tied directly to the Fifth Apocalypse—Silvia Morgan, The Apocalypse of Plauges.”
Karma staggered slightly, the weight of the revelation hitting him like a physical blow. His usually relaxed posture stiffened as he clenched his fists at his sides. “What... did you just say?” His voice, usually filled with humor, was now deadly serious.
Randall’s smirk deepened. “It seems you didn’t even know your own surname, did you? How delightfully tragic. The blood of a poison runs through your veins, boy. You are connected to her whether you like it or not.”
The clearing was utterly silent, save for the faint crackling of frost still clinging to the ground. The air was heavy with tension, and a lingering chill radiated from where Randall had stood moments earlier. Karma’s masked face turned slightly toward Isaac, his posture tense yet unreadable. Isaac’s shadow-wreathed claws flexed and uncurled, his golden eyes blazing as his tail lashed the air behind him, betraying his inner turmoil.
Randall lowered the massive ice sword to the ground with a soft thud. “That was amusing,” he said, his tone light but layered with an eerie undertone. “But I have no further interest in fighting you two. My purpose here is not to eliminate you but to ensure my dear descendant grows strong. I trust you’ll help him achieve that, Isaac Fafnir.”
With that, Randall’s body began to glow faintly, the frost and shadows retreating as his form shifted. His wings dissolved into crystalline shards, and the ice sword disintegrated into a fine mist. The vibrant glow of the ring faded into Markus’s chest as he returned to his original form. Markus’s tentacle-like hair regained its purple hue, and his crimson eyes burned with annoyance as he looked at the two standing before him.
“Damn old man never helps when it matters,” Markus muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He shot a glare at the two before him, his usual cocky smirk faltering for a moment. “Fine. I guess we can team up since that’s apparently what the old geezer wants.”
Isaac, still catching his breath, lowered his claws and let the shadow energy dissipate. His wings folded neatly against his back, and his tail stilled as he allowed himself a moment of composure. “Y-yeah... sure,” he said, his voice betraying exhaustion. He gave Markus a tired smile. “Let’s hunt the Sentinel together.”
Karma crossed his arms and tilted his head, the faintest trace of a smirk audible in his voice. “Well, looks like the edgy anti-heroes are forming a band. Should we get matching cloaks or something?”
Isaac rolled his eyes, his lips twitching into a smirk despite himself. “Don’t push it, Karma.”
Markus huffed but couldn’t entirely suppress his amusement. “You’re lucky I like the sound of a good hunt. Don’t slow me down.”
“T-that was too much to handle, too many lore drops,” Kenji sighed.
The four turned their attention toward the forest ahead, their uneasy alliance sealed. The frozen ground beneath them cracked slightly as the frost gave way, and the clearing seemed to breathe again. Somewhere beyond the trees, the Sentinel awaited, a challenge they’d face together, even if their motives remained distinct.