Helen stood atop the stage, her spectral dragon curled obediently beneath her, its glowing scales glinting in the moonlight. It purred—a low, luxurious hum—content beneath her touch.
Her golden eyes swept the arena.
So many voices. So much noise.
{How boring.}
She scanned the crowd, not for chaos—but for stimulation. Something. Anything.
And then her gaze fell on him.
A tall figure—black hair, flawless skin, aristocratic features honed by fate and fire. Speaking to another student, unaware he was the sole reason her blood stirred. Even now, he was different.
Percy Atlas Magus, she thought.
But back then… he'd gone by a different name.
It was a day like any other in her regional office—Federation Guild Authority (FGA), branch five. Her desk buried beneath mission logs, surveillance reports, and mana anomaly charts.
She'd leaned back in her chair, eyes trailing from the ceiling to the open window, watching clouds drift through pale blue. Searching. Hoping.
But the sky—like most things—refused to give her what she craved.
Her attention dropped back to the report on her desk.
{Two newly formed dungeons...}
Estimated Star Rating: 8.
Potential Peak: Rank 9.
Estimated Stability: Rank 6.
She pressed two fingers to her temple, sighing.
{As if one dungeon threatening national collapse wasn't enough. Now we have two.}
Her mind drifted.
{Twelve dungeons spawn every six months. Always somewhere new. Never predictable. Like a handful of dice cast into oblivion.}
She turned her gaze back out the window. The sun was setting now, painting the sky with streaks of pink and violet flame. The wind slipped in, tangy and cool, brushing her face, tossing strands of gold behind her.
{Five percent. That's the likelihood of a dungeon appearing in the same country twice. Practically zero. Yet… it never stops. They always come. Always twelve. Scattered across the world like fate's broken teeth.}
Before she could spiral further into thoughts she could not untangle, the door burst open.
"Ma'am Hippolytus! I apologize for interrupting your work—truly."
Lucas Bennett, head of examinations, stood panting in the doorway, eyes wide, practically glowing with urgency.
Helen turned toward him slowly, golden hair sliding over her shoulder.
"If you're this frantic, then the news must be worth it," she said with a wry smile, already rising from her desk.
"Honestly, Mr. Bennett, your timing is impeccable. I could use a break from this drudgery."
She retrieved her coat as she walked past him, motioning for him to speak.
"What's the situation?"
Lucas followed quickly, handing her a polished black tablet.
"It's about one of the examinees. I thought you'd want to see this for yourself."
Helen glanced down at the file.
Ethan Parker.
Written Exam: Full Marks.
Physical Exam: Full Marks.
Distance Covered: 35.54 miles in one hour.
Strength Output: 470 lbs—lifted with ease.
Her brow lifted—just a fraction.
"Impressive. A promising one."
But it wasn't the stats that caught her eye.
It was the subtle deviation beneath the surface.
Something in her gut whispered: he's more than promising.
Helen strode briskly through the corridors, tablet in hand, her eyes narrowing as she read the final entry on the mana exam report.
Suddenly, she stopped.
"Is this accurate?" she asked flatly, turning her gaze toward Mr. Bennett.
He didn't flinch. He'd anticipated that question.
"Yes, ma'am. The results are verified.
The machine was functioning properly, primal mana stones were stable, transference crystals had full integrity—no interference or distortion in the formation array."
Helen gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
She knew well: if even a single factor had been out of alignment, the readings would have skewed drastically—either inflated or suppressed. But this report…
It wasn't just strange. It was historic.
She scanned the data again:
Mana Control: C (Potential Control: SSS+)
Mana Grade: E (Potential Grade: UR)
Mana Power: 1st Circle
Overall Potential: UR (Unreadable – assigned placeholder due to abnormal peak readings)
And then:
"Mana Orb detected primal earth element within elemental spirit. High probability of awakening other elements.
Caution advised."
Her golden eyes narrowed.
{Awakening... interesting.}
She spoke again, this time with quiet curiosity.
"If these results are accurate—and they are—then why tell me at all, Lucas? You've always had a good eye for talent."
Lucas smirked, his tone casual—but underneath it, something reverent stirred.
"Figured you'd appreciate a glimpse at another miracle in the making."
"After all… you're the one who takes the dirtiest stones and turns them into golden diamonds, aren't you?"
Helen's lips curled into a sly smirk.
"Well… if you put it like that."
She closed the tablet and glanced ahead.
"Let's go meet this 'golden diamond' then. This version carrying all that pride and fire… it's been a long time since he was around."
There was laughter in her voice. But there was weight in her words.
The moment Helen and Lucas stepped into the gym for the combat evaluation, Ethan's gaze snapped toward her.
And in that moment—something stirred.
Deep within Helen's soul, her spectral dragon, born from the pinnacle of her dragon cultivation, awoke.
Its breath caught in her lungs.
Its pulse echoed through her veins.
It roared in silence, clawing at its cage—not from rage, but from recognition.
A rival.
A force it instinctively wanted to crush, dominate, and devour.
In all her 499 years, Helen had never lost control of the dragon spirit that dwelled within her.
And today would not be the first.
She smothered the sudden surge of primal instinct, suppressing the dragon's overwhelming presence with centuries of hard-earned composure.
{What are you?}
Her expression remained composed, even elegant, as she extended a formal greeting to the young examinee.
"Welcome, Ethan Parker."
She offered no hint of what had just occurred.
But inside?
She was still listening to the dragon's heartbeat pounding in sync with her own.
As the match began, Helen's sharp gaze shifted between Joseph and Ethan, but her focus never drifted far from the boy who had stirred her inner beast.
{Didn't expect Joseph to fall for a taunt so easily… we'll need to recalibrate his mental resist training.}
But it was Ethan that kept her thoughts circling.
Especially as the match approached its climax.
Joseph began to channel his Frostweaver Lance, preparing to unleash a finishing blow.
But Ethan didn't flinch.
He stepped forward.
Mana surged.
And suddenly—
The space shifted.
The mana field around the arena became turbulent, like a storm gathering at the center of the gym.
Ethan's body radiated raw, untamed force.
Even the air grew heavy.
The mana wasn't just dense—it was gravitational.
Others in the gym tensed, their bodies instinctively reacting to the sudden pressure.
Even seasoned instructors stiffened.
But Helen?
She didn't move.
She merely observed—with an amused glint in her eye.
{He looks like one of those tiny, over-serious chibi dolls when he tries to look intimidating.}
Still… beneath the humor was curiosity.
Because that mana… it wasn't just wild.
It was grounded. Rooted. Earth.
She felt it anchor to the space around them.
And deep within her, the dragon stirred again.
Helen's gaze shifted with precision, locking onto the strange disturbance spiraling near the battlefield—
twin tornados, dancing like opposing forces in ritual combat.
One was composed purely of raw mana, swirling with untamed brilliance.
The other—a towering spiral of condensed earth energy—rose with ancient weight.
The two vortexes clashed violently, again and again, sending reverberations through the mana field itself.
Each collision forced the very air to evolve—the mana began to fuse with the natural terrain, embedding earth-elemental resonance into the arena like a symphony of primal alchemy.
Helen's lips curled slightly into a smirk.
{So young… and yet, such depth of elemental understanding.
Must be a scholar—or something much rarer.}
But the moment she thought she understood—the earth tornado shifted.
It didn't just grow stronger.
It received something.
A whisper. A push. An unseen force.
Helen frowned, and her smirk vanished.
{No… not natural. That energy isn't coming from him.
Time to confirm a suspicion.}
Helen closed her eyes, retreating inward, deep into her chaotic mana sea.
The mana within her was not passive—it raged like a god's storm.
A vast ocean of lightning, flame, shadow, and wind.
Darkness presided at its depths.
And there, at the very bottom, slumbered a dragon—her dragon—bound not by spell, but by pact.
As Helen whispered through her soul:
{Awaken, Seer. Eyes of the Nexus… show me what the world hides.}
The beast stirred.
Mana bloomed outward.
And when her eyes opened, they shimmered in radiant layers of color, iridescent and shifting like starlight submerged in water.
The crowd saw only gray eyes.
But behind the veil, Helen saw truth.
She turned her gaze toward the boy still being called "Ethan Parker."
But her vision peeled away his facade like dust in the wind.
A figure at least six feet tall.
Bronze-tan skin.
Blue-golden eyes that glowed like twin suns.
Her brows twitched.
{Three golden clusters. Brain. Heart. Eyes. Why?
Mana nodes? Sealed circuits? Or… something older?}
But before she could follow that path, something else caught her eye.
She looked back at the swirling earth tornado—
and froze.
There, at the core of the storm, was a glowing orb of dense brown energy—not just mana, but primal essence, passively altering the ambient field around it.
Helen's Nexus Seer made her immune to distortion or delusion.
She saw everything with purified vision.
And now… she saw a connection.
A small trail of energy linked the orb and the boy.
Another golden spark bloomed—this time in his lower back, glowing the same shade as the orb.
{So that's it… he's channeling energy directly from a sealed earth source. Not just elementally aligned—
He's symbiotically tethered.}
She watched as that wisp of energy pulsed outward and reshaped the earth tornado.
It didn't just rage—it refined itself, coalescing into a perfect formation of the spell "Earth Spikes."
But not ordinary spikes.
No—these radiated primal pressure, the kind born not of magic, but of the earth's will itself.
Joseph unleashed his Frostweaver Lance, its shimmering form flying toward Ethan like a meteor of frozen death.
But the Earth Spikes rose—not as a wall, but as a trap.
They surrounded Joseph in a tightening formation, cutting off every escape route.
The audience watched, breathless.
Not a single spike struck him.
But all it would take… was one wrong move.
Each spike hovered inches from a vital organ.
And when Ethan finally launched the central spike, it collided with the incoming Lance—
BOOM.
Shockwaves exploded, shaking the arena floor.
Helen narrowed her eyes.
{Control. Precision. Ruthlessness. Interesting...}
Ethan collapsed.
His body gave in.
The battlefield dimmed, and staff rushed to escort him to the infirmary.
Helen watched with an unreadable expression.
{Spectral presence. Elemental compatibility. Controlled mana chaos. And now… three golden nodes and a hidden orb.
What are you, boy?}
Later, she'd shoo away the curious onlookers and buzzards trying to pester the unconscious boy.
And when he finally woke?
He'd thank her.
And she'd smile faintly.
When he asked why, she said nothing.
Let him guess.
It's more fun when they try to understand you.
Helen stood poised as ever, her spectral dragon curled at her side like a halo of prestige and latent destruction. With a glimmer in her eye and a nod of admiration, she extended a rare offer:
"Given your performance, your awareness, and your instincts…
I'd like to formally invite you to join the Azure Dragon Syndicate."
She didn't need to elaborate. Everyone in the world—mage or not—knew what that name meant.
The legendary guild founded and led by Zephyr Fist Shenlong, one of the 15 Heavenly War Generals.
Helen Hippolytus.
Joining her guild wasn't just an honor.
It was a key—to power, connections, military favor, and sovereignty.
But then… the boy replied.
"Can I have some time to think it over, or is this a limited-time offer?"
Helen's brow rose ever so slightly—surprise, not offense.
Then came the smile. Slow. Curious.
"Take your time," she said.
"But don't keep me waiting too long."
{Strange… he didn't jump at the offer. And yet—he didn't decline either.}
She glanced at him again.
To her surprise, he was already looking back at her.
Their eyes met.
"I'll give you an answer by next week," he said evenly.
Helen's expression didn't change—but internally, her interest deepened.
"I look forward to it," she replied, turning away.
Later, in her office, Helen leaned back in her chair, eyes wandering to the black sky beyond the window. The moon loomed high, swallowing light like a silent witness.
"What a serene way to end the day," she murmured.
She opened a dossier, letting her focus shift back to work. Dungeon reports. Threat classifications. Standard procedure.
Then—
Thunder.
A single, violent clap, like the sky itself had split open.
Not magical. Not mana-born.
But ominous.
Helen didn't startle.
But her heart paused.
"...What is that?" she whispered.
A coldness slithered along her spine.
The sky was still clear. The world looked untouched.
But she knew better.
{It felt like... something was born.
Something that shouldn't exist.}
She shook it off. But not completely.
"Too many oddities," she muttered, returning to the reports.
She opened the digital forum used to cross-reference examinee profiles.
Earlier that day, she had called out:
"Numbers 217 and 10—step forward!"
And among them… was Ethan Parker.
At first, she'd barely blinked. Another student trying again for Solarskis.
Until she opened his file:
"Wait… this is his second attempt?"
She tapped deeper into the system—into files only she had access to.
And what she found stopped her cold.
"Real Name: Percy Atlas Magus.
Age: 17.
DOB: 12/25/2056.
Blood Type: O+.
Sibling: Camila Isis Magus…"
And then… nothing.
"That's it?" she frowned.
No school record. No public history. A dead trail.
Her instincts flared.
She activated Eyes of the Nexus Seer.
She studied him from afar.
And once again—she saw the golden nodes.
{It really is him.}
She smirked.
"Hello, Mr. Parker," she said telepathically.
His eyes flicked toward hers—sharp, aware, unshaken.
She said nothing more.
Let him wonder.
Watching Percy battle again—his control, his seamless integration of physical and magical prowess—she felt it again.
Pride.
{He's not just talented. He's refined. Calculated. Capable of rapid adaptation.
There's something… familiar about him.}
A part of her stirred.
{Is it fate?}
She was amused.
And more than that—she was entertained.
But her instincts were not blind.
She could feel the eyes of two others watching him with the same hunger.
Eadmund.
Yaroslav.
Like her, they were Heavenly War Generals.
And like her, they were predators—drawn to the spark they saw in Percy.
The three of them were legends of war.
Each with different philosophies. Different gifts.
But each had chosen their prey.
{We all see the same thing.
And we all want it.}
She smirked to herself.
{What a deliciously violent battle this will become.}
Percy had it all:
Intelligence and precision with elemental spellsRapid judgment in life-or-death scenariosSwordsmanship forged in real-world painMartial discipline both mental and physical
{They've seen it too. The prodigy they were speaking about?
Same person. Same boy. Same weapon of potential.}
And now… they all knew.
Helen looked back toward the arena, the light catching her profile.
{What a wonderful twist of fate.}
She chuckled softly.
The patterns were aligning.
Coincidences sharpening.
Someone—or something—was moving pieces toward completion.
She glanced away from Percy for now, smiling as she turned back to the crowd.
"Alright, everyone," she said—quietly.
And yet her voice was heard by every soul.
As if the world itself leaned in to listen.
Helen stood with poise, her spectral dragon coiled at her feet like a divine relic, its gleaming scales humming with suppressed power.
"Now, if you look to the battle platform," she began, her voice weaving through the air with effortless clarity,
"you'll see a Rune Formation. Once activated, it will construct a pocket dimension for the final ten to battle."
The crowd murmured in wonder as glowing geometric sigils began to form beneath the arena.
"Don't worry," Helen continued. "The pocket space is fully observable. You'll be able to watch every moment from this plane."
Her gaze sharpened as she addressed the finalists directly.
"Participants, listen closely."
"The purpose of this pocket dimension is to minimize real-world damage when you unleash the full extent of your abilities."
"Once inside, you'll be dropped into the battlefield. The rules are simple:
The longer you survive, the higher your placement.
The moment you're eliminated, your final ranking is sealed."
The tension climbed.
"When the first five are defeated, a 30-minute timer will begin.
With each subsequent defeat, the clock will temporarily accelerate.
After five minutes, a smell-less gray cloud will descend. It will inflict gradual damage—to ensure the fight ends."
As she spoke, Helen wove her fingers into a complex hand seal, each motion a symbol of control over space and law.
"To eliminate someone, you must either knock them out...
Or crush their badge."
At once, the badges of the ten contestants lit up—gleaming softly like glowing hearts on their chests.
Circles of light appeared beneath each of them.
Percy glanced at the others.
They were all nodding, calm but focused.
He took a breath as he felt the rune beneath him pulse.
Ascension began.
The ten contestants rose into the air, each suspended like an offering to the arena's gods.
Then—
The stage shattered.
Ten glowing spheres were encased in runic barriers—then, in a flash of blue light, hurled into the sky and absorbed into a single mechanical cube, which vanished in a blink.
Darkness.
Total silence.
But it didn't bother Percy. He was used to walking in shadows.
Suddenly, the world cracked open—light spilled in like a dawn unzipping the void.
The shield around him shattered, revealing a vast open field.
The other nine were positioned in a perfect circle—each of them facing another.
No one was surprised.
It was typical of Solarskis to begin battles in symmetrical chaos.
Percy spotted Dalton across the field, who gave a casual wave—then quickly began scanning the terrain for potential threats.
Two sets of eyes locked onto Percy.
He smirked.
"Looks like I've found my opponents."
Helen's voice echoed throughout the realm, her words resonating like the strike of a war bell.
"BATTLE... BEGIN!"
Lyra Caelumis and Marcus Vestalyn sprinted toward Jason Lunarae, their coordinated charge executed with synchronized timing.
Jason stood still, arms relaxed, a smirk dancing across his lips.
"Alright…" he said, his voice low, husky, commanding.
"Let's start with you first."
His blood-red eyes flashed—predatory, all-consuming.
Even a glance felt like being devoured.
Dalton took off, charging toward Ethan Stride, who met him head-on.
"That's new," Percy muttered, watching them collide.
"Didn't think Ethan was so eager to fight him."
"He's not," said Beta, now reclining lazily on Percy's shoulder, legs swinging midair.
She crossed her arms with a satisfied smirk.
"Ethan Stride is Lucas Doran's cousin. I overheard their little chat."
Percy raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know all this?"
"You were too busy watching fights," she said smugly.
"I got bored. Flew around. Listened to drama. Apparently, Ethan promised Lucas he'd settle the score for him."
Percy exhaled.
"Dalton'll be fine."
Then—
A voice cut through the field, sharp as a blade.
"I challenge you, Mei Wugongshi!"
Percy's head turned.
Aria Klingenhart, sword raised, face composed, was staring down the crimson-haired martial artist.
Mei grinned, slamming her fists together—sparks bursting from her knuckles.
"Heh… I thought you'd never ask."
Aria took a breath.
"I'll avenge the humiliation my brother received."
Mei paused.
Then tilted her head.
"Ohh… you're that weakling's sister."
She snorted.
"Figures. Enemies really do walk the same path."
She stepped forward, cocky smile growing.
"So, whatcha gonna do about it, little ore?"
Her red hair flared around her like fire. To others, she looked like a lion fresh from battle.
But Aria didn't flinch.
Mei's gaze was beastly. Fierce. Wild. Born of fire and instinct.
Aria's gaze was precise. Sharp. Regal. A blade drawn in service of something greater.
Where Mei was bloodthirsty, Aria was poised.
Where one fought for glory, the other fought for honor.
The field was set.
Four battles, woven from rivalries, vengeance, and quiet oaths.
And Percy?
He hadn't moved.
Not yet.
But someone was coming for him soon.
He could feel it.
"Hmph—"
They huffed in unison, and in the next breath—launched.
Both girls exploded from their positions, blades drawn, twin streaks of fire and steel closing in on Percy with coordinated fury.
The air sizzled as sparks flew—clashes of elemental force and sword intent rippling through the space.
Percy's instincts flared like a burning signal.
{Incoming.}
"Tsurugikin Style – First Form: Crushing Fangs x3!"
"Sabrelan Style – Second Form: Tides of Fury!"
Percy didn't blink.
His mind processed the patterns, the danger, the trajectories—before his body even moved.
His eyes scanned the field, breath calm.
"One in front…"
{Sensory Field – Activated}
An internal overlay lit up in his mind—vibrational lines, mana echoes, pressure points.
"And one to the left."
It clicked.
{Just like before.}
He inhaled—long and deep.
Exhaled—centered and sharp.
"Sheathed Imperial Style – Second Form: Emperor Shifting Sun Technique."
The katana remained in its scabbard.
His stance didn't waver.
{Sensory Field Proficiency increased: 40.21% → 45.16%}
{Photo-Eidetic Memorization synapse activated.}
Clang!
Clang!
CLANG!
Three blades froze in place—locked in a crucible of pressure.
Ava Tsurugikin and Emma Sabrelan gritted their teeth, swords trembling as they struggled to break Percy's stance.
He didn't look strained.
He was watching.
Reading them.
(Damn it. Why is he so strong…?) Ava winced.
(This won't be easy…) Emma clenched her jaw.
Then—
"Teleport."
In a blink, Percy vanished, reappearing a few feet behind them—back turned, relaxed.
He swung his blade lazily against the ground, dust curling around its edge.
"Well… that was rude," he said, voice light.
"We didn't even exchange names."
He turned, smiling brightly—blue-golden eyes gleaming, stars trapped in every flicker of light.
The girls steadied themselves.
Their expressions tightened.
They approached again, eyes locked on him.
Percy nodded politely, then gestured with his katana.
"Emma Sabrelan," he said, glancing at the pink-haired girl with piercing aqua eyes.
"Ava Tsurugikin," he continued, gaze shifting to the green-haired warrior with steady amber eyes.
"I must say… I'm honored you chose me."
His tone was serene, almost grateful.
Emma responded with caution.
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Percy Atlas Magus."
Ava said nothing. She simply nodded once—eyes never leaving his blade.
Then Percy's smile shifted—from polite to predatory.
"It's painfully clear what you're planning."
He slid his katana free for the first time since the battles began—the sound of steel unsheathing echoing like a declaration.
"Just so we're clear…
I don't go easy on my opponents."
His aura surged.
"No special treatment."
A tremor rippled across the battlefield.
Ava and Emma felt it immediately—the shift. The sudden weight of killing intent.
(He means business…)
They didn't speak. They didn't need to.
"Alright then—let's begin."
Percy vanished.