The wind whistled in Indra's ears as he cut through the Vallencourt Forest like an arrow. His speed was no longer that of a fleeing human; it was that of a predator at its peak, a whirlwind of muscle and Qi channeled perfectly by the Silent Heart of the Inner Vortex. Each stride was a powerful thrust that launched him forward, avoiding obstacles with an intuitive grace that was both animal and divine.
His mind, however, ran faster than his body.
The last three days paraded through his consciousness like a fever dream—or an epic nightmare. Entering the forest, a frightened Awakened. Discovering the cave, the revelation of the Elven Sword Dance. The desperate escape, the fight against the Dormant Terror, the agony and ecstasy of the Silver Storm. The forging of his own technique in the crucible of despair. The descent into the depths, the terrifying encounter with the Realm Ruler. And finally, the dual inheritance: Vallencourt's curse and Czech Tzigane's forbidden guide, the Sword Shakes Dimensions.
He was no longer the same. The evolution wasn't just quantitative—the leap from Awakened to Graduate—but qualitative. Every cell, every thought, every spark of his Qi had been refined in the fire of extreme adversity. He had stared into the abyss and, somehow, survived to carry a fragment of it within himself.
"The greater the risk, the greater the reward." The saying echoed in his mind, an ironic whisper in the face of the trials he'd faced. The reward was immense—power, knowledge, a clear path to the strength he so desired. But the price... the price was a debt to a cosmic entity and a curse weighing on his future.
His run was interrupted by movement to his right. A Lesser Creature and a hopping Imp emerged from the bushes. Before, they would have represented a threat, an obstacle to be circumvented or faced with caution.
Now, they were merely a nuisance.
Indra didn't slow down. He didn't even draw his Jian. His right arm moved in a blur. Focused Amplification turned his hand into a weapon. He simply extended his arm, and his hand, wrapped in a white, ghostly aura, pierced the Imp's torso with a wet, crude sound. When he withdrew it, he held a small, opaque inner core. The Imp disintegrated into black dust.
The movement was so fast the Lesser Creature barely had time to snarl. Indra spun in the air, his body responding with a fluidity granted by the Sword Dance, and drove the same hand into the creature's chest. A dry crack echoed, and he tore out the second, slightly larger core. The creature collapsed.
+6 points.
Indra didn't stop. He stored the cores in the dimensional ring without breaking rhythm. His total was now 500. A round, symbolic number. An absurdly surpassed goal.
The Clock Tower loomed ahead, its gothic, imposing silhouette cutting against the violet sky. It was a structure of black stone, with somber stained-glass windows and an ancient, silent clock at its peak. It seemed out of place in the middle of the primordial forest, a monument to the order imposed by the Esoteric Society upon the chaos of the Other Side.
Before the massive iron gates, two guards were posted. Their uniforms were impeccable, a dark gray with silver Society insignias. Indra slowed his pace and walked toward them, his breathing almost unchanged from the run.
The guards' eyes scanned his figure—his bare, dirty torso, marked by bruises and scratches that were already healing rapidly; his torn jeans; his scuffed shoes; and the cat with shocking pink eyes and purple details nestled calmly on his shoulders as if it belonged there.
Indra felt it immediately: the subtle touch of their Energy Senses. It was like a light tingling on his skin, a professional and discreet scan. The guards' expressions shifted from vigilant neutrality to genuine surprise. Their eyes widened slightly, going from his face, to his muscular torso, to the cat, and then, focusing on something at the center of his being—his Inner Core, pulsating with the stable, powerful energy of a Graduate.
They exchanged a glance, a silent, enigmatic communication passing between them. Indra ignored it. He was exhausted, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. All he wanted was for the ceremony to end so he could return to his room and collapse.
Without a word, the guards stepped aside, making way. The heavy iron gates opened with a low creak. Indra nodded in thanks and entered, without ceremony.
The door closed behind him with a final clang that echoed in the small entrance chamber. Silence. He was alone in a circular room, lit by blue torches. Ahead, a spiral stone staircase ascended, disappearing into the upper floor. From above, he could feel it—a cacophony of energy signatures. Hundreds of them. The buzz of voices was a distant murmur, but the energy was a palpable wave—a mix of pride, relief, weariness, and, in some cases, newly acquired power.
The Practical Exam had truly come to an end.
Indra began to climb the steps. His concern about the final ranking had evaporated. He had passed. He had survived. That was all that mattered. The final exam, the Paranormal Exam, was a concern for next week. Seven days to assimilate everything he'd learned, to study Tzigane's notebook, to solidify his control as a Graduate. It was enough time.
As he climbed, his Energy Sense painted a vivid map of the hall above. He could discern the different power levels with frightening clarity. Most of the students—the clan heirs—were concentrated at high-level Graduates and low-level Specialists. His own energy, though potent and unique, was still that of a novice Graduate. The difference was obvious, but no longer intimidating. He had a path. He had a method.
The sound of voices grew louder, more distinct. Laughter, animated conversations, the clinking of glasses. He reached the top of the stairs and stopped before a double door of dark oak, carved with symbols of the Esoteric Society.
Without hesitation, he pushed the doors open and entered.
What was revealed was breathtaking. The interior of the Clock Tower was, without a doubt, magically expanded. The room was a giant dome, so vast that clouds could have formed on the vaulted gray stone ceiling. The floor was immaculate white marble, reflecting the soft light emanating from floating energy globes. The curved walls were of the same inexplicable black rock that formed the tower's exterior.
To the left, hundreds of students were clustered at dark wood benches and tables, talking, eating, and celebrating their survival. To the right, on a raised platform, stood Professor Aurelia. Her elegant dress and fur coat seemed even more impeccable against the austere backdrop. Her sharp, penetrating golden eyes scanned the crowd with an expression of contained satisfaction.
When Indra entered, the buzz didn't stop, but a visible wave of attention swept through the crowd. Heads turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. Gazes fixed on him. Initially, he thought it was because of his appearance—a shirtless savage in the midst of paranormal high society. But the stares persisted, filled with curiosity, disbelief, and, in some cases, envy. They weren't just looking at his torn clothes; they were looking at him. At the energy he emanated. An Awakened who left and returned a Graduate in three days was unheard of. And the cat on his shoulders—a Spirit Beast contracted in such a short time—was the icing on the cake of his strangeness.
Indra ignored the stares as best he could, feeling an embarrassed heat rise in his neck. The cat, sensing his discomfort, turned its head and let out a soft "mrow" that sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh, its pink eyes blinking with amusement.
He was about to blend into the crowd when Professor Aurelia's voice cut through the air, clear and authoritative.
"Indra."
All eyes turned to the platform. Indra stopped and turned, walking toward her. The hall fell silent, the atmosphere now charged with expectation.
"The cores." she said simply, extending her hand.
Indra nodded. He concentrated and began withdrawing the inner cores from his dimensional ring. First, a cascade of the smaller ones—from Lesser Creatures and Imps—forming a shimmering, opaque pile on a nearby table. The murmur in the crowd grew with the volume. Then, he took out the last six. The Dormant Terror's cores.
They landed on the table with a heavy thud, their profound darkness and internal red sparks sucking in the surrounding light. An absolute silence fell over the dome.
Professor Aurelia looked from the massive cores to Indra. Her golden eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he saw skepticism in them—the doubt that a newly Graduated could achieve such a feat. Then, her gaze penetrated deeper, not at his muscles or his clothes, but at his very Inner Core, at the unique technique he had forged, at the potential now burning within him. A flash of understanding, followed by a small, almost imperceptible smile, touched her lips.
"Return to your place, Indra." — she said, her voice soft but laden with a new respect. "The final ranking will be announced at the end of the exam."
Indra nodded, relieved he didn't have to explain anything. He turned and began walking back toward the tables, the weight of hundreds of stares still upon him.
Before he could decide where to sit, a familiar voice called out to him.
"Indra! Over here!"
He turned. It was Reid. His pale face and emerald green eyes stood out in the crowd, his black hair impeccably combed. He was dressed in black tactical clothes, now clean, with silver details that glimmered in the light. Beside him, Claire greeted him with a casual nod. Her snow-white hair was loose, and her bold clothes—a combination of leather and silk—and the intricate irezumi tattoo on her left arm made her unmistakable. A mischievous smile played on her lips.
Genuine relief washed over Indra. Familiar faces. Allies, perhaps even friends. He headed to their table and collapsed into an empty chair, the cat jumping from his shoulders to snuggle in his lap.
"Looks like you had... more fun than we did." — said Reid, his voice a mix of disbelief and respect, his green eyes examining Indra intently.
Claire chuckled. "Fun is one word. You look like you were dragged through a whirlwind and then fought with it. And got a cute cat in the process." — She reached out to pet the cat, which looked at her with disdain but allowed the affection.
Indra let out a tired laugh, running a hand over his face.
"You have no idea." — he murmured, the echoes of the forest, the underground chamber, and the Realm Ruler's promise hanging over him like an invisible mantle. The Practical Exam was over, but his journey at that table, with those people, was just beginning. And he had much to tell—and much more to hide.