Beneath its tattered robes, even its soul seemed shrouded. Only a ghastly skull mask could be seen, exuding a chilling, suffocating dread.
[Servant of the Reaper]
[Level: 1]
[Strength: 100]
[Constitution: 100]
[Agility: 100]
[Spirit: 100]
In the laws of this world, balance in attributes usually meant mediocrity.
But under the Domain of Death's tenfold amplification, this servant's strength was nothing short of monstrous.
Even fully awakened professionals of level seven or eight—without elite equipment or advanced techniques—would be hard-pressed to withstand it.
A cold aura seeped from the Servant's frame, dragging across the hall like chains rattling from the Underworld itself. One by one, students shrank back in fear.
"What… what kind of monster is this?!"
"It reeks of the Netherworld! How could something so vile appear in an Awakening Ceremony?!"
Samuel immediately invoked [Eye of Insight], attempting to pry into the undead's secrets.
"Base stats—ten in all attributes… higher than an ordinary professional, but still far from worthy of Mythic rank."
He paused, then cast Alex a long, meaningful look.
"Perhaps this profession's true potential has yet to awaken. Remember this, boy—Mythic is only the beginning. Should you grow complacent, even divine talent will wither into dust."
Alex's heart jolted.
He had clearly seen one hundred across every stat, yet Samuel had spoken of ten.
Understanding dawned quickly.
The amplification of Domain of Death was his alone to perceive. To others, it was cloaked, hidden behind falsified numbers.
Perfect.
To conceal his edge, to gather strength in silence—that was the essence of survival.
Suppressing his emotions, Alex lowered his head and bowed with solemn respect.
"I will remember the master's teachings."
Samuel gave a subtle nod, his thoughts hidden behind calm eyes.
This child… not only is his talent unparalleled, but his temperament is unshakably steady. Extraordinary… truly extraordinary.
—
Alex attempted to dismiss his summon. Yet in addition to the option of Reverse Summon, another possibility appeared before him.
With a flicker of intent, the air above his palm split open. A pitch-black vortex spiraled into existence.
The Servant of the Reaper stepped soundlessly into the whirlpool, its silhouette swallowed whole.
At the same time, his status panel shifted:
[Necrotic Space: 1/10]
So… the Servant could be stored within this space, summoned at will, without consuming extra spirit. Even under silence effects, he could still forcefully call it forth.
A sharp glint flickered in Alex's eyes.
This meant he now possessed the foundation for an army—an army of the dead that would belong to him alone.
—
As Alex descended from the array, Garfield's knuckles cracked white.
"Don't get too proud, Alex."
His voice was a venomous whisper. "Once we leave this hall, I'll show you what true power looks like—the power of wealth."
On this continent, the strength of a profession did not depend solely on rarity. Equipment, treasures, and resources could tip the scales of fate.
Countless rare-class professionals had been crushed beneath the boots of wealthy, well-equipped commoners.
And Garfield belonged to the latter—a man backed by inexhaustible fortune.
—
The Awakening Ceremony drew to its close.
This year's results were dismal—failure rates soared, talent was scarce. If not for Alma, Garfield, and Alex emerging like blazing comets, this batch would have gone down as the bleakest in the Academy's history.
In his final address, Principal Whitney's voice rang out:
"Students, the Awakening Ceremony has concluded. For those who have gained Combat or Support classes, the gates to a new world stand open before you. For those who have failed, do not despair. There remains a path in the mortal world—your efforts will still serve the kingdom."
"Remember this—one week from today, the Trial Dungeon for beginners shall open. It will be your first test, and your first reward, before the great examination of professionals."
His voice echoed through the hall, and every sharp ear caught the subtle truth—
Those words were meant above all… for Alex.
The danger of the Beginner Dungeon was low—yet it remained the best place to hone one's newfound profession.
And for those who could set records within its halls, their names would soon echo across the entire city.
"Hmph. That record will be mine to break."
Garfield sneered, confidence flashing in his eyes. With his family's wealth at his back, how could he not be sure of victory?
Alma's gaze was deep, a blade of cold light glimmering within. She had no intention of letting either of them seize the spotlight alone.
But Alex's thoughts, at that very moment, were entirely different—
"What should I eat for dinner tonight?"
—
At dawn the next day, Alex rose, his spirit fully restored.
Without hesitation, he summoned a Servant of the Reaper and stored it into his Necrotic Space.
"In the early stages, spirit recovers too slowly. Best to fill the space first—only then can I rest easy."
Hoisting his pack, he joined the others marching toward the Beginner Dungeon.
By the time they arrived, the entrance was already bustling with noise and excitement. Not only East Bay Royal Academy, but students from other schools had gathered as well.
Principal Whitney directed the formations:
"Combatants must pair with Supports. This is your chance to learn teamwork. Remember—those you disdain today may be the ones you look up to tomorrow."
Yet for Alex, an exception was quietly made.
Everyone knew—he was better off alone.
And for him, soloing a dungeon meant far greater efficiency.
He stepped through the gate alone.
—
The world inside was a barren plain, tall grass swaying at his knees, shadows concealing lurking threats.
The moment Alex entered, he released two Servants of the Reaper.
Black mist rolled outward, staining the prairie in shades of darkness.
Rustle—
A half-meter tall rodent burst from the grass, fangs jagged like sawteeth, its eyes glowing with feral hunger.
[Jagged Fang Rat]
[Level: 2]
[Strength: 13]
[Constitution: 11]
[Agility: 9]
[Spirit: 10]
Alex's lips curled into a cold smile.
"Go. Show me your power."
The two Reaper Servants swung their scythes in unison. A flash of black light split the air.
The rat never even had time to scream. It was carved into four pieces, blood spattering the wasteland.
The stench of death spread, thick and suffocating.
—
From Hell, the summon had taken its first blood.