The aftermath of the Sunken Crypt was a quiet, suffocating storm.
Sofia, in a move of shrewd political maneuvering, classified the final encounter as "anomalous data corruption." Her official report was a masterpiece of bureaucratic obfuscation.
It mentioned a "Core-destabilizing energy spike." It conveniently omitted the part where their rear guard had eaten the final boss.
The other team members, traumatized and terrified, readily agreed to the story. They wanted to forget. They wanted to pretend they hadn't seen a boy consume a god-like being's soul.
But Chris could not forget. The MVP announcement was a public humiliation. A slap in the face.
And when Sofia's official report was posted, a dry summary that praised every team member but singled out Edward Ross for his "uncanny, life-saving instincts," his simmering fury boiled over. An inferno of obsessive rage.
Instincts. They were calling it instincts. Chris knew better. A trick. A cheat. A lie. This Rankless, worthless trash was somehow gaming the system. Stealing the glory that was his by birthright. He had to be exposed. He had to be broken.
Humiliated and driven, Chris did what all cornered nobles do. He turned to his family.
He stormed into the luxurious, gilded halls of his family estate. He demanded an audience with his father, the formidable Lord Solomon.
He did not get the sympathy he craved. His father listened to his son's frantic, enraged tirade with a look of cold, disappointed appraisal.
"You were outmaneuvered," Lord Solomon stated. His voice was a calm, cutting blade. "You were made a fool of by a boy with no name and no power. This is not his shame, Christopher. It is yours. You have brought dishonor to this house with your incompetence."
The words were a brutal stripping of his pride. But Chris was a product of his family's ruthless ambition. He saw not a rebuke, but a challenge.
"Then give me the means to rectify it," Chris pleaded. His voice was now desperate. "Give me the power to crush him. To erase this stain on our family's honor."
Lord Solomon considered his son for a long, silent moment. An anomaly was a threat to the established order. A threat to his family's power. He finally gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Very well," he said. "If you cannot win with skill, you will win with overwhelming power. The family will grant you access to the vault."
Chris felt a surge of triumphant, vindictive glee. The family vault was a legendary treasury. A collection of artifacts and relics amassed over centuries.
He was led down into the deep, magically warded catacombs beneath the estate. There, resting on a velvet pedestal, was his prize.
A single, golden gauntlet. Crafted from what looked like solidified sunlight. Fiery runes pulsed along its surface. A massive, perfectly cut sunstone gem was set into the back of the hand. It glowed with a fierce, internal heat.
The Gauntlet of the Sunstone. A true, bona fide S-Rank artifact. A legendary weapon.
He reverently lifted the gauntlet. The moment his hand slid inside, it flared to life. The golden metal molded to his arm like a second skin. A wave of immense, blistering power flooded into him. He could feel the sun's fire. A caged, roaring inferno.
He returned to Sunstone Academy a changed man.
The bitter, resentful fury was still there. But it was now underpinned by a new, unshakable arrogance. He was no longer just an S-Rank prodigy. He was the wielder of a legendary artifact. In his own mind, he was invincible.
He didn't wait. He didn't scheme. He went for a direct, public declaration of his superiority. He strode into the center of the main courtyard. He raised his glowing, golden gauntlet to the sky. He issued his challenge. His voice was magically amplified to echo across the entire campus.
"Edward Ross!" he boomed. "I, Chris, of the House of Solomon, challenge you to a final, decisive duel! Here, in the grand arena, at high noon tomorrow! Let the entire student body bear witness as I demonstrate the difference between true, righteous power and the cheap tricks of a charlatan!"
The campus erupted. A public, high-stakes duel. A spectacle no one would miss.
Edward heard the challenge from his supply closet. He knew what this was. A cornered animal, given a new set of claws, now lashing out.
He knew he should refuse. A public duel was a trap. It put him back in the spotlight. Back under the watchful eye of the academy. The Inquisition.
But to refuse would be to admit defeat. To validate Chris's claims. To undo the small measure of respect he had just earned.
And on a deeper, more personal level, a part of him, the cold, predatory part, welcomed the challenge. He was tired of hiding. Tired of being underestimated. Chris was a wound that had been allowed to fester. It was time to close the wound.
The next day, the grand arena was packed. The energy in the air was even more electric. This was not a celebration. This was an execution. The crowd was hungry for blood.
Edward walked onto the sun-bleached sand. He was clad in his simple, anonymous training gear. He was met with a chorus of boos and jeers. He ignored them. His gaze was fixed on the figure opposite him.
Chris was a vision of golden, fiery glory. His Gauntlet of the Sunstone glowed with an intense heat that distorted the air. He looked like a demigod. A harbinger of divine judgment. The crowd roared his name.
"I gave you a chance to stay in the gutter where you belong, Ross," Chris said. His voice was low and filled with a chilling, absolute certainty. "But you insisted on crawling into the light. Now, you will be burned by it."
He raised his gauntlet. The massive sunstone gem flared with a blinding intensity. Flames, real and vibrant, began to wreathe his arm. His body. His very being. He was an avatar of fire. A walking inferno.
He pointed a single, golden finger at Edward. His expression was a mask of righteous, terrifying fury.
"This time, trash," Chris declared, his voice a roar that was answered by the crowd, "there are no monsters to save you. There is only purification by fire."