The rumor mill at Summit Academy didn't just spin; it sprinted. By lunchtime, everyone had a theory about what happened in the Evaluation Hall.
"The machine was broken." "He used a jamming device." "Maybe he awakened a self-destruct skill?"
Ren ignored them all. He sat alone at a corner table in the cafeteria, staring at his hands. He could still feel the phantom sensation of the crystal's mana. It was addictive. His [Void Mana] pool was currently at 15%, and it felt like a buzzing itch under his skin, demanding to be used.
"Attention, students."
The Headmaster's voice floated over the speakers.
"All Second-Year students are to report to the Staging Grounds immediately. The joint practical exam with the City Guilds has been moved up to today due to... unforeseen schedule changes."
Groans erupted across the room, but Ren saw the excitement in the eyes of the elites. A practical exam meant combat.
Ren stood up. Perfect. A chance to feed the Gauntlets.
The Staging Grounds were located at the edge of the campus—a massive, reinforced concrete plaza leading to the Artificial Dungeon Gates.
Three massive portals swirled with blue energy.
Instructor Varek, a retired A-Rank tank with a prosthetic eye, stood on a crate, barking orders.
"Listen up! This isn't hitting dummies in the gym. You're going into Sector 4—a synthesized jungle environment. The goal is simple: Retrieve a Mana Core from the nest of a Razor-Beak matriarch."
Varek scanned the crowd. "Standard teams of four. One Tank, one DPS, one Support, and one Scout."
Students immediately began clumping together. Damon was instantly surrounded by the top healers and buffers.
Ren stood by himself, leaning against a pillar. He knew how this worked. The leftovers got shoved together at the end.
"You," Varek pointed at Ren with a clipboard. "Ren, right? The 'Error' kid."
Ren nodded.
"We have an odd number," Varek grunted. "Nobody wants to carry a liability. You're sitting this one ou—"
"I'll take him."
The chatter in the Staging Grounds died for the second time that day.
Vanessa walked forward. She was geared up in lightweight, white-leather armor that hugged her figure, a rapier of translucent blue crystal hanging at her hip. Her presence demanded attention.
Behind her stood two other students—her usual team.
Jax: A massive, silent guy carrying a tower shield (Tank).
Mila: A nervous-looking girl with a wind staff (Support).
They both looked horrified that their leader was volunteering to take the trash.
"President Vanessa?" Varek blinked. "Your team is already full. A three-man cell is standard for elites."
"We need a porter to carry the loot," Vanessa said, her voice cool and professional. She turned her gaze to Ren. It wasn't warm. It was calculating. She was dissecting him with her eyes, looking for the secret he was hiding. "Ren can carry the bags. Unless he's too weak for that, too?"
Ren met her gaze. He saw the challenge. She didn't want a teammate; she wanted a closer look at the anomaly.
"I can carry a bag," Ren said, pushing off the pillar.
"Good," Vanessa tossed a heavy canvas duffel bag at him. He caught it with one hand, not even flinching at the weight.
Vanessa's eyes narrowed slightly at his reflexes. "Let's go. We're clearing the Alpha Nest. Try not to die, Ren. It's too much paperwork."