The forest had become a pressure cooker. The humidity was unnaturally high, and the scent of ozone from the S-Ranks' flares was beginning to attract the deeper, hungrier things that lived in the rifts between the trees.
As the drill pushed into the heart of the woods, two more first-year S-Ranks—the only ones who could truly challenge Julian and Elara's rising influence—made their presence known.
First was Xander of House Thorne, Lyra's younger cousin, but a far more volatile breed of merchant-noble. His mana was "Golden Greed"—a metallic, liquid-gold energy that he could solidify into weapons or shields at will. He didn't walk through the forest; he bought his way through it, using his mana to "pay" the sentient trees to move out of his path.
Xander's POV:
"Julian thinks he owns this forest because of his bloodline. Elara thinks she owns it because of her fire. But everything has a price—even gravity, even fear."
He glanced at his two Class-F charges, who were currently encased in golden, semi-transparent armor he'd fashioned for them. "I'm not protecting them for free. When we get back, their families will owe the Thorne Guild five years of service. But... wait." Xander's golden eyes widened. The gold on his fingers began to tarnish, turning a dull, matte black. "Something is devaluing my mana. The air feels... bankrupt."
On the opposite ridge stood Morrigan of the Night-Stalkers, a girl whose family had served as the Empire's shadow-executioners for centuries. Her mana was "Soul-Thread"—invisible, razor-sharp filaments of spirit energy that connected her to everything within a mile.
Morrigan's POV:
"The S-Ranks are so clumsy. They leave mana-trails like snails leave slime. But there's a ghost in the South-West. A thread that leads to the Valerius 'Null'."
She pulled at one of her invisible threads, trying to sense Cassian's heartbeat. Her eyes rolled back in her head, showing only whites. "Nothing. I can see him with my eyes, but the threads pass through him as if he's a hologram. He isn't a 'Null'. He's a 'Gap'. And the Great Shadow-Terror Kaelen just summoned isn't going to hunt him... it's going to be swallowed by him."
TEAM ORDER: JULIAN'S COLD EFFICIENCY
Prince Julian moved through the woods with the grace of a god walking through a garden. He didn't use fire or lightning. He used Order. Every step he took forced the chaotic trees to straighten. Every breath he drew purified the mist within ten feet of him.
His Class-F students followed him in a trance-like state, their minds suppressed by his aura so they wouldn't feel fear. To Julian, they weren't people; they were variables.
"Prince Julian," one of his guards whispered, "the Shadow-Hounds are gathering at the perimeter. They aren't attacking us. They seem to be... congregating toward the South-West."
Julian paused. The South-West. That was where Seraphina was escorting the Valerius boy.
"The hounds are scavengers," Julian mused, his golden eyes narrowing. "They gather where they sense a feast of despair. If they are moving toward Seraphina, it means her 'liabilities' are reaching their breaking point."
He considered moving to assist, then stopped. He wanted to see how his sister handled the "Null." If Cassian Valerius truly was a dud, Seraphina would let him be mauled to prove her point. If he wasn't... then the hounds would tell the story.
TEAM GREEN: THE OBSERVER'S DISCOVERY
Meanwhile, Aurelia Vane was taking the longest route. Her Class-F charges were surprisingly calm, mostly because she had used a high-tier Vane sedative spell to dull their senses.
She stood at the edge of a ravine, her ash-blonde hair glowing faintly in the gloom. She wasn't looking for the altar. She was looking at the ground.
"The mana-flow in this sector is wrong," Aurelia thought, touching a silver-oak leaf. "It's being pulled. Not toward the altar... but toward the center-left path."
She closed her eyes, extending her senses. As a Vane, she could feel the 'gravity' of mana. Usually, S-Ranks like Raiden felt like massive suns pulling everything toward them. But in the distance, she felt a sinkhole. A place where mana didn't just bend—it vanished.
It was subtle. If she hadn't been a specialized sensory mage, she would have missed it. But it was there. A rhythmic, lazy pulse of absolute nothingness.
"Cassian," she whispered to the empty woods. "What are you doing to this forest?"
Deep in the thicket, Kaelen Drakon was leading his own team. He wasn't interested in the altar. He had slipped a Lure-Stone—a forbidden artifact—into his pocket.
"If the gravity didn't kill him, let's see how he handles a Great-Horned Shadow-Terror," Kaelen hissed to his lackeys. He activated the stone, sending a high-pitched mana-signal directly toward Cassian's coordinates. "He wants to be lazy? I'll give him a sleep he'll never wake up from."
As the first night of the drill began to bleed into the darkness, all teams were converging toward the Altar of the First King. But the forest was no longer just testing them. The "First Fracture"—the rift Cassian had felt beneath the Academy—was reacting to the lure-stone and the clashing mana-signatures.
At the center of the woods, Cassian was currently sitting on a log, rubbing his feet. "Your Highness," he sighed to a frustrated Princess Seraphina, "do you think the altar has cushions? My boots are remarkably unsupportive for this kind of terrain."
He didn't look at the darkness. But he could feel it. The Great Shadow-Terror was coming, pulled by Kaelen's stone. And behind the Terror, something much older was waking up.