Adam exited the Registration Hall after leaving Arlette’s office, heading toward the specialist buildings reserved for A-rank students.

  Unlike the lower ranks—who could only train and accept missions—A-rank Awakened were granted access to exclusive education.

  On one condition: they had to remain unaffiliated with any guild.

  “Adam, wait!”

  He stopped at the familiar voice and turned.

  Hamo hurried toward him, bent slightly at the waist, breath ragged.

  “What’s the matter?” Adam asked. Hamo wasn’t the type to approach him casually.

  “Give me a minute,” Hamo said, raising a finger as sweat dripped from his jaw. His chest rose and fell unevenly.

  “I’m sorry, but I have things to do. Find me when you—”

  “Wait. I’ll talk.” Hamo straightened with effort, inhaled deeply, then stepped closer. His eyes flicked toward the passing students before he leaned in. “You’ve heard the rumors, right? Are they true?”

  Adam frowned faintly. “Be specific.”

  Hamo edged even closer, as if afraid someone might overhear. He locked eyes with Adam, watching carefully.

  “Did you really become an A-rank Awakened?”

  “Is that what this is about?” Adam asked, face unreadable.

  Hamo blinked. “So… is it true?”

  A few days had passed since the interrupted reappraisal, but the results hadn’t been publicly announced.

  Adam gave a small shrug. “Who knows? There are plenty of wild rumors these days. We’ll see the official results tomorrow.” He stepped back. “If that’s all—”

  “Wait!” Hamo grabbed his wrist. “What do you want?”

  A faint smile touched Adam’s lips.

  He draped an arm around Hamo’s shoulders and began guiding him away from the Registration Hall.

  “Walk with me,” Adam said lightly. “I’d like to know a few things about the A class.”

  A few minutes later, Adam stood before a majestic white building.

  Two fountains shaped like sparrows framed the entrance. Marble tiles gleamed beneath filtered sunlight. Inside, a massive chandelier scattered fractured light across polished floors. Paintings, busts, and sculptures depicting Varidan students of various races lined the reception hall.

  It was pristine.

  I smell something familiar… but I can’t place it.

  His gaze lingered on two purple flower vases beside a sculpture.

  “Hello. Why are you here?”

  Adam turned toward the reception desk.

  An elderly man in a gray suit and white trench coat regarded him calmly.

  “This area isn’t open to regular students,” the man added. “State your business.”

  “I’m aware,” Adam replied, retrieving his identity amulet. “I was recently promoted to the A class. I’m here to be assigned an instructor.”

  His eyes flicked to the nameplate on the desk.

  Osker Maly. That’s a unique name.

  “Thank you,” the man said.

  Adam’s gaze sharpened. “What?”

  “You were complimenting my name, weren’t you?” Osker leaned casually against the counter.

  Adam took a measured step back.

  He can read minds…?

  The thought had barely formed when Osker burst into laughter.

  “Forgive me, young one,” he said between chuckles. “I assure you, I cannot read minds. It’s not difficult to pick up a thought when someone stares at a nameplate that intensely.”

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  He took the amulet, muttering under his breath while examining it.

  Adam’s expression remained neutral, though the tension in his shoulders eased slightly.

  “Oh?” Osker’s brows rose. “From E to A?” His gaze traveled slowly from Adam’s boots to his eyes. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  Adam said nothing.

  “You’ll be under Guo Huan. Good luck.”

  He slid the amulet back and gestured behind Adam.

  “That’s your exit.”

  Adam turned.

  A portal shimmered quietly behind him.

  When did he open that?

  He retrieved his amulet. “Thank you.”

  Then he stepped through.

  He emerged in a smaller room lined with glass-paneled walls.

  A man in a pitch-black trench coat stood by the window, one hand resting on his hip. He turned a few seconds after Adam arrived.

  “Did Osker send you?”

  “Yes,” Adam replied. “Are you Instructor Guo Huan?”

  Their gazes met.

  The man extended a hand. “Your amulet.”

  Adam tossed it to him.

  Guo Huan studied it briefly before tossing it back. He returned to the window.

  “Welcome. Congratulations on making it this far,” he said with a faint yawn. “You should be proud.”

  His tone carried little investment, as if his attention were elsewhere.

  “I’m Guo Huan. You’ll be in my class.” He paused. “The reappraisal isn’t officially over, so you have a few days before classes begin.”

  He spoke while still facing the glass.

  “I’ll send materials to your dorm later—study them carefully. They include the structure of the class, A-rank dungeon classifications, updated regulations, and other relevant matters.”

  Guo Huan finally turned back to him.

  “Your file says you cleared dungeons solo while ranked E. Is that correct?”

  Adam nodded.

  Silence stretched between them.

  “That’s impressive,” the instructor said at last. “Should I assume you intend to do the same here?”

  “Um, I’m not sure—”

  “Let’s wait until you’ve gone through the materials,” Guo Huan cut in. “You can give me your answer after.”

  “Alright. I’m fine with that.”

  Adam turned slightly, ready to excuse himself, when Guo Huan beckoned with two fingers.

  “Come here for a moment. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Adam approached the glass wall without hesitation.

  As he drew closer, the opaque surface gradually thinned, the white haze dissolving until the glass turned fully transparent.

  Oh… so that’s what he was watching.

  Adam’s brows lifted.

  Below them stretched a massive arena where students clashed violently—blades carving through flesh, spells detonating at close range. There was no restraint. No hesitation.

  Bodies fell. Then rose again.

  “They’re your classmates,” Guo Huan said, voice distant. “You’ll get to know them soon enough. Though it’s likely they already know about you…”

  Adam glanced sideways at the instructor.

  “Your advancement is commendable,” Guo Huan continued. “But some of them will feel slighted. And they will make that known.”

  Adam gave a small shrug. “That’s not a problem.”

  A soft chuckle left Guo Huan before his expression flattened again.

  “I like your attitude. Still—prepare yourself.” He gestured toward the carnage below. “You’ll be participating in these sessions.”

  “I understand.”

  Adam watched as two students tore into each other without pause.

  “May I ask something?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How is the victor determined?” Adam asked, eyes still on the arena. “They’ve died and resurrected several times. What qualifies as a win?”

  “It’s simple.” Guo Huan pointed toward two female students locked in brutal combat. “Death count is irrelevant. Neither has lost the will to fight. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Then tell me,” Guo Huan said. “Why deploy this scenario?”

  Adam didn’t answer immediately.

  He observed the rhythm below—charge, slaughter, revival, repeat.

  “I assume the academy intends to simulate an environment where students can unleash their abilities without physical or mental restraint,” he said at last. “An arena without permanent death is likely a combatant’s ideal setting.”

  He paused as the two women impaled each other simultaneously, collapsing in tandem before their bodies began knitting back together.

  “However,” Adam continued calmly, “no matter how often they brush against death, the truth remains unchanged. These battles carry no permanent consequences.”

  He felt Guo Huan’s gaze settle on him, but he didn’t turn.

  “Some will grow careless over time,” Adam said. “Others will refine their instincts and harden their minds.”

  “That’s a competent analysis,” Guo Huan replied, folding his arms. “But that isn’t what I asked. What do you think?”

  Adam’s lips curved faintly.

  “I think it’s pointless.”

  “Oh?”

  “There isn’t much to elaborate on.” He shrugged. “This method is effective—provided their enemies are comparable in strength. But what happens when they encounter overwhelming power?”

  A distant explosion rippled through the arena.

  “What use is conditioning against equals,” Adam continued, “when faced with a force so dominant that death would be mercy?”

  He finally turned to meet Guo Huan’s eyes.

  “If anything, they should train under someone vastly superior. An S-rank, or higher. They should experience true powerlessness.”

  His tone remained even.

  “Only then might they survive a real encounter.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “Are you satisfied with that answer?” Adam asked.

  Guo Huan slowly ran his tongue across dry lips, studying him.

  “You’re nothing like the rumors.”

  Adam’s smile thinned. “Rumors tend to be exaggerated.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Guo Huan returned his attention to the arena.

  “Let me ask you something.”

  “What is it?”

  Adam hadn’t expected the instructor to reverse the dynamic so quickly. He couldn’t yet determine what Guo Huan was probing for.

  “Would you like to participate in a spar?”

  Adam blinked. “Now?”

  “That depends on you,” Guo Huan replied. “Are you interested?”

  Adam shifted his gaze between the instructor and the arena below.

  “Alright,” he said after a moment. “Who’s the opponent? It isn’t you, I assume.”

  Guo Huan gave a quiet laugh. “Don’t be absurd. Why would I fight you?”

  He gestured downward.

  “You’ll spar with your classmates. Choose anyone.”

  Adam nodded, silent. Hamo had given him a summary of the A class, but his knowledge remained superficial.

  “How do we get down there?”

  “Wait.”

  Guo Huan retrieved a file from inside his coat and handed it to him.

  Adam frowned as he opened it.

  A second later, his jaw tightened.

  The file dissolved into ash in his hands.

  His scowl darkened.

  “It seems you’re properly motivated now,” Guo Huan said, faint amusement touching his voice. “Let’s proceed.”

  He snapped his fingers.

  A portal opened beneath them.