"And that would be all," Instructor Gari's voice cut through the quiet tension of the hall. "You all can leave now."

A shuffle of footsteps followed, echoing against the high ceiling as the students dispersed, their hushed conversations weaving into a low hum.

Excitement, curiosity, envy, it all blended together as bodies filed toward the exit.

But Gari didn't move. His sharp eyes remained fixed on a single figure among the retreating crowd.

Ryan Nether.

The boy walked with a measured pace, shoulders relaxed as if nothing unusual had happened, as though he hadn't just performed in ways no one expected of him.

Yet the further Ryan moved, the deeper Gari's frown became.

'How?'

The question rang in his mind like an alarm.

He had recognized the boy immediately he saw him. The resemblance was there, subtle but undeniable, the set of his jaw, the quiet sharpness in his gaze.

The son of Frank Nether.

Gari knew the family far too well, perhaps better than most. It was his habit to dig, to research thoroughly before stepping into anything.

When he decided to invest in Dol, he hadn't simply invested. He had traced its roots, investigated its past, studied the people connected to it.

That was how he had come across the Sun Mountain Company, once owned by a woman before her untimely death.

Afterward, it passed into the hands of her supposed husband, Frank Nether.

And through Frank Nether's records, Gari found the boy. Ryan Nether. Frank's only biological son.

The rest of Frank's household belonged to his second marriage, half-siblings born of another woman.

But Ryan… Ryan was the first, the one whose existence carried both the burden and privilege of being Frank Nether's direct heir.

Gari's eyes narrowed as Ryan disappeared into the hallway with the others.

Something about him didn't add up. The boy had been branded trash all his life. Not in personality, not in behavior, no, by all accounts, Ryan had never been arrogant, never been cruel. But in strength.

The reports were clear. Weak. Untalented. Not awakened. Even his academy file stated it plainly, Unawakened. A boy with no gift, no spark, nothing.

And yet… What Gari had witnessed today didn't fit. Strength. Speed. Intelligence. Even swordplay. How could a boy who had never once trained fight like that? That was the part that unsettled him most.

Gari wasn't blind. He saw the flaws in Ryan's technique. His swings were raw, unrefined, closer to street fighting than disciplined swordsmanship.

To a trained eye, it was crude, even sloppy. And yet… That "sloppy" style could tear through many low E-rank heroes.

And no, it wasn't skill alone, it was the way Ryan used his brain. He didn't just fight. He adapted. He made decisions in real-time, turning weaknesses into weapons.

His movements weren't rehearsed, but they were calculated, driven by a sharp instinct that most first-years lacked.

Gari's jaw tightened.

It wasn't just battle instinct either. There was something different in his demeanor, the way he carried himself, the confidence that peeked through in his grin after the fight.

This was not the same boy described in the reports.

The Ryan Nether of paper records was average, even below average. Not intelligent, not skilled, not athletic.

Yet the Ryan Nether who had just left his hall… was something else entirely.

The instructor's eyes darkened, gaze boring into the empty doorway where the boy had disappeared.

'How did he change in just days?'

Growth like that didn't happen overnight. People didn't simply wake up and find themselves with strength, speed, and battle intelligence they never had before. And yet Ryan Nether had.

The thought lingered like a thorn in Gari's mind, pricking sharper the more he tried to dismiss it. His curiosity deepened into something heavier, more dangerous.

The boy wasn't just unusual. He was impossible.

----------------

Finally, it was over.

The moment I stepped out of the hall, a wave of relief washed over me. My body felt loose, lighter, like I had just set down a heavy weight I didn't even realize I'd been carrying.

The tension that had coiled in my shoulders during the assessment slowly melted away, replaced by a strange calmness.

Because throughout the entire assessment, I had felt Yara gaze.

It was like being pricked by a thousand tiny needles, sharp, constant, impossible to ignore.

She had stared at me the whole time, as if she could peel back my skin and dig straight into my thoughts.

I tried my best to keep my expression flat, serious, unreadable. Not because I was scared.

Strangely enough, she didn't terrify me the way she seemed to terrify everyone else. No… to me, there was something almost funny about her.

The urge to laugh nearly broke me more than once. I wanted to pull faces at her, stick my tongue out, maybe even mock her outright just to see that cold composure of hers crack.

But I knew better. The last time I provoked her, it nearly cost me dearly. So, I swallowed the urge. For the best. I told myself that, anyway.

But then something else caught my attention before I left.

Instructor Gari. I couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes were on me.

At first, I thought I was imagining things. Maybe it was just my nerves playing tricks.

But no, the look was too direct, too deliberate. He was watching me.

I didn't understand why. My performance wasn't anything spectacular compared to others, especially not Yara.

She was sharper, cleaner, stronger, everything you'd expect from someone like her.

Yet when she left, he didn't spare her a second glance. His attention stayed on me. That unsettled me more than Yara's stare ever could.

Why me? What did he see?

I hoped it wasn't anything bad. I had already gotten a taste of how dangerous attention in this academy could be.

Yara had almost crushed me earlier, and that was only because I made the mistake of underestimating her.

If someone like Instructor Gari decided I was worth watching, for whatever reason, it might not end well.

That thought clung to me as I walked further from the hall, the weight of invisible eyes still lingering on my back.

Right now, I was on my own. No allies. No protection of a huge family or organization. Nothing to shield me if things went wrong.

I was a lamb walking into a den of wolves, every step an invitation to be torn apart. Vulnerable.

And that was why I had no choice. I had to get stronger, fast. Build myself up before I hit the attention of more stronger, and dangerous people.

-------------

The dormitory was quiet, the kind of silence that made every small sound echo too loudly.

Yara sat slouched in her chair, her posture sharp even in weariness, her dark blue hair falling in strands over her shoulder.

Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her expression unreadable, until finally she let out a long sigh.

Slowly, deliberately, she picked up her phone and dialed a number.

The line barely rang once before it was answered.

"Good day, Miss Yara," a man's voice greeted warmly on the other end.

Her lips curled, not in amusement but irritation.

"What is good about the day?" she asked flatly.

There was a low chuckle.

"Ah… I should have known. Forgive me, Miss Yara. You must not be in the best of moods."

He knew her too well. Too casually, even. Yara's fingers tightened around the phone, though her voice stayed composed.

"Is there someone, or something, you would like me to look into today, young miss?" the man prompted smoothly.

"Why would I call otherwise?" Yara muttered, before exhaling again.

She leaned back into her chair, eyes narrowing as if the ceiling itself had mocked her.

"It's about someone this time."

"Oh?" The man's tone shifted with intrigue. "I'm listening, Miss Yara."

"I want you to check into a being…" She hesitated, then corrected herself. "No. A boy. He's male."

"Ah," the man's voice teased lightly, "so the young miss has finally—"

"Shut up," Yara cut him off sharply, her tone ice.

Another chuckle followed, quieter this time.

"My apologies. Please, continue."

Her jaw clenched. She hated calling this man, hated how he toyed with every word.

But he was efficient. Reliable. And right now, she needed him.

"It's a boy called Ryan… Ryan Nether."

There was a pause. Then the man spoke again, amusement laced in his tone.

"Do you perhaps… want him expelled?"

Yara's lips parted slightly, but no words came.

For a brief moment, silence stretched across the room.

Her mind replayed it all, the way her composure had slipped, the sting of humiliation biting deeper than any wound.

Just when she thought she had him beneath her heel, the situation had turned against her. Effortlessly.

Her nails dug into the armrest of the chair. Her eyes hardened, sharp like cold steel, as she drew in a breath.

When she finally opened her mouth, her voice carried no hesitation.

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