The crowd’s reaction to Asher Hawthorne’s name was different from the reaction that had followed Liam’s.

There was surprise, but not disbelief. There were whispers, but not the same stunned confusion. After everything Regulus had just revealed about Liam’s performance and the reason for his drop, the second years seemed to accept that someone had to occupy the space above him.

And among those still remaining, Asher was one of the few names that made sense. He had always been one of the strongest in their year. His blue flames had never been something anyone could dismiss casually, and his intensity during combat was known even among students who disliked him.

If Liam had fallen to third because of the time he spent unconscious, then Asher being above him did not sound impossible on paper.

Still, the acceptance in the crowd did not make the moment simple.

Asher stood among the students with his body battered from the assessment, his academy attire scorched in several places and torn across the sleeves and lower hem. There were healing marks along one side of his face, dried blood near his jaw, and bandages wrapped around portions of his arms beneath the ruined fabric.

His white hair was messier than usual, and even though exhaustion had clearly settled into his body, his posture remained rigid. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles near his cheek stood out, and both his fists were closed at his sides, his nails digging hard enough into his palms that faint traces of blood marked his skin.

At first, when Liam had been announced as third, Asher had felt a sudden rush of triumph.

For one brief moment, he had believed it meant exactly what he always wanted it to mean.

He had surpassed Liam Hunter.

Finally.

After all the irritation, rivalry, comparison, and constant pressure of standing beneath someone who seemed to move ahead no matter what happened, Asher had thought he had taken the step he had been chasing.

Rank two meant he was above Liam now. On the official board, in the academy’s judgment, he had beaten him. That should have felt satisfying. It should have felt like proof.

But then Liam’s highlights played.

And that triumph died before it could take root.

Asher had watched every moment with the rest of the hall, unable to look away as the screen showed Liam dropped into one of the harshest starting positions possible, losing supplies, surviving with a punctured thigh, killing the evolved Gravecoil, restoring Myst in unstable territory, finding and fighting the Berserker, and then erasing it completely.

The Berserker fight in particular had settled into Asher’s chest like a stone. More than most students, Asher remembered what a Berserker meant.

During the first-year exam, he, Liam, Sheila, and Chris had fought one together. He remembered the speed, the pressure, the monstrous physicality, the way that simulated demon had forced all of them into a serious struggle. He remembered how, in the final moments, he and Liam had been the last two to put the demon down.

And now Liam had fought one alone.

Not the same kind either.

This Berserker was clearly stronger, faster, more evolved, and more dangerous than the simulated one they had faced together. It spoke. It adapted. It regenerated absurdly fast. It used dark red lightning and plasma.

It had thrown Liam through the forest like prey and still, in the end, Liam had erased it so completely that nothing remained.

That realization made Asher’s blood boil.

Not because Liam had done something impressive.

But because it showed the truth too clearly.

The gap between them was still wide.

Maybe wider than before.

Asher had not been slacking. That was what made the anger worse.

He had trained. He had pushed himself. He had improved his flames, increased his output, sharpened his battle sense, and endured Nalim with everything he had. He had not coasted through the assessment. He had not hidden. He had not taken the easy path.

And yet, after all of that, after everything he had forced himself through, the ranking putting him above Liam felt hollow.

Almost insulting.

Because the reason Asher stood above Liam on paper was because Liam had done something reckless enough to cost him the top rank. Not because Asher had truly outdone what Liam had accomplished. Not because he had faced the greater monster. Not because he had proven himself superior in direct capability.

If anything, Liam’s fall had come from surviving something Asher was not sure he could have survived.

That realization twisted inside him.

Then another memory returned.

The roar.

During his time in Nalim, Asher had heard a monstrous roar echo from deeper east. The sound had carried such pressure that even from a distance, instinct had told him not to go closer. Asher had retreated from it. He had chosen survival, and the instructors would probably call that decision wise. But now he knew what that roar had been.

The Berserker.

The same thing he had moved away from was the thing Liam had gone toward.

And Liam had won.

That truth burned worse than any wound Nalim had given him.

Kaelen stepped forward as Asher’s highlights began playing across the screen.

The first image showed Asher standing in a region of Nalim where the air visibly shimmered from heat. The terrain looked cracked and dry, with blackened trees scattered across rough ground and occasional vents of heated air rising from narrow splits in the earth.

It was the same greater zone Liam and Charlotte had been placed within, though at a considerable distance from their starting points, and the area Asher had landed in was harsh in its own way. The temperature was higher, the terrain unstable, and the demons roaming there seemed better adapted to heat and aggression.

"Asher Hawthorne," Kaelen began, his voice firm and controlled, "you were placed within the same larger zone as Liam Hunter and Charlotte Raven, though at a significant distance from both. Your starting region was one of elevated temperature, unstable ground, and high demonic activity. From the beginning, you were not given an easy path."

On the screen, Asher appeared surrounded by several Feral-class demons, blue flames roaring along his arms as he moved through them with violent efficiency. He did not simply burn them wildly. His flames lashed outward in concentrated arcs, cutting off movement, forcing openings, and striking exposed cores with impressive precision.

Another scene showed him fighting two Horror-class demons at once near a ravine, using bursts of flame to redirect his own movement while turning the terrain into a hazard for his enemies. When one demon lunged at him from above, Asher pivoted, raised one hand, and released a compressed wave of blue flame that punched through the creature’s chest before it reached him.

"Your combat performance was outstanding," Kaelen said. "You achieved the highest kill count for Advanced Horror-class demons among the second years and the second-highest count for Horror-class demons. Your efficiency in direct combat remains one of your greatest strengths. Once you choose to destroy an enemy, you commit without hesitation, and your ability to maintain offensive pressure is exceptional."