’What is he...?’

Perched atop the cliff face, Ingrid’s eyes trembled at the sheer insanity of what she had just witnessed.

A mere seventeen-year-old defeating a seasoned mark seven, wielding a dangerous rune art no less.

If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would have never believed it. Such a thing should be impossible.

Ingrid’s fingers curled into tight fists. At this point, she no longer knew what to believe. Was her brother hiding his strength? Had it all been a calculated act? Or had he truly been held back, only now advancing at an absurd pace?

She couldn’t make sense of any of it, and the uncertainty gnawed at her. At the rate he was improving, it was only a matter of time before he drew the attention of the heads of the high houses.

When that happened... even she couldn’t predict how they would react.

Her expression darkened. Yet, as her gaze settled on the unharmed Zephyrion below, the weight that had been pressing heavily against her chest for days now, eased.

Tch.

Ingrid clicked her tongue and turned sharply, her hands still clenched at her sides.

As the High Judicar, it was her responsibility to ensure the safety of the trainees.

She had only come because the mission had been deemed beyond their capabilities.

It was her duty.

That was all there was to it.

...

As Dune’s body fell, the ruined forest sank into a heavy, ringing silence.

From afar, Kona felt as though he had just witnessed something unreal. Even with Garrick’s loud, excited laughter echoing, he stood completely frozen, unable to move a single inch.

Zephyrion had won. He had actually won. A fucking trainee...

And more than that... that final attack...

"...how was he faster...?" Kona asked, his expression dazed.

Zephyrion’s speed had surged at the very last moment, surpassing Dune’s, a mark seven’s speed.

Garrick’s laughter cut off abruptly as he scoffed.

"Damn, Head of House, what the hell are you feeding these warriors these days? Even from hundreds of kilometers away, we can see better than you."

Kona’s face flushed, but his hands tightened at his sides. Right now, his pride meant nothing, he needed to understand what had happened. He bowed his head slightly.

"...you’re right, my lord. Please... enlighten me..."

"...Tch, what a kiss-ass." Garrick clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. "Alright, I’ll tell you. At the last second, he tweaked the art."

"...tweaked?"

"Yeah, he’s insane, no doubt about it. He adjusted his weight on the fly, and made himself faster."

Kona’s eyes slowly widened as the meaning sank in. He had... modified the art.

Copying an art of such complexity mid-battle was already impossible on its own, but to alter it immediately after, within the same fight, something Dune, after years of refining it, clearly hadn’t managed, was pure insanity.

Just how... insane was the young lord’s comprehension speed?

Beyond Kona, the others had witnessed that final moment as well. Jenna, Omar, and the other villagers swallowed hard, staring at Zephyrion with utter disbelief.

"This guy... what the hell is he..." Kaiden muttered, shaking his head with gritted teeth.

He had just struggled to bring down a single mutated beast, yet his supposed peer had taken down a mark seven, and walked away completely unharmed.

Right now, Kaiden’s body was battered from head to toe.

"Young lord..."

Fiona’s lips curved into a bright smile as she stared at Zephyrion.

Standing amidst the ruined forest, the moonlight spilled over his devilishly handsome face, casting a pale glow over his indifferent expression.

In that moment, Zephyrion looked like a hero straight out of legend.

Badum!

Heat rushed to Fiona’s cheeks as an unfamiliar feeling stirred within her. She turned away sharply, trying to steady herself.

Emotions churned through the night, everyone struggling to fully process what they had just witnessed.

Yet, beneath the shock, there was a deep sense of relief.

After a perilous night, everything was finally over.

...

Seated in his room, Zephyrion gazed at the items laid out before him with a calm expression.

A pouch of gold. A vial filled with a greenish elixir. A small dagger.

’He didn’t have much.’

These were the only things he had retrieved from Dune’s body, and at the moment, they were of little use.

He counted roughly ten gold in total. A single gold could feed a family of four for a month, and ten could last nearly a year. It was an enormous sum by ordinary standards, but to an Ascendant, it was negligible.

Even the lowest-grade elixirs required at least fifty gold to obtain, which was why houses rarely distributed them freely.

The vial was no exception. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a mind-enhancement elixir, but a mid-grade restorative one.

It held little value now, though it could prove useful if he ever suffered serious injuries.

As for the dagger, there was nothing remarkable about it. Though forged from mark seven metal and possessing considerable durability, it paled in comparison to Demorian’s rod.

With that settled, Zephyrion cast the rod a brief glance.

It had proven to be an invaluable asset during the battle. Given who Demorian was, it was only natural that he possessed deep knowledge of the mechanics behind their power.

’I have to change my approach.’

From a young age, Zephyrion had believed people held no real value, and that investing effort into them was pointless.

But his mother had shown him otherwise, and the years spent at the order had only reinforced that understanding.

There was always something to gain from people, information, power, anything.

To control a person was to gain an extra limb, a tool, one that could be used to further a goal. People had value, some more than others. Regardless, that realization had reshaped his entire outlook on life.

He didn’t need people to progress; he needed them to make the path smoother. And so, Zephyrion was prepared to do whatever was necessary to acquire people of worth.

After a brief pause, he released the hold he had placed on Demorian. The next instant, the barely clothed man materialized before him, staring at the surroundings with suspicion.

"...what is this... am I dreaming or what?"

"Does this look like a dream to you?"

"...No..." Demorian’s eyes slowly widened. "...wait... I’m actually outside?"

"Want me to send you back in?"

"What—WHAT!? Are you mad!? No! Absolutely not!" Demorian let out a relieved breath as the force around him dissipated. A moment later, a grin spread across his face.

"Ahhh... my protégé, you’ve finally come to your senses! Under my guidance, the women of this era won’t know what hit them!"

Zephyrion stared at him with a flat expression. Just as he was about to respond, a voice echoed from outside...

"...it’s Jenna. Can I come in?"