Chapter 107
The fifth day finally arrived.
With it came the end of the unusual five-day period that the two Academy Deans had granted to every student within the academy.
For five entire days, lectures had been suspended.
Assignments had been minimized.
And students had been encouraged to pursue their own understanding of shamanic practice, personal growth, discipline, and independent learning.
Some used the time wisely.
Others treated it as a vacation.
And now, the results would become visible.
From the early morning hours, students began gathering throughout the academy grounds as the institution slowly returned to normal operations. Hallways filled with conversation, speculation, and nervous anticipation as everyone discussed the same topic.
The Mid-Term Evaluation.
The Academy's enormous central hall quickly filled with hundreds of students from every year and division.
The structure itself resembled a grand amphitheater combined with a ceremonial chamber. Massive pillars carved with ancient runic inscriptions supported the vaulted ceiling overhead while banners representing various disciplines hung along the walls.
At the far end stood the elevated stage reserved for academy leadership.
Twelve Academy Elders already sat quietly in their designated seats, observing the growing crowd below with calm expressions.
None of them spoke.
None of them moved unnecessarily.
Yet their presence alone commanded respect.
Every elder seated on that stage represented decades—sometimes centuries—of accumulated experience.
Before them stood the massive ranking board.
The bulletin display occupied nearly the entire center section of the stage and constantly updated through magical projections as evaluation records, combat assessments, academic scores, and field achievements synchronized with academy systems.
Naturally, every student's attention remained fixed upon it.
Nervous whispers spread through the hall.
Speculation.
Predictions.
Friendly rivalries.
And a considerable amount of anxiety.
Students quickly organized themselves according to year level and section assignment.
First years.
Second years.
Third years.
Senior divisions.
Everyone lined up in orderly formations under instructor supervision.
Among them, Nille quietly entered the hall wearing his standard academy uniform once more.
After days spent in tactical gear, swamp exploration, combat operations, and dimensional experimentation, the academy uniform almost felt strange to wear again.
Still, he looked completely normal.
At least from the outside.
No one could have guessed that only hours earlier he had been standing at the edge of Sector 12's vast swamp basin while contemplating mountains inhabited by creatures powerful enough to challenge entire expeditions.
Now he simply looked like another student reporting for assembly.
Almost.
"Nille."
A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
He turned.
Lin Yue Meiying approached with a bright smile already forming on her lips.
Unlike many students who appeared nervous, she looked genuinely excited.
The large ranking board reflected softly in her eyes as she walked toward him.
"You actually came."
Nille raised an eyebrow.
"Wasn't this mandatory?"
Meiying laughed softly.
"You'd be surprised people tend worried about you'd , because you always choose to be alone and disappear into some strange research project , or training regimen and just forget."
Nille simply shook his head.
The young woman moved beside him naturally as both directed their attention toward the stage.
More names continued appearing across the ranking display.
Students frequently gasped whenever updated scores appeared.
Others groaned dramatically.
Several celebrated quietly among friends.
The atmosphere inside the hall continued growing louder by the minute.
Until, it suddenly wasn't.
A wave of silence spread across the chamber.
One section after another.
One conversation after another.
Every student gradually turned toward the stage.
Because two figures had finally arrived.
The Left Dean.
And the Right Dean.
The moment they stepped onto the elevated platform, even the Academy Elders straightened slightly in acknowledgment.
No introductions were necessary.
No announcements needed.
Their reputations alone commanded immediate attention.
The hall became completely silent.
Hundreds of students stood motionless.
Waiting.
Anticipating.
Curious about what would come next.
Because the five-day independent learning period was over.
And now, the Academy intended to see exactly what everyone had done with it.
While the students assembled below and waited for the Mid-Term Evaluation announcement, the academy faculty occupied their designated sections along the sides of the grand hall. Unlike the students, however, many professors were less interested in rankings and more interested in something that had quietly become the center of academic gossip over the past few days.
Rune Forge.
Sector 12.
And a mysterious mining operation.
Clusters of professors, instructors, and researchers could be seen speaking among themselves while waiting for the Deans to begin the assembly.
"Have you heard the rumors?" asked a First-Year Magical Theory instructor quietly.
His colleague adjusted her glasses.
"The ones regarding Rune Forge?"
"The same ones."
She nodded.
"I heard they secured mining rights somewhere inside Sector 12."
A nearby professor snorted.
"Impossible."
"Why?"
"Because nobody has operated a stable mining operation inside the Swamp Domain in decades."
"Yet Rune Forge apparently did."
The conversation quickly attracted additional listeners.
Further down the faculty section, several second-year instructors were discussing the same topic.
"I heard they found a high-value ore deposit."
"What kind?"
"No idea."
"Gold?"
"Possibly."
"Mithril?"
The group laughed.
"If they found mithril in Sector 12, half the merchant guilds would be fighting each other already."
"Not if Rune Forge locked everything down before news spread."
That possibility caused several expressions to change immediately.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the hall, a larger group of third-year professors had gathered around Professor Mei Ling Zhaolin.
One of them leaned forward curiously.
"Professor Mei."
She looked up.
"Yes?"
"You were absent for several days."
"So?"
The man smiled.
"You weren't on vacation."
Several nearby faculty members immediately turned toward the conversation.
Mei Ling sighed.
"No."
"Research expedition?"
"Perhaps."
"Where?"
"No comment."
Groans immediately erupted around the group.
Another professor laughed.
"That confirms it."
"Confirms what?"
"You signed a confidentiality contract."
Several professors immediately became more interested.
One instructor crossed his arms.
"Was it Sector 12?"
"No comment."
"That means yes."
"It does not."
"It absolutely does."
Mei Ling simply smiled.
The contract prevented disclosure.
It did not prevent amusement.
Nearby, Instructor Kaori Takamura was enduring a similar interrogation.
"Kaori."
"No."
"You don't even know the question."
"I already know the question."
Several instructors laughed.
"Come on."
"No."
"Just tell us if it was dangerous."
Kaori considered that.
Then nodded once.
The surrounding instructors immediately straightened.
"Wait."
"It actually was?"
Kaori nodded again.
The reactions intensified.
Because Kaori was not easily impressed.
If she described something as dangerous, most awakened personnel would classify it as extremely dangerous.
A senior instructor leaned forward.
"Did you discover anything?"
Kaori thought for a moment.
Then allowed herself a small smile.
"Yes."
"What?"
"I learned I still have much more to learn."
That answer somehow made everyone even more frustrated.
Nearby, Dr. Asha Kiran Vel was receiving similar attention.
"Asha."
"No."
"Asha."
"No."
"Asha."
She sighed.
"What?"
"Did Rune Forge really secure rights to a mine?"
Asha folded her arms.
"I cannot discuss operational details."
The group groaned.
"That's a yes."
"It is not."
"It absolutely is."
Another professor leaned closer.
"Was it valuable?"
Asha smiled.
"I would advise purchasing Rune Forge shares if such a thing ever becomes possible."
The surrounding faculty immediately erupted into speculation.
That single statement alone implied enormous confidence.
Several professors exchanged looks.
"She knows something."
"Definitely."
"Without question."
At the rear of the faculty section, even Professor Caelum Verdanis found himself surrounded.
"Caelum."
"No."
"Caelum."
"No."
"Caelum."
The professor rubbed his forehead.
"You people are worse than students."
"Did you go to Sector 12?"
"No comment."
"Did you find something important?"
"No comment."
"Did Rune Forge?"
"No comment."
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
Caelum paused.
Then smiled.
"...Very much."
The surrounding professors immediately became louder.
"THAT'S THE MOST SUSPICIOUS ANSWER YET."
Several faculty members began speaking at once.
"This is ridiculous."
"Why were only a handful invited?"
"We're professors too."
"I've published twelve papers on swamp ecology."
"I specialize in purification rituals."
"I should have been included."
"I have field experience!"
"I've survived Sector 8!"
The complaints continued spreading.
Yet among the professors who had actually participated, none seemed upset.
If anything, they looked unusually energized.
Excited.
Motivated.
Like scholars who had discovered something genuinely fascinating.
And that only made everyone else more curious.
One elderly instructor finally crossed his arms and grumbled.
"I swear, if Rune Forge organizes another expedition, I'm applying immediately."
Several nearby faculty members nodded.
"Same."
"Absolutely."
"Without hesitation."
"Count me in."
Meanwhile, the professors who had signed contracts simply exchanged knowing glances.
None of them could discuss the mine.
The Drows.
The purification project.
The dimensional gateway.
Or the masked individual responsible for much of it.
But they all shared the same thought.
Sector 12 was far more extraordinary than anyone at the academy realized.
And if another expedition opportunity appeared, they fully intended to volunteer again before everyone else did.
The atmosphere inside the Grand Assembly Hall gradually settled into complete silence as the two Academy Deans took their places upon the elevated stage.
As always, both remained concealed behind their distinctive masks.
No student had ever seen their true faces.
At least, none who openly admitted to it.
The masks had long since become part of their identities within the academy. New students often found the practice strange, but senior students no longer questioned it. The mystery surrounding the Deans only reinforced their authority and reputation.
Below the stage, hundreds of students watched attentively.
Then many of them noticed something unusual.
There was only one podium.
Immediately, whispers began spreading through the hall.
"Only one?"
"There's usually two."
"That means only one Dean is speaking."
"Practical test?"
"Probably."
"Please don't be a combat examination."
"It will definitely be a combat examination."
The speculation continued quietly.
Among the upper-year students, however, the answer seemed obvious.
Whenever a single podium was prepared, it almost always meant one thing.
Dean Osamu Tsukuyomi would be handling the announcement.
And whenever Osamu Tsukuyomi administered an examination—
students suffered.
Not necessarily because he was cruel.
But because he believed practical experience was the most honest measure of a person's growth.
A written answer could be memorized.
A theory could be copied.
A report could be edited.
But practical results revealed the truth.
The academy had learned that lesson many times.
As whispers spread throughout the hall, many students unconsciously glanced toward the masked figure standing to the right side of the stage.
Dean Osamu Tsukuyomi.
Even without speaking, his presence alone commanded attention.
Official academy records listed his Spiritual Energy Level at seventy.
A confirmed number.
An openly published figure.
And one that was already high enough to place him among the most powerful awakened individuals on Yamatai Island.
For most students, Level Seventy represented a distant peak they might never reach.
Yet Nille simply watched quietly from his position among the First-Year students.
Because he knew something many others did not.
That number was false.
Or at least—
incomplete.
Not intentionally deceptive.
Just incomplete.
A person's recorded level only reflected what they chose to reveal.
Power could be hidden.
Suppressed.
Sealed.
Concealed behind artifacts.
Masked through techniques.
Or simply left unreported.
The strongest individuals rarely displayed everything they possessed.
And the fact that Osamu Tsukuyomi openly allowed the academy to publish such a clean, rounded number made Nille even more suspicious.
Seventy.
Too convenient.
Too neat.
Too visible.
Nille had spent enough time around powerful beings to recognize a pattern.
The truly dangerous individuals rarely advertised how dangerous they were.
His thoughts briefly drifted toward the deeper regions of Sector 12.
Toward the mountain ranges that even seasoned professors avoided discussing openly.
Toward the fact that only two known individuals had successfully reached the deepest recorded levels and returned alive.
Both Academy Deans.
That achievement alone said more than any publicly listed number ever could.
Because surviving those regions required far more than raw Spiritual Energy.
It required experience.
Adaptability.
Judgment.
And the ability to overcome things stronger than yourself.
Nille's gaze shifted toward the second Dean standing silently beside Osamu.
The Left Dean remained motionless.
Watching.
Waiting.
As though completely content allowing the other Dean to lead today's proceedings.
That alone confirmed the students' suspicions.
Osamu Tsukuyomi would be speaking.
And that usually meant trouble.
Around him, students were already preparing themselves mentally.
Some looked excited.
Others nervous.
A few appeared outright terrified.
Lin Yue Meiying leaned slightly toward Nille and lowered her voice.
"If it's another survival exercise, I'm blaming you."
Nille blinked.
"Why me?"
"Because strange things happen whenever you're involved."
Nille stared at her for several seconds.
Then looked away.
"...That's not evidence."
"It absolutely is."
Before he could respond, movement occurred on stage.
Dean Osamu Tsukuyomi stepped forward.
The moment he approached the lone podium, the entire hall fell silent.
Hundreds of students straightened.
Professors stopped their conversations.
Even the Academy Elders directed their full attention toward the stage.
Then the masked Dean placed one hand upon the podium.
And smiled.
The reaction was immediate.
Many senior students visibly paled.
Because that smile usually meant the examination was going to be far more difficult than anyone wanted.
The moment Dean Osamu Tsukuyomi placed his hand upon the podium, the entire Grand Assembly Hall trembled.
At first, many students assumed it was merely a projection spell.
Then reality itself began to shift.
The walls dissolved.
The ceiling vanished.
The rows of seats stretched outward.
Space folded.
Expanded.
Reshaped.
Gasps erupted throughout the student body as the familiar academy gathering hall disappeared before their eyes.
Within seconds, everyone found themselves standing inside a colossal arena.
It was enormous.
Far larger than the building that should have physically contained it.
The structure resembled a fusion between an ancient colosseum, a military training fortress, and a ceremonial battlefield. Massive stone terraces rose layer upon layer into the distance, capable of seating tens of thousands of spectators. Every seat was carved from polished white stone reinforced with glowing runic inscriptions. Golden banners bearing the Academy's crest hung from towering pillars that circled the arena's perimeter.
The battlefield itself occupied the center.
Nearly five hundred meters across.
A perfect circular arena surrounded by twelve massive flag stations positioned evenly around the outer edge.
Each flag stood nearly twenty feet tall.
Their poles were forged from enchanted black metal while their banners displayed different academy symbols, elemental motifs, and ancient shamanic runes.
The arena floor appeared to be crafted from an unfamiliar material.
At first glance it resembled polished granite.
Yet faint currents of magical energy flowed beneath its surface like rivers of light trapped beneath crystal.
Runic pathways stretched across the battlefield in intricate patterns, creating a vast containment network designed to absorb impacts, regulate magical discharge, and prevent catastrophic damage during combat exercises.
Along the outer walls stood the arena's security systems.
Massive crystal pylons rose at regular intervals, each one nearly thirty feet tall. Their surfaces pulsed with layers of defensive enchantments capable of erecting emergency barriers within moments. Some students recognized them immediately.
Military-grade protection artifacts.
The type normally reserved for high-risk tournaments and awakened combat demonstrations.
But those were not what captured everyone's attention.
The guard golems did.
Twelve enormous knight golems stood around the arena perimeter.
Each one towered nearly ten feet tall.
Their armored bodies were forged from dark enchanted steel reinforced with mithril inlays. Their eyes glowed with a steady blue light while gigantic tower shields rested beside equally massive halberds.
They did not move.
They did not speak.
Yet their mere presence radiated overwhelming strength.
Many students instinctively swallowed.
Even from a distance, it was obvious these constructs could effortlessly overpower most awakened students present.
The arena itself felt alive.
Protected.
Controlled.
Prepared for violence.
And yet completely safe under the Academy's supervision.
Above the battlefield floated dozens of observation platforms, allowing professors, instructors, and academy elders perfect views from every angle. Magical recording crystals hovered silently throughout the space, ready to capture every moment for evaluation purposes.
Meanwhile, Dean Osamu Tsukuyomi simply continued walking.
Casually.
As though transforming an entire dimension-sized arena was nothing more than opening a classroom door.
Every step he took echoed across the battlefield.
Then students noticed something strange.
The arena floor beneath him was changing.
Where his feet touched the ground, the polished stone softened.
Dark soil emerged.
Fresh grass began to grow.
Tiny green sprouts pushed upward through the earth.
Flowers bloomed.
Vines unfurled.
Life appeared from nothing.
One step.
A patch of grass.
Another step.
Wildflowers blossomed.
A third step.
Young plants emerged and swayed gently despite the absence of wind.
The transformation continued behind him like a living trail.
No incantation.
No ritual.
No visible effort.
Pure control.
Absolute precision.
Many students stared in stunned silence.
Creating plants was not particularly impressive.
First-year students could perform basic growth spells.
What shocked everyone was the perfection.
Every leaf.
Every root.
Every blade of grass.
Each responded exactly as intended.
There was no wasted energy.
No instability.
No excess output.
It was control refined beyond ordinary comprehension.
Nille watched quietly.
And even he understood what was being demonstrated.
This was not power.
This was mastery.
Dean Osamu was not showing how much spiritual energy he possessed.
He was showing how completely he controlled it.
There was a difference.
A very important difference.
Many awakened focused entirely on increasing their Spiritual Energy Level.
Few focused on achieving perfect efficiency.
The Dean was silently teaching a lesson before speaking a single word.
Strength without control was merely force.
Control transformed force into authority.
Dean Osamu finally reached the center of the arena.
The flowers behind him continued blooming peacefully.
The entire battlefield remained silent.
Thousands of eyes followed his movements.
Then the masked Dean slowly turned toward the students.
His calm gaze swept across every year level.
Every professor.
Every elder.
Every instructor.
Finally, he spoke.
His voice carried effortlessly across the enormous arena without amplification.
"Many of you spent the last five days believing you were on break."
The statement immediately caused nervous laughter among the students.
Dean Osamu tilted his head slightly.
"No."
The laughter died instantly.
"You were being observed."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the professors exchanged glances.
The Dean's voice remained calm.
"Every choice you made."
"Every opportunity you accepted."
"Every opportunity you ignored."
"Every lesson you pursued."
"Every lesson you avoided."
"We saw."
A collective chill spread through the arena.
Then Osamu smiled beneath his mask.
And somehow, that smile looked far more dangerous than any monster most students had ever faced.
"Welcome," he said calmly.
"To your Mid-Term Examination."
Dean Osamu allowed the silence to linger for several moments before casually snapping his fingers.
A massive projection immediately manifested above the center of the arena.
The bulletin board.
Only now it was far larger than the version students normally saw within the academy halls.
Rows upon rows of names, student numbers, rankings, spiritual levels, field performance records, and documented achievements filled the enormous display.
The moment it appeared, excitement spread through the crowd.
Many students immediately searched for their own names.
Others searched for rivals.
Some looked for friends.
And quite a few simply prayed they had not embarrassed themselves.
Dean Osamu began reviewing the rankings from the lower portions of the Top 100 list first.
"As expected," he said casually while walking across the arena floor, "many students used the last five days productively."
The ranking board shifted.
One name enlarged.
Rank 92
Lin Yue Meiying
Country of Origin: China
Age: 16
Section A1
Spiritual Level: 4
Known Abilities:
Wind Manipulation Movement Acceleration Cutting-Pressure Currents
Documented Malignant Eliminations: 120
A wave of applause immediately erupted throughout the arena.
Many first-year students looked impressed.
Others looked outright shocked.
One hundred twenty malignant eliminations was an impressive achievement for a first-year awakened.
Lin Yue Meiying herself looked momentarily surprised before quickly recovering.
She stepped forward slightly and bowed politely toward the stage.
The applause grew louder.
Among the crowd, Nille clapped sincerely.
Unlike many students who applauded out of courtesy, he genuinely looked pleased.
When Lin Yue Meiying glanced toward him, she noticed the smile on his face.
It wasn't large.
Just a simple smile.
But it carried genuine approval.
For a brief moment, she smiled back before bowing her head again.
Dean Osamu nodded.
"Well done."
The ranking board shifted again.
More names appeared.
More students were called.
The Dean highlighted various accomplishments.
Some specialized in alchemy.
Others excelled in combat.
Several had achieved breakthroughs in spiritual cultivation.
A few had completed successful expeditions into dangerous academy sectors.
Every announcement generated reactions throughout the crowd.
Cheers.
Applause.
Friendly jealousy.
Occasional embarrassment.
The atmosphere gradually became more energetic as students celebrated one another's accomplishments.
Meanwhile, Nille paid little attention.
Rankings did not interest him very much.
Nor did public recognition.
Besides, many awakened students concealed their identities behind academy-issued numerical designations rather than personal names.
The ranking board was filled with student numbers.
Nothing unusual about that.
Then Dean Osamu stopped walking.
His gaze shifted toward another entry.
The enormous board updated.
Rank 85
Student ID: 07211977
For several seconds—
nothing happened.
Most students simply glanced at the number and moved on.
Then they noticed the statistics.
The arena became silent.
Very silent.
Students blinked.
Then looked again.
Several leaned forward.
Others rubbed their eyes.
A few genuinely thought the display was malfunctioning.
Because beneath the student number, one particular line stood out.
Documented Malignant Eliminations: 1,241
The silence somehow became even heavier.
"...What?"
A student accidentally spoke aloud.
Nobody reprimanded him.
Because everyone else was thinking the same thing.
One thousand two hundred forty-one?
Several first-year students immediately looked toward the rankings above it.
Then below it.
Then back again.
The number didn't change.
It remained there.
Clear.
Undeniable.
1,241
A second-year student frowned.
"That has to be a mistake."
A nearby third-year student shook his head.
"The ranking board doesn't make mistakes."
Another student pointed toward the screen.
"How is Rank 85 only Rank 85 with that number?"
That question spread rapidly through the crowd.
Because now students noticed something else.
Many individuals ranked higher possessed fewer kills.
Far fewer.
Some had less than one hundred.
Others had only several dozen.
The discrepancy confused everyone.
Then realization slowly began spreading among the older students.
The ranking system wasn't based solely on kills.
It evaluated multiple factors.
Research.
Spiritual growth.
Resource acquisition.
Leadership.
Exploration.
Discovery.
Problem-solving.
Combat.
Survival.
Contribution.
The list measured overall performance.
Which somehow made the situation even more absurd.
Because it meant the owner of Student ID 07211977 had accumulated 1,241 malignant kills and still wasn't relying solely on combat achievements.
The arena erupted into whispers.
"Who is that?"
"Does anyone know?"
"First year?"
"Second year?"
"That's impossible."
"Did they join a military operation?"
"No student can kill that many."
"Are those cumulative numbers?"
"The report says documented during the evaluation period."
"What kind of monster did that?"
Among the professors, several individuals suddenly looked very interested.
Particularly the professors who had recently returned from a certain confidential expedition.
Professor Mei Ling Zhaolin immediately lowered her head to hide her smile.
Instructor Kaori Takamura looked away.
Dr. Asha Kiran Vel suddenly found the arena floor extremely fascinating.
Professor Caelum Verdanis quietly covered part of his face.
Meanwhile, Head Merchant Rume Ironbark watching from a guest observation platform, nearly laughed aloud.
The three professors exchanged knowing glances.
Because unlike everyone else, they knew exactly who Student ID 07211977 was.
Or at least...
they suspected.
Down among the First-Year students, Lin Yue Meiying slowly turned her head.
Very.
Very slowly.
Toward Nille.
Who was standing beside her.
Calmly.
Quietly.
As if nothing unusual had happened.
Nille simply stared at the ranking board.
Then tilted his head slightly.
"...Huh."
Lin Yue Meiying's eye twitched, bwcause she knew who made those numbers and she can look at Nille
Several nearby students had also begun looking around, attempting to identify the mysterious owner of the student number.
Some were already checking academy records through their communication artifacts.
Others whispered theories.
One thousand two hundred forty-one malignant kills.
The number had completely shattered expectations.
And the most frightening part, Dean Osamu had not corrected it.
Meaning the Academy had verified every single one.
The masked Dean allowed the shock to spread throughout the arena.
Then he smiled.
A very small smile.
The kind that suggested he had expected this exact reaction.
And somewhere within the crowd, dozens of students suddenly became determined to discover the identity behind Student ID 07211977.