Seraphina's astonished voice echoed in Aren's mind.
"Incredible. To have such control over mana alone. And he learned this by himself..."
Aren did not respond to Seraphina's praise-filled words.
As if to respond, Aren released his own mana. The 'fire affinity' he acquired through the 'Divine Phoenix Mantra' was transforming his mana into a scorching, savage energy.
The wave of hot air radiating from Aren and the wave of cold air radiating from Lilith collided in the middle of the lobby. An invisible pressure had formed.
Aren's facial expression was calm, but the power inside him was boiling. Thanks to the 'Divine Phoenix Mantra', his mana reserves were far beyond what Lilith could imagine.
If he wanted to, he could open his mana tap all the way and end this 'aura' battle in a single move.
Sitting at the reception, Xeras lowered the magazine in his hand and grinned as he watched this scene.
"I know you are novices, but you had better learn to hide your mana."
As if they had made a pact, both of them retracted their mana at the same time.
That invisible pressure between them suddenly vanished, but the tension it left behind was enough to make the air heavy.
It was just like two predators acknowledging each other's boundaries.
Xeras grunted.
'Not bad.' Aren thought.
Seraphina's serious voice rang in his mind. "Aren, this girl would be considered someone worth training even where I come from. She is probably the most talented person on your planet. You must make her your ally at all costs."
'An ally is like a double-edged sword. She will have harms as much as benefits, but I cannot miss out on the 'Most Talented Person on Our Planet'. It's worth the risk I'll take.' he thought.
'If I go and try to be friends with her now, I will probably be misunderstood and fail. I must wait for the right moment.'
Aren walked toward the open buffet. He filled his plate with large pieces of meat and fruits without even choosing what they were.
After getting his food, he didn't even look in the direction Lilith was in. He had built an invisible wall between them. He sat on the single armchair by the window in the farthest corner of the lobby.
He leaned his back against the wall.
With the same coldness, Lilith focused on her food.
The days melted away under the hotel's artificial lighting.
Day 42.
For the first time in days, the light above the lobby door turned green. The metal door slowly creaked ajar.
A single person entered.
A man nearly two meters tall, with blonde hair, wearing a silver plate armor full of cracks. In his hand was a massive double-edged axe, dried with blood from the dungeon.
As soon as the man stepped inside, the door closed behind him.
The man first looked around in bewilderment. Luxury chandeliers, soft carpets, and the smell of food... after the damp darkness of the dungeon he experienced, this place was like a mirage.
Then his eyes locked onto Xeras. He recognized him. The demon in the arena. The pressure Xeras emitted made the man tremble for a moment, but the man quickly recovered. He raised his axe in the air and roared to the empty lobby.
"I am Marcus! I'm Still Alive! I survived that damn dungeon! HAHAHAHHA!"
His voice echoed in the lobby, but he didn't receive the applause he expected.
Xeras stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it. "Don't yell. Take your key and go to your corner."
Marcus took his key and headed to the dining table. He noticed Aren and Lilith, but because of the faint, eerie aura they both emitted, he chose not to mess with them for now.
While Marcus was buried in his food, Aren closed his book. The silence of the lobby had been broken. The sounds of Marcus's cutlery, his smacking lips, and the heavy, metallic smell of blood he emitted were enough to break Aren's concentration.
He stood up. The hems of his robe rustled.
With Aren's movement, Marcus raised his head, then immediately continued eating.
Aren walked straight to the massive open buffet.
Seraphina chuckled in his mind. "What are you planning to do?"
"Preparation." Aren said internally.
Aren reached his hand out to the whole roasted chickens, grilled meats, fresh fruit baskets, and water bottles on the table.
He focused his mana on his ring.
Within seconds, a large portion of the food on the table disappeared.
As if a famine was about to break out or he was preparing for a war, Aren was sweeping the most nutritious, most durable foods on the table into his Storage Ring.
Marcus's fork stayed in his mouth. His eyes opened wide. "Hey! What the hell was that? Where did you hide the food?"
Even Xeras raised his head from the reception and grunted.
He turned his back. Without even throwing a single glance at Marcus or Lilith, he headed to the elevator.
Aren pressed the elevator button. The doors closed.
When Aren entered his room, he locked the door.
"Seraphina." he said, as he sat cross-legged on his bed.
"Yes?"
"I won't leave this room until the time is up. I will spend all my remaining time improving my mana."
Seraphina's voice was full of satisfaction. "That's what I want to hear. Let's begin then. Are you ready to suffer?"
Aren took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"Yes."
TIME REMAINING: 03:00:00
The flow of time had blurred in Aren's mind, giving way only to rhythmic breathing and the roar of the mana circulating in his body.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed with his eyes closed, Aren was doing his final meditation.
He was floating in the air 10 cm above the ground.
"5 minutes 32 seconds." Seraphina said.
Her voice came from the depths of his mind. There was no trace of her usual mocking, condescending tone.
Her voice was serious, sharp, and held that formal pitch a teacher assumes when sending off her student to his final exam. "It is time."
Aren opened his eyes. A molten gold gleam passed through his hazel eyes. The gleam lasted a second and vanished, giving way again to that deep, greenish hazel color.
He exhaled the last air in his lungs with a long and controlled breath. His feet touched the bed slowly, with the lightness of a feather.
'Let's see how our stats are doing.' He thought, after which a screen appeared in front of him.
Title: None
Level: 12 Name: Aren Khan
Race: Human
Physique: Flawless Physique
Bloodline: None
Age: 26
Height: 189CM
Weight: 86KG
Vitality: 51 -> 60
Strength: 56
Agility: 49
Endurance: 61 -> 70
Intelligence: 32 -> 112
Wisdom: 22 -> 102
Soul: 111 -> 191
Mana: 13 -> 93
Skills: Bloodlust (Passive), Advanced Sword Mastery (Passive), Ghost Step (Passive), Divine Phoenix Mantra Part 1 (Passive & Active)
'Thanks to the 'Divine Phoenix Mantra', I increased my stats immensely. My vitality and endurance also increased, even if just a little.' He thought.
He slowly stood up. He smoothed the hems of his black silk robe embroidered with a red dragon.
Aren left his room and headed to the elevator.
As the metal doors of the elevator closed and the cabin glided downwards, Aren took a deep breath.
Like sheathing a sword, he drew his mana into the depths of his body, into his 'Mana Pool'. He hid that suffocating, scorching pressure he emitted beneath his robe.
'2nd Rule: Do Not Draw Attention.' he reminded himself.
Ding.
The lobby was like a beehive.
Aren's exit from the elevator completely cut off the noise in the lobby. Apparently, he was the last to arrive.
Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to him.
With a quick glance, Aren scanned the crowd. His brain was processing data like a computer.
'We are 84 people in total, including me.' he thought.
While a very small portion had equipped new armors and weapons, many others were dressed in the tracksuit sets provided for them free of charge in their rooms.
Aren's eyes fell on someone sitting alone in the corner.
Lilith.
It was as if there was an invisible 'do not approach' barrier around her. With a small piece of velvet cloth she had taken in her hand, she was wiping her gleaming, ice-white sword resting on her knees. She seemed to have severed her connection with the outside world, completely focused on her weapon.
In another corner, sitting on a single armchair, was a young man looking 15-16 years old.
He wore a simple black hoodie. His face was full of scars like a map. With a rusted dagger in his hand, he was stabbing the spaces between his own fingers at a speed the human eye couldn't follow.
The young man's eyes were empty. He seemed to have left his soul in the dungeon, or perhaps much earlier in the bloody arena.
Aren's eyes caught the rusted dagger. He had seen this dagger in the Tutorial Shop before. It was an extremely poisonous, extremely dangerous dagger.
Sensing Aren looking at him, the young man suddenly raised his head. They locked eyes. A thin, threatening, and equally unstable smile appeared on the young man's face.
"Look who's here..." From the middle of the crowd, a loud voice reeking of alcohol rose.
Marcus.
Having rested his massive axe on his shoulder, he had occupied a table with the group of five or six sycophants he had gathered around him.
'It seems not drawing attention ends here. Second rule and third rule are now unnecessary.' Aren thought.
In front of him stood empty wine bottles, knocked-over glasses, and eaten meat bones. Marcus's face had turned red as a beet under the influence of the alcohol he drank and his inflated ego.
"Our so-called 'number 1' has finally deigned to come out of his room." Marcus said, grinning. "What is it? Were you hiding in the toilet out of fear?"
His group chuckled, but their laughs were uneasy.
Aren did not answer Marcus. He didn't even look at him. As if Marcus wasn't there, as if he were just a buzzing fly, he walked toward the open buffet with calm and rhythmic steps.
This indifference, this absolute disregard, had hit a nerve with Marcus. The grin on his face turned into an angry twitch.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Marcus stood up, loudly knocking over the chair beneath him.
The expensive but cumbersome-looking heavy plate armor, clearly newly bought from the tutorial shop, clanked.
"Do you think you can ignore me?!"
With heavy steps, Marcus marched toward Aren. He placed his massive, calloused hand harshly on Aren's shoulder and tried to shake him by squeezing his fingers. "Don't ignore me, you..."
His sentence was cut short. Because Aren didn't budge.
It was as if Marcus was trying to push a steel pillar riveted miles underground rather than a human of flesh and bone.
'I must intimidate people by making a small but effective show of power. This way, I will prevent unnecessary violence.' After thinking this, Aren slowly took a bite of the apple in his hand.
That crisp, juicy sound produced by the bite echoed in the lobby that had sunk into silence.
Aren chewed, swallowed.
He slightly turned his head and looked at the hand on his shoulder. Then he fixed his gaze on Marcus's eyes.
When Marcus looked into Aren's hazel eyes, he felt as if he was looking not into a human's eyes, but into a bottomless, emotionless well.
There was no anger in Aren's gaze. There was no hatred.
There was only...
An overwhelming and cold indifference, like a mountain looking at the ant at its foot. Marcus felt the "weight" of Aren's presence. This wasn't a physical weight; it was a terrifying pressure bearing down on his soul, leaving him breathless.
A drop of sweat gathered on Marcus's forehead. He wanted to pull his hand away, but his body felt as if it were frozen. His instincts weren't yelling at him, they were whispering in terror. 'This thing... This thing isn't human.'
Aren slowly raised his left hand. His movement was so calm, it was as if he were brushing away a speck of dust. He grabbed Marcus's hand on his shoulder by the wrist.
Marcus's eyes opened wide.
Without exerting any effort, Aren slowly, gently lifted Marcus's massive arm off his shoulder. Marcus tried to resist. He put all his strength into his arm, his face reddened, his veins swelled. But to no avail.
Marcus felt the bones in his wrist rubbing against each other, cracking. If Aren squeezed his wrist a bit more, Marcus's hand could snap off. His knees started to tremble from the pain.
"Don't touch." Aren said. His voice was like a whisper, but it was heard as clearly as thunder in that silence.
Aren pushed Marcus's hand aside as if disgusted. He took another bite of the apple and, turning his back to Marcus, continued walking.
Marcus staggered backward. He regained his balance with difficulty. He was panting. His heart was beating as if he had run a marathon.
His wrist had already begun to turn purple.
The scrawny man at Marcus's table muttered in a trembling voice, "What... What the hell was that?"