By the next morning, the atmosphere within the Abyssal Devour Sect had shifted once again.
This time, it was no longer subtle.
It was official.
A large gathering had formed at the central training arena, a circular stone platform reinforced for combat trials. Disciples from different divisions stood around it in groups, their voices overlapping in low murmurs.
Something was happening.
Something important.
Zarek arrived quietly, his gaze sweeping across the area.
"…A trial," he thought.
At the center of the arena stood several elders, including Rovan. Their presence alone was enough to silence most of the crowd. The pressure they emitted wasn't overwhelming—but it was undeniable.
This wasn't a normal training session.
"This is the Outer Court Evaluation," one of the elders announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the arena. "All disciples will be assessed based on combat ability, control, and adaptability."
A brief pause followed.
"Your performance today will determine your standing within the sect."
The murmurs grew louder.
Ranking mattered.
Resources, training priority, access to techniques—all of it depended on position.
Zarek stood still, listening.
"Matches will be conducted in sequence. No killing. Excessive injury will result in disqualification."
A faint smirk appeared on one of the disciples nearby. "So we can still break bones."
Zarek ignored him.
From the side, Kael approached, stopping a short distance away.
"…You're participating?" he asked.
Zarek glanced at him briefly. "…Obviously."
Kael studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"…Be careful."
Zarek didn't respond.
High above, the elders observed everything.
"He'll be forced to show more today," one elder said quietly.
Another nodded. "…Which is exactly what we need."
Rovan remained silent.
But his eyes never left Zarek.
The matches began.
One by one, disciples entered the arena. Some fights ended quickly, others dragged on. Techniques varied, but one thing was clear—everyone here had trained.
Controlled energy flowed through each movement.
Measured.
Refined.
Zarek watched carefully.
"They're all stable," he noted.
Their power wasn't chaotic like his.
It followed rules.
The system remained silent.
Watching.
"Zarek Kaine."
His name echoed across the arena.
A brief silence followed.
Then whispers.
"That's him…"
"The one Elder Rovan brought…"
"Let's see what he can do…"
Zarek stepped forward without hesitation.
His opponent was already waiting.
A tall disciple with a calm expression and steady posture. His presence was noticeably stronger than the average outer court member.
"…Name's Darius," the man said. "I've heard about you."
Zarek stopped a few steps away.
"…Then you already know how this ends."
A faint smile appeared on Darius's face.
"…Confidence. Good."
The elder raised his hand.
"Begin."
Darius moved first.
Fast.
Controlled.
His steps were precise, his energy flowing smoothly through his body as he closed the distance.
Zarek reacted.
He shifted to the side, avoiding the first strike.
But Darius didn't stop.
A second attack followed immediately—faster, sharper.
Zarek raised his arm to block.
The impact was heavy.
Stronger than Kael.
Zarek's feet slid slightly across the ground.
"…So this is the level here," he thought.
Darius pressed forward.
Each movement carried intent.
No wasted energy.
No hesitation.
Zarek stepped back, analyzing.
Then—
He moved forward.
Their fists collided.
Force met control.
The difference was clear.
Zarek's power was raw.
Darius's was refined.
But—
Zarek adapted.
Each exchange grew sharper.
Each movement more precise.
The crowd watched in silence.
"…He's keeping up," someone whispered.
"Against Darius?"
"…Impossible."
Zarek stepped in again.
This time, his hand brushed against Darius's arm.
Just for a moment.
"…Devour."
The effect was immediate.
Darius's expression changed.
"…What—?"
A faint pull.
Subtle.
But real.
His energy wavered.
Zarek felt it.
Warm.
Powerful.
Flowing into him.
Darius reacted instantly, pulling back.
His eyes sharpened.
"…You're draining me."
Zarek said nothing.
But his silence was confirmation.
The atmosphere shifted.
Even the crowd felt it.
"…Did you feel that?"
"Something's wrong…"
Above, the elders leaned forward slightly.
"There it is," one of them said quietly.
Rovan's gaze hardened.
Below, Darius steadied himself.
"…So that's your trick."
Zarek stepped forward again.
"…It's not a trick."
Their eyes met.
"…It's survival."
Darius's expression changed.
Then—
He attacked again.
Faster.
More aggressive.
Zarek didn't retreat.
He met him head-on.
Their movements clashed again and again, the rhythm intensifying with each exchange.
Then—
An opening.
Zarek stepped in.
His hand locked onto Darius's wrist.
"…Devour."
This time—
Stronger.
Darius's body stiffened.
His energy surged—
Then dropped.
"…Stop—!"
Zarek held on—
For a second longer than before.
Then released.
Darius stumbled back, breathing heavily.
The difference was clear.
Zarek stood steady.
Stronger.
The crowd fell silent.
Above, the elders exchanged glances.
"…This can't continue," one of them said.
Rovan didn't respond.
The elder raised his hand.
"Match over."
Zarek stepped back.
Darius remained standing—
But barely.
The result was clear.
Zarek had won.
But that wasn't what mattered.
What mattered…
Was what they had seen.
Zarek turned away from the arena.
But he could feel it.
The weight of their gazes had changed.
No longer curiosity.
Now—
It was something else.
Something closer to fear.
Inside him, the system activated once more.
[High-Level Observation Intensified]
[Host Ability Classified as Abnormal]
Zarek's eyes darkened slightly.
"…Good."
If they were beginning to understand—
Then it was already too late.