Chapter 161: Midair
Asher’s eyes fluttered open to the world, but this ti he did not awaken within a white, four-walled chamber, nor within so grand hall.
He erged in midair.
The wind roared in his ears as he plumted from the sky, the force of his descent whipping his purple hair and tugging violently at his clothes while gravity dragged him rcilessly downward.
His sharp gaze swept across the vast expanse around him, searching for fellow candidates plumting alongside, but none were to be found.
It seed they had been scattered across great distances.
Tilting his head downward, Asher beheld the sight below, a sprawling canopy of green stretching endlessly, jagged mountains rising proudly in the distance, and here and there the shimring glimr of lakes breaking the wilderness.
’Isn’t this Star Academy far too cruel?’ he thought with a sigh.
They had been told they would be teleported into a forest, but instead, they had been cast from the open skies above it. An ordinary person would have been crushed into lifeless ruin upon impact from such a height.
But the people of Crymora were not ordinary. Their naturally reinforced physiques would allow them to survive the fall. Even so, Asher was certain that so would not escape without injuries.
Although Asher lacked the ability to fly, he did not panic during the freefall. His expression remained utterly composed, as though this trial were nothing more than a trivial inconvenience.
Within monts, the jagged face of a mountain lood before him, re seconds from impact. But before disaster could strike, Virelass materialized with a cheerful hum, the sentient blade exuding an almost eager delight, as if it had been waiting for an opportunity to stretch itself and revel in action.
Without a single command from Asher, the sword darted beneath him, halting his descent in an instant. The next mont, Virelass gently descended, lowering him to the earth with practiced grace. Asher stepped off lightly, his movents unhurried, his deanor unchanged.
This unorthodox thod of flight had been Asher’s own invention, a solution to his inability to soar through the skies. Inspired by the cultivation novels he had often read, where swordsn commanded their blades as flying vessels, he had adapted the idea to his reality.
Unlike those fictional cultivators, however, Asher had Virelass: a sentient sword, swift and unshackled, capable of maneuvering through the air at will.
Whether his siblings had devised similar thods mattered little to him. After all, he had never forced this role upon Virelass, the blade seed almost to enjoy it.
The instant Asher’s feet touched the mountain’s surface, his Omni Perception flared to its peak, his awareness expanding in every direction as his other senses sharpened in tandem. He did not rush to move. Instead, he stood still, surveying his surroundings with patient vigilance.
But there was nothing.
’Seems like this mountain is empty.’ With that thought, Asher stepped forward and leapt, his body plumting once more. This ti, he had no need of Virelass. He allowed the wind to tear past him and descended with perfect control, landing firmly on his own two feet.
The mont his boots pressed against the brown earth below, the ground trembled. From a nearby body of water, thick tentacles erupted, lashing out with imnse force and crushing weight as they whipped toward him.
Asher reacted instantly. His body moved before thought could intervene, slipping to the side in a swift sidestep as the massive appendages crashed past where he had stood a heartbeat earlier. But the threat did not relent, the other tentacles twisted sharply, pursuing him with relentless speed.
His figure blurred, retreating several ters in a single bound, widening the distance between himself and the writhing monstrosity beneath the water’s surface.
The tentacles surged after him, snapping through the air with frightening montum. But when Asher’s evasive steps carried him too far from the shoreline, they hesitated. Their advance faltered, and then they recoiled, retreating back into the depths, unwilling or unable to leave the safety of the water in pursuit of their prey.
Asher noticed it’s retreat instantly. Without pause, he lunged forward, his hands flashing out to seize two of the writhing tentacles. The appendages thrashed violently, dragging against his grip with crushing force, but Asher resisted.
With a single, decisive pull, he wrenched the creature from the water, sending waves crashing outward in a heavy splash.
His eyes widened in disbelief at the abomination before him.
The thing resembled an octopus, but grotesquely distorted, its bulbous head bristled with nurous eyes, and rows of jagged teeth jutted where no mouth should be. Dozens of slick, pulsing tentacles writhed around its form, exuding a primal nace.
But its appearance was not what unsettled him most. What truly shocked Asher was the suffocating presence that poured from it, pure malice.
He didn’t need anyone to tell him. This was no monster or beast.
It was an Emovira.
And this was the first he had encountered since his transmigration, an Emovira, here of all places, during the Star Academy trials.
The mont the Emovira was torn from the safety of its waters, it reacted with primal fury. Its nurous mouths split open, unleashing a barrage of black, venomous beams that hissed through the air with lethal speed.
Asher instantly released its tentacles, slipping free to evade. But the creature refused to relent, its appendages lashing to drag him back.
He did not need to struggle.
A streak of silver flashed across the battlefield, Virelass. In a single sweep, the sentient blade carved through the writhing limbs, reducing them to shredded fragnts. Black blood sprayed, misting the air with a corrosive stench.
Asher did not waste the opening. His figure blurred, weaving through the poisonous beams with perfect precision, each movent calculated and sharp. He dared not let even a drop of the noxious substance touch him.
In an instant, he was upon the Emovira. His arm rose, purple lightning crackling to life along his skin, dancing with destructive energy.
The Emovira convulsed, sensing the imminent threat, but it was already too late. With a deceptively gentle motion, Asher swept his hand through the air. A deafening crack split the silence as a storm of purple lightning exploded outward.
The Emovira shrieked once, and then it was gone, its body obliterated into charred fragnts before disintegrating entirely into drifting ash.
Asher stood amidst the settling dust, his gaze fixed upon the fading remains of the Emovira he had just erased from existence.
’Just as I suspected,’ Asher thought.
He had harbored doubts about that old man’s choice of words from the very beginning, and now those suspicions had been confird, the very first opponent he faced was an Emovira.
’A Grade 2,’ he assessed calmly, his expression calm.
Slowly, his gaze lifted toward the skies. Suspended above the forest was a massive, phantom-like construct, an ethereal board of light that shimred with illusionary brilliance.
Across its surface stretched nurous nas and scores, shifting as battles unfolded across the vast forest.
Asher’s na glowed faintly among them, positioned at eighth place.
Beside the board, a colossal countdown tir pulsed with ominous clarity, its numbers blazing for all to see, marking the ti that remained in this trial.
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