Creed’s eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the young man standing before them. He didn’t just look strong—he felt strong. That casual, almost lazy grin he wore?
That was the grin of soone who knew he was untouchable.
And Creed could feel it too. That pressure. It wasn’t overbearing, but it was there.
Like a slow-burning fire, constantly present, constantly radiating, making even the air feel a little heavier.
If Creed had to guess, this guy was at least in the later stages of Silver Level.
Which was insane. Because that ant he wasn’t just strong; he was ridiculously powerful for his age.
A true Tier 1 genius.
And as much as Creed cared not to admit it, he couldn’t last a single move against this guy right now.
Hell, if this Ryan Griffith unleashed his full pressure, Creed might not even be able to stand properly!
But that was fine. He wasn’t here to be the strongest yet. That part would co soon enough. All he needed was ti.
And then, this Ryan Griffith? Creed would surpass him.
Easily!
Ryan let the silence stretch for a mont, clearly letting everyone process his entrance before he flashed them another grin.
"Alright, let’s get introductions out of the way, yeah?"
His voice was smooth, confident, and—Creed noticed—filled with the kind of charm that made people naturally drawn to him.
"The na’s Ryan Griffith. Third-year at the Ambassadors Academy."
The mont he said his surna, the entire crowd stirred. Murmurs broke out, spreading like wildfire.
"Griffith?!"
"Wait... like the Great Griffith family?!"
"It has to be! That fire ability—!"
Creed raised an eyebrow but wasn’t surprised.
Of course.
The Griffith Family was one of the Great Four Families—an ancient, powerful lineage that had been at the top of the food chain for centuries.
And their specialty?
Fire.
Every single one of their main bloodline descendants possessed fire-related talents, and not just any weak, average fla abilities—their fire was monstrous.
Ryan, still grinning like he hadn’t just casually dropped a bombshell, continued speaking.
"I’m one of the student representatives sent here to oversee the exam process, and if you all do well, maybe—just maybe—you’ll be lucky enough to beco my juniors."
A lot of the candidates visibly relaxed at his words.
Despite his overwhelming strength, Ryan’s friendly and charismatic deanor made him seem a lot more... approachable.
Like he was an older brother rather than so untouchable elite.
But Creed? Creed didn’t buy it. Guys like this?
They were dangerous!
The type who could be laughing and joking with you one second and then ruthlessly crushing you the next—without so much as a change in expression.
Sure, he was being friendly now.
But Creed had no doubt that if any of them ever beca his enemies, Ryan Griffith wouldn’t hesitate to burn them all to ashes.
"Alright, now that we’re all acquainted, let’s get this show on the road!"
Ryan waved his hand.
And instantly, hundreds of tiny drones appeared out of nowhere, buzzing through the air like a swarm of chanical wasps.
They were sleek, black, and fast, darting between the candidates with terrifying precision.
Creed imdiately recognized their purpose. They were scanners.
Ryan confird his thoughts as he casually explained, "These little guys are linked directly to the Zenith Tower’s database. They’ll scan your faces, cross-check them with your performance records, and in a few monts..."
His grin widened slightly.
"We’ll know exactly where you rank."
Creed’s eyes flickered toward the drones.
It was impressive. In just a few seconds, every single one of them would have their Zenith rankings exposed.
And then Ryan dropped the bombshell.
"Now, listen up. The top 100,000 will advance to the next stage of the exams. If your rank is below that—well..."
He shrugged.
"Thanks for coming. You can try again next ti."
The reaction was instant. Shocked gasps. Disbelieving expressions.
And then—
"What?! Top 100,000?!"
"But—But the website said—!"
"We were told the requirent was to be in the top 10,000,000!"
Creed’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he wasn’t as visibly shaken as the others.
This was... cruel. And brilliantly calculated.
The original requirent was simply to be ranked in the top 10,000,000—which, while tough, was technically manageable for many candidates.
But now? Only the top 100,000 would move on.
That ant potentially that 99% of them were about to be eliminated. Instantly!
And worse?
All those hopeful candidates who had spent large amounts of money to travel here, book their spots, and prepare for this mont?
They had just been scamd. Because they had never even stood a chance!
Creed’s mind worked fast, piecing it together easily. This wasn’t just about filtering out the weak.
No.
This was about making money. The academy intentionally made the requirents seem easier on the website.
They let millions of people believe they had a chance.
They let them pay absurd fees for transportation, accommodation, registration only to crush them at the final mont and walk away with insane profits.
Creed’s lips curled. He wasn’t angry. If anything, he was impressed. This was pure business. And business was ruthless.
He leaned back slightly as the drones finished scanning, his gaze flickering toward Ryan Griffith, who was still smiling like he hadn’t just shattered thousands of dreams in one sentence.
Interesting.
This academy...
It was even more cutthroat than he expected.
As the drones zipped through the crowd, scanning faces and cross-checking data, the atmosphere shifted.
At first, there was excitent—anticipation.
So of the hopefuls were grinning, murmuring to each other about how they felt confident that they’d make it. Others were fidgeting, nervous but still clinging onto hope.
Then, the first disqualification hit.
A small, high-pitched beep echoed, and the drone hovering in front of a young man flashed red.
A chanical voice announced:
"Zenith Rank: 12,734,652. Disqualified."
The boy’s face froze.
And then—
"W-What?!" His voice cracked in disbelief. He frantically waved his hands. "No, no, no—there must be a mistake! I trained for this! I spent—!"
Before he could finish, two stern-faced guards stepped forward, grabbed him by the arms, and dragged him away.
His screams faded into the distance.
And that was just the beginning. One by one, more drones turned red.
"Zenith Rank: 8,923,491. Disqualified."
"Zenith Rank: 5,238,723. Disqualified."
"Zenith Rank: 11,482,099. Disqualified."
With every announcent, more hopefuls collapsed to their knees, clutching their heads in utter despair.
So were trembling, others were in shock, unable to process that their journey had already ended before it even began.
And then there were the ones who simply broke.
So youths even began to cry. They couldn’t believe it. They were geniuses! How could this happen to them!
Give us back our money!!
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