In a vast field of the Nest, thousands had gathered, their heads tilted upward in tense anticipation.
Above them, countless bats hovered in the air, their eyes flickering with an eerie blue light. From those glimrs, floating screens shimred into existence, each one broadcasting a different part of the ongoing Battle of Dominion.
On one of those screens, the clash between Loki and the trio unfolded in sharp detail.
As the battle drew to a close, a puzzled little girl tugged at her mother’s sleeve. "Mom," she asked softly, "why did the chain guy have such a hard ti beating the mantis guy? Wasn’t he at the second ring, while the mantis guy was only at the peak of the first ring?"
The mother picked the daughter up at her question and gave a sweet smile.
"Sweetie, the power system that rules our world isn’t that simple," her mother explained gently. "There are a lot of factors that co into play. If it had been a fight without grimoires, the chain guy would have had the upper hand easily.
He could have beaten the mantis guy without much trouble. But that’s where spirit cards and grimoires change everything. Each spirit card gives a different kind of boost to its user.
In this case, the mantis guy got a big boost to his physical stats, while the chain guy didn’t get any direct boost like that. But on the other hand, the chain guy’s card made him more versatile, letting him adapt."
The little girl thought for a mont. "So, Mom... even soone with a lower ring can beat soone with a higher ring?"
"Yes," her mother smiled. "If you play your cards right."
***
Inside a grand hall of the Imperial Academy, the sa scenes from the test played across floating screens.
At the center of the hall stood a long table surrounded by twelve ornate chairs. Seated in them were figures of great authority and respect. Only the central chair remained empty.
Each of them wore the blue uniform of the Imperial Academy, their appearance sharp and dignified. White gloves covered their hands, adding to their air of formality.
These were the ten departnt heads of the academy, and at their side sat royalty herself — Vice-Headmaster Asha Vermillion. Their gazes were fixed on the screens above, eyes glinting with interest as they watched the unfolding battles.
After all, these youths represented the future of the empire. Statistically, this batch had already been hailed as the golden batch, surpassing any seen in the past century.
A single batch with three students showing ninth-ring potential deserved that title. And if that wasn’t enough, several others showed seventh- and eighth-ring potential as well.
"This truly is the golden batch! HAHAHAHA!" a burly man roared with laughter, slamming his hand on the table. The wood shuddered under the impact before settling again.
"It sure is," replied a striking woman with red hair, her lips curling into a sly smile as she licked them.
A screen showed a youth fighting three wolvarians. His cerulean blue eyes looked at the world with an unresolved commitnt.
His golden hair danced under the sun as his katana cut cleanly through the first wolvarian, dropping it to the ground without resistance.
Without missing a beat, he pivoted gracefully, his katana whirling in a silver arc that caught the second opponent off guard. The blade sliced through fur and muscle in one fluid motion.
The last wolvarian lunged in desperation, claws flashing. But the youth’s stance remained calm. With a swift twist of his wrist, he deflected the strike and slashed his katana forward, piercing the beast’s chest.
In just monts, all three foes lay defeated at his feet. The whole exchange was as elegant and precise as a dance, leaving the whole room in stunned silence.
"Already at the late stage of the third ring. He sure is a beast." Asha complinted him as her eyes moved to another screen.
On it showed a beauty with blonde hair. Her body was clad in black armour as a halberd lay between her palms. She ran through the forest, rampaging through beasts and humans alike.
"Now this is the real test, hehe!" she shouted, her laughter ringing through the forest as her score kept climbing higher and higher.
Suddenly, a massive iron-furred boar burst from the undergrowth, tusks lowered to gore her.
Without missing a step, she spun her halberd in a perfect arc, the blade flashing in the dappled light. The boar’s charge t her weapon head-on, and with a sharp twist of her wrists, she sent it crashing sideways into a tree.
Its skull split open by sheer force.
"So fun! So fun!" Her laughter echoed louder than ever.
The girl barely slowed, with her black armor glinting under the sun. She surged forward once again, hunting her next prey with a fierce, almost playful grin.
Asha deadpanned while seeing her niece Freya’s barbaric nature. But then again, it ran in their blood.
On another screen, a new figure ca into view — and even among the seasoned departnt heads, a subtle tension sparked in the air.
A young man stood in the middle of a blood-soaked clearing, with crimson hair falling in loose waves around his shoulders like a mane of fire.
He moved with a terrifying grace, each step asured and each swing deliberate yet savage. A pair of armored direwolves lunged at him from opposite sides, jaws wide and eyes blazing.
With a single pivot, he ducked under the first wolf’s bite, his greatsword rising in an effortless arc that cleaved its skull clean in half. Before the other could react, he reversed his grip and brought the blade crashing down, splitting it from neck to chest.
Blood sprayed across his face, but he neither flinched nor slowed. Instead, a serene smile touched his lips, as if he found beauty in the brutality.
"That boy," soone whispered under their breath as they looked at the screen, unable to look away.
Redmane stepped forward again, and three more beasts charged from the shadows. His greatsword seed almost too heavy for a human to wield, yet in his hands it danced — a crimson tempest that carved through flesh and bone as easily as parchnt.
Despite the carnage, his movents retained a strange elegance: not a single wasted motion, not a single unnecessary flourish.
Every blow was precise, decisive — and yet there was sothing primal, almost feral, in the way he pressed forward with eyes gleaming with hunger.
"Redmane Varian," Asha murmured with a faint note of exasperation mixed with respect.
At that mont, Redmane paused, his blood-soaked blade resting on his shoulder. A beast twice his size lumbered into the clearing, snarling — and instead of bracing, Redmane only grinned wider, his hair glinting like burnished copper in the sun.
The screen trembled as he charged, laughter echoing like a war drum — a force of nature, both beautiful and terrifying.
The hall fell silent once again, transfixed by the spectacle of a boy no more than seventeen. And the terrifying part was that he hadn’t even used his grimoire yet.
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