Shelby and Zane barely made it in ti for registration.
The offline registration was held in what was called the Fresher et Village—though it wasn’t a village in the traditional sense. It resembled an Olympic Village: a massive complex set up specifically to host the upcoming tournant.
The village sprawled across a vast area of flatland, located about three and a half miles east of the northeastern edge of Artemis City. Though remote, it was buzzing with activity.
As they passed through the main entrance, Zane was struck by the sea of people. Freshers, academy representatives, event organizers, and workers hustled in every direction. The entire village throbbed with energy and anticipation. Almost everyone here was affiliated with the Academy in so way.
The registration office was located just beyond the main gates.
Shelby filled out a few forms, handed them over to the attendant, and with a stamped approval, the two walked back outside.
Zane looked around, eyebrows raised. "This place is packed. Are we staying here?"
Shelby chuckled. "I told you before, rember? Every year this tournant draws freshers from all six Academy City Office Towers across the Western Continent: the Northern Highlands, Western Frontier, Southern Lowlands, the Island Nations, the Eastern Range, and the North-Eastern Range. We’re from the Eastern Region."
Zane nodded slowly. "Okay, but then why aren’t we staying here with everyone else?"
Shelby grinned and pulled out a shimring silk pouch, jingling with coin. "Because, my friend, we’re rich. Why would we sleep in a cramped, noisy, sweat-slling village when we could enjoy the finest hotel this side of the continent? I’ve already booked us a room."
"You didn’t even ask!" Zane frowned. "That’s not fair. I’m not sharing my room this ti."
"No need. I’ve got two of the best suites reserved. I may be shaless, but not that shaless."
Zane laughed but didn’t press further.
Still, there was a reason Shelby wasn’t letting Zane stay in the village.
After their return, Shelby had received dozens of ssages—texts, emails, calls—from colleagues. They all ntioned the viral leak of Zane Carter’s profile on the net... and how quickly and mysteriously it had been taken down.
So even asked if Shelby had anything to do with suppressing the scandal. But he hadn’t.
Whatever forces had intervened were far beyond him.
As they stepped outside the campus gates, a sleek flying automobile descended from the air, then gracefully rolled to a stop in front of them. It was a black limousine—luxurious, elegant, and expensive.
The door opened.
A sharply dressed, butler-like gentleman stepped out and gave a slight bow, smiling politely.
"Gentlen," he said.
Shelby stepped in first, followed by Zane. The car’s interior was all velvet and golden accents.
As the vehicle roared to life and cruised smoothly over the paved road, Shelby leaned back and said, "Speaking of Erlin... I think I’ve got an idea."
Zane turned toward him.
"What, you still want to keep her in the back of your palm? That’s not right," Shelby said dramatically, gesturing to Zane’s tattooed hand.
Zane raised an eyebrow. "Then what do you suggest?"
Shelby smirked. "I’ve got a friend who works close to the City Mayor. Owes a huge favor. I can bribe him into forging a legitimate citizenship ID for Erlin. Off the record. Totally clean. Once that’s done, I’ll recomnd her as my assistant inside the Academy."
Zane blinked. "You’d do that?"
"Of course. She’ll need an identity to stay here. And you’ll need to stop hiding her in your soul-space like she’s so pet hamster."
The vehicle rolled to a smooth stop.
The chauffeur opened the door, and Zane stepped out, his gaze imdiately drawn to the towering building in front of him.
The golden letters across the building read: "The Sunflower Hotel."
Not long after they entered their rooms, a new presence entered the hotel. It was Henry Bloodgale, holding a photograph and a sealed letter in his hand. He slipped through the lobby with the ease of a shadow, scanning the room for any familiar faces. As he waited, perched on a chair, he observed everything and everyone with an unsettling calmness.
Then, he spotted Zane and Erlin walking out of the hotel.
"Big chance," Henry whispered to himself, his voice almost a purr. "I really want to make friends with Zane."
The next mont, he vanished into the crowd, as if he had never been there in the first place.
A few hours earlier...
Zane and Erlin had spent the evening exploring, walking around the city and soaking in the bustling atmosphere. By the ti they returned to the hotel, the air felt different. Sothing was amiss.
As they entered their room, Zane’s sharp eyes imdiately caught a faint trace of an intruder. He sniffed the air and noticed a strange scent lingering. Then, his gaze fell on the letter lying on the nightstand.
Zane’s heart raced as he picked it up and tore open the envelope. His hands trembled slightly as he read the contents. The words burned into his mind, and his face hardened. He clenched his fist and barked, "Erlin, get in the book."
Erlin, sensing the shift in his deanor, didn’t ask questions. Without hesitation, she hugged him, then disappeared into the space within his book tattoo on his left palm.
Zane stord out of the room, the letter still in his hand, his mind swirling with urgency. He walked aimlessly for a while, letting his frustration guide him. Soon, he found himself at an isolated playground—dark, empty, and eerily quiet.
"I’m here!" Zane shouted into the stillness.
In the dark, a strange fluctuation in the air heralded the arrival of a figure—Dean Kora Veyne. She stepped into view, her face concealed behind a white mask, her posture calm and collected.
"Nice eting you, Little Zane." Her voice was playful, almost mocking.
Zane didn’t waste ti with pleasantries. "Where is he?" he demanded, his tone sharp.
Kora’s smile remained unchanged. "Oh my, don’t insult my invitation, little one. If you’d read the details of my letter, you would know. If you want to learn about your dear old bad daddy’s whereabouts, then you must agree to join my organization, The Bastard Union. Do you agree to my condition?"
Zane’s jaw tightened. "Sorry, I can’t join you. But I’ll buy the information from you."
Kora’s playful smile faltered for a mont. "That’s my only condition. I don’t negotiate, especially not with a lost puppy like you."
Zane stood tall, his hands clenching into fists. "Then I’m leaving. There’s nothing left to discuss."
He turned to walk away, but Kora’s voice rang out, sharp and venomous.
"Who says you can leave just like that?" she sneered, her tone dripping with resentnt. "I was very close to Zorro. He used and then tossed aside once he was done with . He owes , and today, his son will receive just 1% of the punch he deserves."
Before Zane could react, she was already in front of him. A fist flew toward him with terrifying speed.
Zane’s instincts scread at him. He saw the sheer force behind her punch—a deadly force. The System blared warnings, signaling that if it landed, he would die. Every fiber of his being scread to dodge, and in that split second, he knew what he had to do.
But before he could even react, there was a snort, followed by the sound of movent.
A familiar figure appeared between them, just in ti to intercept Kora’s punch.
Both fists collided mid-air, but instead of a thunderous explosion, there was only silence—the imnse power behind Kora’s attack was completely nullified.
The newcor, a man of imposing presence, tried to hook his right leg around her, but Kora quickly retreated. Her eyes narrowed.
"You haven’t reached my level. How did you parry my strike?" she asked, confused. Her gaze sharpened as she recognized him. "Thor Shelby. I know you. This has nothing to do with you. Step aside."
Shelby gave a cheerful grin, completely ignoring her demand. "Boy, if I was a second late, you’d be lying here dead."
Kora sneered. "I’ll admit you’re a rare genius. But don’t kid yourself—you can’t stop ."
"Oh really? Then try ."
Shelby’s smile vanished. His posture shifted—serious, grounded, powerful.
Zane blinked. He could feel the shift in the air, in Shelby’s aura.
"Boy," Shelby said, eyes still on Kora, "you’re the one who pushed to pursue this skill. Now, let show you what it’s beco."
Zane’s mory flashed. Back in the Sacred Library, Shelby had acquired two offensive skills: ’Lightning Serpent Strike – Rank C ’ and ’Hand of the Lightning God – Lower Rank A ’
He’d seen the first one before. But this second skill... he had only heard its na. Even the na alone carried weight.
Shelby clapped his hands together. A surge of mana erupted from him, swirling with crackling electric arcs. His fingers weaved through the air with supernatural speed, chanting a precise incantation.
Zane stood there srized—Shelby’s hands moved so fast it looked like he had a dozen of them.
All the lightning mana gathered toward the tip of Shelby’s right index finger. A small, condensed ball of white lightning ford—sparking violently.
"Hand of the Lightning God—activate!"
His voice thundered.
Kora’s brows rose. For the first ti, she looked genuinely wary.
"Hmm... impressive. That’s a potent technique. And your lightning affinity—it’s not normal. But don’t get cocky. You’re still not on my level."
"We’ll find out."
Shelby vanished, leaving behind a streak of afterimage lightning.
The air split as the two clashed—a brutal storm of raw mana and electricity.
Despite her being a tier above him, the Hand of the Lightning God elevated Shelby’s power, temporarily balancing the scales. They fought high above the earth, mid-air, their attacks turning the sky into a battleground.
White lightning clashed with blue mana, illuminating the dark night like a miniature war of gods.
Zane couldn’t keep up. The movents were too fast, too sharp—beyond his current capabilities to track. He could only watch the sky flash and ripple as the two battled.
After nearly ten minutes of high-speed combat, both fighters disengaged. They floated apart, facing each other.
Kora’s clothes were singed. A visible burn mark scarred her left arm.
Shelby had done it—he’d held his own.
But he was also pale, his breathing uneven.
Kora smirked. "You’re good, Shelby. But how long can you keep up that fancy skill? Your mana’s nearly drained, isn’t it?"
"You’re right," Shelby admitted, his grin returning. "My mana pool’s almost dry. But today’s battle ends here. I already ssaged the Academy. Plenty of seniors are on their way. They’ll be here any minute."
Kora scanned the area. Her smirk faded.
"Hmm... fine. Consider this your win. But next ti—I won’t hold back."
She turned, then shot into the sky, vanishing into the distance.
Monts later, multiple figures descended from the air—Academy seniors in formal robes, each radiating power.
"She went that way," Shelby said, pointing east.
One of the newcors, a white-haired senior nad Adam Binge, gave a nod. "This one’s on . Think of it as repaynt for last ti. Good seeing you again, Shelby."
The group launched after Kora, but she was gone—not even a trace of her mana lingered.
Shelby undid his skill. The mont the energy faded, his legs buckled.
Zane caught him instinctively, but the weight—the sheer load pressure—was overwhelming.
Shelby suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood, then stood tall again, eyes still clear.
"What a terrifying skill," he muttered. "That was just 2.5% of its full power... and I’m already this drained. I’ve still got a long way to go."
Zane remained silent—but every word, every movent, was etched deep into his mory.
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