I stepped through the portal thingy.
My shadow titan buddy lted back into the shadows at my feet, a quiet little hum that only I could feel.
The two guards, the Sentinels, clomped down the stairs after .
This staircase was designed to make you feel like crap—carved from the sa black rock as the school up top, with glowing silver runes that pulsed like a slow, creepy heartbeat.
It felt less like a school and more like so high-tech dungeon.
The stairs finally opened up into this huge, church-like room.
You couldn’t even see the ceiling, it was so dark.
The floor was a giant circle made of more glowing runes.
Dozens of other newbies were scattered around, all wearing the sa boring black training clothes.
They all stood around in little groups, looking tense and sizing everyone up.
This wasn’t a welco party.
It was a shark tank, and I was the fresh at.
My "Aura of Fear" skill was making the air all staticky, and it worked like bug spray.
Heads turned when I walked in.
People stopped talking.
A big empty space opened up around as everyone shuffled away, looking at with a mix of "who’s this guy?" and "I don’t trust him."
They could feel sothing was off about , but they had no idea what it was.
The Sentinels walked to the middle of the big rune circle, where a giant crystal pillar was floating in the air.
It was pure white and humd with this low power that made my teeth hurt.
"The Anvil," the first guard said, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else.
"It will assess your potential and assign your rank."
"It asures the stability of your soul, the purity of your will, and the raw output of your controlled energy."
"Place your hand upon it."
Controlled energy.
The system’s warning popped into my head.
You won with a ltdown, not skill. You are a weapon that will misfire.
So this was the test.
Not how strong I was, but how much I could hold it back.
If I let out that raw, crazy power that flattened Kazuki, this place would either think I was a god or a bomb they needed to get rid of.
Both of those sounded like a huge pain in the ass.
Secrecy is good.
Making people underestimate you is even better.
My goal was simple: learn the good stuff, get really good at it, and then go hunting.
I didn’t need to be the top student in this school.
I just needed to be the deadliest one when I left.
I put my hand on the crystal.
It was smooth and cold.
The Anvil lit up with a blinding white light, and this wave of energy washed over , like a deep scan that was trying to read my diary.
It went right past the crazy berserker rage I was hiding and only focused on the cold, disciplined power I had on a leash.
The power of a Slayer, not the broken guy underneath.
After forever, the light finally faded.
Three glowing silver runes appeared in the air over the crystal.
A low grumble went through the room.
It wasn’t a gasp of awe.
It was more like a big, collective sigh of disappointnt, followed by a bunch of quiet little laughs.
Level 3.
In the pecking order of this place, that was basically a failing grade.
It was the rank for a newbie with a little potential, but no skill.
Cannon fodder.
The two Sentinels, the sa guys who saw make a scene at the gate, just stared at the number.
Their whole attitude shifted from "let’s be careful around this guy" to "what a loser."
"All that pressure... for a Level 3?" the first guard said, his robot voice dripping with sarcasm.
"The Anvil doesn’t lie."
"Your little show at the gate must have been a fluke."
"A one-ti surge from a weak soul about to snap."
"A scream, not a war cry," the second guard added, his silver eye-slits narrowing.
"We get them sotis."
"They burn bright for a second, then they shatter."
"You’ll be one of the first to wash out."
They turned their backs on , completely uninterested now.
I wasn’t a cool, mysterious threat anymore.
I was just another piece of low-grade junk not even worth lting down.
Perfect.
As I stepped away from the Anvil, a new voice cut through the noise.
It was pretty and musical, but had an edge like steel.
"You’re the one who made the Sentinels flinch at the gate."
I turned around.
A girl was standing there, her arms crossed.
She was an elf, with hair the color of moonlight and sharp, sapphire-blue eyes.
Her black training clothes fit her perfectly, and she wore them like they were a royal uniform instead of cheap fabric.
I could see a faint golden shimr on the seams—high-level enchanted gear.
Yep, she was a noble, for sure.
She’d been watching , looking like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
She felt my power spike at the entrance, and she was smart enough to know it didn’t match the pathetic number floating over the Anvil.
I didn’t say anything.
I just gave her my best blank, emotionless mask.
She took a step closer, her sapphire eyes scanning from head to toe.
"I am Seraphina."
"And you are...?"
"Quinn," I said, my voice totally flat.
Her eyes flicked up to where my rank had been, like she could still see the ghost of the number ’3’ in the air.
Her curious smile vanished, replaced by a perfect, delicate little sneer.
"Level 3?" she said, and the words just dripped with disappointnt.
"How... utterly mundane."
"I must have been mistaken."
"I thought I sensed sothing of substance."
She uncrossed her arms and looked down her nose at , her whole attitude flipping in a second.
"Listen to , Level 3."
"This is the Forging Ground."
"Here, rank is everything."
"It dictates your training, your resources, and your chances of survival."
"It is the asure of your worth."
She waved a hand at the other newbies, who were now staying far away from , not because they were scared, but because they didn’t want to be seen with a low-ranking loser.
"So of us," she continued, her voice like a cat purring down at a mouse, "are destined to beco blades worthy of slaying gods."
"We are the Level 7s, the 8s, the future of the Corps."
"Others..."
She paused, letting her eyes drift over with fake pity.
"Others are just the slag to be discarded in the process."
My Slayer protocol just filed her words away as data.
Social hierarchy.
Arrogance.
Potential future pain in the ass.
My old pride didn’t even twitch.
This was all just a ga, and she was just an NPC with a script.
"I will give you one piece of advice, out of pity," she said, leaning in a little.
"Know your place."
"Stay out of the way of your betters."
"Don’t speak to again unless you are spoken to."
"And if you find yourself in a sparring match with , forfeit imdiately."
"It will be less embarrassing for you."
With that, she spun on her heel.
Her moonlight-colored hair fanned out in a perfect, snotty little arc, and she glided back to a group of other high-ranking players.
They all nodded at her respectfully, then glanced over at with the sa amused look before ignoring completely.
I’d been here less than ten minutes.
And I’d already been tested, ranked, laughed at, and dismissed.
So guy in a robe, probably a low-level instructor, showed up and motioned for to follow him.
He led out of the big room, through a bunch of plain black hallways, and into a tiny, empty room.
A simple cot, a small chest, and one glowing rune on the wall for light.
Welco ho.
The instructor left, and I sat on the edge of the cot.
The cold silence of the room closed in around .
The System’s objective was clear: learn control.
Seraphina’s little speech just told how I was going to do it.
Here, surrounded by arrogant, power-hungry killers, no one would look twice at a quiet, diocre Level 3.
I could watch, learn how this place really works, and ta the storm inside without anyone paying attention.
I closed my eyes.
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