Ezra’s consciousness stirred sluggishly, the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily on him.

His mind floated in a foggy abyss, torn between the remnants of dreams and the gradual pull of reality.

Then, his eyes cracked open to the wide white ceiling.

A moment passed before the haze of unconsciousness lifted, and his mind sluggishly pieced together where he was.

A dull ache throbbed in his limbs, the aftereffects of his relentless traversal of the Madlands evident in his body.

For a fleeting moment, Ezra is lost.

Where was he?

His brows furrow as his fingers twitch against the silken fabric beneath him.

A sharp inhale.

A bed. Soft, warm.

The familiar scent.

"Hmm?"

Then it hits him—he was in Kingsmere castle.

His body tenses, a reflexive reaction to the sudden awareness that something had been forgotten.

Then, like a deluge breaking through a dam, it all came rushing back.

The Madlands. The Nascent Madmen. Their unsettling coordination.

The ominous phrase: Restoration sequence seventy-eight percent complete.

Ezra’s eyes snapped open, his pupils constricting as his breathing hastened.

His body surged with the instinctive urge to move—to act.

Yet, as quickly as it came, he forced himself to stillness.

There was nothing to buzz about now. He already left the place.

His chest rose and fell in controlled breaths as he processed everything.

It wasn’t just the fact that the Madmen were growing organized—it was what that meant.

The sheer implication of their resurgence was staggering.

Something was happening. Something big.

For five minutes, Ezra lies motionless, lost in thought.

His mind dissects each detail, picking apart the fragments of information he had gathered.

The mere existence of multiple Nascent Madmen is the most troubling aspect of it all.

The appearance of three separate Nascent Madmen.

Their structured behavior. The massacres. The clear pattern of control.

If three Nascent Madmen were already active, how many more would emerge once the restoration sequence reached completion?

Could he afford to wait? No. But acting recklessly was just as dangerous.

Ezra swung his legs over the bed, the chill of the room brushing against his bare skin.

Before anything else, he calls his trusty advisor.

’Zydrax’

Seconds later...

[What is the matter?]

’How long was I asleep?’

[Roughly ten hours]

Ezra’s eyes widen in surprise.

Extending universal concealment had overexerted his body more than he had expected.

Washing himself, Ezra quickly dresses, his hands moving with absent-minded precision as he dons new clothes.

Good as new and without a speck of dust.

Seeing this, no matter how taciturn he is, Ezra understands that someone is diligently keeping the room clean, and thanks them in his heart.

He had delayed long enough.

Activating <Sovereign Movement>,

Ezra appears amidst the Transcendents, his presence unnoticed for the first few seconds as he scanned the area.

They had recovered.

The memory of them groaning and cursing in frustration nearly made him chuckle.

Some turned at his arrival, their expressions shifting from exhaustion to mild surprise.

"You’re back" one of them intones.

Ezra nods.

Talking, Ezra learns that it had taken them more or less four hours to fully recover from their innards being absolutely scrambled.

Following this, Ezra briefly explains what happened and why, using much less complex terms to easily explain the phenomenon.

At the end of his explanation, they all lay in contemplation.

"So that means we have to endure this sickening feeling every time we need to enter or leave the secret realms?"

"It seems so"

To this, all the Transcendent audibly groan in annoyance, having to endure such a debilitating condition is simply torture.

The good news is, from Zydrax’s understanding, the more times it happens, the more their bodies would be forced to adapt to it and it’s effects would continue to lessen until it feels no more than a minor stomach ache.

Of course, Zydrax had no certainty of the accuracy of this theory of his, but anyways, the Transcendents wouldn’t feel it to be too unbearable anymore.

Ezra returned to check on them as a courtesy, but his thoughts were already pulling him back to more pressing matters.

Then—

A sudden realization.

His mind reeled as it struck him like a bolt of lightning.

He had left the Scarlet Dragon Clan the previous day as a method to think and ponder in silence.

And never returned.

Upon remembering what he wanted to ponder about...

Ezra stiffens.

Oh.

Oh.

He rubs his temple, this was going to be a problem.

"Something wrong?" Valentine asks.

Ezra shook his head. "I need to go. I should return soon"

Without another word, he activates <Gatekeeper>

Back to the Scarlet Dragon Clan.

Ezra emerges within the clan’s central spot of activity, just a distance from the market right beside the fountain he had been sitting on before.

A sensation of déjà vu struck him as he walked briskly, soon sprinting as he navigates the familiar routes to reach his accommodation.

Thankfully, Ezra hadn’t forgotten his room keys back at Kingsmere.

Just a day ago, he had left this place, taking a brief reprieve to ponder on an offer.

Yet, he not only forgot about his primary goal entirely, but ended up having a whole impromptu expedition and making a massive discovery.

Bracing for an inevitable confrontation with the Elders, Ezra reaches his assigned room.

Here, he is met with a person, garbed in a sleek clean tuxedo staring intently at their wristwatch, the fluffy ginger coloured tail being the first thing that enters his eyes.

Following this, the individual turns to look at him, revealing her full visage as a fox.

"Ah? Mr. Sylvester I presume" she states, before introducing herself as personnel designated to guide Ezra whenever he returns.

"The elders have grown concerned over your recent disappearance" she says.

Before he can dwell on her words, a sudden announcement grabs his attention.

"The ranking announcement is happening now, in the grand hall" a voice calls out.

"All recruits, gather at the main courtyard! The results of the trial shall now be displayed!"

Ezra’s eyes perk up.

Right. The rankings.

This event would determine which of the new recruits became official members of the Scarlet Dragon Clan.

He turns to the girl.

"Lead the way"

She nods and guides him before stopping after reaching a point.

Arriving, Ezra finds the grand hall filled with a suffocating tension.

The candidates stood in rigid formations, their expressions ranging from hopeful to grim.

The towering stone pillars bore intricate carvings of past warriors, their presence adding to the weight of the moment.

Ezra’s entrance barely went unnoticed at first—until whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

"That’s him"

"That’s Sylvester"

"What clan is he even from? Does anyone know?"

His name was already circulating, which isn’t surprising.

He had drawn attention during the trials.

The elders sit at long table at the forefront, overseeing the final announcements.

One of them, Elder Quinn raised his hand, silencing everyone.

"The results of the trials have been finalized" he declared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "The rankings will now be revealed"

A hush falls over the room.

"The maximum score for this assessment was 1,000 points" he continues.

"Each of you began with 100 points obtained from the Guardian’s assessment. The three trials each held 300 points, testing your survival skills, combat prowess, and tactical thinking. Only those who have earned 450 points or more will be permitted to remain in the Scarlet Dragon Clan"

Murmurs spread like wildfire as some candidates visibly shook, gulping nervously.

Ezra is unfazed, already anticipating this.

A large projection displays the rankings, each name accompanied by their accumulated points illuminated with golden inscriptions.

Whispers spread as results were scrutinized, expectations shattered, and new rivalries formed.

Ezra’s gaze swept across the list.

And then—

His name.

At the very top.

1st: Sylvester Leon – 998 points

He had come up with Leon as his surname a while back.

Ezra glanced at the list, unsurprised by his placement, but at the same time, he could feel as dozens of gazes shifted to him.

Being first meant he would inevitably be the envy of many.

Ignoring the noise, his focus is redirected, looking over the names after his.

2nd: Lucian Mavera – 945 points

3rd: Leonis Inzul – 922 points

4th: Arlene Lorain – 900 points

5th: Xander Jahn – 887 points

6th: Jareth Ravaran – 862 points

7th: Yara Vatran – 830 points

8th: Zuran Arzan – 798 points

9th: Talon Norim – 785 points

10th: Grax Yuliver – 771 points

However, what did catch his interest is the number two spot.

Lucian huh?

The fellow had been a consistent presence throughout the trials, and his score is the closest to Ezra’s.

Below the top ten, the names continued to be listed, with scores gradually descending.

Seeing Yara there also affirmed

The lowest passing score was 450 points—just enough to secure a position in the clan.

Those who had fallen below that mark now stood stiffly, their hands clenched into fists.

One of them, a young man named Wendell, trembled as his score appeared—439 points.

Not enough.

The reality of failure set in for many.

Though, I have to mention that failures are surprisingly low—thirty percent or less—with the majority passing.

The air is thick with reverberations as murmurs grew louder and louder in a boisterous tone while unspoken despair also lay.

The elder’s voice remains firm.

"Those who have fallen short of the passing threshold will be escorted from the premises six hours from now. You will return to your homes to prepare for next recruitment exam"

Some candidates flinch. Others stood motionless, their gazes hollow.

It wasn’t just rejection. To some of them, this was exile.

Ezra observed silently, taking in the weight of the moment.

For some, this is probably one of their last chances to escape their former lives.

And now, that chance had been ripped away.

The murmurs quieted as another elder stepped forward.

His sharp gaze swept over the candidates.

"Now, for those of you who have passed—your journey does not end here. Rather, this is just the beginning" he stated. "The Scarlet Dragon Clan does not simply accept recruits. We forge warriors"

His tone hardened. "In the coming weeks, you will be placed into divisions according to your performance. The higher your ranking, the greater your opportunities"

At this moment, Ezra’s mind is brought back to the offer given to him a day before.

—--------------

A total of eight people, including himself and Yara, had convened before the Elders during the meeting with the Inner Circle.

The air in the chamber was thick with expectation, the scent of incense wafting gently through the room.

The elders sat in an arc before them, their scarlet robes embroidered with golden dragons, each thread a testament to their prestige.

Following this, Ezra learns the name of the silver haired elder — Malark.

Malark sat at the center, his sharp golden eyes scanning the gathered candidates.

"The results of the trials have been thoroughly reviewed" Malark began, his voice carrying a weight of authority.

"Through both effort and sheer ability, each of you has displayed the qualities necessary to stand among the Scarlet Dragon Clan. But know this—your journey is far from over. What lies ahead will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine"

Pausing, his gaze lingers on Ezra—for a fraction longer than necessary.

Malark’s expression remained unreadable as he continued,

"Because of your exceptional performances, the Inner Circle has come to a decision. As the top-ranking candidates, you have received personal invitations from us to become direct disciples"

A ripple of murmurs spread among the gathered candidates. Even Yara’s ever-composed expression flickered with mild surprise.

One of the other elders, a burly man with a thick beard and a scar running down his cheek, leaned forward.

"Make no mistake—this is not a mere formality. This is an opportunity few are ever granted."

Ezra frowned slightly. "And what does this entail, exactly?"

Malark smiled faintly, as if pleased by his directness.

"You will be granted the title of Core Disciple and receive resources befitting that rank—advanced techniques, high-grade cultivation materials, personal tutelage from the elders, and access to restricted areas within the clan"

Ezra narrowed his eyes slightly. It was a generous offer—perhaps too generous.

"But" Malark continued, his voice carrying a note of finality, "this title will be probationary"

Ezra’s expression remained neutral, though a flicker of understanding crossed his mind.

"If your accept this offer, for two years, you will bear the title of Core Disciple" Malark explained.

"Then at the end of this period, your performance will be reassessed.

Those who prove themselves worthy will be granted full recognition as true Core Disciples.

Those who fail to meet expectations will simply be demoted to Inner Disciples"

The weight of the offer settled over the room.

Some of the other candidates exchanged uncertain glances, no doubt realizing the implications.

Ezra, however, was already forming his response.

He tilted his head. "But... what if I refuse?"

The air thickened.

Some elders frowned. Others remained impassive.

Elder Malark, however, let out a low chuckle. "Then you would remain as an inner disciple, forging your own path"

’Hmm’

Ezra had no intention of accepting.

The Scarlet Dragon Clan had power, certainly.

But tying himself to an elder? That was a different matter entirely.

The resources are tempting, but the expectations, the obligations and the inevitably tide of clan politics he would have to deal with... all these are a form of consequence Ezra simply isn’t willing to entertain.

He parted his lips to decline, but then—

A pause.

A single moment of hesitation.

Ezra’s sharp mind ran through the possibilities.

’Even if I don’t intend to stay, having access to their restricted resources for two years could be beneficial. And if they’re monitoring me, it’s better to be in the Core Disciple circle than outside it...’

His eyes flickered to Malark, then to the other elders. Finally, he inclined his head.

"I’ll need time to consider."

Malark studied him for a long moment before nodding.

"Very well. We will allow you time to deliberate, you have until tomorrow to give us your final decision"

His golden eyes then drifted to the others seated in the room.

The meeting continued, but Ezra’s mind had already begun dissecting the pros and cons of the offer.

’Two years...’

How much could he gain in that time?

Should he wager it or not?

—----------

This had been the thought he sought to ponder when he left for the sovereign universe, before going on expedition instead.