Back within the Dark Knight Academy, inside the Eastern Grand Hall where the authoritative figures were seated, dozens of suspended screens floated before them, each one displaying a different second-year student within the realm of Nalim.

They observed with cold, assessing eyes, gauging every decision, every movement, and every reaction made within the trial. Not a single detail was overlooked. To them, this was more than just an evaluation, it was a dissection of potential.

And not even an hour into the assessment’s commencement, nearly everyone’s attention was suddenly drawn to a single screen. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Moments ago, one of the displays had erupted with a blinding white-orange light, intense enough to outshine the others around it. The sudden flare immediately caught the attention of every instructor and professor present. Conversations halted, eyes shifted, focus locked.

And when they turned to that screen...

Most of them were stunned by what they were witnessing.

In less than an hour; half an hour, in fact, Liam Hunter, the ranked one among the second years, had eliminated over fifty Feral-class Gravecoils and killed an evolved one that had reached the level of an Advanced Horror.

And the manner in which he had done it...

It was nothing short of brutal.

The screen now replayed the entire sequence from the moment he had been dropped into Nalim. From the initial fall, to the swarm of Gravecoils, to the moment he had been cornered, to the shift; when he stopped holding back and turned the battlefield into something far more one-sided.

Flames, precision, calculated movement, and absolute lethality.

Some instructors leaned forward slightly, unable to look away. Others remained still, their expressions tightening as they processed what they were seeing. A few exchanged glances, not out of confusion, but acknowledgment.

This was not normal.

Even for a top-ranked student.

Some of the older professors, however, remained unmoved. Their expressions were colder, more distant. To them, this wasn’t shocking—just expected.

"Dark mages..." one of them muttered under his breath. "Always the same. Efficient... but barbaric."

Others, however, reacted very differently.

A few of them were visibly impressed. Some even entertained.

"I always knew that boy had a temper," Mystica muttered with a faint smirk as she leaned slightly into her seat, her eyes fixed on the screen. There was clear amusement in her gaze, a quiet satisfaction in what she was witnessing unfold.

And not too far toward the back, Lady Seraphina Vale made absolutely no effort to hide her reaction.

She was practically leaning forward in her seat, her eyes half-lidded with fascination, completely engrossed in the display of controlled destruction.

"Have some decency and stop looking like a pervert," Kaine, seated beside her as always, said flatly without even glancing in her direction. His tone was dry, unimpressed, and entirely unsurprised by her behavior.

"I’d rather die," Seraphina replied smoothly, her voice dripping with indulgent delight. "Why must I hide the fact that that fine specimen of a boy is my ace?"

Kaine let out a slow, tired breath and chose not to respond further.

He simply ignored her.

Meanwhile, closer to the front, Assistant Lucia Greydon stood silently, her attention locked on the screen.

Unlike the others, she wasn’t amused.

She was stunned.

Truly stunned.

Her mind struggled to process what she was witnessing. A sixteen-year-old boy—a low-tier six-star—producing this level of devastation in such a short amount of time. The scale alone was abnormal. The execution made it worse.

’I knew he was different based on his performance months ago,’ she thought, her brows faintly drawn as the scenes reflected across the lenses of her glasses. ’But seeing it like this...’

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

’When he isn’t even going all out in the slightest... it’s almost terrifying.’

The replay shifted to the moment of the explosion—the miniature sun forming in his palm, then disappearing into the maw of the evolved Gravecoil.

Lucia’s fingers tightened slightly at her sides.

’Is this why...?’ she wondered, her gaze slowly shifting away from the screen. ’Is this why the Headmaster was so calm about placing him in that zone from the very start?’

Her eyes turned toward him.

And for a brief moment... she froze.

There it was.

A faint, genuine grin.

Not the usual composed expression he wore in front of the students. Not the neutral authority he maintained during announcements.

This was different.

Subtle, but real.

His eyes were fixed on Liam’s screen, sharp and intent, as if watching something he had been waiting to see for a very long time.

’I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me, Hunter,’ Thion thought, his gaze unwavering. ’I always knew you were more than what you chose to show.’

His fingers tapped once lightly against the armrest of his seat.

’And I plan to have you reveal all of it to me... through this test.’

***

With his goal now being to get away from the swamp along with the devastation he had created, and to find solid ground, Liam moved at a steady pace along the pathway formed by the thick, interwoven branches, despite his injury.

About ten minutes into his movement, after maintaining that pace without pause, he had come to fully understand just how vast the swamp truly was. It stretched endlessly in every direction his eyes could reach, and even beyond that, the density of the canopy made it impossible to visually confirm where it would end. That uncertainty, not being able to tell if he was even heading in the right direction toward solid ground, forced him into a decision he had originally planned to delay.

Use his dark magic.

Wanting a clearer sense of direction and positioning, Liam had summoned Smoke and ordered him to move ahead.

Doing so, Liam linked with Smoke’s senses and was immediately able to determine that, roughly two kilometers from his current location, there was solid ground. And fortunately, there were no immediate demonic presences or threats in that direction.

With that information, Liam began moving with more purpose, aiming to reach solid ground as soon as possible—before his wounded thigh decided to give out on him.

The pathway above the swamp was far from stable.

Even though the branches formed something that could be used as a route, they were not meant to support sustained movement. Some were thick and sturdy, capable of holding his weight without issue. Others bent under even the slightest pressure, forcing him to constantly adjust his footing.

Liam didn’t run recklessly.

Every step he took was measured.

He placed his foot, tested the branch for half a heartbeat, then shifted his weight forward. If the bark creaked too sharply or dipped too much, he would redirect instantly, using a nearby vine or secondary branch to stabilize himself before moving again.

His pace remained steady, but not fast.

Not anymore.

The injury in his thigh made sure of that.

Each time he pushed off too hard, a dull, tightening pain ran through the muscle, reminding him of the puncture wound he had barely managed to stabilize. The makeshift treatment held, but it wasn’t a cure. It only prevented the situation from worsening.

He adjusted accordingly.

Instead of long strides, he shortened his steps. Instead of jumping wide gaps, he used nearby supports—vines, angled trunks, even hanging roots—to bridge the distance with minimal strain.

His breathing remained controlled. Slow and even.

But there was a subtle shift.

The longer he moved, the more his body began compensating. His left leg took on slightly more load, his upper body leaning just enough to redistribute weight without disrupting balance. It wasn’t something obvious, but it was there—a gradual adjustment to preserve function.

The forest around him remained unnaturally quiet.

That silence wasn’t comforting.

If anything, it made everything more tense.

Liam knew why.

The explosion from earlier had not only wiped out the evolved Gravecoil and its swarm, it had disrupted the entire surrounding area. Any lesser creatures nearby would have either fled or gone into hiding. Even predators with higher intelligence would hesitate before moving toward something that powerful.

That silence, for now, was a side effect of his own destruction.

But it wouldn’t last forever.

He kept moving.

The canopy began to shift as time passed.

At first, the branches were spaced apart, forcing him to constantly change levels, climbing up or dropping slightly to maintain a usable path. But gradually, the structure became denser. The trees grew closer together, their branches overlapping more naturally, forming longer stretches that resembled actual walkable routes.

Even then, it wasn’t perfect.

Some sections dipped sharply under his weight, forcing him to move quickly before the branch gave way. Others were covered in slick moss, making his footing unstable. Twice, he nearly slipped, catching himself with a quick grab to a hanging vine before redirecting his movement.

At one point, a branch cracked beneath him.

The sound was sudden and loud.

Liam reacted instantly, pushing off with his good leg and grabbing onto a higher limb as the broken section fell away into the swamp below. He pulled himself up without hesitation, not even bothering to look down.

Falling was not an option, so kept moving.

Time stretched as minutes passed into longer intervals.

The strain began to show more clearly now.

His injured thigh tightened with each movement, the dull ache sharpening whenever he placed too much weight on it. The bandage held, but he could feel the muscle resisting more with every step.

Still, he didn’t stop.

Stopping meant losing momentum, and right now, momentum was everything.

Eventually, subtle changes began to appear.

The air shifted first.

It became slightly less damp, the thick, suffocating moisture of the deep swamp easing just enough to be noticeable. The scent changed as well. The heavy, rotting smell of stagnant water began to fade, replaced by something cleaner—earth, bark, and dry leaves.

Then the trees changed.

Their roots were no longer entirely submerged.

Massive root systems began to emerge above the surface, spreading wide and thick, creating elevated structures that broke through the swamp’s dominance. The branches above reflected that change, becoming more stable, more grounded.

Liam noticed it immediately.

’I’m getting close.-

His pace didn’t increase, but his focus sharpened.

A few minutes later, he saw it.

Through a break in the canopy ahead, there was a shift in color. Dark green and black gave way to brown and muted gold. The ground rose slightly, no longer swallowed by water.

Solid terrain.

Liam crossed the final stretch of branches carefully, making sure not to rush now that the end was in sight. The last few steps were the most dangerous—fatigue, overconfidence, and injury all working against him.

He reached the final tree, paused for a moment, then dropped down.

His boots hit the ground.

Real ground.

The impact sent a dull jolt through his injured leg, but it held.

He straightened slowly, his weight settling fully for the first time since the fight.

The earth beneath him was firm. Uneven, covered in roots and dry leaves, but stable. No shifting water. No sinking pressure.

Just ground.