Silas didn’t slow his pace.

Instead he walked directly toward the main double doors.

’I can’t bother myself with all these predatory contracts...’ Silas thought, besides the moment that these people found out that he was a gold core... It was over.

He didn’t even have to shove his way through the dense chaotic crowd.

The moment he stepped near the throng of weeping survivors and aggressive recruiters, they instinctually moved.

The density of his aura parted the crowd like Moses at the Red Sea.

A pair of sleazy guild recruiters took one look at his broad shoulders, his terrifyingly perfect face, and the confidence in his stride, and physically stumbled backward.

Their survival instincts overrode their greed.

They knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the man walking up the stairs was not a traumatized victim they could exploit.

He looked like the kind of guy who would rip their heads off and mount them on a pike just for making eye contact!

Silas reached the massive entrance, stepping out of the cold afternoon air and into the vaulted lobby of the LAB.

The interior was just as much of a shitshow, filled with hundreds of people lining up at dozens of separate registry desks.

At the front of the room, blocking the main arterial hallway leading to the Association’s inner facilities was a heavy security checkpoint manned by four heavily armed guards wearing standard-issue mythril-weave armor.

Sitting on a marble pedestal in the center of the checkpoint was a large crystalline mana-verification orb.

"Hold it right there," the lead guard barked.

He stepped forward, puffing out his chest and raising a heavy iron halberd as Silas approached.

"This is restricted access as only registered Lords past this point. Place your hand on the orb to verify the fact that you awakened."

Silas didn’t say a word.

’I already know that this can’t actually tell what kind of core you awakened but they glow depending on the amount of mana you pour into them.’

He looked at the guard like he was a particularly annoying insect, stepped up to the pedestal, and casually pressed his palm against the smooth cold surface of the crystal.

Silas merely let his resting passive energy bleed into the artifact.

The reaction was instantaneous and violent.

The verification orb didn’t simply glow... it ignited immediately.

A blinding flash of dense golden energy erupted from the center of the crystal, pushing a wave of actual heat outward.

The thick glass groaned loudly, spider-webbing with dozens of tiny cracks under the density of his mana.

The lead guard ripped his halberd back, his eyes going wide as he stared at the cracking artifact.

He looked from the glowing orb to Silas’s cold unimpressed face.

"I’m a Blue core, just so you know."

The guard instantly snapped to attention, slamming his fist against his breastplate in a rigid respectful salute that nearly bruised his own ribs.

"Apologies for the delay, my Lord!" the guard shouted.

His previous arrogance was entirely vaporized, replaced by panic. "Blue Core Registry is desk seven, straight down the hall to your left. Please proceed."

Silas pulled his hand away from the hot crystal.

He walked past the checkpoint with the heavy boots of the guards clicking loudly as they stepped aside to give him a ridiculously wide berth.

Silas navigated the sprawling hallways, completely ignoring the frantic shouting of clerks and the groans of the wounded waiting in the standard registry lines.

He found desk seven easily enough.

It was located in a quieter, far more opulent section of the building reserved entirely for the city’s elite Blue Core talents!

Sitting behind a sleek obsidian counter was a young sharp-featured receptionist wearing a tailored association uniform.

She was currently filing her nails, looking incredibly bored as she waited for the rare Blue Core survivors to trickle in.

Silas stepped up to the desk, resting his hands flat on the cold obsidian.

"I need my official Lord ID," Silas stated in a rumble that immediately commanded the space around the desk. "And I need to process a resource drop."

The receptionist let out a quiet annoyed sigh and slowly looked up, ready to offer a standard condescending greeting.

Her breath completely caught in her throat.

She stared at the man leaning over her counter, and her brain basically short-circuited.

The sharpness of his jaw, the muscle straining against the black fabric of his shirt, and those crazy, insanely beautiful blue eyes with the glowing gold rings looking down at her sent a massive spike of adrenaline straight into her chest.

She had seen dozens of arrogant Lords today, but none of them radiated this kind of masculinity.

He looked like a god that had just decided to step down from a painting and ruin her life... She wouldn’t mind it at all.

She dropped her nail file with a clatter.

Her cheeks flushed a furious, deep red as she scrambled to sit up straight, practically throwing herself at her runic keyboard.

"O-of course, my Lord," she stammered with her voice pitching up an entire volume as she tried to compose herself. "Welcome back to Valoria. M-may I have your name to run the biometric scan?"

"Silas Graves." he answered simply.

Her fingers flew across the glowing keys.

A second later, a blue file expanded above the desk, displaying the basic academy data Commander Vesper had logged for him on Day One.

"V-verification complete," the receptionist said, offering him a nervous, overly eager smile while desperately trying not to stare at his lips. "Excellent-Grade Blue Core from Valoria Academy. Congratulations on surviving the Novice Trial, Lord Graves. I will have your permanent identification card forged right now."

She reached under the desk with her hands shaking slightly as she placed a blank silver card into a heavy runic press.

The machine hummed, physically etching his core signature and registry data directly into the metal.

"As for your resource drop," the receptionist continued.

She was trying desperately to maintain professional eye contact without letting her gaze wander down to his broad chest, and she was failing miserably.

"The standard mandate requires all Lords to submit thirty Tier 1 Spirit Beast corpses to the Association by the end of the current month. Since you just finished your trial today, you have exactly three weeks to gather the necessary materials before your state-sponsored stipends are frozen."

The runic press chimed loudly. She pulled the sleek silver ID card from the slot and slid it across the obsidian counter toward him.

Silas picked up the card, sliding it effortlessly into his pocket though he didn’t move away from the desk.

"I am not waiting three weeks," Silas said flatly. "I want to submit my quota right now. Clear the line."

The receptionist blinked. Her nervous flustered smile faltered as genuine confusion washed over her face.

"Right now?" she repeated with her brow furrowing.

She looked at his pristine, tailored black clothes and his entirely relaxed posture.

"Lord Graves, standard procedure dictates that newly returned Lords rest and recuperate. Gathering thirty corpses requires multiple hunting expeditions over several days with a fully equipped squad."

"I have the corpses," Silas corrected her. "I brought them back from the trial. Where is the drop zone?"

The receptionist’s eyes went completely wide. The flush vanished from her cheeks, replaced by shock.

For a novice Lord to return from the 7-Day trial with an extra thirty intact monster corpses sitting in their inventory meant they hadn’t spent the week hiding.

It meant they had actively hunted the native population while defending their core.

It was a feat usually reserved for the crazy, heavily armed scions of massive corporate guilds backed by heavily funded starter armies.

"You... you cleared a surplus during the trial?" she whispered, staring at him as if he were a ghost. Her mind raced, trying to comprehend the sheer tactical violence required to pull that off. "Did your anchor point spawn you near an Unknown Zone?"

"Something like that," Silas replied vaguely.

He was unwilling to explain the slaughter of the Tides or the might of his Soldiers to a desk clerk. "The drop zone... Now."

The authority in his voice snapped her back to reality.

She realized she was questioning a man who had just walked out of a meat grinder with a surplus of death like it was a casual stroll in the park.

"Y-yes, immediately, my Lord," she stammered, scrambling out of her plush chair.

She practically tripped over her own heels as she rushed around the side of the obsidian counter. "Please, follow me. I will escort you directly to the subterranean appraisal basin."

Silas stepped back, allowing the terrified respectful clerk to take the lead.

As he followed her down the hall, his thoughts drifted.

The real world was exactly as tedious as he remembered.

’I wonder what the girls are doing right now,’ Silas thought with a small smirk crossing his face. ’Probably sitting around being bored out of their minds.’

[Meanwhile, back in the Blessed Land.]

Bored out of their minds was an understatement.

Without the constant threat of monsters breathing down their necks, the sudden drop in adrenaline had left the girls restless.

The Warlord’s Garrison was cleaned up, the weapons were sharpened, and the perimeter was completely secure.

Now, there were seventy two superhuman women sitting around the massive stone courtyard with absolutely nothing to do.

"I’m going to lose my mind," Tamsin groaned, hanging upside down off one of the lower wooden training racks. "I can’t just sit here... My blood is itching and we need to do something."

Fenna was sitting on a nearby crate, casually inspecting the fletching on one of her mythril arrows.

A wicked scheming grin slowly spread across the archer’s face.

"What about a game?" Fenna suggested, twirling the arrow between her fingers.

Brida, who was currently polishing her massive iron tower shield, snorted.

"A game? What are we, children? We’re soldiers, Bow-Splitter. If you want to play a game, go juggle your arrows."

"Oh, come on, Captain," Fenna purred, leaning forward. "Not just any game. A game of tag. But... with real stakes."

Aeliana, who was quietly reading a grimoire near the shade of the Keep, looked up with her green eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Define ’real stakes’, Fenna."

Fenna stood up, addressing the entire courtyard.

"Simple. We play tag. The winner... the one who catches the target gets to sleep in Lord Silas’s bed tonight while he’s gone which is full access to the Sovereign’s quarters... If he comes back, I guess the winner will sleep in Lord Silas’s bedroom."

The entire courtyard went completely silent.

It was like someone had dropped a bomb.

Tamsin flipped off the training rack, landing perfectly on her feet with her eyes wide.

Brida stopped polishing her shield.

Even Aeliana slammed her grimoire shut, her pointed ears twitching violently as a deep flush spread across her pale cheeks.

The prize was the ultimate flex.

Sleeping in the Lord’s massive obscenely comfortable bed? Claiming his personal space as the ultimate alpha move while he was away?!

"I’m in," Tamsin said instantly, a feral grin splitting her face. "But who’s ’It’?"

"I am."

The melodic voice carried over the courtyard.

Everyone turned.

Eluned was standing at the base of the massive oak tree, her silver-green dress swaying gently in the breeze.

The SSS-Rank Goddess looked completely bored, but her emerald eyes were sparking with a competitive light.

"I am the highest authority here," Eluned declared, stepping forward. "It is only fitting that I am the target but since I am a Goddess, and you are all mortals, I will make it fair. I will completely drop my physical durability to match yours, and I will not use a single drop of my nature magic. Just pure physical combat."

Brida cracked her knuckles with a terrifying bloodthirsty smile forming on her scarred face. "No magic? You’re just going to use your hands against seventy of us?"

"I don’t need magic to put you on your asses, Captain," Eluned smirked arrogantly. "If you manage to tag me, the bed is yours. If I knock you out, you lose."

"Oh, you are so going down," Tamsin laughed, drawing her twin chain-daggers, though she kept them sheathed to keep it non-lethal.

"Begin," Eluned said simply.

What followed was chaos...