At the VVIP section — the Royal Box…
Kime entered the room without the slightest trace of hesitation. His footsteps were calm, controlled, and deliberate, as if the world itself adjusted to his rhythm. Despite spending the entire morning finalizing every last-minute arrangement for the tournament, he had made certain he would not miss this moment. This particular stage of the event held significance beyond spectacle. He needed to personally witness Itekan's growth. It wasn't a matter of curiosity — it was necessity… a crucial piece of what was coming.
Inside the elevated Royal Box, three men of extreme political importance had already taken their seats. Their chosen positions were bold, almost theatrical. The king of Falmouth and the king of Brandish had seated themselves directly beside one another, deep in quiet discussion about the performances so far. To their right, the prime minister of the Taltaba Federation — a short, stout man with a decorative waxed mustache — occupied himself with a grape kebab, popping each grape into his mouth as if the tension in the room did not exist.
Kime approached with the ease of someone who had never been denied a seat in any room. Positioning himself between them, he lowered himself onto the cushioned chair, offering the smallest, calmest smile. Then he turned toward the short man who was still chewing noisily.
"Gruddal, how has the tournament been so far?" Kime asked lightly, addressing the prime minister with the casual tone of someone speaking to an equal… or less.
The reaction was instant.
All three men froze. Their eyes narrowed, their brows tightened in offense, their control slipping for a heartbeat.
What impudence!
The boldness of the question was one thing — but the tone, the familiarity, the lack of any formality… it was an outright dismissal of their status.
He had placed himself on the same level as them.
He had spoken as if they were companions, not rulers.
Yet none of them rebuked him.
Because they couldn't.
Because every man in that room knew — painfully, humiliatingly — that the person who had just sat beside them could erase their entire kingdoms from the map and walk away without so much as a scratch.
This was the power of a Legend.
King Quinnson Guel of Brandish frowned outwardly, the insult burning him. But inwardly? He smiled a venomous, private smile. His thoughts churned with anticipation. The grand plan — the scheme years in the making — was finally reaching fruition. Soon, everything Kime cared about would be torn from him.
Soon, that calm face would twist with devastation.
He had accepted Kime's invitation today purely for the pleasure of witnessing that reaction firsthand.
Four Stars Academy would not last the week.
Beside him, Prime Minister Gruddal swallowed his grapes, cleared his throat, and forced his features back into diplomacy.
"It has been a most pleasant demonstration of the next generation of heroes," Gruddal responded smoothly. "I am truly impressed with the work here."
Kime nodded subtly. "Of course. It is such effect I seek. How about you, Quinnson? How do you see the event thus far?"
Another blow. Another casual stripping of royal formality.
Quinnson's jaw flexed. Even the kings respected each other's titles — it was the backbone of their hierarchy. Yet Kime ignored such political etiquette entirely, floating above it like a deity surveying mortals.
Because if they were kings…
He was a god.
It was then King Alexander Alroind of Falmouth — the only one among them who held no corrupt secrets — finally spoke.
"Legend Kime," Alexander said, voice steady, "do you think that even for someone of your level of power, the disrespect shown is too much? I would take it from no other being."
Kime actually smiled at that. Of the three dignitaries seated here, Alexander was the only one he held genuine respect for. He alone had never dipped his hands into the darkness that ruled the world. He alone remained righteous in a den of wolves. And as history had proven again and again, it was always the righteous men who were devoured first.
"Of course it may seem so," Kime replied calmly. "But what is a king without a kingdom?"
The words dropped like stones into still water.
Quinnson and Gruddal didn't move — they couldn't move. Their hearts skipped. Their blood chilled. They recognized the threat instantly. Kime wasn't insulting them personally anymore. He was threatening everything tied to their existence — their nations, their citizens, their lineage.
He had referred to them as just men.
And he meant it.
He was ready — at any moment — to make them exactly that.
Alexander heard the weight behind the words too. Unlike the others, he had seen this kind of warning before.
He had respected Kime since childhood, watching from the shadows as Kime and another unnamed Legend ended the catastrophic war between Falmouth and the Taltaba Federation more than fifty years ago. Alexander's father — a wise man rotted by his addiction to power — had been forced into sanity by a single conversation with Kime.
Well… not a conversation.
A promise.
A promise to erase his entire household from existence if the conflict surrounding the region where Four Stars Academy now stood was not halted by noon of that very day.
Alexander had never forgotten it.
His father had regained clarity, trembling from the realization of how small he truly was. And young Alexander had been inspired instead — burning with desire to achieve that level of authority, that level of presence. That day had changed him. It drove him to become one of the first batches of trainees to enroll in Four Stars Academy.
He knew Kime.
He knew the man only threatened when he believed diplomacy had failed.
And the threat he had just delivered was clear:
This was their final warning.
---
The dungeon…
Within the first few minutes of entering the Northern Kendo Dungeon, several grade D demonic beasts ambushed the group. Once they secured their safe zone, Arizel Frost wasted no time — he left immediately. His obsession to continue his unfinished duel with Itekan burned too fiercely to think rationally.
Beside him walked Whitney, a skilled second-year trainee who carried herself with practiced confidence. Arizel trusted she wouldn't hold him back. But finding Itekan in this massive dungeon would require endurance, so he made sure to conserve as much spiritual energy as possible.
---
Meanwhile…
Itoyea and Bukanami continued forward, leaving Itekan and Jokovik Martennel behind to guard their king, Nuelle Ness. Itekan sat atop a large boulder a short distance outside their safe zone, chin resting on his palm, annoyance clear in his expression.
He hated this.
Hated being on watch duty.
Hated missing out on the real action happening across the dungeon.
Jokovik clicked his tongue in irritation. He was already angry that this first-year — this kid — had demanded to choose his own combat role as though he were some prodigy.
"Hey! Just 'cause you don't like being a shield doesn't mean you should slack off!" Jokovik snapped. "We're fighting not just for ourselves, but to uphold our Academy's pride!"
From inside the safe zone, Nuelle watched silently. She had put Itekan on guard for two reasons: first, she wanted to observe the boy Korimer and Headmaster Kime praised endlessly. And second, she had a feeling his ability would be most useful here. So she allowed him to act freely.
"Who says I'm slacking off?!" Itekan shot back. "I can do more sitting here than you can running around!"
Jokovik nearly exploded. The insolence!
But Nuelle didn't react — not negatively.
She knew his words weren't just arrogance. His shadow ability should, in theory, be capable of covering the entire northern dungeon. If the rumors surrounding him were true… then he wasn't bragging.
Then — a sound.
Barely audible. Distant. Subtle.
Nuelle's ears twitched, her expression shifting. She had been born with superhuman hearing, and three years at Four Stars Academy had sharpened it to near-perfection. The noise she sensed came from over 200 feet away.
But what shocked her was that Itekan also stiffened — at the exact same moment.
"You've got nothing else to boast about?" Jokovik teased, unaware of the tension suddenly forming around him.
"No," Nuelle said sharply. "Be ready. We have company."
"I'll go ahead first," Itekan declared.
His body dissolved into pure shadow, four flickering shapes rising behind him like flame wisps dancing without wind.
Jokovik's jaw dropped. Even he couldn't deny it — as a guy, that transformation was the coolest thing he'd ever seen.
"Wait—don't just rush in!" Nuelle called, but Itekan had already blurred out of sight, moving at a speed that rivaled thunder. She wasn't sure she could match that speed even at her limits.
Was he truly a first-year?
Itekan darted forward, his almost-soundless sprint stretching into near-sonic velocity. The aura he sensed was unmistakable — a signature drenched in death, colder than darkness itself.
The one presence his shadows couldn't read.
The darkest soul he had ever encountered.
The ace of Rangers Academy…
Shzekcl — the Shadow Assassin — was coming.
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Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signature (SST)