The academy felt different after the announcement of the Class Evaluation Tournament.
For days, corridors that once echoed with casual chatter now thrummed with determination, mana flares, and the metallic ring of training blades.
Every student wanted a spot on their class's representative team — glory, ranking points, and recognition from guild scouts were all on the line.
But for Lee Shin, it was more than that.
This tournament was a line drawn between the past and the future.
Between the weak boy the world saw… and the hunter he once was.
Shin stood in the training dome long before sunrise, practicing alone.
Sweat glistened on his skin as he repeated sword forms in perfect rhythm — each swing followed by a pulse from the ring on his finger.
The ancient energy within it responded to his will more fluidly now, but it still demanded restraint.
Each time he tried to channel too much, the air crackled and reality seemed to warp around the blade.
He stopped, panting, and pressed a hand to his chest. "Still not enough control…"
The ring glowed faintly, almost as if mocking him.
"Talking to jewelry again?"
He turned to see Arin leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, her hair tied up in a loose braid. Her expression carried the same teasing warmth as always, but her eyes held curiosity — and maybe a trace of worry.
"You should rest," she said. "You've been here since last night."
"I can rest after I win," Shin replied simply, picking up his sword again.
Arin sighed and walked closer. "You know, most people would at least pretend to sleep before fighting the entire academy."
"Most people aren't me."
She smiled faintly. "True. But even you can't fight exhaustion."
She reached out, placing a hand over his — steady, warm. "Let the ring guide you, not consume you."
For a second, her words reminded him of someone — a voice long gone, soft and full of faith. His mother's.
He nodded slowly. "I'll be careful."
"Good." Arin turned, about to leave, but hesitated. "Oh, and… you're not the only one being watched. Class A's been training all night too. Your half-brother was there — boasting that he'll 'put the illegitimate mistake back in his place.'"
Shin's jaw tightened. "Let him try."
By noon, the representatives were chosen.
Class D's team consisted of Shin, Mirae — a quiet archer with ice-based mana — and Jin-Woo, a short, energetic brawler whose fists cracked stone.
They were mismatched, but Instructor Rho saw potential.
"You're the underdogs," she told them bluntly. "That means no one will expect you to win. Use that."
"Yes, ma'am," Shin replied, calm but resolute.
Across the hall, Class A's team gathered. Shin's half-brother, Lee Ha-Jun, stood at the center — smug and gleaming in his polished armor. Beside him were two elite students from wealthy guild families.
Their confidence was almost suffocating.
Ha-Jun's gaze found Shin across the room, and he smirked. "Try not to embarrass the family name again, little brother."
Shin didn't respond. He didn't need to. The tournament would speak for him.
The following days were a blur of preparation.
Each class honed their teamwork in simulations, training under mana pressure domes that recreated dungeon conditions.
Shin's group practiced from dawn till midnight — learning each other's strengths and limits.
Mirae's arrows could freeze an entire field; Jin-Woo's raw strength was unmatched.
And Shin — he became the rhythm that tied them together.
Every dodge, strike, and tactic he taught came from years of experience his teammates couldn't begin to guess.
During one session, Mirae stopped mid-draw and looked at him curiously.
"Shin… where did you learn to fight like that? It doesn't look like academy training."
He hesitated, then said softly, "From someone who taught me that strength means nothing without control."
Mirae smiled faintly. "Whoever it was… they'd be proud."
On the night before the tournament, Shin found himself once again on the balcony of the dorms, overlooking the glowing city.
The academy spires reflected the moonlight like silver blades.
He could sense tension in the air — a storm brewing.
Nonna appeared beside him, draped in her Class A coat. She didn't speak at first. They just stood in silence, the wind brushing through their hair.
"Ha-Jun's been talking," she said finally. "He plans to humiliate you publicly during the match. Father's betting on him, not you."
"I figured," Shin replied, his tone even.
Nonna sighed, frustrated. "You're not angry?"
"Anger's useless," he said. "I'll let results speak instead."
She turned to him, her eyes shimmering with pride and sorrow. "You really have changed, Shin. I almost don't recognize you anymore."
"Maybe that's a good thing."
Before she left, Nonna placed her hand on his shoulder. "Whatever happens tomorrow, remember — you're not alone anymore."
After she was gone, Shin looked down at the ring.
Its light pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.
"Not alone…" he murmured. "Then watch me, all of you."
Dawn arrived with roaring anticipation.
The Class Evaluation Tournament began beneath a sky crackling with mana, the central arena filled with shimmering barriers and elemental platforms.
Spectators crowded the stands — students, instructors, even representatives from major guilds.
When Shin stepped into the arena with his teammates, the crowd's murmur grew louder.
Across the field, Ha-Jun smirked from his team's formation. "Ready to crawl, bastard?" he called out, loud enough for all to hear.
Shin's lips curved into the faintest smile. "You should worry about yourself."
A crystal orb floated above them, signaling the match start.
[First Match: Class D vs Class A]
[Begin!]
The ground erupted in light.
Ha-Jun charged first, lightning cracking across his blade. His teammates followed — one casting flame barriers, the other summoning wind orbs.
Shin moved like water, parrying, redirecting, weaving between spells. His blade sang against metal, his eyes calm and unblinking.
Every move Ha-Jun made was aggressive, arrogant — powerful but wasteful.
Shin countered with surgical precision, turning his brother's strength against him.
The audience leaned forward, gasping at each exchange.
It wasn't just a fight — it was a statement.
And when Shin finally disarmed Ha-Jun with a perfect rotation, his sword tip hovering at his brother's throat, the arena went silent.
For a heartbeat, all that could be heard was the wind.
Then Shin lowered his weapon and said quietly, "Family or not, I won't bow anymore."
The match ended.
Class D won.
As cheers exploded around them, Shin stood motionless for a moment — the roar of the crowd fading into a low hum.
The ring pulsed once more, whispering a single word only he could hear.
Ascend.
He didn't yet know what it meant. But deep inside, he felt it — the beginning of something greater, and far more dangerous.