The sword pierced precisely into the squirming mass. Darude's body jerked violently as he let out a painful howl.
But the attacker didn't stop. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the sword deeper with all his strength, twisting it to create a gaping wound.
[Lethal Strike! Basic Swordcraft EXP +5]
Blood and brain matter sprayed from the wound, splattering over him.
At last, the grotesque brain-like creature collapsed to the floor, unmoving.
The attacker stared at the twisted corpse, making absolutely sure it was no longer twitching.
The glow on the deformed brain had completely faded, now just a lump of dull, lifeless tissue.
Robb stood in place, breathing heavily, his body covered in corrupted blood and fluids.
He could barely believe what he had just done—he had killed someone who, until recently, had been a fellow apprentice candidate. A neighbor he had lived beside for months.
But the instinct to survive quickly calmed his shock.
In the Black Mist Forest, this kind of thing was normal.
Survival of the fittest was the only rule here. All he had done was follow that rule.
"Sorry, Darude...," Robb murmured, a complex mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. "But the one who gets to live... has to be me."
The battle over, he cautiously approached Darude's body, hoping to find something useful.
Amid the warped flesh, a small notebook had miraculously remained intact. It seemed Darude had instinctively protected his research, even after losing his sanity.
Flipping it open, Robb found pages filled with densely packed notes on sonic spells.
Much of it was disorganized gibberish, but several pages stood out—they contained a simplified prototype of a sonic spell, which Darude had refined to the point of basic usability.
"So this... was what he was trying so desperately to complete..." Robb muttered, carefully stowing the notebook.
The data was undoubtedly valuable—not just academically, but because it could help him pass the upcoming assessment.
[Unlocked Special Skill: Sonic Vibration (Prototype)]
[Description: An incomplete but usable spell design.
Effect: Emits an offensive soundwave that deals both physical and mental damage.]
Just as he was about to examine Darude's other belongings, hurried footsteps echoed from afar.
The academy's enforcers had clearly picked up on the commotion and were on their way.
Robb quickly composed himself, ensuring he looked like a victim acting in self-defense—not an aggressor.
Though survival of the fittest ruled here, the academy still enforced a basic code of order.
A squad of enforcers soon appeared at the end of the corridor.
Leading them was a tall man with the badge of a senior apprentice on his chest.
He pulled back his hood, revealing a pale, gaunt face and cold, sharp eyes that scanned the scene in silence.
Robb found the man familiar. When he caught the strong herbal scent coming from him, it hit him—this was Hugo, the senior apprentice who had recently bought a large batch of stardust herb from the herbal shop.
"What happened here?"
Hugo's eyes flicked briefly when he saw Robb but spoke without a trace of personal emotion.
Robb took a deep breath and replied calmly, not acknowledging their past encounter. He gave a concise explanation, emphasizing Darude's mutation and his aggressive behavior.
"He used some kind of banned drug. It caused cerebral mutation... then he attacked me. I had no choice but to defend myself."
Robb spoke in a low voice, his expression mixing shock, sorrow, and a measured calm.
Hugo listened without a word, then knelt beside Darude's corpse and carefully examined it.
He pulled a small vial from his belt and collected some fluid seeping from Darude's brain.
"Classic catalyst mutation," he said flatly. "These cases are getting more frequent."
Turning to Robb, he added, "Per protocol, I need to run a spiritual contamination check on you."
Robb nodded and submitted without resistance.
Hugo placed a small crystal on Robb's forehead. It glowed faint blue, shifted to green, then stabilized.
"Good. No signs of mutation. Your spiritual field is steady and well-defended."
Hugo's eyes drifted to the wooden sword in Robb's hand, raising an eyebrow. "Killing a mutated subject with a wooden sword? Not bad swordsmanship."
"Just lucky," Robb replied modestly, trying not to draw attention.
Hugo smirked slightly, as if seeing through him.
"Caution is good. But you might not know—our academy encourages self-defense in dangerous situations."
He signaled his team to handle Darude's remains, then stepped aside and quietly told Robb:
"Sonic spell research has long been a priority bounty topic. If you found valuable notes in Darude's belongings, I suggest you make good use of them."
Robb's heart skipped a beat. Was this an encouragement... or a test?
Either way, Hugo had clearly noticed the notebook.
"Thank you, sir. I'll keep that in mind," Robb replied carefully, keeping his tone respectful.
And now he understood what Andrey had once said.
Those in positions of power, though they held life-and-death authority, often provided guidance to those they saw potential in—rather than simply suppressing them.
Hugo's subtle advice was proof that he recognized Robb's potential.
"So... understanding the academy's rules—and showing enough ability—might actually be the key to surviving here?" Robb mused.
"You're sharp. I don't need to say more."
Hugo nodded, his tone subtly re-evaluating Robb.
"The incident will be recorded, but since it qualifies as self-defense, it won't count against you. The assessment is near. Be ready."
With that, he turned and left with the enforcers, leaving Robb alone in the bloodstained corridor.
Robb took a deep breath and returned to his room.
He needed time to process everything that had just happened.
Today had been a brutal reminder of the Black Mist Forest's reality.
Here, everyone struggled to survive. Everyone chased power with madness.
Locke. Emily. Darude... and the countless unseen bones buried beneath. All reflections of this twisted world.
But no matter how hostile the environment, in the end, it was one's own choices and strength that determined their fate.
…
In a hidden chamber deep within the Black Mist Forest, pale blue light illuminated several white-robed figures.
The walls were lined with crystal orbs, each showing a different sector of the academy.
One orb clearly displayed Robb and Darude's entire fight.
"Seventy-eight points," declared a stern-faced wizard, holding a complex scoring device.
"This candidate performed admirably, especially against such high-intensity sonic attacks."
"Seventy from me," said an elderly witch with bright violet eyes, watching intently.
"His swordsmanship and reactions are commendable, but he hesitated slightly during the first wave."
"I agree with Yuni," said a tall middle-aged wizard. "But that final strike was surgical. For a candidate to stay composed under pressure—that's rare."
"Let's call it seventy-five," the presiding elder concluded. "Mark his name: Robb Reyne. Add him to next year's high-priority watchlist."
A student scribe in the corner quickly recorded the decision.
Meanwhile, Hugo had just arrived on-site and begun examining Robb.
"Interesting. He's that new assistant Elena recruited. I think I've seen him before," said Yuni.
"Looks like Ellen's instincts are still spot-on," she added, arching an eyebrow.
In the crystal ball, Hugo and the enforcers left the scene, leaving Robb alone in the hallway.
"He doesn't look great," the middle-aged wizard remarked.
"Sonic attacks do internal damage. I'm curious if he'll make it through the night."
"He will," the elder said calmly.
"There's a trace of solar essence on him. His regeneration should be strong."
"Solar essence?" The term drew everyone's attention.
"You've confirmed it?" someone asked.
The elder nodded.
"It's faint, but it's there. That's why I'm interested in him."
"Then he's definitely worth watching," Yuni said thoughtfully.
"These days, students with elemental affinity are increasingly rare. If he has solar potential, he could bring a substantial boon."
At the mention of boon, the room fell silent for a moment, the wizards' expressions subtly shifting.
"Speaking of boons..." the middle-aged wizard changed the subject and praised the elder: "Vice Dean, you're looking younger than ever—must be thanks to the boon from training Sorceress Corinna decades ago."
"That's why we need to keep scouting talent from surrounding mortal nations," he said.
The Vice Dean spoke softly, "One student who becomes a full sorcerer can extend their mentor's life by fifty years. That Talisa girl Corinna found recently seems promising."
"Indeed. It's our duty as instructors to raise new students," others murmured in agreement.
"Without those boons, we old ones would have been consumed by corruption long ago."
"That's why we need this kind of environment," the Vice Dean said seriously.
"Proper danger and competition help true talents rise—like Oliver a few years back. He had weak potential, but under life-and-death pressure, awakened a rare gift."
"Exactly," Yuni nodded.
"You can't grow true strength in a greenhouse. Only real trials produce real sorcerers."
"The kids who take the forbidden drugs—they're part of the system too," said the middle-aged wizard coldly.
"Their failures and deaths become fuel for others' growth. Survival of the fittest—it never changes."
The Vice Dean stood, ending the session.
"Keep monitoring the candidates on the watchlist. Also, tell the 'Black Vipers' to scale back operations for a few days. The number of mutated subjects is exceeding our projections."
"Yes, Vice Dean," the scribe answered.
Yuni chuckled softly.
"The apprentices probably can't even imagine the black market they fear... is just our tool."
"A necessary evil," the Vice Dean said calmly. "Some will die because of it. But more will grow stronger. Just like we did."
"That's enough. Dismissed." He waved his hand. "Has the next batch of spiritual catalysts arrived?"
"They're ready, sir," said the scribe. "We've modified the formula per your instructions. This batch should have less than half the previous mutation rate."
"Good." The old man nodded. "As I always say—we need competition, but not too much. Excess kills talent. And true talent is... rare."
As the sorcerers departed, the images in the crystal ball slowly faded to black.