She finally looked up, her gaze scanning him. The refined quality of his new clothes set him apart from the gritty mercenaries who usually drifted through these doors.
When Aren placed his hand on the scanner atop the counter, his Aureus bracelet synchronized with a soft chime.
The woman froze. A notification had flashed across her screen in urgent crimson:
[RECENT STATUS: RELEASED UNDER DIVINE JUDGMENT]
Her gaze snapped to Aren's face, her professional mask finally cracking.
"So… you're the infamous 'Innocent,'" she murmured, her voice now guarded, almost hushed.
"Aren Rayne. You've tossed the Donovan name into the gutter. Wise choice. You wouldn't have survived a single hour in this building with it."
With a swift command, she activated the confirmation code. A small notification pulsed on Aren's Aureus bracelet, vibrating against his skin.
"Your registration is complete, Mr. Rayne. To determine your Nyx rank, please follow the blue line on the floor. The Assessment Division is expecting you," she said, handing him a numbered ticket.
Aren followed the luminous blue path, weaving through a labyrinth of corridors until he reached a sprawling waiting hall.
Scores of applicants sat in rows, clutching their numbered tickets like lifelines.
[Ticket Number: 577]
Ten reinforced doors lined the far wall, each leading to a private chamber where a Nyx's future was decided.
Aren found a vacant seat, his ears tuned to the cacophony of nervous energy and desperate bravado surrounding him.
"My rank will be A-class, minimum," a man nearby boasted, his chin tilted at an arrogant angle. "An elite like me wasn't born to be burdened with a third-rate ability!"
Across from him, a younger man sat with his eyes squeezed shut, hands clasped in a white-knuckled prayer. "Please, let it be D-rank. Just D. I just need one guild to take a chance on me..."
"E-rank? Congratulations, brother!"
"Thanks! It's not much, but it's a start. I can finally get to work."
Aren watched two friends embrace in genuine relief.
Though he had been a free man for only two days, he felt like an ancient observer watching a frantic, colorful play.
He noticed the shift in the room's atmosphere as people recognized him. Whispers rippled through the rows—some eyes were wide with curiosity, others narrowed in lingering disgust, and a rare few gleamed with a strange sort of admiration.
It was only natural. Like the ghost of the incident thirty years ago, he was a man who had defied the "absolute" verdict of the world.
What would they do, Aren wondered, his eyes curving into a dark crescent, if they knew the secret? Thirty years ago, they were fooled by a fake blade. But I... I was judged by the true Holy Sword.
The thought was intoxicating. I imagine the fallout would be quite interesting.
The screen above the doors flashed.
[577]
Aren rose, the movement fluid and calm. He entered Room Three. At the center of the sterile, high-ceilinged chamber stood a sleek assessment capsule, its metallic surface gleaming under the cold lights.
A woman in a white lab coat stood before a bank of monitors, her silhouette sharp against the glowing data.
"Number 577," she said without looking up. "Step into the capsule."
Aren stepped into the capsule, following the woman's instructions, who—despite his notoriety—had yet to deign him a single glance.
From beyond the reinforced glass, her voice reached him, distorted slightly by the comms system.
"The assessment will take place within a high-fidelity virtual environment to measure your peak physical and cognitive performance," she said, adjusting her spectacles as data began to scroll across her monitors.
"Your Nyx rank will be calculated based on your neural and physiological responses."
She continued in a practiced, clinical drone.
"Standard tiers range from F to A. Superior tiers are classified from S to SSS. Beyond those lie the outliers: the legendary EX-tier and the mythical L-tier, often referred to as the Divine Tier."
"However, bear in mind: a rank is merely a snapshot of your current capacity. It is not a ceiling. In this world, power is a fluid commodity, and the growth path is open to those with the will to seize it."
Aren understood.
No one in this world allowed a letter on a screen to define their limits. That restless hunger for more was exactly why so many forbidden and forgotten paths to power existed.
As the woman initiated the sequence, the world outside the glass dissolved. Aren closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he was standing in a vast, sterile void. Luminous grid lines surged beneath his feet and raced across the horizon, rapidly assembling into a stark, white combat chamber.
In the distance, strange metallic spheres hovered at varying heights, humming with latent energy.
Aren't instincts sharpened. He recognized the setup: a gauntlet. His objective was deceptively simple—survive the onslaught of traps and projectiles for as long as possible.
"Initiating assessment in ten seconds. Prepare yourself."
The countdown echoed through the void, cold and rhythmic.
"...3, 2, 1. Test commenced."
The air whistled as a heavy battle-axe was hurled from the shadows. It cleaved the air with lethal velocity, slamming into the grid exactly where Aren had stood a millisecond before.
Aren slipped to the side, his movements as fluid as water.
"A bit of a harsh opening, don't you think?"
Despite the comment, Aren pulse remained steady. He looked remarkably at ease, his body already tuned to the simulation's frequency.
Two spears followed the axe, launched in a pincer movement. He twisted his torso to let the first graze past his ribs, then ducked beneath the second.
The weapons impaled the ground ahead of and behind him, a deliberate attempt to box him in.
The onslaught intensified without a moment's reprieve. A hail of throwing knives was suddenly unleashed, whistling through the air toward him from multiple angles.
Rather than retreating into another evasive maneuver, the eyes flashed with a predatory focus. He lunged forward—not away from the danger, but deeper into it.