A youth stepped forward and handed a plastic bag to Asphalt.
Zane, curious, glanced at the student. Above his head, the display of attributes flickered to life — Strength, Dexterity, and Mana, all over 1500 points.
Hmm, not bad, Zane muttered to himself.
The youth introduced himself confidently. "I’m Trueman Luminar, from the Luminar Super Family."
"I know who you are, Trueman." Asphalt accepted the bag without flinching. "What’s this? A bribe, like the last guy?"
"No," Trueman replied calmly. "That’s 20 three-star core stones. For my group."
Without even looking inside, Asphalt handed the bag right back. "Nope. This won’t do."
Trueman blinked. "What do you mean?"
Asphalt clapped his hands, drawing the crowd’s attention again.
"My bad, everyone," he said. "Seems I forgot to explain things clearly earlier. Let me elaborate."
He turned toward the gathered students and spoke loudly, "This so-called ’entry fee’ isn’t just a flat rate. It’s a donation — a compensation — for the sacrifice my poor friend here had to make, opening the ancestral chest of his family."
"So," Asphalt continued, "the fee varies. If you’re from an average background, it’s 20 three-star core stones. Per person."
The crowd murmured, but he raised a hand before they could interrupt.
"For those from higher backgrounds — like nobility or Super Families — the rate is higher."
Trueman’s brows furrowed. "That’s not fair."
"Fair?" Asphalt scoffed. "You want to talk about fair?"
Zane grinned slightly. Here we go again, he thought. This guy doesn’t let up.
Asphalt stepped forward, voice rising.
"You—" he pointed at Trueman, "were born into a Super Family. You’ve had wealth, resources, top-grade mentors, even your own training halls. But look at my friend here—no inheritance, no backing, no support. Where’s the fairness in that?"
"Hey!" Zane barked, annoyed. "Stop using me as your moral prop!"
But Asphalt ignored him.
He turned and began pointing at random students in the crowd. "You. You. You. And many more. How many of you here come from humble homes? How many of you had to struggle just to get here?"
Murmurs rose into shouts of agreement. Some students even cheered.
"Exactly," Asphalt said, seizing the momentum. "Tell me, where’s the fairness in our Academy system? You nobles had a head start. So consider this payback for generations of inequality."
"Hey, you’re a nobility too."
"Exactly, but we’re talking about you people and not me," Asphalt said without even feeling a bit of shame.
Trueman, caught off guard, hesitated. The crowd was now rallying behind the Nitpicker—the very man they had considered revolting against minutes earlier.
Asphalt smirked, watching the tide shift.
"See, Trueman? This isn’t about fairness—it’s about balance. So take your outdated sense of entitlement and walk back to where you came from."
Trueman gritted his teeth but said nothing more. He retreated into the crowd.
But Asphalt wasn’t done. Original content can be found at novel⟡fire.net
He pulled out a folded paper, cleared his throat, and read aloud:
"Here’s the official rule—if you want to pass through our gate, you pay. The donation rates are as follows: Students from average families: 20 three-star core stones. Per person. Members of the Five Super Families: 20 four-star core stones."
The moment Asphalt spoke the final line, the entire crowd was struck silent.
Even Zane couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, "This is becoming maddening."
He did the mental math out loud, voice low but firm. "A One-star stone is worth 1,000 Artemis Dollars. A Two-star is 100,000. A Three-star is 1 million... And a Four-star stone?" He exhaled. "That’s a staggering 100 million Artemis Dollars."
He shook his head. "So, basically, he’s asking students from ordinary backgrounds to pay a million dollars per person, and those from Super Families... a hundred million per head." His eyes scanned the crowd. "This is madness. And yet..."
His voice trailed off as he took in the expressions of the majority.
"...they’re all smiling."
Indeed, the crowd of students from humble origins was cheering, clapping, and some even laughing with joy. The previously tense atmosphere now vibrated with approval.
Zane glanced at Asphalt, a strange admiration bubbling inside him. This Nitpicker... he’s really someone worth befriending. But I need to stay on guard. He’s as dangerous as he is clever. Then he glanced at Dar, who seemed calm and thoughtful. She knew what kind of man she was dealing with all along.
But not everyone was pleased.
Those standing at the back—students from the Five Super Families—had storm clouds on their faces. Anger, frustration, even desperation was visible in their eyes.
They had to get through that gate. If they didn’t, their rankings would drop—fast. And in the Academy, ranking was everything. A lowered position meant lost privileges, fewer resources, and most terrifying of all... irrelevance.
Asphalt, of course, understood all of this perfectly.
Zane, too, now saw the larger picture.
He’s more than a talker, Zane realized. He’s a tactician. A manipulator. A rare kind of genius.
Asphalt raised one hand, calling for silence again.
"For those students belonging to the Top Three High Nobility Families," he announced, "each of you need only fifteen Four-star core stones."
Zane couldn’t hold back a laugh. "And he still uses the word ’only’. Unbelievable."
Asphalt continued unfazed, "Ten Four-star stones for members of the Five Medium Nobility Families, and nine for those from the Ten Normal Nobility Houses."
He paused, letting it all sink in.
"Now pay up—if you want to enter the Ruin and raise your ranking."
That last sentence was the final blow. The tension burst like a bubble, and the crowd rippled with emotion. Cheers erupted once more—not because they had money, but because the upper class now shared in their suffering.
For once, it felt balanced.
But not for the elites.
Dilemma struck hard. They had to enter the Ruin. Everyone did. If they wanted to rise—or even maintain—a top 600 rank and qualify for the Second Stage of the Tournament, this was non-negotiable.
But none of them had that kind of wealth on hand.