"You may now enter the illusion world," the exam coordinator announced, his voice carrying across the field with unmistakable authority. "This world was modeled after the infamous Forest of Death. You’ll each be teleported to a random point in the forest. Within it, various monsters of differing ranks roam freely. Each monster you kill will grant you points based on its difficulty. These points will determine your ranking."
A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. The tension was rising, and even the confident ones were beginning to fidget slightly.
"Your final ranking will greatly influence which university accepts you. The higher you rank, the better your chances of admission into elite academies. So hunt—hunt as if your future depends on it. Because it does."
He let the silence stretch a moment before continuing.
"That’s not all. You can also gain points by eliminating other competitors." A collective gasp followed that statement, though none were truly surprised.
"Before entering the rift, you will be given a bracelet. This bracelet tracks your accumulated points and displays a live ranking board. It also contains a built-in shield system. This shield can absorb a limited amount of damage. Once your shield is broken, you’ll be forcefully ejected from the competition. If you’re disqualified due to monster attacks, you’ll keep your points. But if another competitor takes you out, half of your points will be transferred to them."
The coordinator’s tone hardened. "In other words, the more kills—monsters or people—you get, the higher you’ll climb. Let the examination begin!"
The crowd erupted into action.
"You heard him, talentless bastard," Dan sneered, brushing past Aaron with a look of disdain. "Try not to get eliminated before I find you. I’d like to punish you a bit first."
With that, Dan strode confidently toward the nearest rift. The sooner you entered, the better your chances of getting the drop on monsters—or other students.
Aaron didn’t flinch. Punish me? he thought, amused. Dan will be lucky if he doesn’t end up in a third-rate academy.
"I hope we run into each other quickly," Aaron murmured under his breath.
"We should hurry too," Leo urged, already moving forward.
"You go on ahead," Aaron replied calmly, not budging. "I’ll join shortly."
Leo looked confused but didn’t press the matter.
Aaron watched the flood of students rushing toward the rifts. Like hungry fish swarming food, they scrambled to gain early advantages.
Typical small fries, Aaron thought. Desperate to rack up points before the big players show up.
He didn’t consider himself a "big fish" either. No, he was something far worse—a predator pretending to be part of the ecosystem. A bully whale, quietly watching the frenzy from above, waiting for the perfect moment to dive in.
Others lingered behind as well. Smart ones. Cautious ones. Predators in disguise.
He estimated the test would last a week—that was the norm for these major exams. A full week to measure strength, stamina, wit, survival skills, and tactical intelligence. It wasn’t just about raw power—it was about who could endure.
Up in the observation booth, Liam watched Aaron from afar, brow furrowed.
"Didn’t you say he awakened a talent? Why isn’t he moving with the rest?" he asked his assistant, intrigued.
"He’s likely waiting," she replied. "Like the other monsters. Let the eager ones do the dirty work. Then swoop in and collect the benefits."
"So he’s not just strong—he’s calculated," Liam said, a rare smile forming on his lips. "Interesting. I’m starting to like the guts on this kid."
Aaron, feeling mischievous, turned away from the rifts and began strolling toward the high-ranking officials’ viewing platform. His steps were casual, as if he had all the time in the world.
Levi noticed him approaching and couldn’t help but smirk. "What’s the matter? Scared of dying in the forest? You do know what’s on the line, right?"
"Scared? Hardly," Aaron replied, slipping into the seat beside Levi without hesitation. "I just don’t see the point of scrambling for scraps when I can stroll in later and take the feast."
"You can’t sit here," Rhea—the ever-dutiful aide behind Levi—interjected. "This section is reserved for high-ranking officials and special guests."
Aaron raised his voice deliberately. "Oh, I see. I guess the demigod heroes who gave their lives for humanity don’t count for anything anymore. They’re just names to be ignored when their son takes a seat?"
His words struck like a hammer. Eyes turned. Attention shifted.
Rhea went stiff. She couldn’t publicly shame the son of heroes in front of so many dignitaries—not without backlash.
"What a shameless, trashy soul," a deep voice cut in. A burly man strode toward Aaron, his tone filled with scorn. "Using your parents’ legacy to get special treatment? Pathetic. I pity my master for having you as a son."
Aaron turned to him, unimpressed. "Abuse? If I were abusing their fame, I wouldn’t even be here taking this exam. I’d have universities groveling at my feet with one press release. That’s how influential my parents are."
The burly man clenched his fists.
"I don’t like you," he said coldly.
"Mutual," Aaron replied with a shrug, turning his back on the man and resuming his casual conversation with Levi.
"I’ll join the exam when I feel like it," Aaron said smoothly. "But rest assured, I’m taking first place. When that happens, I trust you’ll keep your end of the bargain?"
Levi nodded solemnly, his acting worthy of an award. "Of course. If you win, I’ll see to it that Endrick’s life is ruined for what he did to you."
At that moment, Liam, who had been quietly observing from his seat, rose sharply. The atmosphere shifted as the air around him grew colder.
"Did you just say someone tried to kill you?" Liam asked, his voice low but deadly.
Across the platform, Endrick, seated among the school principals, choked on his drink. Panic seized him.
Destroy his life...? he thought in horror. Has Aaron lost his mind?! Why would he bring that up in front of Levi—and Liam?!
Endrick had survived in high places for decades. But now, for the first time in years, he felt a chill of dread.
He wanted to vanish. To melt into the chair and become invisible.
But he knew better than to move.
Aaron had just fired a warning shot—one that might ruin him if it landed. And the worst part?
It hadn’t even started yet.