To the teacher, this was fortune beyond asure. There was a universal truth in the world: the strong grew stronger. And with Michael's foundation at this stage-already at the level of two teachers combined-what would he beco when he peaked?
It wasn't just Michael who would benefit. By the ti he grew strong enough to give back to his academy, so too would Veraunt's Edge bask in his rise.
The saying echoed in the teacher's heart like a mantra: when the homaker ascends, even his chickens follow.
The others could only gnash their teeth in frustration.
Necromancers had limits, yes-bound to the race rank of their undead. But at Rank 3, things started to bend from previously established rules.
Rank 3 creatures could cultivate Laws, and with each advancent in their Laws, their own strength advanced as well.
To put it simply, there would co a ti when Michael would witness several Rank 3 creatures at the Three-Star Extraordinary Rank surpass the supposed limits of their race.
In fact, he had already seen it once-Beginning.
Through his Law, Beginning had propelled himself all the way to Level 70-a threshold that, at least in theory, should only have been
accessible to Epic-rank monsters, even if only temporarily. That was the sheer power of cultivating a Law.
It was also the reason that, upon reaching Rank 3, experience points were no longer shown as raw numbers but as a percentage toward the next level. At the ti, Michael assud it was just a system update to the interface.
He hadn't yet realized it signified sothing far more elusive-the shift away from relying solely on experience points to advance.
Of course, experience farming still remained the quickest and most efficient path, but it was no longer the only one.
More than that, if a creature advanced its Law far enough, it could even raise its life level, improving its race rank as if undergoing a forced evolution.
With the right conditions and suitable materials, pushing themselves to evolve wasn't just a possibility.
Take the Tailed Fox, a favorite among beast tars. By nature, they possessed a weak racial limit, yet their potential was imnse. If provided with sufficient evolutionary materials to bring them to Rank 3, the cultivation of their Law would gradually increase the number of tails they bore-each tail a testant to their advancing power.
Of course, none of this diminished the importance of race rank.
Was it easy to improve a Law through cultivation-let alone push it far enough to force an evolution? Absolutely not.
But if a creature's race rank was already high, then the opposite held true: their Laws only needed to catch up, and they would naturally advance on their own.
With each step forward in Law cultivation, those undead would grow stronger, and if their Laws advanced far enough, they could even ascend their very race rank. Forced evolution wasn't a fantasy-it was an inevitability if the right conditions and resources aligned.
And now? Veraunt's Edge had two such monsters delivered into their fold for free.
The nine teachers stared at Michael and felt bitterness rise in their throats.
Below, Gale's storm raged without pause.
Though he held back from invoking his Law-Michael had been cautious about risking anything that could truly harm the real bodies
of the Awakeners-their lives were only prolonged by seconds.
Even without tapping into his Law, the affinity it granted sharpened every gust, every blade of wind, into devastation amplified far beyond what ordinary students could withstand.
Gale was on a relentless kill streak.
It was Lucky, on the other hand, who seed to have cald down.
The reason was simple.
It was an acquaintance.
Hovering above a castle, Lucky tilted his head, his gaze settling on the lone girl standing before its gates. Her expression was cold, distant, but familiar enough to stir recognition in him despite it being the first ti he saw her without his previous black and white vision.
Mira.
To Michael-his master-she had once been a classmate. A girl with an intriguing class: Alchemist.
Now, she stood at the front of her keep with a black stone cradled in her hands, its surface veined with blue light.
A formation stone.
Like Michael, Mira had been unfortunate at the start, placed in a
castle with only three people including herself. Yet her class had given her thods others lacked, and through them, her group managed to avoid being crushed early.
As for why she was alone now-it was because her two teammates had left her to guard the castle while they chased the newly issued
"quest" alongside the rest.
Like the others, Mira had never once connected that quest to another participant. She certainly never would have imagined it linked to soone she actually knew. And the man before her-this cold figure cloaked in human guise-looked nothing like the Lucky she had once
seen.
She had no way of knowing.
This final round of the exam, though filled with ups and downs, had
actually been easier for Mira than the previous one. Yesterday's trial in the virtual space had left her nearly useless-her class had been of little value in that artificial battlefield.
But fortune had smiled in an unexpected way. After the incident in Woodstone City, she had forged a connection with the manager of the
Supernatural Association branch in her new city. Through that connection, word of her rare talent had been passed along to a First-Rank Academy, which had wasted no ti in sending her an
offer.
If not for that, even with her special class and her hard-earned Level 30-achieved only by completing her grueling advancent quest- Mira would likely have been forced to settle for a Second-Rank Academy, or worse, a Third.
This round, however, had been different. Here, she could finally lean into the true advantages of her Alchemist class. Her concoctions, her tools, her formations-they all found their place in real combat.
Yet now, standing before her castle with the formation stone pulsing
in her hand, Mira felt sothing she had not even experienced during
the Demonic Supernatural Event in Woodstone City.
She felt despair.
Because the figure hovering above her keep was not so ordinary
opponent.
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