Marcus began cursing the moment he realized he was being dragged toward the medical wing.

  "Dammit! Let me go! That A+ Rank elite is Lance! He’s a student at your academy! He even calls me 'partner'!" Marcus shouted, sweat pouring down his face as he tried to expin to the crowd.

  The gathered Professionals only shook their heads, their eyes filled with pity.

  "This hallucination is severe. He’s starting to lose all sense of logic. How could the 37th Royal Preparatory Academy produce an A+ Rank elite? If a genius like that existed, they would’ve been poached by the First Academy ages ago. And calling him 'partner'? That’s just delusional."

  "Poor Marcus. All those years struggling to get certified, only for his mind to snap the moment he succeeds."

  "Baron, move fast. Get him into a Med-Pod for a few days. Maybe there’s still hope."

  Because Marcus’s cims were so outrageous, the crowd was convinced he had suffered a mental breakdown from the pressure of the hunt.

  "Look, buddy. Our academy does have a student named Lance," said Baron, the instructor dragging Marcus. He sighed, looking equally helpless. "But as of two days ago, he was a regur student with a strength rating under 500kg. He awakened an F-Rank Trait, sure, but he’s nowhere near the word 'genius.' Come on, let’s get your brainwaves scanned. You’ll see how sick you really are."

  As Lance’s former combat instructor, Baron felt he knew the boy inside and out. In this era, an instructor was like a headmaster; if his student had become an A+ Rank elite, how could he not know?

  "Dammit, even you don’t believe me?" Marcus was stunned. "Is there really only one Lance in your academy? Is he really just a nobody?"

  Marcus began to doubt himself. Had he created a false memory after reading the official announcement this morning? Under the influence of Post-War Hallucination Syndrome, memory and reality often blurred.

  "Only one Lance. Come on, cooperate with the treatment, and you’ll be out in a few days," Baron sighed, pulling harder.

  "Huh? Marcus, Instructor Baron? I didn't know you two were acquainted."

  A clear, calm voice caused both men to freeze.

  They turned simultaneously. The surrounding Professionals followed their gaze.

  The air left the square in a collective gasp. A youth, roughly fifteen years old, stood there. He was cd in a bck Nano Combat Suit that shimmered with dark silver energy veins. Slung across his back was a Crimson Dragon Spear radiating intense heat.

  Even with poor intuition, the Professionals could sense the Aether fluctuations coming from that spear—it was a high-tier weapon, at least Rank 2 or higher.

  "Hiss... he’s that young and already certified? Is he a seed from the First Royal Preparatory Academy?"

  "Wait, what did he call Baron? Instructor? Dammit, was Marcus telling the truth?"

  The square fell into a deathly silence.

  "Partner! Lance! You're real! I'm not crazy! I'm really not crazy!" Marcus nearly burst into tears. One second he was questioning his sanity; the next, his savior had appeared.

  "Uh, of course I'm real. Marcus, what's going on with you?" Lance looked confused. He had no idea about the psychological war Marcus had just endured.

  "Lance... you’re really Lance?!" Baron’s eyes bulged, his face a mask of disbelief.

  "Instructor, I haven't even graduated yet. Have you forgotten me already?" Lance asked, somewhat amused.

  "God... it really is you!" Baron finally found his voice, though the shock was threatening to drown him.

  "Actually, it's good I ran into you. I wanted to let you know that I won't be participating in the Federal Unified Exam this year," Lance said calmly. "I’ve been fast-tracked into the Imperial Royal War Academy. I’m heading to the Capital today. I didn't want you to worry when you couldn't find me."

  The crowd gasped again. Now, they were one hundred percent certain. This boy from the slums was the A+ Rank monster that had shocked the city.

  "You brat... what the hell happened? That A+ elite hogging the headlines... it’s really you?!" Baron’s voice trembled.

  "If you mean the person who certified at the Guild yesterday, then yes, that was me. It's a bit complicated to expin," Lance said, waving it off.

  VROOOOM—!!

  Suddenly, the sky darkened. A heavy weight of Psionic pressure descended, and a massive shadow swept over Silvermoon City’s center.

  Everyone looked up, falling into an even deeper state of shock.

  A starship, vast as a floating city, blotted out the sun. Its streamlined hull radiated the cold, mechanical beauty of high-end engineering.

  "It's The Morton Warship! High Chancellor Sis Stuart’s fgship!"

  "Why would a strategic asset of that level descend on Silvermoon City?"

  "Has something happened?"

  Panic rippled through the city. To the commoners of Morton Province, the owner of that ship—Sis Stuart—was effectively an emperor.

  Hum—!

  High in the sky, a hangar door on the warship’s fnk slid open. A brilliant Tractor Beam pierced the clouds, striking the ground directly in front of the Profession Guild.

  "Perfect, Lance! You're on time!" Director Raymond rushed out of the Guild building, spotting Lance immediately.

  "Instructor, we'll talk when I get back. I have to go!" Lance waved to Baron and Marcus before stepping calmly into the light.

  Zip!

  Pulled by an invisible gravitational force, Lance shot upward, disappearing into the clouds.

  Rumble—!

  With a deep roar of its engines, the Morton tore through the atmosphere, turning into a streak of light that vanished into the horizon.

  Behind them, a group of petrified Professionals and a dazed Instructor Baron remained. Baron watched his "average" student soar into the stars, feeling a deep sense of defeat—he had taught the kid for years and never realized he was a sleeping dragon.

  "Student Lance, long time no see."

  The moment Lance stepped through the airlock, a burly man approached with a hearty ugh. It was Reed, the Gold Tier, Rank 5 powerhouse who had accompanied Sis Stuart the previous day. He was also a combat instructor for the War Academy.

  "Instructor Reed, good to see you again," Lance nodded politely.

  "Haha, no need for formalities. Come, the elites from across the sector have been waiting." Reed gnced at Lance’s Bck-Syer Combat Set, a fsh of envy crossing his eyes. Gear of that level was something even he, a Gold Tier instructor, couldn't afford.

  This is the A+ treatment, Reed thought.

  The interior of the Morton was massive—a flying city. Reed led Lance to a giant training hall over a kilometer in diameter. It was reinforced with Rank 3 alloys, strong enough to withstand full-scale battles between Gold Tier combatants. About twenty youths in their early twenties were already standing there.

  When Lance entered, every eye in the room turned toward him.

  "That's the new A+ Rank?"

  "He looks barely fifteen. A kid from a third-rate backwater? Probably just got lucky during awakening and had an Aether affinity spike."

  "Don't say that. Luck is a form of talent. Still, in two years, he'll probably hog all the resources in Silvermoon."

  "If he survives the practical trials, that is. Fast cultivation doesn't mean you can fight."

  Most of these youths were seniors from the First Royal Preparatory Academy. They viewed this "unaffiliated" genius with skepticism and even hostility.

  "Everyone, the ship will enter the Dark Universe for acceleration in three minutes. At that point, the selection trials officially begin," Reed announced sternly. "The rule remains: Strength is everything!"

  Sis Stuart wouldn't handle these internal selections himself; he left everything to Reed.

  Lance, however, was focused on something else. "The Dark Universe?" He looked through the viewport.

  According to his textbooks, once a ship reached critical speed, it engaged its trans-dimensional engines to enter the Dark Universe. There, the ship’s apparent speed increased a hundred million times, and because of the dimensional difference, it wouldn't collide with celestial bodies in the Great Cosmic Era. This tech was standard for Rank 4 vessels and above.

  As the engine vibrations increased, the stars outside stretched into lines.

  Beep—Entering Dark Universe. All personnel, lock gravity positions.

  Hum—!

  There was no turbulence. The gaxy outside was repced instantly by infinite darkness. The ship felt like it had plunged into a space of absolute silence.

  "That's it?" Lance felt a bit underwhelmed. A hundred-million-fold speed increase, and it was so smooth he couldn't even feel the acceleration.

  Beep—Dark Universe coordinates anchored. Target distance: 7,000 light-years. Estimated travel time: 25 hours. All long-range signals disabled during transit.

  Reed cpped his hands to get everyone’s attention. "Selection begins. We have 25 hours to finalize the rankings. The format is 1v1 combat. Since there are twenty-one of you, one person will be drawing a bye in the first round."

  He waved his hand, and twenty-one virtual card projections appeared.

  "Those who draw the same number are opponents. Whoever draws the Red Card advances directly to the next round. Begin."

  The students stepped forward. Lance tapped a card, and a bright red one popped out.

  Lance blinked. "Red?"

  "You've got to be kidding me. That kid’s luck is insane. A bye right off the bat?"

  "I wanted to see him get exposed in round one, but he gets a free pass to round two."

  "Just luck. Let's see how far he gets."

  The geniuses grumbled. In their eyes, Lance had simply avoided the first wave of eliminations by sheer chance.

  Lance, however, was happy for the peace. His goal was to finish his War Art reconstruction before they reached the Capital.

  As Reed pressed a button, a massive square arena rose in the center of the hall, enveloped by a Rank 4 energy shield.

  "First match, Number Ones to the stage. Everyone else, back up."

  As Lance retreated to the edge, he noticed a familiar figure stepping onto the stage. It was a girl in a white tactical gi, about seventeen or eighteen, with flowing long hair. She held a longsword that radiated a bone-chilling frost. The air around her seemed to crystallize.

  "Is that Selina? And Leon?"

  "Selina’s only a junior, right? I heard she's already Silver Tier, Rank 7. If she had two more years, she’d be the undisputed top student. Too bad she’s facing Leon, who’s ranked third."

  Lance activated his Combat Lens, scanning the icy girl.

  The moment the data refreshed, Lance raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Looks like I'll be fighting this girl for the top spot in the finals."

  On stage, Leon looked at the girl and gave a smug smile, cupping his hands. "Junior Selina, sorry about this. As your senior, I'll hold back a bit."

  BOOM—!

  Before he could finish, an extreme cold wave swept the arena like a por storm. Leon’s face went white.

  "Gold Tier?! That's impossible!"

  In a panic, Leon tried to draw his bde, his Battle Aura fring to the max.

  CRACK—!

  A second ter, the Absolute Zero frost power surged across the field. Leon didn't even get the chance to surrender; he was instantly frozen into a glittering ice sculpture.

  The hall went silent.

  Reed stood up in shock. In the control room, Sis Stuart gripped the armrests of his chair.

  "Gold Tier (Rank 1)! A seventeen-year-old Gold Tier! And she awakened a B-Rank Trait: Frost Lord! That’s a solid A+ Rank rating!"

  Sis Stuart was trembling with excitement. Another A+! And this one was already fully formed with combat experience. If she progressed further, she could even be rated as S-Rank.

  While everyone else was in shock, Lance remained unmoved. His lens had already seen through Selina—a Gold Tier fighting a bunch of Silver Tiers was just a sughter.

  "Still, the energy rhythm in her body suggests she's hiding something else," Lance mused. He ignored the rest and immediately dove into the Holographic Simution Space to grind his Sor Fre Bst.

  Time passed, and the first round ended. After ten matches and Lance’s bye, only eleven remained.

  Five hours ter, the second round began.

  Since the number was still odd, Reed threw out another bye.

  Lance tapped a card.

  Hum—! Red again!

  "Bullshit! This has to be rigged!"

  "Two byes in a row? This kind of luck shouldn't exist!"

  The geniuses were furious.

  "Silence!" Reed barked. "Byes are purely random. Besides, the selection is based on final combat performance. Luck might get you through two rounds, but it won't get you a bye into the finals!"

  Lance smiled, unbothered. Better not to fight; he was at a critical breakthrough point.

  For the next five hours, Lance compressed energy maniacally in his simution.

  By the tenth hour of training, the thousand-meter fireball in his hands was finally squeezed down to the limit: sixty meters.

  "Now!"

  VROOOM—!

  The ripples on the fireball’s surface solidified. The once-violent energy achieved a perfect colpse-equilibrium.

  System Announcement: Congratutions! You have mastered Sor Fre Bst to the Perfect rank! Explosive multiplier increased to: 400%!

  Lance let out a long breath, a smirk forming. Though it had only taken ten hours (less than an hour in real-time), the danger involved was equivalent to a decade of bitter cultivation for a normal person.

  "System, execute War Art reconstruction!"

  System Alert: 900,000 exploits detected in War Art Sor Fre Bst. Initiating reconstruction program!

  Nine hundred thousand exploits! This meant the potential of this technique after reconstruction would exceed even his spear art.

  BOOM—!

  A new stream of knowledge flooded Lance's mind. With his brain overclocked, he mastered this advanced "world-ending" art in an instant.

  System Announcement: Reconstruction complete! War Art evolved into: Nine Heavens: Sor Fre Bst! (Rank 6 - MAX)

  Nine Heavens: Sor Fre Bst: Top-tier Rank 6 Psionic War Art.

  Stage 1: Instantly colpse Psionic fire by 100x, triggering 10x normal lethality.

  Stage 2: Instantly manifest nine compressed cores and execute a Fusion Colpse, unleashing 15x peak explosive power!

  Note: This stage has massive energy consumption. Not recommended for those below Gold Tier.

  Lance took flight in the simution space. He clenched his hands, and golden Sor Stelr Fme erupted into the sky.

  "Colpse!"

  Instantly, nine thousand-meter fireballs condensed in the air. Under Psionic pressure, they shrank into nine golden points only ten meters wide—so bright they were impossible to look at directly.

  "Go, Nine Heavens Protocol!"

  Nine streaks of light tore through the simuted sky, smming into the virtual earth.

  BOOM-BOOM-BOOM—!

  Infinite golden fire instantly swept across everything within twenty kilometers. Heatwaves rolled as simuted mountains and rivers were vaporized. This level of destruction was enough to wipe Silvermoon City off the map.

  Lance hovered high above, looking down at the hellish sea of fire with deep, focused eyes.

  "So this is the limit of Rank 6 power? Now, I have truly stepped into the ranks of the strong in this star sector."