The fork struck porcelain in steady intervals—metal against ceramic, precise and unhurried. The clock on the wall ticked between each bite, loud enough to grate on weaker nerves. Adam ignored it.

  The golden slice on his plate diminished one measured mouthful at a time.

  He reclined in a leather chair, savoring cheesecake crowned with glossy cherries. Steam curled from a cup of freshly brewed tea resting on the table beside a pair of thick gloves. The office around him bore signs of violence restrained by discipline—abstract paintings hung in deliberate chaos, battered training dummies slumped in a corner, a coat rack leaned slightly under the weight of a long trench coat. Two oddly shaped bouncing balls sat near a shelf lined with books on martial arts.

  None of it dulled his appetite.

  He took another bite.

  Smooth. Rich. Balanced.

  It’s better than the ones Dad used to bring home.

  Adam gave a small, satisfied nod as he finished the last forkful. He set the utensil down carefully and lifted the teacup instead, letting the warmth settle against his palms before taking a slow sip.

  “You’re enjoying yourself.”

  He glanced up.

  Arlette sat perched on the edge of her desk, arms folded, watching him as though he were an exhibit.

  Adam placed the cup back on its saucer. “Thank you for the treat, Instructor. I heard you weren’t due back until tomorrow. I’m glad you returned early.”

  “Don’t get clever.” She shifted her weight. “You’ve eaten. Now answer me.” Her gaze sharpened. “When did you feel your Blessings change? And think carefully before you lie.”

  Adam rubbed his thumbs together absently. “I can’t give an exact date. It started after the Valar incident.”

  Her brows drew together. “Months ago. Why now?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “People adjust differently. Maybe it just took time.” A faint smile touched his lips. “I didn’t particularly enjoy getting knocked around for half a year.”

  The tension in her face eased a fraction.

  “How much do you know about A-class?” she asked.

  “Only what Varidan allows us to know,” Adam replied. “Which is basically nothing.”

  “That’s normal.” She shrugged. “Varidan Towers doesn’t consider those beneath A-class to be true members. Lower ranks are permitted to train and use the facilities—for the greater good of the world.” Her tone made it clear what she thought of that phrasing. “But that changes the moment someone becomes A-rank.”

  Adam remained still, listening.

  “If you meet their standards—and if you’re exposed to restricted information—Varidan will actively try to recruit you.” She paused. “But that’s not the main attraction. The real incentive is access to the echo chambers.”

  That caught his attention. “Echo chambers?”

  “It’s not surprising you haven’t heard of them.” She tapped her fingers against the desk. “Think of them as rooms designed to strengthen your connection to your Blessing.”

  Adam’s gaze sharpened slightly.

  “You may not realize it yet,” she continued, “but once you cross from C to B rank, advancement becomes significantly harder. Any external aid that improves your chances is something most Awakened would kill for.”

  “I didn’t know something like that existed,” Adam admitted. “How does Varidan determine eligibility?”

  She exhaled slowly. “The most tested method? Be the most outstanding among your peers. And remain unaffiliated. Varidan won’t invest time grooming soldiers for other armies. Do you understand?”

  Adam nodded once.

  “Good. Keep that in mind before joining any guild. Whatever they offer must outweigh the value of the echo chamber. Whether it does or not is your decision.”

  She straightened.

  “Moving on. A-ranked students are restricted from visiting certain regions in Outworld. Some guilds and factions consider Varidan a mortal enemy. You’ll receive a comprehensive list on your map later. You’re free to ignore it.” Her gaze hardened. “But you’ll shoulder the consequences.”

  Adam inclined his head in acknowledgment.

  “Those are the essentials. A full list of regulations will follow.” She flinched slightly, as though remembering something. “Right. A-ranked students attend classes and training sessions four times a week. Attendance matters—especially if you want to improve your chances of using the echo chamber. Your new instructor will brief you on which dungeons you’re cleared to raid.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  She pushed off the desk and walked toward him, her tone turning solemn.

  “You need to be careful from now on. The mortality rate for A-ranked students in Varidan is high. There are groups that actively hunt A-ranked Awakened.”

  Adam did not interrupt.

  “The Scavengers hunt, kill, and steal abilities from those they capture. Mxyraths. The Disciples of Eben. Those three are responsible for most of the missing Awakened cases.”

  With each name, the weight of her warning deepened.

  “With your promotion, you’ve… you will become a target of interest.”

  She reached for the gloves on the table and slid them into the pockets of her trench coat.

  Adam tilted his head slightly. “What about Eight Gates? Aren’t they Varidan’s main enemy?”

  “It’s complicated,” Arlette said as she took the seat opposite him. “The Eight Gates is considered the most powerful faction in the world—without question,” she began. “They possess enough manpower to wage war against every major faction and still come out victorious. But they have one major weakness.” Her eyes lingered on him. “Can you guess what it is?”

  Adam furrowed his brows and leaned back slightly, sinking into thought. Across from him, Arlette crossed her legs, watching him in silence.

  “Is it because they don’t have a leader capable of uniting them?” he finally asked.

  A slow smile curved her lips. “It seems you’re not just a pretty face.” She inclined her head faintly. “There’s currently no one capable of uniting all eight factions.”

  Adam absorbed that.

  “Pardon me for asking,” he continued, “but what exactly happened between Varidan and the Eight Gates? I tried to investigate the matter, but I couldn’t find anything.”

  “It’s not surprising. All information regarding that incident is embargoed. No information broker would risk drawing Varidan’s ire.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I can’t give you the full details. You’ll need to become S-rank for that. But I can give you a summary.”

  “A summary is fine,” Adam replied. “As for S-rank… I’m not sure I’ll be that fortunate.”

  She regarded him for a moment before continuing.

  “An incident occurred some time ago. A gate master—one of the eight leaders of the Eight Gates—infiltrated Varidan territory while posing as a student.” Her gaze drifted briefly to the side. “I can’t tell you what his objective was. He was discovered before completing it.

  “He had no intention of being captured. An explosive battle followed. It ended with his death.” Her voice remained even. “Thousands of students and several high-ranking members of Varidan’s upper echelon died in that clash.”

  Adam frowned. “They didn’t retaliate?”

  “The Eight Gates isn’t the cruel, warmongering faction people paint them to be,” she replied casually. “Those who mattered didn’t particularly care that one of their gate masters was killed.” A faint, dark chuckle escaped her. “If anything, it elevated Varidan’s reputation. But I doubt the Eight Gates considers us enemies the way we consider them.”

  Adam parted his lips, then closed them again.

  Most factions would have answered blood with blood.

  They sound like the sort of guild Vicar would join, he thought.

  “May I ask another question?”

  Her eyes flicked toward him, amused. “You haven’t annoyed me yet. Go ahead.”

  Adam gave a small chuckle. “Why was the Eight Gates created? If they’re as powerful as you claim, there must have been a reason.”

  “The Eight Gates being the strongest isn’t my personal theory—it’s a known fact,” she corrected evenly. “As for why it was created… no one knows. Nor when.” She scrunched her face faintly. “Perhaps a few elders in Varidan Towers or ancient recluses know the truth. But they certainly aren’t sharing it.”

  She leaned back slightly.

  “The most common theory is that thousands of years ago, a powerful Awakened united the eight most formidable guilds to confront an existential threat.” She paused. “Tell me—how much do you know about demon rankings?”

  “è?ù are the highest rank,” Adam answered. “Aren’t they?”

  She shook her head. “That’s the highest rank made public. Since you’ve been promoted, you have clearance to know about the next level.”

  He watched her carefully.

  “Lords,” she said.

  “Lords?”

  “Yes. The rank above è?ù. Comparable, in some respects, to the Blessed among those Awakened via Blessings. The difference is that there can be multiple Blessed, but only seven Lords can exist at any given time.” Her tone hardened slightly. “Only the absolute elite ascend. They are far stronger than the average Blessed. è?ù—who themselves rival the Blessed—serve beneath them. Lords are the true rulers of the grand dungeons.”

  Adam’s mouth opened slightly before he closed it again.

  “According to rumor,” she continued, “the Eight Gates was formed to combat one such being. It’s also why the western walls exist. The Eight Gates constructed them to prevent that Lord’s armies from advancing further into the world.” She shrugged. “Apparently, that was the first and last time the eight fought as one. Some believe they will unite again if another existential threat emerges.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I think most of it is nonsense,” Arlette scoffed. “Tens of thousands of years have passed. It’s unlikely anyone alive knows the truth.” She paused briefly. “Though the possibility of a Lord capable of threatening the world isn’t far-fetched. The northern wars six thousand years ago prove that.”

  Adam’s attention sharpened.

  “The Lord of Gluttony fell after the combined assault of the ancient saints,” she continued. “To this day, the north remains a frozen wasteland—a scar left by the collision of Blessings and Omen.”

  Adam’s heart thudded once in his chest.

  Gluttony.

  “That will be all for now,” Arlette said, rising to her feet. “With your new status, you can pursue further information on your own.”

  Adam stood as well, organizing his thoughts. “Thank you. For the tea. And the cake. I’ll visit again if I have time.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. Who wants to see your face?”

  He chuckled as he turned toward the door.

  Her voice stopped him seconds later.

  “So which Adam are we going to see from now on?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “My skirt-chasing days are over,” he said lightly. “Though I might reconsider—for you.”

  “Get out of my office.”

  Adam’s laughter followed him into the hallway.

  Arlette returned to her desk and retrieved a colorless crystal from her pocket.

  At the same moment, a portal opened within the room.

  “Aunt Hensley, there was no reaction from the crystal—no matter how long I kept him here,” Arlette said evenly. “He isn’t being controlled by a Xyrath. Nor did he artificially strengthen his connection through elixirs.”

  Dean Hensley’s gaze lingered on the crystal for a moment.

  Then she stepped back through the portal without a word.

  The portal sealed shut.

  Arlette exhaled slowly.

  She’s still pissed about the mission. At least she didn’t make me spar with her again…

  A sharp knock sounded at the door.

  “Arlette,” a gruff voice called from outside, “Dean Hensley ordered you to report to her sparring arena.”

  Arlette lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  I’ll make it my life’s goal to find and destroy that mannequin-using bastard…

  A portal opened beneath her feet.

  She disappeared.