Vice Principal Caradoc stops the array that’s transmitting the many types of Mana that are getting injected inside Jacob’s body, who’s half-unconscious in the middle of thirteen pillars on the top of a mountain.

  The sun shines bright and there’s barely a cloud in the blue sky, but despite that, the mood on the lush mountain is somber—borderline tragic, actually.

  Jacob is in a giant pool of his own blood, his torso naked and his muscles strained and broken.

  He rasps and wheezes with every breath, his entire body having to get behind the entire act of inhaling and exhaling since he’s barely functioning anymore.

  Four days have passed since Jacob asked Vice Principal Caradoc for help to learn the Domain of Ruin and Bones Skill. Well, to be precise, to integrate the Skill Crystal. Not all Skill Crystals, once absorbed, are well received by the host’s body. Iskara, for example, almost died because of Lucifer’s Veins, a Rainbow Skill that fundamentally alters one’s body.

  Now, Jacob’s going through something similar.

  Vice Principal Caradoc has built an array that would cost immense amounts of money, to the point Jacob wouldn’t even understand the value of all the materials, many of which unique, that were put on the line for him.

  This serves the purpose of channeling many types of Mana in order to accustom Jacob’s body to the overwhelming power of the Skill and, successively, the Primordial Spell that King Baalrek expects Jacob to use with it.

  The Skill Crystal itself and the Skill, Domain of Ruin and Bones, are terrifyingly powerful on their own. But used with King Baalrek’s Primordial Spell, it becomes a self-empowering, terrifying Skill that perfectly complements Jacob’s affliction specialist aims.

  The problem, however, is very clear to Vice Principal Caradoc.

  Baalrek, you always had a big heart. But this kid… he’s simply too weak. His body is breaking down. He’s not you.

  Vice Principal Caradoc knew King Baalrek very well and he knows just how talented and gifted the Infernal man was. Here, however, King Baalrek expects Vice Principal Caradoc to inject the same power the Infernal man had mastered on his own into his disciple. But the difference is that Jacob’s body is very, very average for the Academy standards.

  “Jacob,” Vice Principal Caradoc says.

  “Huh?” Jacob has glassy eyes and looks at Vice Principal Caradoc with infinite tiredness. “Are we… done?” There’s begging in his words.

  “No, son, far from it. Your body is not adapting. It’s just breaking down, Jacob.”

  “I can continue!” Jacob says and then has a fit of coughing, which makes him empty his stomach on the ground with a large side dish of blood in it. “Don’t stop!”

  Vice Principal Caradoc takes a moment to observe the pillars and double check the array, “Jacob, the preparation needed for your body to not fail you is killing you. Since you absorbed the Skill, your body hasn’t made enough progress. I’m sorry to say, but it’s simply not enough. You cannot keep up with this. Soon, your body will be undone and you’ll die.”

  “I saw Iskara pull through something worse!” Jacob shouts through the fits of coughing.

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  “An Infernal Princess, Jacob,” Vice Principal Caradoc says with a regretful voice. “You’re… not Iskara Drazhal. You’re not…”

  “I’m not a real Champion,” Jacob says between gritted teeth, turning his bloodshot eyes to Caradoc’s own gaze.

  The old man doesn’t know what to say.

  Jacob might be a Champion, at least on paper, but his natural talent…

  “We should stop here. I can still remove the Skill you absorbed without causing almost any damage to you. It’s still barely absorbed.”

  “King Baalrek wouldn’t have given me something I’m not able to take!” Jacob shouts. “I’m not stopping!”

  “I disagree,” Vice Principal Caradoc sighs. “Your master gave you something in order to make you stronger. But it seems to me he didn’t consider you’d have to pay with your life in order to even get a far shot at it.”

  Jacob slowly shambles up to the edge of the array—he can’t exit as long as the ritual is active or the entire array will collapse.

  “Vice Principal,” Jacob says slowly. “I’m not as strong as any of the Champions. Even the ones who’re not fighters. In one way or another, they’re all stronger than me. King Baalrek once told me that he’s not responsible if I die while he tries to make me stronger. If this is the case, then so be it. I can’t go back like this. I will never be able to fight the Dark Champions, to be a real Knight like this. I’ve already taken the mantle of a Champion—of the Leader of Champions—and I cannot give up like this. Risk, old man, is the currency of success. Unlike Asterion, Vyrrak, and Iskara and everyone else… that’s all I can do: I can only risk my life. So, please, continue.”

  Vice Principal Caradoc takes a deep breath and slowly nods.

  “As long as you understand what you’re about to go through, Jacob, then it’s up to you. The chances of you surviving this are very low.”

  “What can I say,” Jacob gives the old man a bloody smile, “I’m a lucky man.”

  * * *

  “Luck doesn’t exist,” a gold-scaled Dragonkin laughs, looking at the pitiful sight under his booth. “And you’re supposed to be a Champion-candidate? Your two cousins are Champions, and look at you.”

  A young man is struggling to breathe under the weight of the foot of the Dragonkin.

  “Zorathul, you bastard—”

  “Cassian Valemont,” Zorathul, the gold-scaled Dragonkin says, “you wanted to challenge a real Champion and you had a taste of it. Soon, don’t worry, the Fake Champions that plague your Academy will know what true terror is once they witness real power.”

  Cassian tries to get away from Zorathul and, surprisingly, the Dragonkin lifts his boot and smiles at him, holding his hand out.

  Cassian scrambles up, refusing to take the hand of this monster.

  “You damn Cultists,” Cassian says, his eyes darting back and forth.

  They’re currently inside a Dungeon where he got ambushed. His allies have been killed—thankfully, his twin brother, Marcel, hasn’t come with him. But after the Dragonkin killed the students, he took the strongest, Cassian, and let him run, chasing him and hunting him through the Dungeon.

  “You’re not weak, but you’re far from strong,” Zorathul says. “I fear that in your current condition, you would even lose against that cousin of yours.”

  “I can beat Kai and—”

  “Not Kai,” Zorathul narrows his scaly eyes. “The dangerous one—Jacob Cloud.”

  “Jacob? Jacob’s a joke. And how do you even know of him?”

  “He’s a Champion. They’re my next hunt. They’ll be humiliated at the tournament. But I really dislike Jacob Cloud above all of them. What if I told you that I can give you a power that is going to make you the strongest in your family? It’d be enough to take the Valemont’s lead as you rise in Ranks. By the time you’re standing toe to toe with your ancestors, no one will be able to stop you.”

  Cassian, who’s lived for a while in the shadow of his older brother and the rest of the family, especially the main branch, raises an eyebrow.

  “You want me to join the Cult.”

  “Yes, and you’ll receive unparalleled power. An unfair advantage against a cockroach like Jacob Cloud. The only thing I ask you, though, is to kill him during the tournament. Accidents can happen and it’s still within the rules of your Academy. What do you say?”