The news of the challenge spread rapidly across the campus, accompanied by another rumour that Yuvan intended to take the soul-refining pill. Lucas and his followers found the idea amusing, with Lucas mocking, "That fool is running from me into his death; for him, I'm scarier than death itself."

Toby, upon hearing about Yuvan's plan to take the soul-cleansing pill, was astounded. He immediately confronted Yuvan with concern, exclaiming, "What! You're planning to take the soul-cleansing pill? I told you before, you need to be able to meditate for at least a full day continuously to even stand a chance. While you have improved and can now manage half a day, it's still insufficient. Do you believe you can endure immeasurable pain for that long? If you lose focus for even a moment, you'll lose your sanity and become a mere shell. Don't think your determination can save you here."

Mockingly, Yuvan replied, "Oh, Toby, I didn't know you cared for me so much."

"I don't care for you! But if you end up in a vegetative state, guess who'll have to take care of you? Do you have anyone else you've formed a slave bond with?" Toby retorted sarcastically.

Yuvan retorted casually, "If I end up like that, I give you permission to end me. Happy now? Or do you want to see me burned by Lucas? Haven't you already seen how I look when burnt?" Toby remained silent, secretly hoping to witness Yuvan's defeat.

Over the months, Yuvan had managed to accumulate enough funds to purchase the soul-refining pill multiple times over. Upon hearing about Lucas's challenge, he decided to advance the date he had initially planned to take the aushada. Despite the instructors' advice against it, he reserved a personal training booth. The challenge was set for three days from the current date, and Yuvan chose to take the pill the day after tomorrow. Yuvan felt confident, yet he remained cautious, understanding that unexpected events might still occur.

Yuvan recognized that during the pill's consumption, he needed to maintain a state of deep meditation for at least a day. To improve his meditative abilities, he searched the library for techniques that aligned with his idea. Back on Earth, he was known for his multitasking skills, and he attempted to apply this concept to his meditation. Yuvan focused primarily on his internal energy while also dedicating some attention to his breathing. Though it was initially challenging, he noticed rapid improvements through practice, often relying on sattvapada (wisdom path) methods for guidance. While researching, he stumbled upon information about the tantras employed by higher-stage wisdom path supreme grandmasters, who split their focus and created multiple real clones using the Anukrti tantra. Drawing inspiration from this, Yuvan endeavoured to divide his concentration even further while meditating.

On the day prior to consuming the pill, Yuvan became a hot topic of conversation among the students, with his unconventional approach to preparing for the challenge attracting attention. Annoyed by the buzz, upper-grade students dismissed Yuvan's actions as insignificant, scolding others for making a fuss about a lower-grade student who seemingly wished to end his own life. Meanwhile, Lucas and his followers continued their taunts, reiterating that Yuvan was fleeing from Lucas only to meet his demise.

Amid these speculations, Brahma, the headmaster, opted to refrain from intervening, as the academy upheld a policy of granting students the freedom to pursue their strengths.

When Yuvan arrived at the class the next day, his demeanour surprised everyone. He displayed his usual nonchalance, showing no signs of anxiety or worry. Many began to think that Yuvan had been bluffing earlier and wouldn't actually go through with the pill. A new rumour spread, suggesting that Yuvan would back down, and bets were made among the students about whether Yuvan would follow through. Most students bet against Yuvan's success, and even Yuvan himself participated in the betting through Toby, instructing Toby to wager all their money.

The following day, upon Yuvan's arrival, a gathering had already formed in front of the training room he had reserved. Anticipation filled the air as they awaited the unfolding scene: Would Yuvan rise to the challenge or falter? Even if he entered, the question remained – how long would he endure?

Yuvan encountered Darryl, whose resentment towards Yuvan for this humiliation ran deep, Yuvan seemed to be tempting something even daring for himself. While Yuvan's own fate hung in the balance, the prospect of others mocking him seemed inevitable. He yearned for a tranquil two years ahead, yet this wish was now shattered. "Well, that plan's gone awry. I won't hear the end of this," he mused, begrudgingly giving Yuvan the room keys. "You'll have complete privacy in there; even the headmaster won't enter without your consent. We'll grant you two days. If you remain inside beyond that, we'll intervene. If you're resolute, step in; you can still change your mind," Darryl conveyed.

Accepting the keys, Yuvan nodded and approached the room, sealing himself within. Inwardly, Darryl muttered his frustrations about Yuvan's choice. As Yuvan settled in, he stretched and flexed, feeling at ease. Disrobing, he made his way to a small bath filled with ice-cold water. The room was well-appointed, and equipped with conveniences. Yuvan calibrated the bath's settings to maintain a frigid temperature. In a meditative pose, he immersed himself neck-deep and ingested the ruby-coloured pill. He slipped into a meditative trance just as the drug commenced its effects.

Similar to the body-refining pill, Yuvan's body temperature climbed incrementally, but this time, it converged around his energy nodes. Over time, these nodes resembled nozzles emitting flames into a boiler. Amid the excruciating agony, he encountered an indescribable sensation: "Perhaps this is what they call soul burning," a thought flitted through his mind. An adage from a venerable sage crossed his thoughts: “Soul doesn’t exist for you unless you earn it.” Yuvan was in the process of earning his.

Before commencing the secluded cultivation, Yuvan could maintain his meditation for up to twelve hours, equally divided among three foci: internal energy, breathing, and energy nodes. Now, though his primary focus was on internal energy post-pill ingestion, a fraction of his awareness was reserved to measure time. This was due to his knowledge of how time distorted under the influence of the dreaded soul-refining pill. Past records documented failures, where cultivators lost their sanity, feeling trapped in an endless duration, the pill's effects seemingly unending. Frustration and anxiety eroded their focus. Presently, only seconds elapsed, yet to Yuvan, it felt like hours.

After a brief while, the assembly dispersed, with nothing left to observe. Each went their separate ways, awaiting the climax in two days' time. It was only then that the outcome of Yuvan's ordeal would be revealed. While the possibility of him merely sleeping within lingered, consensus dictated a two-day wait before passing judgment.

Within the headmaster's office,

"Sir, there's a theory circulating among the instructors: if Yuvan manages to absorb and utilize the pill, could his ranking change? Is that a possibility?" inquired the guard as he entered to deliver a report.

"I assume you haven't taken the soul-refining pill, judging by your question," the headmaster replied, glancing over the report.

"No, sir. Even though I've reached the peak stage of the second chakra, I lack confidence. While I can endure the pain, the mental strain of maintaining a meditative trance under such conditions for an extended period feels daunting. Plus, witnessing my best friend, who was even more capable than me, fail has left a psychological impact. Please enlighten me," the guard explained.

"Hmm. The aushada doesn't directly alter one's internal energy; it affects the medium in which the internal energy resides, resulting in qualitative changes that seem like an improvement in talent grade to others," the headmaster elaborated.

"Consider coal and diamond. Both share the same chemical elements, yet their worth differs significantly. A lump of black coal, when subjected to immense pressure and temperature underground for aeons, transforms into a brilliant diamond. It becomes virtually fire-resistant and one of the world's hardest materials. Similarly, the pill's influence causes this transformation in the energy medium."

"Thus, mana acts as a power source. Placing it within an upgraded 'machine' yields superior output compared to using an old, outdated 'machine' equipped with a stronger power source."

"So, if Yuvan emerges successfully, could he rival the A grades?" the guard inquired.

"The likelihood of Yuvan's success is nearly non-existent. It's preferable if he doesn't succeed. Should students start requesting the atma samshodhana aushada, we're bound by academy rules to permit it. This could lead to numerous fatalities, for which we'd bear responsibility."

"Sir, you didn't directly address my question."

..."Headmaster?" the guard called out to Brahma, who had been lost in thought.

"What?" Brahma snapped out of his reverie.

"Sir, you didn't quite answer my question," the guard responded, realizing that his timing might not have been the best.

"Don't waste my valuable time pondering over impossible scenarios. Now, go on, leave," Brahma dismissed the guard, his annoyance directed more at the report's contents than the guard's inquiry. Six months had passed since Agustin departed from his clan in pursuit of the Asuras' plot in the desert. Yet, his efforts had borne no fruit thus far. Seizing the opportunity, the leader of the Celestial Hawk clan had labelled him a traitor aligned with the demonic faction and expelled him from the clan.

As classes neared their end, Yuvan remained the focal point of everyone's conversations.

"He's probably met his end by now."

“Still, you have to admire his courage.”

“Courage? You mean recklessness. Since when does leaping into the abyss become synonymous with bravery?”

Amid the discussions revolving around Yuvan, Toby engaged in deep contemplation. The question of whether Yuvan would succeed or fail occupied his thoughts. He had no definite way of knowing; his insights were mere guesses. "I don't sense anything. If Yuvan had perished, I would have felt it. His death would have severed the blood contract, leading to a noticeable sensation if it was all over. This implies he's still alive. How is he managing?"

The following morning, a crowd once again assembled outside the training room.

"Why not open it? He's probably deceased by now," someone from the crowd remarked, directing their gaze toward the gathered instructors.

"We can't. It's against the rules."

"Rules? We all know he's dead, lying in there. Why abide by rules for a corpse?" the crowd retorted.

Witnessing the instructors' refusal to oblige, the crowd gradually dispersed. Everyone left except for Toby; he was aware that Yuvan lived, but his condition remained uncertain. Yuvan might have failed the experiment and fallen into a vegetative state, but at least he didn't drown in the bath. The truth would surface tomorrow. For now, Toby needed to prepare. His intent was to meet Henry, yet his associates thwarted his efforts. Toby had invested too much time in Yuvan; other factions had taken shape, and they wouldn't readily accept someone like Toby, who was a lower B grade talent. Proving his worth was essential before joining their ranks. While Lucas' faction was an option, Toby opted against it.

Eighty-six thousand nine hundred eighty-one, eighty-six thousand nine hundred eighty-two... Yuvan continued counting. With traces of the pill still coursing through him, he chose to persist in meditation rather than risk interference. As the conclusion neared, he halted his counting, directing his entire focus to the dormant serpent, which now seemed animated in its new environment. Yuvan's mind strained to its limits; it felt as though the nerves around his brain might rupture at any moment. By discontinuing the count, he gently relieved the pressure on his mind. After a few more hours, the pill's absorption was complete. Exhausted, he decided to consume two energy pills he had prepared earlier and sleep to banish his fatigue.

Yuvan only awoke the next day, early morning having arrived. He had slept for about eighteen hours. Feeling hungry, he opted to eat after meditation to properly assess his progress. Physically, his body bore no overt changes apart from his eyes, which appeared more vivid. His internal energy had advanced to the middle stages, enabling the practice of tantras. The coiled serpent's stance had altered; it appeared more robust. Yuvan could sense the flow of mana through his nodes. Overall, he felt content with the outcome. When he heard someone attempting to open the door, he knew his seclusion was at an end.

Darryl, the one who opened the door, recoiled as if confronted by a ghost. This reaction intrigued onlookers, and they clustered around, blocking the way. For the first time, they beheld Yuvan unmasked, and the sight wasn't a pleasant one. Astonishingly, they refrained from taunting Darryl for his fright.

As Yuvan emerged, he was inundated with questions. The minds of many pondered: How was he standing and walking? Had he truly ingested the pill? Were all their understandings of the soul-refining pill erroneous? How could a C grade talent like him achieve it before them?

Yuvan brushed them all aside, commanding, "Move!" Clearing his path, he declared, "For today, I beat some fear into the fool who dared to challenge me."

"But the contest is set for a three-on-one match, and the date can be adjusted given your emergence from seclusion," Darryl addressed Yuvan, courteous in tone. "Wear your mask; I'll escort you to your room. You need rest."

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"What does it matter if it's a three-on-one set-up? Can't it be changed to a one-on-one duel?" Yuvan retorted with arrogance.

"Yes, it's possible if the concerned parties agree," Darryl responded, albeit with a tinge of disappointment for being ignored.

"We're in agreement," Yuvan's classmates chimed in unison. All eyes turned toward Lucas, awaiting his response.

"Prepare for your funeral," Lucas retorted.

The assembly then headed to the arena, anticipation running high.

The arena crackled with tension as the combatants took their positions, a charged silence settling over the expectant crowd. Amid this backdrop, an instructor acting as an arbiter stepped forward, his voice carrying through the air. "Listen well," he proclaimed, his words resolute. "In this bout, you're permitted to wield any weapons at your disposal and employ the tantras you've honed. However, I must stress that the use of artefacts is unequivocally prohibited, with the exception of your space rings. This contest is to be conducted with fairness and honour."

Lucas, his demeanour stern and composed, gripped two metallic silver axes in his hands, their cold shine a stark contrast to the heat of anticipation in the air. On the opposite side stood Yuvan, his poise equally unyielding, his eyes fixed on the challenge before him. The stage was set for their clash.

The instructor, a figure of authority, cast his gaze upon both participants before raising his voice to command the commencement of the match. "Begin!"

Swift as a shadow, Yuvan sprang into action without the slightest hesitation. His fingers moved with a practised grace, retrieving a sheaf of shurikens and propelling them with precision toward Lucas. The projectiles, sharp and deadly, found their mark, connecting with Lucas. Yet, their impact was far from decisive as Lucas's seasoned skill came into play, deflecting each shuriken with an almost casual ease.

A smug grin played across Lucas's lips as he taunted his opponent, his voice dripping with disdain. "Pathetic," he jeered, his grip on his axes tightening with intent. He poised himself to charge, muscles tense and ready to engage.

But in a sudden twist of fate, Lucas's bravado was checked by an unforeseen turn of events. The atmosphere shifted, a palpable energy weaving around him. In an instant, he found himself trapped, ensnared within an intricate lattice of translucent golden energy. The observers, keenly attuned to the unfolding spectacle, recognized the pattern formed by the rune-engraved shurikens that Lucas had nonchalantly deflected. A realization dawned as gasps spread through the crowd like wildfire. "A formation!" Lucas himself exclaimed; his surprise tinged with a rising sense of panic.

As the reality of his predicament set in, Lucas grasped the gravity of the situation. Yuvan's prowess had escalated; he had advanced to the middle stages; a development Lucas had failed to anticipate. Battling not just physical restraints but his own rising fear, Lucas struggled against the hold that had imprisoned him—an elemental web that only his own inner calm could undo.

Yuvan seized the opportunity to deliver his retort, his voice laced with mockery. "Pathetic, you say!" With an agile movement, he retrieved two T-batons and surged forward, bridging the distance between them with calculated speed. A cascade of blows followed; each strike delivered with a precision that would have made a master proud. Lucas, once formidable, now stood like a wooden training post, absorbing the punishing hits.

As the onslaught reached its zenith, Lucas's resolve faltered, and he crumbled onto the ground, the fight concluding within a span of mere moments. The outcome left the spectators in stunned disbelief. An A-grade talent had been unequivocally defeated by a seemingly lesser C-grader—an astonishing reversal of expectations. Amidst the awestruck murmurs, no one was more taken aback than Lucas himself. He, the heir of a prestigious lineage, had suffered a staggering blow to his pride at the hands of someone from a clan of comparatively lower renown. The embers of humiliation stoked a fire within him—a resolve that crystallized into an ominous conviction. "It must be eradicated," Lucas silently vowed. "Even if it costs me my standing, even if I must lay my life on the line, this anomaly cannot be permitted to exist. Every breath he takes is a direct challenge to my very existence."

Amidst the charged atmosphere, Lucas began to regain his footing, his resolve undeterred by his recent defeat. Slowly, his hand ventured into his space ring, producing a peculiar artefact resembling a beetle—its dark hue and intricate design exuding an aura of latent power. With a focused gesture, he channelled mana into the artefact, a surge of energy igniting it with ominous black flames that seemed to dance and flicker malevolently. The artefact's intensity grew, and the heat of the flames scorched Lucas's hand, yet he clenched his teeth against the pain, unfazed by the searing sensation.

His intent was clear. With a swift motion, Lucas hurled the artefact toward Yuvan, who stood with his back turned, seemingly unaware of the impending danger. The beetle-shaped artefact hurtled through the air, a harbinger of potential devastation.

However, the trajectory of the artefact was abruptly intercepted by an unforeseen figure, appearing like a guardian angel between the projectile and its intended target. In a display of swift mastery, this newcomer neutralized the artefact's sinister potential, diffusing the imminent threat. Acting with seasoned precision, the figure moved with an urgency that belied his years, taming the flames that had ignited on Lucas's body and rendering them to mere embers.

This enigmatic figure was none other than a senior-level instructor, entrusted with safeguarding the academy's prized asset—Lucas. His intervention was not a plea for Yuvan's protection, but a strategic move to ensure the safeguarding of the academy's reputation and its valuable talents. Moreover, he sought to avert the escalating consequences that Lucas's reckless actions might incur, shielding him from further penalties for his defiance of the academy's sanctified rules.

Scooping Lucas up in his arms, the senior instructor prepared to make a strategic exit. Yet, Yuvan's voice resounded through the arena, like a challenge thrown in their path. "Where do you think you're taking him?"

Undeterred by Yuvan's inquiry, the instructor paused, a momentary stillness descending upon the scene. Yuvan pressed on, his voice measured but firm. "The academy, forged under the legacy of the first Sword Saint, upholds the sacredness of combat between warriors. What Lucas enacted today was nothing short of malevolent—a transgression that cannot be overlooked. By the academy's very statutes, I possess the right to demand retribution for this grievous offence. I am well aware..."

Interrupting Yuvan, the senior instructor's voice carried a no-nonsense tone. "Get to the point. What is it that you seek?"

Aware of Yuvan's intent and cognizant of the brewing storm, the senior instructor braced himself for the ultimatum. Yuvan's eyes met his, the intensity unyielding. "I want that," Yuvan declared, directing his gaze toward the artefact that lay discarded.

Undeterred by Yuvan's demand, the instructor responded with a curt nod, acknowledging the significance of the request. Yuvan's intentions aligned with the academy's regulations. Before Yuvan could elaborate further, the instructor's actions spoke louder than words—a swift, deliberate motion that saw the artefact hurtling back toward its owner.

With that silent transaction, the senior instructor embarked on his departure, carrying Lucas—now unconscious—within his protective grasp. Yuvan, in tow, followed suit. The remaining witnesses to the unfolding drama stood in a collective silence, left to grapple with the enigma of the events that had transpired before their eyes—a mosaic of intrigue, defiance, and rules.

Stepping away from the arena, Yuvan sought solace within the embrace of the woods. With each step he took, the dry leaves crunched beneath his feet, releasing a soft symphony that intertwined with the silence of the forest. Nature's tranquillity beckoned him, a respite from the recent tumultuous events. But Yuvan's purpose extended beyond seeking calm; his intentions were twofold, spurred by his new-found capabilities that had burgeoned to the middle stages.

The tantra he had acquired from Ethan—the ātmadāsatā, or soul-enslavement tantra—laid the foundation for Yuvan's expedition into the woods. He aimed to experiment with this potent technique, one that held the promise of manipulating and enslaving a departing soul the instant it parted ways with its mortal vessel. The concept, though seemingly straightforward, harboured its complexities, necessitating a delicate balance of focus, control, and qi manipulation.

For Yuvan, the initial trials were destined for creatures of lesser stature, an opportunity to gauge his prowess before venturing into grander endeavours. As his gaze roved through the woods, a snow-white rabbit, its red eyes a striking contrast to its fur, emerged into his field of view. Instantly, a shuriken launched from his arm, the primal instinct of a fighter stirred by his sighting. However, he restrained himself, contemplating the consequences outlined within the tantra. The guiding words cautioned against disregarding the nature of the physical body, lest the practitioner face a dreaded backlash—a consequence Yuvan was not inclined to risk.

With measured consideration, he turned his attention to a seemingly inconspicuous ant, its persistence in climbing a tree a testament to its simple resolve. "Even ants possess souls," Yuvan mused, the weight of that realization mingling with his intent. Deliberately, he ended the ant's journey, ensuring its demise without harm. The next step was the crucial one; channelling his qi, he initiated contact with the tiny creature's being.

As the mana coursed through the ant's form, a luminous white essence, akin to a dot, detached itself from its body. Yuvan's brow glistened with sweat under the strain of the endeavour, yet he persisted, his focus unbroken. Guided by the tantra's principles, he began the intricate process of enslaving the fleeting soul. However, the moment his efforts began, a piercing jolt shot through his consciousness, threatening to disrupt his control. He clenched his teeth, rallying his resolve, while a thought crossed his mind—ironically recalling the notion that male ants possessed less brain power.

Amid the mental tumult, Yuvan wrestled to maintain command over the ant's soul, its existence waning within his grasp. Soon, he realized the futility of his endeavour; his current level of mastery rendered this tantra an insurmountable challenge. Defeated but undeterred, he drew a conclusion—this particular technique held no practical value for him at his current stage.

Yet Yuvan's curiosity remained unquenched. The impulse to experiment further, this time with the soul-binding tantra, tugged at him. This variation, while forfeiting the practitioner's well-being in the event of failure, bore the advantage of evading backlash. It was, however, accompanied by the irreversible cost of sacrificing the soul itself.

Reviving the ant's lifeless form with low-grade elixirs, Yuvan embarked on a cautious endeavour. Gently coaxing the diminishing soul back into the reanimated body, he observed as the soul eagerly clung to its corporeal vessel. Though a flicker of success emerged, it was short-lived; the ant's life force dwindled, its vitality slipping away with each convulsive twitch of its legs.

With a mixture of disappointment and determination, Yuvan concluded his experiment. Leaving the woods behind, he embarked on a return journey to his room, a well-earned rest awaiting him after the trials of the day. Unbeknownst to him, a subtle disturbance rippled through the forest in his wake. Leaves danced on the wind's gust, and a spectral figure emerged where Yuvan had stood moments before. In its ethereal grasp, it held the ant—a vessel of life and soul, now destined for realms beyond.

Later that evening, within the confines of the headmaster's office, a sense of tension hung in the air as the gravity of the situation unfolded.

"Hmm... This is worse than I predicted," the headmaster murmured under his breath, a deep furrow etched into his brow. The magnitude of the challenge that lay ahead was becoming starkly apparent, adding to the burdens he already carried.

With a mix of resignation and concern, Mahendra Varma, his trusted aide, began his report. "A total of five hundred sixty-eight students have expressed their intention to undergo the soul-refining pill process. We started by eliminating the D-grade applicants from consideration. The majority of the candidates fall within the C and some within the B grade talents. Interestingly, Rana Prathap's name is also on the list."

The headmaster's expression tightened further. The situation was spiralling out of control, fuelled in part by Ethan's unexpected victory against an A-grade talent before a rapt audience of aspiring young cultivators. It was a spectacle that ignited not only their imaginations but also their latent desires, upsetting the delicate equilibrium maintained by the hierarchical class system.

Mahendra Varma sought to console the headmaster's evident frustration. "But, sir, we can't hold Ethan accountable for this."

The headmaster exhaled slowly, his tone laced with a mixture of exasperation and respect. "I understand that he's not at fault, and I do commend his tenacity and unwavering spirit to overcome adversity. However, it's presenting a daunting challenge for us. His lower-grade talent status is at the crux of the issue, subverting the established norms. At times, I wish I had the power to elevate his talent grade to A, which could alleviate many of these issues."

Given the circumstances, the options were limited. Damage control became paramount—a special session was deemed necessary for the students who had expressed their desire to take the soul-refining pill. The plan was to employ persuasion and dissuasion tactics, emphasizing the risks and potential consequences. Some lives might be saved through this intervention. For the rest who remained steadfast in their resolve, a solution was needed.

The headmaster's gaze bore a weight of responsibility. "We'll have to resort to drawing lots among them. We can inform them that our facilities can't accommodate everyone and select four individuals from the lot. We should target those from branch clans or second-grade clans, preferably in the C and lower B grade talents. The hope is that witnessing the fate of their fellow students will give them pause."

A more poignant concern surfaced, and Mahendra Varma navigated it delicately. "Sir, shouldn't we consider acknowledging Ethan's accomplishments? He's now one of only nine students to reach the middle stage. He managed to defeat a talent two grades higher and successfully refined his soul at a remarkably young age. It's an unprecedented feat in the academy's history."

The headmaster's stern demeanour softened for a moment, a swell of pride emerging amidst the challenges. "You're right; when put in that light, I am proud to have him as a student. We will certainly recognize his achievements. However, we must exercise caution—discretion is key. I don't want to further fuel the students' determination. Please arrange for Ethan to meet me in my office tomorrow morning."

Mahendra Varma nodded, acknowledging the directive.

As the weighty discussions concluded, the room exhaled a collective sigh of anticipation. The headmaster's determination and resolve remained unshaken, even in the face of the challenges that lay ahead.

Toby found himself grappling with hesitation as he approached his room. A sense of guilt weighed on him, and he was wrestling with his emotions after witnessing Yuvan's remarkable performance in the duel. The enormity of the situation left him unsure of how to confront Yuvan or even how to process his own feelings.

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, Toby tentatively pushed open the door to their shared room. The sight that greeted him was unexpected—Yuvan was sound asleep, completely unaware of Toby's presence. Not wanting to disturb his slumber, Toby moved quietly toward his own bed, careful not to disrupt the tranquillity that had settled around Yuvan.

As Toby settled into his bed, sleep eluded him for a while. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying the sequence of events that had transpired. Yuvan had shifted from being the underdog to an undeniable force among the first-year students. It was a transformation that left Toby in awe and disbelief, struggling to reconcile this new reality with his previous perceptions.

Eventually, Toby's exhaustion caught up with him, and he drifted into a restless slumber. Throughout his sleep, his mind remained fixated on the journey Yuvan had taken—the journey from being deemed an "ultimate loser" to becoming the dominant figure within their cohort. The emotional weight of these thoughts blended into his dreams.

Morning light crept into the room, gently rousing Toby from his sleep. Blinking away the remnants of his dreams, he realized that Yuvan was nowhere to be seen. The room felt emptier without his presence. It dawned on Toby that Yuvan had already embarked on his day's journey, likely making his way to the headmaster's office.

As Toby stretched and got out of bed, he couldn't shake off the lingering sense of amazement and uncertainty. The events of the previous day had left an indelible mark on both his consciousness and their shared experiences. With a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, Toby prepared for the day ahead, unsure of what new developments might arise.

Inside the headmaster's office, Yuvan engaged in a conversation with Brahma.

The headmaster's voice dripped with sarcasm as he remarked, "Quite the journey you've made, transitioning from a low-grade talent in a second-grade clan to this remarkable point in such a short span."

Yuvan, unfazed, responded, "It's the motivation I received from the academy and the instructors that made me capable of this."

Acknowledging Yuvan's daring and intelligence, Brahma continued, "I know you are smart and daring. However, controlling your arrogance and not needlessly provoking others will contribute to a longer life." With that, Brahma stood up from his seat. "Come with me; it's time to reward you for your exceptional accomplishments."

Yuvan followed Brahma as they descended two stories underground, arriving at a large, ancient-looking vault. The vault's exterior was entirely covered with a metallic weave of sorts. Extracting a key, the headmaster inserted it into the centre of the vault. A surge of mana was injected into the key, causing the metallic weave to converge upon the keyhole like a snake returning to its den. As Brahma turned the key, the vault door swung open inward.

"You can choose two rewards, either tantras from different paths to your right or from the artefacts on your left. All of them are rare-ranked," Brahma explained, his arms folded, giving Yuvan the choice. "You have ten minutes, and your time starts now."

Observing the hundreds of books and artefacts within the vault, Yuvan muttered his frustration, realizing he could scarcely inspect even four items in the allotted time. Determined to proceed based on intuition and luck, Yuvan set his sights on tantras belonging to the vyūhapada (formation path) and ātatipada (dark path).

The classification of artefacts and tantras ranged across seven ranks: regular, intermediate, rare, unique, epic, legendary, and mythical. While legends spoke of godly-ranked skills and artefacts used by past heroes, these were exceedingly rare in the present day.

Rushing toward the bookshelves, Yuvan focused on locating a formation path tantra. Amidst around twenty books, he reviewed their titles one by one, eventually selecting "Four Formations for Becoming a Master" by Ramanujam, why? Because it had a ring to it.

As time dwindled to six minutes, Yuvan shifted his attention to the elusive ātatipada (dark path) tantras. Unfortunately, he found neither a dedicated bookshelf nor a section for the dark path. Frustration mounting, he questioned Brahma, "Are there no books on the ātatipada?"

Brahma's response was concise, "Yes, there is one. It's at the back."

Seeking clarity, Yuvan asked, "Could you be more specific?"

"You have two minutes remaining," Brahma replied curtly, disregarding Yuvan's inquiry.

Eyes narrowed at Brahma's amusement; Yuvan sprinted to the back. Prepared to settle for a formation path tantra if he couldn't find the ātatipada book, Yuvan reached the rear of the vault. Three bookshelves stood before him: one for the light path, another for the transformation path, and the last for the illusionary path. Choosing the illusionary path, Yuvan conducted a thorough search, but to no avail.

Brahma's voice resonated impatiently, "Sixty seconds!"

On the verge of abandoning his search, Yuvan's attention was caught by something concealed behind the books. He reached out, retrieved the book, and noticed it bore no title—only the author's name, "The Dark Prince." Yuvan decided to take it and made his way back to Brahma.

Brahma remarked upon Yuvan's return, "I see you've found what you were looking for." He continued, offering sage advice. "While the academy doesn't encourage students to delve into the dark path due to its potential to lead them astray, you've chosen a double-edged sword. Dark arts, much like cursed artefacts, can burn you if mishandled. Be cautious."

"Duly noted," Yuvan retorted with a hint of sarcasm before walking away.

Observing Yuvan's departure, Brahma muttered to himself, "Youngsters these days lack respect for their elders." He shook his head, amused by such rebels who either perish young or rise to greatness. "And I happen to enjoy such brats."

Before long, Mahendra Varma rushed into the room, greeted by a question from Brahma regarding his whereabouts during an eventful moment.

"Sir, you have a report from Agustin Verne," Mahendra Varma reported.

Brahma swiftly accepted the report and read it in one go. After reviewing its contents, he resealed it and instructed, "Pass it to Zaccai, and inform him that I'll be taking a leave of absence for a few days. You'll be in charge in my absence."

With those words, Brahma prepared to depart, leaving Mahendra Varma alone in the office.