Leaderboards.

—Tower of Ascension (1st year)

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• Aodhán Brystion, Level 26—1st [01:37]

• Cyrus Valerion, Level 25—2nd [17:45]

• Lilith Bloodmoon, Level 25—3rd [10:14]

• Lysirel Cosmind, Level 25—4th [08:17]

• Daruk Brystion, Level 25—5th [00:22]

• Cameron Lorde, Level 24—6th [30: 52]

• Alesh Vilaris, Level 24—7th [12:14]

• Grendar Bladewynn, Level 24—8th [09:10]

• Azul Fetherson, Level 24—9th [04:36]

• Isis Anvindr, Level 24—10th [02:12]

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Yurin grimaced as he looked through the newly updated leaderboard, regretting his decision to postpone his tower challenge to a later date. He had made that decision because he felt like he hadn’t made any real progress during the break (advancement wise) to cause any serious changes in the tower rankings. He’d been so busy helping out his grandparents and working on his runic inscriptions that he hadn't gained any new skills or progressed in his spirit cultivation.

It was bad, but considering the fact that he hadn’t really put in much effort to progress, it wasn’t too concerning. In fact, to some people, it was a good thing.

Yurin was already doing so well for his age. At age sixteen, he was already at Tier 20, and although he hadn’t gained a seal, grasp, or opening yet, he didn’t think he was in any danger of a spiritual limit just yet. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the academy, which was more interested in churning out champions and elites as fast as possible, Yurin would have preferred to spend at least a year in each tier, just like his uncle Kiko had. Uncle Kiko wasn’t a champion despite his solid foundation, but Yurin didn’t think he was far from being one either.

Nevertheless, Yurin wasn’t too bothered with ascending to the next tier; instead, he was more frustrated with his spiritual cultivation. With the tournament looming on the horizon and the principal’s promise still swimming in his mind, Yurin wanted nothing more than to shut himself within his training room and begin meditation immediately.

Despite his lacking spirit cultivation, Yurin still considered himself a high-ranker among the first-year students. He was steadily being pushed downward, though. If he could just gain a seal, a grasp, or an opening before the selection process began, then he wouldn’t even have to worry about making it into the top ten, as that would have been guaranteed.

The updated leaderboard wasn’t encouraging through, as the bar had been raised once again. Yurin, along with the rest of the arena, had been shocked, to say the least, when Aodhán appeared on the stage, completely drenched in blood and gore. It was a sight Yurin didn’t think he could ever forget; however, Aodhán’s bloody appearance hadn’t been as shocking as the level he'd broken into as well as his new rank.

To put things in perspective, the tier 25 guardian was nearly twice as strong as the tier 24 guardian because it had reached a milestone tier, even though it hadn’t evolved to the advanced class. So in essence, battling a tier 25 creature was like battling two tier 24 creatures at the same time, and Aodhán had done it despite still being at the 21st tier. It was completely insane.

At first, Yurin had thought Aodhán was dead because of all the blood, but after the healers had cleaned him up and declared him alive and well, Yurin had breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t say he was surprised at the extent to which Aodhán had gone to come first; after all, he wasn’t even the most injured person to exit the tower today, just the bloodiest.

It was all the principal’s fault. A Mythic Core was no joke, but unlike the rest of the students, Yurin wasn’t aiming for first; he just wanted to get into the top ten and claim his prize. While the fire of competition burned within him like an infectious plague, Yurin contemplated going up to the handlers and demanding they let in another group of students into the tower; after all, there was a wide array of students that hadn’t been willing to challenge the tower at first and had now changed their minds; however, he discarded the idea because it was futile. Once all the students currently within the tower exited, the tower would be shut down until tomorrow.

While he sat there, amongst the cheering crowd, gloomily watching the healers as they rushed around to heal Aodhán and a few others, Marcellus, Derek, and Imani came to sit with him.

“The Tower will be closed after this, so we’ll have to wait till tomorrow.” Derek grumbled and shook his head dejectedly. “I should have just challenged the tower when I had the chance.”

Marcellus grinned and mussed Derek’s hair. “Don’t beat yourself too much about it. You’re stupid. These things happen.”

Yurin glared at him, slightly offended and slightly amused at his statement. Was he stupid for not challenging the tower with everyone else? Absolutely not. He’d simply been hesitant.

“Don’t give me that look.” Marcellus scowled and shifted away from him. "Besides, shouldn’t you be with Aodhán, fussing over him along with the others and celebrating his victory?”

The others Marcellus was referring to were obviously Daruk and Andrew, who seemed more worried that celebratory if he were honest, although they did seem to be fussing. Yurin should have been with them too, but he was too envious to celebrate or fuss over Aodhán right now. In fact, Yurin was certain that if an empath analyzed his emotions right now, they would find a lot of anger directed at Aodhán because, why did he have to raise the bar that high?

It was obviously an irrational emotion, which was why Yurin thought it best to just stay away for now. Aodhán’s victory made him feel like a failure because, once upon a time, he and Aodhán had been in the same shoes, lowly commoners competing for a chance at a bloodline. Even then, Aodhán had been stronger than him, but the gap had certainly not been this wide.

His hurt musings were cut short when Imani muttered. “Sometimes, I look at all these people in the top ten and I ask myself, ‘What am I doing here’?”

“Yeah, me too.” Dylan agreed, and Yurin nodded in understanding. Perhaps his case wasn’t quite as bad as theirs, but he understood their plight regardless.

“What’s your rank?” He asked Imani after a moment of silence, and she shrugged. “57th. I might as well throw myself off a cliff and die with a rank that low.”

Marcellus chuckled. “At least you’ll make the rankings memorable.”

Imani just snorted, used to Marcellus’s brand of rudeness at this point, and Yurin shook his head. 57th was low, considering he hadn’t even challenged the tower today and he was still in the top twenty. Perhaps he wasn’t doing so badly after all.

“How are they even so strong?” Dylan grumbled, glaring daggers at the stage as another student exited the tower without making it into the top ten. “It’s crazy how they’re all just so strong. I work and cultivate all the time. If I’m not meditating, I’m training. It’s bizarre!”

No one responded, not even Imani, who seemed like she had something to say, and after a moment of silence, Dylan muttered. “I need a drink. This day has been total shit.”

Yurin chuckled and stood up too. “I’ll join you. I too could use a drink.”

After they left, Imani lay head on the arena seat and sighed, watching as Aodhán finally stood to his feet and grinned at the crowd. He was no longer injured, but he looked so weary that she couldn't help but sympathize with him.

Imani frowned, not quite sure how to feel when it came to Aodhán. On one hand, he had shown her times without number that he was basically a user who had no feelings whatsoever for her. However, her dastardly feelings, which had erupted out of nowhere, wouldn’t let her be. Okay, so maybe they hadn’t exactly sprung out from nowhere and had slowly been building ever since that night they'd spoken after his nightmare. But that wasn’t the point.

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Aodhán wasn’t a good person, and the fact that he was out there succeeding while she was getting ranked 57th irked her something fierce. Imani knew that her control over her affinity was lacking; in fact, it was one of the things her family was known for. They weren’t strong magically, but Imani had hoped to break that yoke and prove to the world that she could be just as strong as the Abyssal Terror herself.

Looking back now, the dream seemed so foolish and childish. All she had gotten for her troubles was betrayal and heartbreak. Perhaps it was time to let it all go. Magical power wasn’t the only in the world, and like her father used to say, “Why strive for power when you can pay those who have it to work for you?”

She had thought the saying was stupid before, but now it makes so much sense. Still frowning, Imani pushed down all the bad emotions she was feeling and glanced at Marcellus, who was carelessly picking his teeth with a dagger. It was horrid, improper, and exactly what she needed right now. Making a decision that she might come to regret later, Imani leaned towards him and whispered in his ears. “How would you like to see my room?”

***

Grendar Bladewynn stood on one end of the arena stage, nursing her wounds and waiting for the healers to eventually get to her. However, that didn’t seem like it would be happening any time soon, as they were all still fussing over the commoner who had somehow managed to surpass Cyrus Valerion in rank.

Turning her gaze back to the holographic screen above, Grendar stared at the infernal name and scowled. “How is this even possible?”

Lilith, who was standing next to her, clenched her bloodied fists and sneered. “The sight of it absolutely sickens me.”

Grendar shook her head, still trying to process the change. She had fallen all the way from the 5th rank to the 8th. It was bizarre and shocking because for the past six weeks, aside from little changes here and there, the tower leaderboard had never been this altered. The whole thing had been turned upside down; however, as painful as her drop in rank was, what surprised her the most was Cyrus’s loss.

Cyrus was a genius. Her father had even referred to him as a beast of spatial cultivation like his half brother Artemis, and Grendar knew it was true. She had seen him train and fight. His control was unnatural. There shouldn’t have been anyone strong enough to outrank him in the academy, yet here it was. A commoner standing at the top of the leaderboards; standing above her. It was a disgrace more than any other.

As the daughter of a small noble family, Grendar had been bullied and talked down to by high-ranking nobles all her life. It was seemingly the way of things, but Grendar hated it, and when she’d gained admission into the academy, she had plotted her way into Cyrus’s inner circle to avoid being bullied by nobles like Lilith and Lysirel Cosmind. For the most part, it had worked.

As a friend to Cyrus, even the sons and daughters of Viscounts were cautious around her; however, she had gotten to Cyrus too late, and rather than the prestigious position of lover that she’d wanted for herself—one which Lilith now enjoyed—Grendar had been relegated to the role of a sidekick. It was still better than being the daughter of a former merchant; however, Grendar wasn’t satisfied. Her dreams and plans for her future hinged on luring Cyrus into her web, or, in more metallic terms, hooking him unto her blades.

She turned her gaze to Cyrus, who was seated in between them, almost as purple with anger as the aura of spatial essence that undulated around him. Grendar moved closer to him and placed her hand on his shoulders to comfort him, despite the intense burn of spatial energies that made her fingers feel like they were corroding in real time. “It has to be a glitch, Cyrus; clearly, something went wrong within the tower.”

Lilith glared at her fingers and scowled before placing a hand on Cyrus’s other shoulder. “Perhaps if you spent more time training instead of prancing around like a fleacock, you might have kept your spot.”

Grendar sneered at her, using anger to mask the pain she was feeling. “You’ve got some nerve, Lilith. Maybe if you let your head out of the cloud every once in a while, you’d be more than just a footnote on the board.”

“I’m still better than you.” Lilith sniffed derisively, her tone dripping with venom. “If anything, you’re the footnote. Just as unimportant and useless as that family you hail from.”

Grendar’s silver eyes flashed dangerously, and her fingers hardened into metallic claws, but before she could slice Lilith’s head off just as she had fantasized a dozen times, Cyrus grabbed her arms and held it. He didn’t look up, nor did he say a word, but the single motion caused Grendar to come to an immediate halt. However, if she couldn’t cut Lilith with her blades, she would cut her with her words. “You’re a vile and disgusting human being. It’s no wonder your mother left you.”

Had she cut a little too deep? Perhaps, but Grendar was done taking crap from the blood scion. Lilith’s eyes flashed dangerously, and she took a threatening step forward. “Watch your tongue, Grendar. It is not my fault your precious blades are as dull as your wits.”

Cyrus finally looked up, and his hands tightened around her arms, but Grendar was no longer in any mood to play nice. She took a threatening step forward, and her hand drifted to the hilt of her sword. “Say that again, Lilith. I dare you.”

Lilith smirked, her fingers glowing with sinister red light that caused the scent of blood around the arena to spike. “You can do nothing to me, Grendar. I wouldn’t just wipe this floor with you; I would eradicate you completely.”

Before things could get completely out of hand, Kellan placed himself between them. “Ladies, I know you guys hate each other, but perhaps that’s an emotion we should direct to the arrogant commoner instead.”

Grendar scowled at him, knowing he was right, but something about her emotions being so easily accessible to the empath rubbed her the wrong way. Unfortunately for Kellan, that was a sentiment she and Lilith shared, and they both whipped around to face him, glares of disgust and annoyance evident on their faces.

Kellan barely reacted, used to their hatred by now; however, he raised his hands in surrender and muttered. “I came in peace; now I shall leave the same way.”

Grendar snorted and turned her gaze to the other side of the arena, where an unnecessary number of healers were still fussing over Aodhán. “Look at them fussing over him like some prized pet while nobles have to wait in line to get healed.”

“Judging from a perfectly logical point here, none of us were as injured or bloodied as the commoner was.” Kellan responded with a shrug, and Lilith glared at him. “Shut up, buffoon. Are you trying to diminish our hard work?”

“I’m just stating the obvious, Lilith, and stop trying to shut me up all the damn time.”

Lilith hissed and turned back to glare at Aodhán. “Sometimes, I wish I could make him bleed to death without anyone noticing.”

Grendar let out a small smile at the mental image that Lilith’s words conjured. Alas, it was impossible. As unbelievable as it seemed, Grendar didn’t actually want the boy dead. She certainly hated him, but not to that extent. Her issue with the commoner wasn’t just his pride. It wasn’t the kind of pride seen in Marcellus, who was blunt, rebellious, and chafing under the weight of his rank—a behavior nobles almost expected from commoners. They grumbled, complained, and pushed back against their lowly status.

But Aodhán’s pride was different. It wasn’t even really pride; it was more like indifference. A quiet refusal to accept his place, something far beyond the typical resentment of commoners. Whether it was purposeful or not, Grendar couldn’t tell, but Aodhán acted as if he was above them all. He had no respect for their station, and if there was one thing Grendar hated, it was being looked down on by commoners.

Dealing with higher-ranking nobles like Lilith was already bad enough, and she would be damned if she let commoners treat her like crap too. One of the healers finally came over to heal them, but when she grabbed Cyrus’s arms, he pushed her away and stood up. “I’m in no need of your services.” His gaze swiveled to the other side of the arena, and he glared. “This is just a temporary setback, and I’ll be damned if I let him reign over me for more than a day.”

***

Cameron Lorde watched from the sidelines, staring at the other students while they either celebrated or mourned their ranks. After the last student exited the tower, most of the students had headed towards the cafeteria for dinner, and the prevailing topic was unsurprisingly the updated leaderboard, as well as the name that now occupied the top position on it.

However, despite not even being among the top five, Cameron had no less than half a dozen people staring at him at any given moment. They murmured amongst themselves, and although Cameron couldn’t exactly tell what they were saying, he could imagine.

This was one of the reasons why he’d wanted to remain inconspicuous. Even his actions in the simulation exercise hadn’t drawn this much attention, but professor Alaric had threatened him with expulsion if he didn’t challenge the tower, and damn, he had done even better than he’d thought he would.

The 24th level had been his limit, though. He’d been unable to hurt the Kraken, but the Kraken couldn’t hurt him either, so after half an hour of futilely trying to stab the Kraken’s head with an uncommon-ranked dagger, he’d finally given up and exited the tower.

Now that he’d finally challenged the tower, though, Cameron just wanted to fade into the background, although, from the looks he was getting, he doubted that would be possible.

Unlike the other students, Cameron wasn’t moved by the principal’s promise of a mythic core, although he understood the allure of it. However, most of the other students were focusing solely on the advantages of such an abundant source of energy, not the risks, of which there were many.

Cameron, on the other hand, was all about the risks. To hand a mythic core to evolved and advanced-class individuals was like giving a volatile bomb to a child and asking them not to move. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and Cameron couldn’t help but think it was intentional.

The density and ferocity of the energy within a mythic core alone was enough to send a mundane awakened to their ancestors and severely injure evolved awakeneds. It was a little more manageable for advanced-class individuals, but still dangerous if absorbed carelessly.

Perhaps some sort of safety measure would be employed to prevent the students from blowing themselves up; however, for some bizarre reason, Cameron couldn’t share in the excitement and eagerness of his peers.

He glanced around the cafeteria again and sighed when he found Ayisha Helsarin walking towards him, her smile wider than should have been possible. Ayisha was his housemate and one of those nice nobles that still existed. In some way, they had built a sort of friendship, but Cameron didn’t really consider them friends.

He continued to glare at her, and as she walked closer, Cameron couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t been threatened with expulsion like he had; after all, she was one of those students who still hadn’t challenged the tower yet. Was she perhaps hiding her real strength like he had attempted to, or was she just not interested in the glory of victory?

Mhm, curious. He thought to himself, and before she could arrive at his table to disturb his peace, Cameron raised his teacup to his lips and activated {Physical intangibility—Full}. Ayisha tried to stop him by doing something with time, but Cameron had already phased out of the tangible realm before she could catch him.