The camp of ten thousand had officially begun just seven days ago.
And yet, on the seventh night, multiple intriguing events unfolded in synchronicity.
'I did not expect Anon to have hidden himself so deeply,' Cassius thought.
He sat atop the enlightening platform.
With just over fifty enlightening platforms in the enlightenment tower, he needed only to rank in the top fifty-four.
With six of those spots freed thanks to Anon and the others being stellar fighters, it was that much easier to secure a place among the top ranks.
Cassius felt immense pain starting from the outermost layer of his body, his skin.
Like his skin being peeled, or even worse, his skin being boiled.
Well, what was truly worse?
Both reached a certain threshold that could be considered as outright mind-numbing pain.
Said mind-numbing pain, Cassius had experienced for seven nights.
But what pained him more was Anon's existence, his very presence that had remained perfectly fine, no, more than just fine, Anon's status had risen drastically, to the point where, upon entering the camp, Cassius could only look up.
He looked up, and still, he could not see Anon.
The orphan had transcended his expectations with utter ease.
This…
Cassius could not stand it.
This…
It was unbearable, so unbearable that he felt as if a hammer were pounding on his glabella every time he thought of it.
Back in St. Hope High School, every time he curbed his pride and bowed his head, he pictured it perfectly in his mind.
Anon sat on a throne atop a flight of stairs, with Cassius kowtowing below.
What Anon did not know was that this scene unfolded atop Cassius's palm, as he, Cassius, watched from above.
Right now, it felt as if the Cassius observing everything from a vantage point were trapped in a small cage that Anon had suspended in some random location in his house.
It seemed as if Anon didn't even care about his actions, viewing Cassius as too "low level" to consider.
When he thought of this, it was truly too insufferable.
He could not take it; he couldn't bear it.
So, when the pain penetrated his bones, digging into his marrow, seeping into his flesh and organs, and sending bolts of shock through his bloodstream, Cassius gritted his teeth and endured.
He endured.
Endured…
Clap… clap… clap…!
Although the enlightening platform had begun shutting down, his thoughts was all over the place.
He didn't even realize how he stood up and descended the fleet of stairs, but as the applause entered his ears, Cassius's eyes slowly widened, and clarity returned.
He saw it.
He could see it.
There, before him, he saw the many, white-coated individuals applauding him.
There was Aren who rushed over, and most strikingly, there were the envious gazes of the other students.
Some students were unconsciously carried out from the enlightenment platform, while others who were being carried barely had their eyes open, staring at him.
Even more were present, observing their friends undergoing the torturous process on the platform, or simply curious about it.
They all turned to him, staring with disbelief, shock, envy, hatred, jealousy, and desire, an overwhelming mix of emotions.
The myriad emotions descended upon his spirit like a holy liquid, invigorating his mind.
Their disbelief exuded a beautiful scent that filled his nostrils.
Their envy sent waves of indescribable sensations through his soul.
Their jealousy purified his will, allowing him to experience a state of pleasure unlike anything he had felt before.
Their wanting and hatred felt brilliant, making his very being tremble with jubilation, his existential self leaping with endless glee.
Yes…
This was it.
Anon had apparently awakened before even entering the camp, but so what!
He had awakened now.
He could join the academy now.
Therein, anything was possible.
When one became a stellar fighter, it was as if they could hear fate's whisper and see the writings of their destiny.
On most occasions though, this was just their own delusion, but this was what awakening the mind's eye did, it amplified delusions and squandered reason.
After all, jumping from mortal to stellar, one had successfully entered a world where the term 'reason', sometimes did not matter, and the term 'logic', most times did not apply…
Indeed, in the world of magic and cultivation, logic was paradoxical.
So even if it was hard to imagine, illogical even, monstrosities indescribable in nature had pinned Nickyle down, preventing him from moving.
He screamed.
He screamed as loud as he could.
But so what?
None could hear him.
Not a single shriek escaped dorm room three to resound in the hallway, nor did it pierce the walls to trespass into the nearby rooms.
He felt cramped, trapped within a burning furnace.
As his blood boiled, steam rose from his pores, and his screams reached their highest pitch.
His skin felt as if it were melting, and his eyes threatened to fall from their sockets.
But before death could reach him, it was as if the monstrosities had manifested death itself, preventing it from descending into dorm room three to claim his soul.
Then, Nickyle was thrown out of the burning furnace and onto his bed.
His skin was molten ash as strange substances oozed from his body.
He could not see with his eyes, and yet, his sense of touch was heightened to such a degree that even the nonexistent winds in the room felt like stinging lashes with a whip.
Nickyle had long lost the ability to scream and lay there, releasing strange groans, his tears nonexistent... he could not cry, after all; his body was fried.
The monstrosities caressed his burned flesh, making him tremble in fear.
Fear.
Fear of what was happening.
And still, more potent was the fear of what could happen, what was going to happen.
Because, deep down, he knew…
These monstrosities did not relent, leaving Nickyle with a tormenting sense of violation, as if a piece of him were being forcefully torn asunder.
On this night, a part of his mind was brutally chipped away.
"A-Ah! Arghhhhhh!"
Nickyle shot up from bed, in shock.
His erratic gaze darted around the room before he glanced at his body.
'Eh…'
'Fine!'
'I'm fine!' he inwardly exclaimed. 'It was all a dream!'
His body trembled, but in that moment, as if to clarify his situation, that it was indeed not a dream, he felt a strange sensation from his lower back.
"No…"
A thought flashed in his mind.
"No…! No…!"
Taking in the sight of his blood-stained blanket and feeling the pain radiating from there, Nickyle's body trembled violently.
His heart raced, thumping erratically.
It felt as if his chest had caved in, restricting his lungs.
He fell off the bed, landing on the cold, hard ground with a thud.
Tears welled up in his eyes as his limbs jerked uncontrollably, and his mutterings echoed incessantly in the room: "No, no, no…"
"No, please, no! Please, please…!"
Arrogance…?
No, it was dying, or was it already dead?
Ego…?
No, it was dying, or was it dead?
Pride…?
No, it was dying, or was it dead?
At that moment, his whole world faded into a blur as warm droplets fell from his eyes, staining the ground.
He wanted to…
He wanted to beg for mercy, maybe even ask for help.
Where was Seth?
He longed to apologize, to wipe this memory away, please.
He wanted…
And yet, he could do nothing.
His thoughts were a convoluted mess as snot and tears streamed down his face and lips.
He clutched his chest as his heart threatened to burst from it.
Simultaneously…
"Hah…" Seth covered his mouth.
He groaned, "Ah, shit."
Gripping his abdomen, "Hahahahahahaha!" Unrestrained, he rolled around his bed with pure euphoria visible in his eyes.
"Hahahaha," He cackled madly.
For some time, he was in a state of uncontrollable ecstasy, but he slowly calmed himself, "Alright, alright…"
Seth stood up from his bed and walked to the bathroom in dorm room two.
Staring into the mirror, he addressed the red-eyed boy reflected within. "Tell me, why are they all so weak, pathetic, and mediocre? It's almost laughable—almost. Just an unfunny jest…"
A cold light flashed in his eyes. "Nickyle, the night is still young, and you can't bear it? Hmph! Just one night is not enough."
He clenched his fist and growled under his breath, "How dare you plot against this lord?"
Enraged, he continued, "How dare you! Tonight is only the beginning; I'm not just going to kill you…"
"I'm going to break you physically, crush you mentally, exterminate you conceptually!"
"Nickyle, it is your honor to receive this much attention from me… I'll give you the truest form of death... the truest!"
With that, Seth's fist rushed toward the mirror, shattering it into pieces.
As the shards of glass exploded into the surroundings, they reflected dozens of differing angles of himself, each one utterly decimated by his fist.
He annihilated nearly a hundred shards before they could even touch the ground…