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The second Dreamer announced the beginning of the trial, everyone was teleported to a random position within the inner circle.
Asmodieus found himself on the border of the designated inner area. Towering jungle trees reached the sky, their dense canopy blocking most sunlight. The ground was carpeted with waist-high grass, its blades whispering in the faint breeze. Unlike the other children, Asmodieus neither panicked nor showed any emotion. He simply surveyed his surroundings, calculating his next move with a calm and analytical demeanor.
After a moment of observation, his eyes landed on a piece of obsidian rock. Knowing that his body was still weaker than mundane materials and his strength had yet to reach the level of an animal, he knelt and picked up the rock. Methodically, he fashioned a crude dagger by combining the rock with sturdy vines and large leaves. The result was far from elegant, but it would suffice for now.
Asmodieus didn't rush. While some competitors might have sprinted toward the demonic beasts to accumulate points as quickly as possible, he understood the value of preparation. This was not just a race—it was a competition, a hunting ground.
He had an entire year to gather points. Rather than charging ahead recklessly, he chose to sharpen his instincts and skills. The mundane animals around him presented an opportunity. He could practice hunting, refine his techniques, and perhaps even craft weapons and armor from their remains. At first glance, these creations might seem worthless, but Asmodieus knew better. With a bit of effort, he could imbue them with mana, even etch crude runes into their surfaces. Doing so would elevate his crude weapons to F or E rank equipment—a feat that would leave seasoned craftsmen in awe.
Dreamer, observing through the trial's monitoring system, couldn't help but facepalm when he saw the boy transform an obsidian rock into E-rank equipment.
"That wicked little genius," Dreamer muttered under his breath. "No, a heaven-breaking genius. I should've made this trial especially harder for him."
Back to Asmodieus.
The boy began his search for a particular creature he had read about in the Guild's library: a tiger. Humans had given it that name, which he found odd. Tigers were described as majestic predators, with orange fur striped in black, and on rare occasions, white. They were said to reign as kings of the jungle.
Lions also piqued his curiosity, but he was far too cautious to face them. In hell, a region of Athab was ruled solely by the Lions of Pride—souls of dead lions, also known as the Eyes of Pride. These beings were the favored servants of a once-powerful benefactor of his. Killing one, even indirectly, could have catastrophic consequences.
After several minutes of careful searching, he finally found his target—or rather, his target found him.
Killing intent pierced the air, and Asmodieus's instincts flared. He spun around swiftly, his body falling into a defensive stance.
Before him stood a tiger, though it was not what he had expected. The creature, roughly the size of a motorbike, was emaciated, its bones visible beneath its dull orange fur. Its stripes were faded, and its gait was unsteady, suggesting injury or illness.
Asmodieus immediately noted the discrepancies. Tigers were supposed to be larger and more formidable. He speculated briefly that this might be a juvenile or perhaps a starved specimen, but he didn't let the thought linger. His focus was on survival.
Just as he began calculating how best to kill the predator, it attacked.
The tiger lunged, closing the distance with terrifying speed. Asmodieus barely managed to react. Even so, the beast's razor-sharp claws raked across his left arm, tearing away a chunk of flesh.
Pain seared through his body, but his expression remained stoic. He adjusted his stance, ignoring the blood dripping from his wound. His movements were fluid, calculated, and precise. If a professional swordsman had been observing, they would have recognized his stance as one used only by high-rank swordmasters.
Now, let's take a moment to discuss ranks and their importance.
While individuals in the C rank and below possess mana, their reserves are weak compared to those of higher ranks. This is because their bodies lack an energy dantian—a core to store and channel mana. However, some rare individuals at the A rank or higher develop a core, which temporarily functions as a storage unit. For them, the core eventually integrates with their dantian, acting as a secondary reservoir.
Asmodieus, on the other hand, employed vitality in ingenious ways to compensate for his limitations. Though his bones could channel mana, his flesh remained unenhanced and unfit to endure its strain. Thus, he devised a workaround.
In the midst of battle, he diverted 40% of his vitality to empower his arm, using the remainder to strengthen the muscles required for his next move. He then carefully guided mana from his veins into the enhanced muscles, allowing it to flow into his bones. From there, the mana traveled to his fingertips, imbuing the makeshift dagger in his hand.
The obsidian blade began to glow faintly, and moments later, a blade of mana extended from its edge, transforming the crude weapon into the equivalent of a one-handed sword. This remarkable display of ingenuity was taxing on Asmodieus's body, but he knew he needed to end the fight quickly.
The tiger, undeterred, prepared for another pounce. Asmodieus's preparations had taken only half a second.
The predator lunged again, aiming to overpower him with sheer ferocity.
This time, Asmodieus was ready. As the tiger leaped, he sidestepped with precision, his enhanced reflexes allowing him to narrowly avoid its claws. With a single, fluid motion, he swung his glowing blade.
The strike was clean, slicing through the tiger's neck with lethal accuracy. The beast collapsed mid-air, its momentum carrying it forward before it crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Asmodieus stood over the corpse, his breathing steady despite the exertion. Blood from his wound dripped onto the ground, mingling with the tiger's.
Then, he collapsed.
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