CHAPTER 50: EX 50. ARRIVAL OF CHAOS

In the world of trial takers, magic was not as simple as choosing a class—it was bound by something deeper: the resonance of one’s awakened talent.

To wield spells, a trial taker needed to awaken a magic-type talent. Without this foundation, spellcasting was impossible, no matter how skilled or knowledgeable a person might be. Even those who chose the Mage class—often assumed to be the gateway to magic—could not cast actual spells unless their awakened talent matched a magical affinity.

Instead, mage-class takers without a magic talent would rely solely on Mage skills.

The difference between skills and spells was vast:

Skills were instantly mastered upon acquisition, perfect in execution and designed to synergize seamlessly with one’s class.

They were like embedded techniques—automated and efficient. However, they came with a strict limitation: a trial taker could only learn a limited number of them, determined by their level.

Spells, on the other hand, required study, practice, and progression. Mastery came in stages: Beginner Adept Skilled Expert Perfected. A trial taker could only learn a spell if they had awakened a magic talent of the same affinity—a fire talent could only learn fire spells, for example.

But while difficult to master, spells offered something skills couldn’t: limitless potential. A magic user could learn as many spells as they could handle, unrestricted by hard caps.

Back to James.

Among many trial takers who sought glory through blades and brute strength, James had awakened a rare edge, even if it was an Ordinary-ranked Dark Magic talent.

This affinity opened the gate for him to learn spells of the dark element. Although his talent rank was not exceptional, it gave him access to a hidden well of power. And before the selection began his master had given him something most cadets could only dream of—a Tier VII dark spell.

****

Before the Selection began, James had received a gift from his master.

It was on a day shrouded in haze—one he couldn’t remember clearly. His master had appeared, cloaked in black robes, his face always slightly blurred in James’ memory, as if hidden behind smoke.

His master said nothing at first, only extended a hand to James, offering him a tome bound in stitched leather, its surface etched with markings that pulsed with a faint violet glow.

"Attain beginner mastery in this spell before the selection begins," his master had finally spoken, his voice low and echoing like a whisper inside a cave.

"And victory will be nothing short of guaranteed."

James had accepted it with wide eyes and trembling hands. He didn’t ask questions—why would he?

His master had helped him. Guided him. Even granted him a Tier VII spell, something unheard of for an ordinary-ranked talent like his.

He had felt grateful.

Blessed.

Chosen.

The only problem was...

He couldn’t remember meeting this man at all.

It was like the memory had been planted, not lived.

****

Now, as the dark spell activated, the world around James cracked beneath its pressure. The air howled, the earth split, and Adrian was driven back, his Full Counter barely holding against the force.

James stood within the roaring heart of the magic circle, his eyes alight with triumph. A cold smile cut across his face.

"Witness the might of a Tier VII spell!" he roared, his voice laced with pride and madness.

And then... he laughed.

A broken, unhinged laugh that rose with the storm around him—until it stopped abruptly.

James’ eyes widened as a sharp pain stabbed through his chest, pulling at something deep inside him.

He hunched forward, gasping.

’What was that?’

Then it came again this time stronger.

The pain exploded, searing through his very being as he screamed.

"Ahhhahhhhahhah."

His thoughts shattered as the horrifying realization hit him like a hammer to the skull.

’It’s... my soul,’ he gasped through clenched teeth.

The tugging turned into wrenching—a force that reached into the core of his existence and began dragging it away.

And then came the screams.

Not just his own.

All around him, the unconscious bodies of his teammates—Thomas, William, and the others—began thrashing and howling, their faces twisted in agony.

James forced his pain-numbed eyes to look.

He saw them suffering.

He saw the same darkness swirling around them.

He remembered then—the spell had required blood.

The blood of his comrades.

He’d taken it willingly.

Blindly.

Now, the fog that had clouded his judgment lifted, and clarity struck like a blade.

First, the spell he had cast wasn’t a gift—it was a forbidden spell.

Second, it was not cast by his will—it was a trap.

Third, and most terrifying of all—

"Who the hell was that man...?"

His thoughts drowned beneath the final pull as his soul was torn from his body, an invisible force ripping him and his teammates from existence.

Their bodies slumped as their eyes became lifeless.

The magic circle glowed before devouring their existence whole.

And then... chaos erupted.

The forest shook.

Something had awakened.

****

Adrian’s body crashed through the trees, branches snapping like brittle twigs as he tumbled across the forest floor.

Bark scraped his arms and a sharp jolt flared through his ribs as he rolled to a stop, coughing from the impact.

The lingering pressure from the spell still buzzed in the air like a screech in his skull. His shield, scorched and cracked, lay beside him.

Pain pulsed through his limbs, but he pushed himself up with trembling arms, his breath ragged.

And then he saw it.

Across the shattered clearing, a horrific sight unfolded.

The corpses of James and his comrades lay twisted and motionless, and above them, the magic circle glowed with a pulsing malevolence. Wisps of soul-like energy, were violently yanked from their bodies, screams echoing without mouths to scream them.

The sight churned Adrian’s gut.

The souls were devoured, sucked into the black veins of the circle.

Then—BOOM.

A dark pillar of energy exploded into the sky, tearing through the clouds, a beacon of pure malice and corruption.

The trees around it bent away unnaturally, leaves withering from their branches as if the very life around it was being drained.

The air turned cold.

The pressure—immense.

Adrian squinted against the dark light as the pillar pulsed once... twice... and then vanished in an instant.

In its place, floating above the ruined earth, was a demon.

It had two jagged horns, a pointed tail, and a towering frame covered in black-red scales that shimmered with dark energy.

Its wings were like jagged blades, and its yellow eyes glowed with cruel intelligence. It didn’t flap to stay afloat as gravity bent around it.

Adrian’s heart skipped. He wasn’t just staring at a monster.

He was staring at a nightmare made real.

His hands trembled slightly as he looked around—the ground was littered with James’ comrades, all of them bearing a dark mark etched on their foreheads, a mark that pulsed faintly even in death.

Adrian’s throat felt dry as he slowly turned his gaze back up to the demon above.

"James... what the hell have you done?"

A/N: There will be a mass release if the book gets up to 12 review before Tuesday.