CHAPTER 69: END OF ZENITH WEEK

Athena didn’t wait long.

The moment the last piece of debris was cleared and the healers gave the all-clear, she raised her hand and called out calmly, "Class Zero. To me."

Lucian looked up first.

The others followed without question.

They walked across the half-shattered arena, past stunned students and broken formations, past other instructors who still hadn’t decided what they’d just witnessed. No one tried to stop them. No one spoke. Just eyes tracking them—half in awe, half in fear.

At the edge of the field, Garos was already waiting. The dean stood in his usual plain clothes, arms folded behind his back, gaze sharp but steady. Not smiling. Not clapping.

But when they reached him, he nodded once. Deep.

"You did well," he said. "All of you."

Lucian tilted his head slightly. "You watched the whole time?"

Garos smirked. "Hard not to, considering the noise you made."

A few of the Class Zero members chuckled quietly.

Athena stepped forward beside Garos. "The officials are ready," she said simply. "You’ll be receiving your formal reward."

She led them to the side platform, now half-reconstructed with glowing runes and polished marble. The broadcast crews were already repositioning their lenses. Drones hovered in the air, capturing every second. A row of suited figures waited behind a crystal podium, wearing official Zenith Week badges.

The lead announcer—an older man with silver hair and a voice that carried authority—stepped forward and raised a tablet.

"By unanimous decision of the regional Hunter Committee and the Zenith Council," he began, "we hereby award the victory of Zenith Week to Class Zero of Aethra Academy."

Applause rose. More now. Clearer. Still not wild, but steady. And this time, no one could question it.

The man continued, "In recognition of your exceptional performance, each member of Class Zero will be awarded the following."

He raised his hand and gestured toward one of the armored attendants.

The attendant stepped forward, holding a sealed container made of transparent alloy, inside of which glowed a set of dark-purple, crystalline shards. The moment the container opened, the entire platform shimmered faintly from the pressure.

"S-Rank Monster Cores," the announcer said. "Five each."

Even Evelyn blinked at that.

Monster Cores weren’t simple rewards. They were the crystallized remains of powerful monsters—compressed essence of their mana, soul, and spirit. Each core could drastically boost a hunter’s advancement, aiding them in breaking through to the next rank, strengthening abilities, or awakening new traits.

S-Rank cores weren’t just rare.

They were game-changers.

Most hunters fought for years just to earn one.

The announcer let that settle, then continued. "In addition, Class Zero is granted a full-access pass to the National Hunter Training Center, valid for one year. This includes unrestricted entry to training chambers, simulated dungeons, and classified archives."

Now even Lucian raised an eyebrow slightly.

That wasn’t just a gift.

That was an open door to growth.

Silas whistled under his breath.

The official wasn’t done. "Furthermore, all Class Zero members will be listed as provisional candidates for next-cycle Elite Hunter slots, should they choose to apply."

Evelyn leaned slightly toward Lucian. "Did they just fast-track us?"

"Feels like it," he muttered.

As the formalities wrapped up, the suited committee members bowed once and stepped back. But before anyone could relax, another presence filled the air.

The recruiters.

They moved fast—like sharks scenting blood.

Suits and silks. Family emblems. Crest rings flashing with subtle mana.

One stepped forward, tall and well-spoken. "I represent the Azurefang Syndicate. We’d like to offer full contracts—training stipends, private relic access, and combat mentorship with S-rank field agents."

Another cut in. "Thorne Foundation. Direct mentorship under the ninth elder. Artifact integration rights. You’ll get first pick of awakened gear."

A third didn’t speak—just offered a black card with silver veins pulsing across its surface. It wasn’t labeled, but even Lucian could feel the enchantments woven into it.

The offers didn’t stop.

And then—another stepped forward.

This one didn’t wear guild colors or a corporate pin.

He carried a tablet. Thorn Family seal in gold on the back.

"I represent the Thorn Group," he said smoothly. "Lord Eron Thorn extends a formal invitation."

That silenced the others.

Even the official from the Azurefang stepped back slightly.

He continued, eyes scanning each member of Class Zero. "You’ll each be offered private research sanctums, full core processing authority, relic ownership rights, and access to Vault Tier-3 assets. No binding contracts. Just complete freedom—and a promise."

Evelyn frowned. "Promise?"

"To never fall behind the rest of the world again."

The tablet hovered in the air. A set of gold-etched contracts flashed one by one, customized, already bearing their names.

Reia didn’t even look at it. "Not interested."

Lucian folded his arms.

"We’re students," he said. "Not experiments."

The Thorn rep blinked once. But he didn’t argue.

"An open door doesn’t vanish," he said. "It just waits."

He left the card on a pedestal and stepped away.

No one followed.

Not yet.

Athena walked over to Garos quietly.

"You think they’ll accept any of those offers?"

Garos shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. That’s not the point."

"What is?"

He glanced back at Class Zero.

"They changed the board. Whether they like it or not."

As the sun began to set, the reconstruction mages finished restoring the last of the broken arena walls. The healing crews retreated. The announcers signed off the broadcasts.

But the attention didn’t fade.

Not now.

Not after what they did.

And especially not after who they beat.

Class Zero stood together at the far end of the field, cores in hand, silence between them. No one needed to speak.

They knew.

This wasn’t just a win.

This was a warning.

The world wasn’t ready for what was coming.

But they were.

And somewhere out there, so was that stranger.

Watching.

Waiting.

And preparing for round two.

A/N

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