After half a year of expansion, the Hossens School had grown to include over ten thousand members.

Most of these were newly absorbed wild apprentices from outside or even ordinary mortals. Reforming the system had become necessary.

Now, after the reforms, eight out of ten Gold-Thorn Apprentices were those who had grown up within the Hossens School itself, a ratio that was far more balanced.

Lynn glanced around. There were thirty-five First-Rank Gold-Thorn Apprentices gathered, their ages ranging widely, from barely over ten to nearly thirty.

As for how many of them were wild apprentices recruited from outside, it was impossible to tell.

But once Anderson’s words fell, three First-Rank Gold-Thorns immediately stepped forward without hesitation.

They were a boy, a young woman, and a middle-aged man.

From the murmurs of those around him, Lynn learned their identities.

The boy was named Samuel, the school’s well-known prodigy. He had rare pale-green hair, soft facial features, and such delicate beauty that it was difficult to tell his gender at first glance.

The middle-aged man was also from the school, named Morrison. He looked dull and ordinary, with no real reputation to his name.

As for the young woman, almost no one knew her. Clearly, she was not born within the school. Her frame was extremely tall, close to two meters, with sharply defined muscles that carried the sleek power of a leopard.

After these three signed up, more Gold-Thorns came forward one after another.

Most were First-Rank Apprentices, but among them were a few Second-Rank Apprentices as well.

Lynn, however, did not step forward.

He had only just advanced to First-Rank Apprentice. His foundations were not yet deep, and his strength was far from outstanding compared to his peers. There was no need for him to walk into defeat.

In the end, Anderson announced the numbers: thirty-six participants, including seven Second-Rank Apprentices.

The rules were simple: they would draw lots for head-to-head matches in a double-elimination tournament.

The eighteen who lost in the first round would enter the losers’ bracket, where they would fight one another. The nine winners would then face off against the nine losers from the winners’ bracket. Those who won would advance.

In the end, the last three standing would claim the title of Gold-Thorn.

The drawing quickly concluded, and Anderson signaled for the two apprentices who had drawn the first lot to step forward.

It turned out to be Morrison, the middle-aged man who had signed up first, and a young female Second-Rank Apprentice.

Seeing that his opponent was only a Second-Rank Apprentice, Morrison relaxed slightly. He strode onto the stage with calm composure and gave the girl a gentle look.

“Ready when you are.”

Floating in the air, Anderson announced evenly,

“Begin.”

“Yes, Master Anderson,” Morrison and the girl responded in unison.

They faced each other for a moment. Then the young woman let out a sharp cry and hurled a fireball at Morrison!

Her casting was fast, the orange fireball surging with force clearly; she had mastered Fireball Technique to a solid degree.

Morrison’s expression remained calm. He had already layered himself in defensive spells. Even if he stood still, the fireball could not break through.

Yet out of respect, he cast a flight spell and sidestepped lightly.

As expected, the fireball missed.

With the mobility granted by flight sorcery, a First-Rank Apprentice had gained a qualitative leap in flexibility. Just by keeping his distance and wearing her down, Morrison could exhaust a Second-Rank Apprentice to death.

Of course, he had no intention of dragging things out.

His expression firmed, and he gave a low shout as he launched his counterattack.

“Junior sister, watch out!”

Whoosh!

A flash of spell-light burst from Morrison’s hand. In an instant, a pale-blue missile formed and shot toward the young female apprentice

Zero-Ring mid-grade spell: Lant Missile!

The girl’s face tensed as she tried to dodge. But without flight magic and not being a body-type wizard, relying only on her legs, there was no way she could evade a missile designed to track its target.

All the more since this spell, normally capped at mid-grade Zero-Ring power, was being wielded by a First-Rank Apprentice. Its force was naturally stronger.

Bang!

The missile struck her in the blink of an eye, shattering her protective spell with ease before dissipating.

Clearly, this unremarkable-looking middle-aged man possessed deep mastery of spellcraft.

The girl tried to resist further, but at some point, pale-green vines had sprouted from beneath her feet, twining tightly around her body, binding her fast.

“…I’ve lost.” She struggled briefly, then shook her head in surrender.

Morrison released the vines at once and offered kind praise:

“Junior sister, your mastery of Fireball is solid, and your defensive spells aren’t bad either. It’s just your evasion that’s lacking. Perhaps you should try studying a movement spell.”

The girl nodded seriously, answering with a smile:

“Thank you for the guidance, Senior Morrison.”

The atmosphere between them was warm and harmonious. It felt less like a battle and more like a senior instructing a junior.

And indeed, that was essentially what it was.

“Molya, do you confirm your defeat?” Anderson asked in a low, stern voice.

“…I confirm, Master Anderson,” Molya replied after a pause, a little confused.

“Then walk yourself off the plaza,” Anderson continued, his expression grave.

“I said before, this is real combat, without restrictions. A verbal concession cannot decide victory or defeat. It can only serve as a ploy to deceive.

“Only by leaving the bounds of the plaza, or by my judgment that you can no longer withstand attacks, can the fight be considered over.”

He turned his gaze on the gathered Gold-Thorns and asked in a deep voice:

“Do you all understand?”

The rule of live combat had been decreed personally by Wizard Hossens. Anderson might not fully understand it, but that did not stop him from executing his teacher’s orders to the letter.

Anderson had always followed Hossens’s powerful and wise figure, and Hossens had never once disappointed him.

The time left to us is not much… Anderson thought silently. If Master Hossens acts this way, he must have his reasons.

With that, he gestured for the apprentices holding lot number two to step forward.

This match was between the prodigy boy, Samuel, and a brown-haired youth about Lynn’s age, Gray.

If Samuel was the embodiment of elegance, confidence, and radiant beauty, then Gray was his opposite.

The brown-haired boy was broad-shouldered, a scar cutting down the side of his left face, his hair disheveled. His presence was silent, brooding, almost oppressive.

“…I don’t really like the boy standing opposite Lord Samuel. He looks… kind of dirty,” Caroline whispered.

Leah did not answer. She only murmured an apology and began pushing her way forward.

“Where are you going, Leah?” Caroline asked.

Looking at Lynn’s back ahead of her, Leah paused before replying,

“I want to move closer. It’s clearer up front.”

“Ah, you’re right, it is clearer up front. Wait for me, Leah! I also want to see Lord Samuel up close!”

Chattering, Caroline followed after her.

Soon, the two girls reached Lynn’s side.

“Senior Lynn,” Leah greeted softly. Caroline blinked, then quickly followed suit.

“Leah, this is…” Lynn began.

“Caroline Lays,” the girl interjected.

“Junior Caroline,” Lynn nodded politely before turning his gaze back to the field.

The battle had already begun.

Samuel and Gray stood locked in a tense standoff.

Caroline’s eyes flicked from Lynn back to Leah, and she rolled them slightly.

So much for wanting a clearer view… clearly, you just came to find this Senior Lynn. Look at yourself, are you watching the fight in the plaza, or watching someone else?

“Leah, who do you think will win?” Caroline asked in a low voice.

“Hm?” Leah blinked back to herself, turned to look at the duel, and after a moment said,

“I don’t know.”

Caroline rolled her eyes again.

“Do you even know who’s fighting right now, Leah? You’re not even paying attention to the match!”

Leah’s face flushed. She insisted firmly,

“Of course I know. It’s Samuel against a wizard apprentice named Gray!”

“Then how can you not know who will win? Obviously, it’s Lord Samuel. He’s been a First-Rank Apprentice for five years, and he has a First-Rank Wizard as his father. It’s said he’s already preparing for advancement…” Caroline rattled on.

“But you don’t actually know anything about his opponent, Gray, do you?” Leah interrupted calmly, her face once again composed.

Caroline faltered. At that moment, Lynn spoke up beside them:

“I heard someone say that Gray came from a minor faction under the old Black Rose Wizard Order.”

Although the Gold-Thorn selection didn’t require the apprentices to watch, nearly all of them had gathered at the edge of the plaza to observe.

And with so many people talking, a lot of information was being passed around.

Lynn had already cast Wind Listening, quietly gathering every word within earshot.

“The Black Rose Order is gone… so Gray’s original faction…” Leah murmured.

“Perished as well,” Lynn answered calmly.

For an outsider apprentice to rise to the rank of Gold-Thorn within the school, almost all of them had to come from minor factions or declining wizard families.

For ordinary mortals, without some miraculous encounter, meeting Hossen's School’s harsh standards for Gold-Thorn Apprentices was all but impossible.

Amidst the murmurs of the crowd, Samuel and Gray, locked in their long standoff, finally made their moves.

At the same moment, Lynn’s sharp eyes caught sight of a new figure appearing beside Wizard Anderson.

The newcomer bore the same green hair as Samuel, though cut short.

He gave Anderson a respectful greeting, then calmly turned to watch the battle in the plaza.

From the nearby chatter, Lynn learned who he was: Samuel’s father, the senior First-Rank Wizard, Chester.

Crackle!

Neither Samuel nor Gray noticed they were fully focused on each other.

Silent as stone, Gray made no outward movement, but arcs of pale-blue lightning flickered suddenly across his body. His frame seemed to swell slightly, and with a single stride, he exploded forward at terrifying speed, charging Samuel like a thunderbolt!

Samuel did not panic. He leapt into the air and cast the Green Vine Technique across Gray’s path to obstruct him.

Ordinarily, such vines would at least slow an opponent. But Gray did not dodge or hesitate; he surged onward like a red-eyed bull!

Rustle, rustle!

Vines sprouted rapidly, covering the ground. As the direct heir of a First-Rank Wizard, Samuel’s bloodline and spirit traits were far from ordinary.

Normally, the Green Vine Technique, a Zero Ring mid-grade spell, with an upper limit at Zero Ring high-grade, covered only about 1.5 by 1.5 meters when used by a Second-Rank Apprentice. Even with a First-Rank Apprentice, the area would expand only to about 3 by 3 meters.

But in Samuel’s hands, it spread to an astonishing 5 by 5 meters!

And he could do even more.

Where others cast the vines in squares or circles, Samuel shaped them into a ten-meter-long, two-meter-wide “green road,” maximizing its ability to hinder Gray’s charge.

Crackling!

Gray barreled into the vine-choked path, his body wreathed in dazzling arcs of lightning. Tangled shadows of green wrapped around him, obscuring the fight from view.

His movements were savage, brimming with a wild, violent energy, yet his face remained cold and expressionless.

It was like staring at the dark, suffocating sky before a torrential storm.

Samuel’s lips curved into a cold smile.

Throwing himself into the vines was a foolish choice.

He rose higher into the air, avoiding any chance of surprise, and began a low chant, the incantation for his strongest spell, Emerald Cage!

Once it was cast, Gray would have no chance of resistance.

From above, Chester’s brow furrowed faintly as he watched.

Whoosh!

In the next instant, Gray’s figure slipped like a phantom from the vines appearing behind Samuel. Silent as ever, he raised his hand like a blade and slashed for Samuel’s neck!

Blue-violet lightning wrapped around his palm, radiating a suffocating aura of destruction.

Anderson’s focus sharpened; he prepared to intervene at the last possible moment.

But Chester beside him spoke quietly:

“No need, Master Anderson. If he cannot survive a battle like this, then perhaps death would be the kinder end.”

Anderson glanced at him but said nothing.

Meanwhile, Samuel’s eyes flickered. He whispered to himself, “Found you.”

Without turning, he darted forward at full speed.

Gray’s expression shifted faintly. He tried to fade away once more, to slip into hiding.

Rustle!

But Samuel did not give him the chance.

Emerald-green vines sprouted into existence all around, weaving together into a massive net that closed in on Gray from every direction!

In battle, never cast a spell that cannot be triggered instantly… Father, do you see? I have never forgotten your warning.

Samuel glanced briefly at Chester standing beside Anderson.

The instant that lightning-wreathed figure had plunged into his vines, Samuel had recognized it as a decoy, a mere clone.

An ordinary apprentice could never have discerned such a thing.

But Samuel’s innate gift, inherited from his father, was more than just amplifying the Green Vine Technique.

He had an extraordinary sensitivity and control over vine-based magic, able to detect and manipulate it with uncanny precision.

And though Emerald Cage usually required chanting, Samuel had already mastered it to the point of instant-cast. His earlier chant had only been a feint.

Chester, however, ignored the glance his son sent his way. His face remained cold, showing neither praise nor delight.

Samuel was used to this. His eyes dimmed slightly as he turned back, ready to deliver the finishing blow against Gray, now trapped within the tightening Emerald Cage.

The silent youth still struggled. Lightning arced around him as he hacked through vines one after another, yet the greenery kept regrowing, layer upon layer, with no end in sight.

“Don’t waste your strength,” Samuel said evenly, as the cage shrank around his opponent.

“Unless my mana runs dry, or you can unleash an attack of true First-Rank strength, the Emerald Cage will never break.”

Crack! Sizzle!

Blue-white lightning flared, burning vines to ash, filling the air with the acrid scent of charred wood. But still the Emerald Cage contracted, unstoppable.

At last, Gray let the lightning around his body fade. He drew in a deep breath.

The next instant, Boom!

A dazzling burst of blue-white light erupted from within the Emerald Cage.

“You can’t break free,” Samuel declared coldly. “This is a spell crafted for me alone, my father’s personal design.”

Samuel’s expression shifted, and he poured more mana into his spell.

Within the cage of vines, Gray’s body began to twist unnaturally. His once-solid muscles withered like a punctured balloon, his joints cracking audibly as his entire frame shrank.

In moments, the sturdy youth’s figure had diminished to that of a frail child.

Lightning still crackled around him, but as his muscles collapsed further, his withered body forced open a hole in the Emerald Cage just large enough for him to squeeze through.

Gray’s eyes gleamed sharply as he hurled himself forward, bursting out of the cage.

He couldn’t destroy it outright, but he had managed to widen its existing seams enough to break free.

The blue-white lightning finally faded, and for the first time, the apprentices saw Gray’s true condition.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

His body had shrunk several sizes; his wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees, and ankles were all bent and twisted grotesquely.

He looked like nothing more than a human ball.

“Ugh… that looks so painful,” Caroline whispered, shivering at the sight.

Even Leah’s face turned pale with fright.

The fight wasn’t over. Gray’s joints cracked and popped as his body stretched back to normal proportions.

But the reckless burst had left him wasted away, a shadow of his former self. He stood there gaunt and hollow-eyed, nothing but a skeleton draped in skin.

Agonizing pain wracked him; every pore screamed with tearing torment, yet his face remained impassive.

On that bloody night when the Thunderstone Faction fell…

When Gray watched his teacher, his seniors, his juniors, all his “family” slaughtered before his eyes, and his home turned to ruin…

He had already spent the last of his ability to feel pain.

What remained was only silence.

Swish!

Gray’s eyes flicked toward Samuel, and then his figure vanished again.

Samuel’s face darkened. He scanned warily in all directions, dispelling the Emerald Cage to conserve mana.

He expected Gray to bide his time, hiding in the shadows.

But only a heartbeat later, Gray appeared again right in front of him.

The boy’s expression was still cold, but deep in his eyes flickered a rare, frenzied light.

His emaciated left arm began to disintegrate from the fingertips upward, searing arcs of annihilating lightning bursting forth as he thrust at Samuel!

Samuel’s face drained of color. He knew instantly this was not an attack his current defensive spells could block.

He tried to retreat, but it was too late.

At that moment, Anderson finally intervened.

The deadly lightning was erased by an invisible force, halting the collapse of Gray’s mangled arm.

Even so, in that brief moment, half of Gray’s ring finger and pinky had already disintegrated.

“I declare the winner of this duel… Gray,” Anderson said firmly.

Samuel stiffened, panic flashing in his eyes. He glanced at Chester, then quickly turned to Anderson.

“Master Anderson, I can still fight! I haven’t lost yet!”

“Silence.”

It was not Anderson who answered, but Chester, who cut him off with a cold rebuke.

“Gather your things and go complete today’s training.”

“But, Fa... Lord Chester, I’ve only lost once. By the rules, I still have another chance before losing the Gold-Thorn qualification.”

“Samuel, do you still not understand?” Chester’s tone was icy.

“Others may have two chances. You have only one.”

Samuel’s gaze lowered. After a long silence, he whispered:

“…I understand, Lord Chester.”

Chester did not reply. He merely gave Anderson a brief nod before rising into the air and departing.

Samuel stood still for a moment, then left in silence.

The ferocity of the battle had surpassed everyone’s expectations.

The plaza was quiet now, the apprentices’ chatter subdued.

Many stole glances at Gray, standing beside Anderson, with thinly veiled fear in their eyes.

Why had he fought with such brutality, as though this were not a trial for Gold-Thorn status, but a true fight for his life?

The cruelty, the disregard for pain or injury, that madness was terrifying.

Even Lynn’s heart was unsettled as he watched the withered figure of Gray.

Whether Gray or Samuel, the strength they displayed far surpassed his own newly advanced First-Rank Apprentice abilities.

His Exploding Fireball, his White Crow Sword Qi, compared to Samuel’s mastery of vines, or Gray’s fearsome fusion of flesh and lightning, they seemed pitifully lacking.

Perhaps only the Golden Mist Phantom could rival them.

But he hadn’t even managed to redeem it yet…

Meanwhile, Anderson neither praised nor chastised Gray.

He merely healed the boy’s ruined fingers with a wave of power, then handed him two vials of potion prepared long ago for just such cases, one to restore energy, the other to replenish mana. After that, he continued overseeing the matches.

Next up was the tall young woman who had signed up at the very beginning, Kaori.

She bore a feral aura similar to Gray’s, and her strength was unexpectedly formidable.

Her physique suggested a body-type wizard, yet she excelled at ranged sorcery.

Without using any unusual spells, relying only on sharp combinations of ordinary magic, she swiftly overwhelmed and defeated a peer-level First-Rank Apprentice.

By rough measure, her overall ability was at least on par with Gray’s.

The battles continued across the plaza. Some were dangerous, but none matched the savagery of Samuel and Gray’s duel.

Five days later, all matches were concluded. The Gold-Thorn Selection was finally decided.

And the winners were just as in the very first matches, three apprentices:

The brooding youth Gray, the towering young woman Kaori, and the unassuming but steady middle-aged man Morrison, the only one of the three born within the Hossens School.

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/AetherTL