Shock

"You keep running your mouth about that story, but come on, bro—it's a little hard to believe," Vahn said, finally breaking free from Varek's grip. He stretched his sore neck, sighing in exasperation, only for a tiny fist to suddenly smack the back of his head.

"My dad isn't lying!" Nicole huffed, puffing her tiny chest out in defiance. "I was there! I saw big bro beat down those evil Blind Walkers with nothing but a broken dagger!"

She planted her hands on her waist, mimicking her father's stance. Varek mirrored her, both of them standing side by side like two peas in a pod, grinning triumphantly.

Vahn groaned, rubbing his head as he glanced between them. "Good gracious… How did I even get myself involved with this duo?" He shook his head, feeling the weight of his life's poor choices.

"You know," Racheal suddenly interjected, her voice calm and composed. "Even if the story seems exaggerated, it's undeniable that Denwen's body structure is different from his peers. His muscle definition, posture, and reaction speed are all exceptional for someone his age. That alone suggests his potential for a high-grade awakening."

Vahn turned to her like a man who had just been saved from drowning. "Finally! Someone sane in this family!" He clasped his hands together in mock prayer, sending a grateful look her way.

Varek and Nicole exchanged a look, then simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"Killjoy," they muttered under their breath.

—-

Denwen stepped onto the stage with a calm, measured pace. His posture was straight, his movements precise, exuding an effortless grace that few could match. The murmurs among the crowd grew louder, students whispering feverishly amongst themselves as he ascended the steps.

The examiner, Zara, met him with a respectful nod. Even she couldn't hide her intrigue—this was the most well-rounded student in the academy. A prodigy in every aspect: sports, combat practice, mana and essence theory, spell memorization, and tactical comprehension. He wasn't just skilled; he was the complete package.

After Roy's awakening shattered records, expectations were at an all-time high. If Roy set a new ceiling, then Denwen was expected to break through it entirely.

The anticipation thickened the air.

—-

In the seating area, Mellissa leaned back with an air of superiority, arms crossed, watching Denwen with an amused smirk.

"I bet you he gets an B-grade," she declared confidently, flipping her golden curls over her shoulder. "Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if he pulled off an A. It's only natural for people of exceptional breeding to rise above the rest."

Kara raised an eyebrow. "Exceptional breeding?"

"Of course," Mellissa replied, as if it were obvious. "Some people are simply born superior. Denwen just happens to be one of them."

Kara scoffed but said nothing, while Angus—who had been eerily quiet—let out a sneering laugh.

"Are you guys serious?" He leaned forward, his voice laced with venom. "The stories about him have always been so exaggerated. The way people talk about him, you'd think he's some legendary figure reborn or something. But I see through it."

His hands clenched into fists, a nasty glint in his eyes.

"He's nothing special," Angus continued, his voice dripping with scorn. "You all have been fooled by his flashy acts and lucky moments. But today?" He grinned wickedly. "Today, we get to see the 'perfect' Denwen fail. And when that happens, all of you will realize just how pathetic he really is."

Mellissa wrinkled her nose in disgust. "How bitter can you be? It's honestly embarrassing at this point."

Kara frowned slightly, sensing the sheer hostility in Angus's tone.

Angus didn't care. His gaze was locked on Denwen, filled with an almost crazed hope—hope that this moment would finally prove he was right.

—

The entire gathering had now turned their full attention to the stage.

A sea of students, nobles, commoners, and instructors all murmured amongst themselves, their voices a chaotic mix of excitement, nervousness, and awe.

"He's gonna awaken some insane innate ability, right?"

"There's no way he's anything below an A-grade. I mean, look at him!"

"I heard he trained in secret with high-ranked warriors since childhood. That's why his body's so refined."

"Imagine getting a A awakening from two people in the same batch. That hasn't happened since the royal brothers!"

Everywhere, eyes glowed with expectation. Denwen wasn't just another student taking the stage—he was the moment.

His presence alone turned everyone else on stage who had their own stories and motivations into forgettable side characters.

—-

Denwen stepped forward with the same unshakable composure that had defined him for years. Every movement was deliberate, effortless, carrying an air of quiet confidence that made those watching hold their breath.

The gloves adjusted to his hands the moment he slipped them on, the enchanted fabric shrinking and expanding until it fit perfectly. The inside was unnaturally smooth—a whisper of silk against his skin, weightless, as if he wore nothing at all. A faint glow pulsed along the runes embroidered into the material, indicating that the connection had been established.

His fingers brushed against the Soul Key before curling around it with a firm grip. The key buzzed with latent energy, a pulse of power that resonated through his veins. 

A hush settled over the hall.

Denwen exhaled slowly, bringing his mind into focus. Unlike Rudy, whose spell had been simple, he had prepared something far more intricate—a sophisticated chant designed to purge distractions completely. His voice, when it emerged, was measured and powerful, carrying a cadence that commanded the very air around him:

"Sile, anima turbata, pacem amplectere.

Fugiant tenebrae, lux interius renascitur.

Venti furentes, maris tumultus, nunc quiescite.

Let the restless mind be still, let the storm be hushed.

Spiritus aeternus, flumen quietis decurrat,

Carrying away the weight of fear and doubt.

By the will of balance, let serenity last,

By the call of silence, let peace reign at last."

As the last syllable left his lips, the runes on the gloves flared to life, casting an ethereal glow that bathed his hands in a gentle golden hue. The audience stirred, whispers of admiration rippling through the grand hall.

Even those who had underestimated him couldn't deny the depth of his spell.

His eyes flickered open, the light reflecting in his gaze like a still lake under the morning sun—clear, steady, unshaken. The spell had cleansed his thoughts, leaving only an unyielding tranquility in its wake.

He turned his attention back to the Soul Key.

Taking a deep breath, he raised the key into the air and spoke the sacred invocation:

"Vetra Solis, Arkan Velorum! Rise and dance, awaken thy bearer!"

The key responded immediately, trembling as its energy surged. Then—it lifted.

Gasps echoed through the hall. The online audience flooded the chat with messages as more people tuned in, eager to witness the moment.

The key floated higher, humming with resonance, then—in a smooth arc—it descended, piercing straight into Denwen's chest.

He closed his eyes and entered his inner passage.

—-

The hall was completely still.

All eyes were locked on the awakening sigil.

For the first few seconds, gold blazed across the sigil with undeniable brilliance. A rank.

Varek shot up from his seat, slamming a fist into Vahn's shoulder with overwhelming excitement.

"SEE?! I TOLD YOU!" he bellowed, his voice drowning out the roar of the crowd. His son had done it.

Nicole clapped her hands with glee, jumping up and down. Vahn winced, rubbing his now-bruised shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, I get it—"

Then Zara's voice was already booming through the speakers.

"As expected, he has gone on to break—"

The words never finished.

A sharp, unnatural flicker disrupted the golden glow.

Denwen's breath hitched.

The sigil pulsed erratically, the once-radiant gold beginning to flicker—then dim.

It happened too fast for anyone to process.

His body tensed, a sharp strain appearing across his features. Blood seeped from his nose, a thin trickle sliding down his lips. His ears, his eyes—red began to stain his skin. His breathing grew ragged, his hands trembling slightly against his thighs.

The audience erupted into stunned murmurs.

Something was wrong.

Varek's excitement froze mid-expression, his victorious grin slipping into confusion. Nicole's joy faded into a worried frown, her small hands clenching into fists.

The announcer hesitated.

"What's going on? Why is the sigil—?"

Then—it happened.

The last traces of gold vanished.

In its place, a deep, verdant green spread across the sigil—an undeniable sign of D-rank.

A horrified silence fell over the hall.

The contrast was staggering. From the highest heights to a sheer, unrelenting fall.

Varek's breath caught in his throat. Nicole's hands dropped to her sides. The students who had been cheering moments ago stared in disbelief, their faces frozen with incomprehension.

Angus blinked once—twice.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk.

His laugh was quiet at first, but it grew louder, sharper, laced with pure satisfaction. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes glinting with vindication. The mighty Denwen had fallen.

Melissa, usually the picture of composure, didn't even attempt to hide the look of barely-contained amusement spreading across her face.

The online chat exploded.

"What the hell just happened?!"

"Did the system break? Why did it drop?!"

"No way. NO. WAY.

"D-rank? That's—"

Zara gripped the microphone, trying to regain control. "There seems to be—"

She never finished.

Because at that moment, Denwen's body collapsed.