The First Trial

The Cultivation Club had grown. With the recent inclusion of the dark-magic students, our numbers had swelled to nineteen. As expected, there was initial tension. A few of the older members looked at the newcomers with thinly veiled prejudice, especially those who had heard of the dark mages' destructive tendencies. I resolved the problem before it could take root—by making my stance very clear.

"If I catch any of you starting a fight, even thinking about it, you'll wish you'd never joined this club," I had said coldly, my aura flaring just enough to let them feel the threat behind my words. The room fell silent after that.

Once they'd settled into the dorms we shared, I gathered them in the main hall and had them formally introduce themselves to one another. Most were brief. Some spoke with pride; others, reluctantly. When the introductions ended, I gestured for the original club members to stay behind.

"The rest of you," I said, turning to the dark-magic students, "follow me."

I led them into the nearby forest, where the thick canopy drowned out the sunlight, casting everything in long, shifting shadows. The perfect place to demonstrate Yin.

I stopped at a small clearing, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and moss. "Ciaran Virin!" I called. "Use that spell you cast on me. Again."

The boy stepped forward hesitantly. Ciaran Virin, second son of the Virin knight family—renowned for their swordsmanship and honor. Yet he had taken the path of a magician, an uncommon and controversial choice.

Thanks to my studies of this world's magic system at the academy library, I understood the distinction. Knights used mana differently. Instead of drawing it from the surrounding air like mages, they cultivated it internally, storing it in their lower abdomen and releasing it as sword aura. Ciaran, however, straddled both paths—he channeled mana through his wand, then attempted to coat it with sword aura, a hybrid technique.

Unfortunately, his aura was weak. Likely a side effect of abandoning the knightly way halfway through.

Ciaran nodded. He raised his wand, the tip glowing with dark mana. His eyes sharpened with concentration as he channeled what little aura he could muster. "[Dawn of the Moon]!" he shouted.

A beam of crescent-shaped darkness exploded from the wand, slicing through the shadows like a blade of night. It hit a nearby tree, splitting it neatly. I nodded to myself. Impressive—for this world's standards. But to me? It was little more than a toy.

Qi, the foundation of martial cultivation, far surpassed this world's mana. A single yin cultivator, fully trained, could plunge this world into chaos.

In the online game I'd once dominated, Yin was favored by many player-killers. Its affinity for inflicting debuffs—stuns, seals, spiritual corrosion—made it perfect for ambushes and PvP. Pair that with martial arts and you'd have a nightmare opponent. But here, dark magic seemed to be misused, applied only in brute-force destruction or necromancy. They had potential, but lacked refinement. If I wanted them to truly grow, they'd need to learn real Yin techniques.

And so began our daily training sessions. I drilled the dark-magic students relentlessly, breaking down their bad habits and teaching them to sense qi rather than merely summon mana. In parallel, the academy bustled with activity, preparing for a major event—an official trial to test the mettle of every student mage.

Surprisingly, the faculty had appointed me as the overseer for the students. It seemed even they couldn't deny my strength.

During my downtime, I returned briefly to the Sky Realm to check on progress. The apostles, save for Maria, were away tending to their own responsibilities across the world. But the village—no, the city now—had transformed.

Merchants moved freely through its gates. Markets buzzed with life. Temples had been erected. A new religion had taken root. In my absence, the people had begun worshipping the apostles as deities, and I… I had become the centerpiece of their divine mythology.

I strolled through the marble courtyard of the temple that bore my name, feeling a bizarre mix of pride and amusement.

"I greet the Lord Angel," Maria said as she knelt, her silver robes flowing around her like water.

"To think I'd see you greet me like this, Maria," I muttered.

She smiled, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "The others insisted. Said I should show you the highest respect."

"And what's the update?" I asked.

She straightened and launched into her report. A new pantheon had arisen, with me as the highest deity. Villages from nearby territories had migrated to this place, drawn by the rumor of divine beings living among mortals. The result was a burgeoning town-state. The graduates of our training programs now formed the core of the city's defense force. Manasa, one of my apostles, had penned a comprehensive book on herbal medicine and was now revered as the Goddess of Serpents. Offerings to the deities were a daily ritual.

I chuckled. What started as a roleplay during a slow patch in the game had turned into a living religion.

When I returned to the academy, the event was about to begin. Parents and nobles filed into the grand arena to witness their children's capabilities. I welcomed them at the gates and guided them to the observation decks.

For many students, this was their first time entering a danger zone—unsupervised, unguarded.

Two events were planned: one-on-one duels and a massive forest battle royale. In the latter, students would wear bracelets that projected a mana shield. Once the shield's durability ran out, the bracelet would teleport them to safety. A fair and safe way to simulate real combat.

"Don't let nerves hold you back," I called out to the students, projecting my voice across the field. "Give it everything you've got. Don't go easy on your friends. Your future might depend on this."

"We'll take the top spots, Teacher!" Delia North said with confidence, a spark in her eyes.

"Don't get cocky. You don't know what tricks your opponents have. Stay sharp," I warned.

The trumpet sounded. The arena gates opened.

The duels were ferocious. Spells collided with shocking force. The ground trembled under the weight of high-tier magic. If not for the headmaster's protective barrier, half the audience might've been obliterated.

Delia froze her opponent solid with a well-timed ice hex. Ahren Von Ascania used [Blind] to disorient his enemy, followed by the very same silencing spell I'd once used on him. A solid replication.

But the standout was Lyla. She was dual casting.

My eyes narrowed. Dual casting was a rare skill, requiring immense concentration and control. Most mages could barely manage one spell under pressure, let alone two simultaneously. Yet Lyla conjured twin spells with ease, weaving fire and wind together like threads in a tapestry. She wasn't just talented—she was dangerous.

The first round ended in decisive victories for our club members, dark mages included.

Now came the final trial: the forest labyrinth. A region infested with monsters, designed to test teamwork, reflexes, and willpower. No teachers were allowed to interfere once the students entered.

I leaned against the railing, eyes fixed on the forest beyond.

Let's see what they're really made of.