The walk from the Hall of Communion was a new kind of execution.

Every step I took down the root-covered path felt heavy, as if the ground itself was trying to hold me back.

The whispers of the other students, now released from the hall, followed me like a cloud of biting insects.

"…bleeding…"

"…divine rejection…"

"…Cursed King. That's what he is. Even the Guardian Dragon couldn't stand him."

"…did you see Eric's face? He looked like he'd just won the entire Academy."

I ignored them, my pace steady, my expression a mask of cold indifference.

My head was throbbing, a vicious migraine born from the combined assault of Luminos's holy probe and Drakerlor's abyssal rage.

The blood from my nose had dried, leaving a stiff, uncomfortable crust on my upper lip, but the humiliation felt fresh, stinging.

Lysandra's "alibi" for me—that my soul possessed "absolute dominance" and was incompatible with "communion"—was a masterful piece of political spin.

It had saved me from being branded a demon-worshiper, but it had simultaneously painted an even larger target on my back.

I was no longer just a commoner who got lucky; I was a fundamental anomaly, a being whose very nature repelled the sacred.

I saw Leon and Aiden up ahead, their group huddled, their voices low. Leon caught my eye, his face a mess of confusion and pity.

He looked like he wanted to say something, to offer some kind of protagonist-patented encouragement, but he didn't know how.

I didn't give him the chance. I changed my path, heading left towards the outer campus, away from the dorms, away from the sympathetic looks and the venomous whispers.

I had one more stop to make.

...Master... Nox's voice was a low, unhappy grumble in my dimensional pocket. ...Hate light. Itchy. Hungry...

'I know,' I thought back, the throbbing in my skull intensifying. 'Just hang on. I have a plan.'

They thought they had given me a punishment, a dead-end quest designed to make me fail.

"Forge a contract by force" in the Physical Beast Pens. They thought they were shunting their problem off to the one place where my "dominance" would either get me killed or prove useless.

They had no idea. They had just given me the perfect, unassailable alibi.

My 'spirit' wasn't in those pens, waiting to be tamed. It was already in my pocket, sleeping off a divine tantrum and dreaming of destruction. I didn't need to tame a familiar. I just needed the world to think I did.

And for that, I needed a stage for my performance.

The Physical Beast Pens were located in a part of the Academy I'd only seen on the game's mini-map. It was a restricted zone, a brutalist scar of dark iron and reinforced stone hidden behind the pristine, manicured forests of the Ether Glade. It smelled of raw meat, excrement, and the primal, musky stench of feral monsters.

The faint, echoing roars from within were not the majestic calls of spirits, but the guttural, pain-filled cries of captured beasts.

A heavy, iron-gated tunnel, flanked by two flickering, low-power mana lamps, led into the earth.

The sign above it was simple, etched in pitted iron: BEAST PENS - LEVEL 1. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

A man sat on a stool by the entrance, sharpening a massive, butcher-like cleaver on a whetstone. He was huge, his body a roadmap of scars, his Academy tamer's uniform stained and worn. A long, puckered scar ran from his brow, across a missing eye, and disappeared into his thick, unkempt beard. He didn't look up as I approached, the shing-shing-shing of the whetstone the only sound.

"State your business," he grunted, his voice like gravel.

"Michael Wilson," I said. "Professor Evelyn Whitehound sent me. I'm here for the familiar contract."

The man stopped sharpening. He slowly, deliberately, tested the cleaver's edge with a calloused thumb, then finally looked up. His one good eye was a piercing, unimpressed grey.

"Heh." A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "So you're the one. The 'dominant' kid Lysandra couldn't handle." He spat on the stone floor. "She deals in pretty lights and polite partnerships. Down here... we deal in this."

He gestured with his cleaver to the dark tunnel. "These aren't spirits, boy. They're monsters. Feral, captured beasts that were too broken, too violent, or too corrupted to be 'communed' with. They don't respect 'dominance.' They respect this." He tapped the flat of his cleaver. "Pain. Fear. And death."

He stood, his shadow looming over me. "The instructors gave you a week. I'll be generous. You get one shot. You go in, you find a beast, and you either break its will and forge a contract, or it eats you. If it eats you," he grinned, a terrifying sight, "we'll just hose out the enclosure for the next 'prodigy.' We only intervene if the containment wards break. Clear?"

"Perfectly," I said, my voice calm.

His eye narrowed, surprised by my lack of fear. "...Right. Your funeral." He jerked his head toward the tunnel.

"First habitat is through that gate. 'Dark Forest' simulation. Got a lovely C-Rank Feral Shadowstalker in there that hasn't eaten in three days. Have fun."

He turned his back, sitting back down on his stool, the shing-shing-shing of the whetstone resuming.

He had already dismissed me as dead.

I walked past him into the dark, iron-clad tunnel. The gate at the end sealed behind me with a heavy, final CLANG, plunging me into near-total darkness. I was in.

The "Dark Forest" habitat was a massive enclosure.

The simulated moonlight was weak, filtering through a canopy of gnarled, leafless trees. The ground was a soft, damp mulch that muffled my footsteps.

I could hear things moving in the darkness—skittering, hissing, and the low, patient breathing of a large predator.

I didn't bother searching. I just stood in the center of the enclosure, closed my eyes, and focused. I needed to draw it to me.

I flared my mana.

Not the explosive burst of an attack, but a steady, radiating pulse.

A beacon. A dinner bell.

And then, I activated [Aura Dominion].

The silver-blue field snapped into existence, a 5-meter radius of my projected will.

The subtle, psychic pressure washed over the dark forest. The lesser, F-Rank critters in the undergrowth shrieked and fled.

But the real target responded.

From the deepest shadows, two glowing, violet eyes ignited. A low, guttural growl echoed, a sound that vibrated in my bones.

The C-Rank [Feral Shadowstalker] emerged. It was a massive panther-like beast, but its fur was made of rippling, semi-tangible shadow. Its claws were like obsidian razors, and its movements were silent, fluid. It circled me, its violet eyes locked on mine, confused by my aura.

It felt my 'dominance,' and its feral instincts were at war. It saw me as prey, but its spirit screamed at it that I was a threat.

This was the perfect "stunt double" for Nox.

The Shadowstalker's instincts finally lost to its hunger.

It roared, its form dissolving as it used its core skill: [Shadow Phase].

It became intangible, melting into the shadows on the ground, rushing towards me as a ripple of pure darkness, its claws ready to materialize inside my chest.

"Too predictable," I growled. "Ice Domain!"

KRA-KOOM!

A wave of absolute zero exploded from me. The ground froze instantly. The shadows, the beast's pathway, were flash-frozen, their forms turned solid and brittle.

The Shadowstalker was ripped from its phase-form, its intangible body forcibly solidified by the ice. It shrieked, skidding across the frozen mulch, its claws finding no purchase.

It was vulnerable.

I didn't hesitate. I activated [Swift Step], my feet finding easy purchase on the ice I controlled. I closed the distance in a blur.

The beast, realizing its danger, swiped at me with its obsidian claws.

I met its attack, not with a block, but with my own aura. The [Aura Dominion] field slammed into it, and for a critical second, the C-Rank monster froze, its feral mind reeling from the psychic pressure of my 'Dominance.'

It was the opening I needed.

My body was already in motion. "Siekie Ryoku Arts: Form Three - Heaven Splitter."

I didn't use the spatial-tear. I didn't need to. I just used the sheer, condensed power of the form, my blade infused with both Ice and Lightning.

Draken's virtual counterpart hummed, a silver-blue line of death.

SHLING.

The blade connected, passing cleanly through the beast's neck. The Shadowstalker's shriek was cut short. Its violet eyes, wide with shock, faded to black. Its head slid from its shoulders, and the massive, shadowy body dissolved into data particles.

[C-Rank Feral Shadowstalker – Eliminated.]

The enclosure fell silent. I stood over the dissipating corpse, breathing heavily. The fight had been fast, brutal, and draining. But it was done.

The instructors, watching via mana sensors, would have registered a spike of unknown energy (my Ice Domain and Aura), a brief, violent clash, and then the "submission" (death) of the C-Rank beast. To them, it would look like I had, through some miracle of my 'Dominance' trait, tamed or killed the monster.

Now, for phase two.

I sat down on a frozen log, catching my breath. "Nox. You're up."

My dimensional pocket pulsed. ...Finally. Food?...

"No food. A job," I projected. "It's time for your debut. I need you to... look like that."

I focused on the image of the Shadowstalker in my mind. "But smaller. Cuter. And less... 'I'm-going-to-end-the-world.' Think... 'spiritual.'"

...Small? Master wants... small? Nox sounded deeply insulted. ...Fine. But want snack after.

"Deal."

The air beside me shimmered. Nox materialized, not in his true, draconic form, but in his compressed one. He was now a sleek, cat-sized creature, somewhere between a panther cub and a wyrmling.

His scales had smoothed into fur that looked like solidified shadow, his draconic wings had retracted, and his horns were just small, violet-hued nubs on his head.

But his eyes... his eyes were the same burning, intelligent, and deeply ancient violet.

He looked... perfect. A "Spirit Familiar" of the Shadow or Void element.

...Pathetic, Nox grumbled, though he immediately began to purr as I scratched him behind his horn-nubs.

"It'll do," I said, a genuine smile on my face. I scooped him up. He was surprisingly solid, his shadow-fur cool to the touch. I settled him on my shoulder.

I walked to the exit gate of the habitat and banged on the iron bars. "I'm done."

A moment later, the gate creaked open. The one-eyed Tamer-Instructor stood there, his cleaver in hand, a look of bored annoyance on his face, clearly expecting to find my mangled corpse.

"So, you're dead? Took you an—"

He stopped. His one good eye widened, his jaw going slack. He wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the creature perched on my shoulder.

Nox, on cue, stared back, his violet eyes holding an intelligence that was utterly inhuman. He let out a low, vibrating purr that sounded more like a growl.

The Tamer, a veteran who had faced C-Rank monsters his whole life, instinctively took a step back. He recognized the aura. That wasn't just a beast. That was a predator.

"What... in the seven hells... is that?" he rasped.

I walked past him, out of the enclosure and back into the iron tunnel, my boots clicking on the floor.

"My familiar," I said, my voice cool and calm. "It seems my 'Dominance' aura wasn't incompatible after all. It just works on a... different class of spirit."

I left him standing there, his cleaver forgotten in his hand, and walked back towards the light of the Academy. My alibi was set.

My familiar was acquired. And the Spire of Ascendance was waiting.

(To be continued in Chapter 192)

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