The walk back from the Beast Pens was a study in isolation.

My boots clicked on the polished marble floors of the Academy's main thoroughfare, and the students, who had just been released from the Spirit Sanctuary, parted around me like water flowing around a toxic stone. The news, it seemed, had already spread.

I was no longer just the "Commoner King." I was the "Cursed King," the "Void-Touched," the "Beast-Tamer."

In this world, spirit-bonding was a sign of a pure, refined soul. It was a partnership with nature. Forcibly taming a physical beast, a "monster," was seen as primitive, brutal, and a mark of a debased character. It was what desperate mercenaries or back-alley criminals did.

Lysandra's elegant, "absolute dominance" alibi had saved me from being branded a demon-worshiper, but in the eyes of the proud, magical elite, it had branded me as something almost worse: a brute.

"…heard his aura is so foul, no spirit would even come near him."

"…the Guardian Dragon itself rejected him. Rejected. Can you imagine?"

"And look at that thing on his shoulder. It's disgusting. It reeks of dark mana."

I kept my gaze fixed forward, my expression a mask of indifference. On my shoulder, Kuro (Nox in his disguise) sat perched, a sleek, panther-like creature of living shadow. His form was a perfect blend of a C-Rank Shadowstalker's menace and a familiar's "spiritual" elegance, his small horns and violet eyes giving him an exotic, demonic-spirit look. He hissed softly as students whispered, his gaze, which held the ancient, terrifying intelligence of a Mythical Dragon, sweeping over them with cold disdain.

...Loud, weak snacks... he grumbled in my mind.

'Behave,' I projected back, scratching his chin, an act that made him purr a low, vibrating rumble that sounded like distant thunder.

This purr, however, had the unfortunate side effect of making nearby students flinch and hurry away even faster.

I found my "friends" clustered near the main courtyard fountain, their new spirits in full display. Leon's Sun-Lion, Zephyr-Ignis, was a radiant, swirling vortex of wind and flame on his shoulder.

Eric's Luminous Roc was a preening statue of crystalline light. Aiden's Thunder-Wolf crackled at his feet, playfully snapping at Lyra's Magma Salamander.

My arrival brought the conversation to an awkward halt.

"Michael," Leon said, his voice strained with a protagonist's forced politeness. He looked from my face to the creature on my shoulder, his new spirit-lion hissing, its flames flaring in agitation. "You're… back."

"So, that's it, huh?" Aiden said, his usual boisterous energy dampened. He squinted at Kuro. "That's the 'familiar' you got? It's… intense. Kind of badass, in a creepy way." He reached out a hand. "Can I pet—"

HISSS!

Kuro's shadow-fur bristled. He opened his mouth, revealing teeth that were far too sharp for a simple beast, and a wave of pure, Abyssal aura washed over Aiden. The Thunder-Wolf spirit yelped and scrambled behind Aiden's legs, its lightning sparks extinguished.

Aiden recoiled, his hand snapping back. "Gods! What the hell is that thing?"

"He's just... protective," I said dryly.

Eric William let out a short, barking laugh of pure disgust. "How fitting," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom.

"A commoner who was rejected by the light now consorts with a mindless, dark beast. You've finally found your proper station, Wilson. Filth belongs with filth."

I met his gaze, my eyes as cold as the void Nox represented. "Careful, Eric. Even 'filth' has fangs. And this one," I stroked Kuro's head, "doesn't like being insulted."

Eric scoffed and turned away, but I saw his hand rest on his sword hilt. He was no longer just mocking me; he was threatened by the palpable, dark aura Kuro was emitting.

"Its mana is… chaotic," Maria said, her voice low. She had approached silently, her icy gaze analytical as she studied Kuro. "It's not like a normal spirit at all. It feels… unstable. Dangerous."

"It is," I said, finally giving them the narrative I had crafted. "It's not a spirit. It's a 'Void-Touched' beast. The pens were full of them. This one was just the only one that... responded to my aura. We have an 'understanding'."

This confirmed their worst fears and assumptions perfectly. I hadn't bonded; I had dominated. I wasn't a partner; I was a master.

"This is… problematic," Aurelia Miller noted, adjusting her non-existent glasses as she calculated the political fallout. "Your reputation as 'Cursed King' is now solidified. It will make alliances… difficult."

"I don't need alliances," I said, turning to walk towards the Supreme Hall. "I just need results."

I returned to my suite, the silence of the luxurious room a welcome relief. Nox, finally allowed to drop his "Kuro" disguise, immediately transformed back into his true, albeit small, draconic form and began angrily tearing apart a training dummy, hissing about "itchy light" and "stupid birds."

I let him vent, my mind already on the future. My new "pariah" status was exactly the cover I needed. No one would approach me. No one would expect me to conform. It gave me the freedom to move as I pleased.

The all-student assembly was called the next morning. The atmosphere in the Grand Colosseum was electric. We were informed that due to the "recent anomalies" and "fluctuations in the world's mana cycle" (a clear reference to the Labyrinth AI and the Guardian's awakening), the first-year final examinations were being accelerated and restructured.

Professor Evelyn Whitehound stood on the central dais, her presence silencing the thousands of students.

"The conventional curriculum is no longer sufficient," she declared, her voice echoing with amplified power. "The time for simple theory is over. Your final exam will be a five-month, full-scale deployment to the frontier city of Rolune."

A wave of panic and excitement rippled through the stands.

A five-month deployment.

Evelyn raised her hand.

"Your objective is the Trial Tower, the 'Spire of Ascendance.' This is a 359-floor construct, and your graduation requirement is simple: as a unified class, you will clear the first twenty floors."

She paused, letting the weight of the task sink in. "This is not a simulation. This is a real, high-stakes climb. The Academy will observe, but we will not intervene. You will succeed, or you will fail, on your own merit."

Her gaze swept the crowd. "And one final, non-negotiable rule. The Tower, in its lower levels, is a crucible for teamwork. Floors one through twenty are designated 'Squad Mode.' You will form teams of seven to ten members. You must register these teams before our departure in one week. Failure to clear a floor as a team will result of failure for all members of that team. There are no solo players in this exam. Choose your allies wisely."

The Colosseum erupted into a frenzy. Squads? A mandatory 7-10 members? The political maneuvering began instantly. Nobles were already gesturing to their allies. Commoners were looking around in panic.

But I… I had frozen.

My mind was reeling, a single, critical piece of game knowledge slamming into the Academy's rules with the force of a train wreck.

'Floors 1-20 are Squad Mode.'

But I knew something they didn't. I knew what was on Floor 20.

'Boss: E- Dire Wolf King Fenra,' I recalled from my game's codex. 'But there's a hidden mechanic. A secret reward. A 'Trial of the Lone Wolf.' If the boss is defeated by a single challenger—solo, with no other party members on the floor at the time of the kill—the Tower grants a unique, Epic-grade reward: [Fenra's Eye of Solitude].'

[Fenra's Eye of Solitude (Epic Accessory): When the wielder is fighting alone (no allies within 500 meters), all stats are increased by +20%. A flat 10% boost to all 'Stealth' and 'Assassination' type skills.]

It was an artifact practically designed for an 'extra' like me. An item that would define my entire build. My path to power.

And Evelyn had just made it impossible to get.

I was trapped. I couldn't not join a squad, or I'd fail the exam immediately. I couldn't join a squad and then abandon them on the final floor, because if I cleared it solo, they would fail, and I'd be expelled and branded a traitor.

My mind raced, Quantum Analysis Mind working furiously, processing the conflicting variables.

'Mandatory team... solo kill... mandatory team... solo kill...'

The whispers and shouts of students forming alliances faded into a dull roar. Eric's disdain, Leon's pity—none of it mattered. This was the true test.

How could I be in a squad, but alone for the final boss?

I needed a squad that would obey me. Not a squad of equals, like Leon's. Not a squad of rivals, like Eric's. I needed a squad of... dependents. Outcasts. People who were so grateful to be led by a high-ranker (even a "cursed" one) that their loyalty would be absolute.

I needed a team that, when we finally reached Floor 20, would trust me when I gave the order: "Stay here. This is my fight alone."

My "Cursed King" reputation was no longer a liability. It was my greatest asset. It was a filter.

No strong, independent student would team up with me. They were all afraid of my "tainted" aura or my "dominance." Only the truly desperate, the other rejects, would have no choice but to turn to me.

My gaze scanned the panicking crowd, my new strategy forming.

I saw Alex Vonstel, the boy I'd saved during the Labyrinth, being rejected by Magnus's commoner faction, his face pale with despair.

I saw Seraphina and Kaelen, my Labyrinth teammates, standing awkwardly alone, their "System Anomaly" victory branding them as part of my "glitched" team.

I let out a slow, cold breath.

'A team of misfits. A team of rejects. A team of survivors.'

It was perfect. I wouldn't just build a squad to pass the exam. I would build a squad designed to be controlled, a squad that would, at the final moment, step aside and let me claim my prize.

I pushed myself off the Colosseum wall and began to walk. My first recruitment target was already in sight.

(To be continued in Chapter 193)

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