Time to put on a show worthy of Apollo's attention.

I turned first to Professor Petrova, her statuesque figure and ice-blue eyes radiating cold perfection. Her silver-blonde bob didn't move an inch as I gave her a slight, respectful bow.

"Professor Petrova," I began, my voice carrying easily through the silent hall. "Your philosophy of perfection is... inspiring. To treat combat as an art form, to seek a flawless victory... that is a truly noble goal."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd behind me. The obvious choice, the smart choice. Petrova's icy expression thawed by a fraction, a microscopic nod acknowledging my words.

"But," I continued, letting my tone shift just enough to cause every ear to strain, "art that is flawless is also predictable. A perfect painting can be admired, but it can no longer surprise you." I looked directly into Petrova's eyes. "And in a real fight, surprise is the only weapon that truly matters. I'm afraid your path is not for me."

Petrova's face froze over instantly. The crowd gasped, a collective intake of breath that had the satisfying sound of pure shock. I could practically hear the whispers: He just rejected the top guild.

I pivoted smoothly to face the mountain of a man that was Takamura. His beard couldn't hide the broad grin that had appeared during my rejection of Petrova.

"Professor Takamura," I continued, matching his energy with a bolder tone. "Your passion is intoxicating. To believe so purely in the virtue of overwhelming power... I respect that more than you know."

Takamura let out a hearty laugh that boomed through the hall, slapping his knee with a hand the size of a dinner plate. "Ha! A boy who understands! Come with us, and we'll forge you into a cannonball!"

I let the corners of my mouth turn up slightly. "But raw power without a plan is just a tantrum," I replied, keeping my voice level. "A cannonball is useless without someone to aim it. Your path is a glorious one, but it is not the most efficient. I must decline."

Takamura's grin vanished like water on hot stone, replaced by stunned disbelief. The buzzing from the crowd grew louder. Two rejections. The rumors would start flying within seconds.

Did you hear? Nakano rejected both Sentinels AND Phantoms!

Is he insane?

What's his angle?

My gaze shifted to the enigmatic Professor Valentine, his androgynous beauty and platinum blonde hair creating an almost otherworldly presence. He was already leaning forward in his chair, clearly intrigued by my rejections.

"Professor Valentine," I said, meeting his amethyst eyes. "You and I see the world in a similar way. We understand that the real battles are won in the mind, long before any blood is shed. Your guild of schemers and strategists is... tempting."

Valentine's lips curled into a slow, serpentine smile. His eyes gleamed with interest, the look of a collector spotting a rare specimen.

"However," I continued, mirroring his smile but making mine colder, sharper, "a viper is still just a viper. It strikes from the shadows because it fears the open field. I have no intention of spending my life hiding in the grass. I respectfully decline."

Valentine's smile remained fixed, but the warmth vanished from it completely. His eyes narrowed slightly, transforming from interested to calculating.

Now the crowd wasn't just buzzing—it was a hornet's nest. Three rejections in a row, each more shocking than the last.

I turned to Professor Mori, who had been watching the proceedings with growing amusement. Her voluptuous figure was relaxed in her chair, but her eyes were sharp.

"Professor Mori," I said, softening my voice slightly. "Your belief in teamwork is admirable. In my final exam, I put my own success on the line to save a teammate. I understand the value of a reliable shield at your back."

Mori gave me a genuinely warm, inviting smile. "We could use a leader like you, Nakano-kun." Her voice was rich and musical.

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Emi in the crowd. She was practically vibrating with hope, her blue hair bouncing as she stood on tiptoe to see better.

"But a shield is still a tool," I continued, watching Mori's smile begin to falter. "A team is a collection of assets to be deployed for maximum effect. I am not looking for a family. I am looking for an arsenal." I paused, letting my words sink in. "I'm afraid your definition of 'teamwork' and mine are fundamentally different. I must decline."

Mori's smile faded completely into genuine surprise. The entire hall erupted in chaos—whispers became open conversations, gasps turned to exclamations. I had rejected all four of the prestigious guilds.

There was only one left.

I turned slowly to face Braxton Miller. Unlike the others, he hadn't moved an inch during the entire spectacle. He remained slouched in his chair, the unlit synth-cigarette dangling from his lips, watching me with a lazy, amused expression that didn't quite hide the keen intelligence in his eyes.

"Professor Miller," I announced, raising my voicee. The hall gradually quieted, every ear straining to hear what madness would come next. "Your guild is last. The dumping ground. The home of the rejects, the freaks, and the forgotten."

Miller's eyebrow quirked up slightly.

I turned to face the crowd, scanning the sea of stunned faces. "Everyone here is fighting for a spot in a pre-made kingdom. I'm not interested in inheriting a throne."

My eyes locked with Natalia's. Her face was a mask of confusion and mounting horror. I could read her thoughts as clearly as if she'd shouted them: What are you DOING?

I turned back to Miller. "I'm here to build one. And you don't build an empire with polished stones. You build it with the jagged, broken, and discarded ones that everyone else was too blind to see the value in." I stepped forward, the sound of my foot against the marble floor echoing in the silent hall. "You build it with wolves."

My voice rang out, clear and cold: "I choose the Onyx Hounds."

Braxton Miller took a slow drag from his synth-cigarette, then exhaled a long stream of vapor with a weary sigh. He looked at me, then up at the other professors—Petrova's icy fury, Takamura's shocked disbelief, Valentine's calculating stare, and Mori's puzzled frown—then back to me.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his tired face. "Kid," he said, his voice a low drawl that somehow carried through the silent hall, "you're going to be a colossal pain in my ass."

In that moment, a golden quest notification flashed in my vision:

[Path of the Discarded (Onyx Hounds) CHOSEN!]

[REWARD UNLOCKED: Legendary Trait - Kingmaker's Aura]

[Kingmaker's Aura (Passive): Those who pledge loyalty to you find their own potential growing at an accelerated rate. You do not just lead; you elevate. You are a king who forges his own knights from the mud.]

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