The grasslands received them again in silence.

One after another, the candidates returned to the point where the second assessment had begun. The distance between them closed, but the atmosphere did not ease. Their steps were heavier now–not from fatigue alone, but from the understanding that the assessment was no longer testing survival, but efficiency.

Kiaria arrived first.

His hands were empty.

He stood slightly apart from the rest, posture relaxed, gaze steady, as if the return itself required no acknowledgment. There was no disappointment in his expression, nor satisfaction–only patience.

Aizrel emerged soon after.

She carried both a sword and a shield, their presence unmistakable. The weapons resonated faintly, responding to her grip as though confirming ownership. She did not look around immediately, instead securing them before stepping forward.

Ru and Yi followed together.

Like Aizrel, they returned with a sword and a shield each, movements smooth, expressions unusually light. Unlike the others, there was no visible strain in their posture. Their calm stood out sharply against the tension that clung to the clearing.

Mu Long returned next.

Empty-handed.

Then the Chief.

Also empty-handed.

Neither commented on it.

At last, Diala arrived.

The absence was immediate.

There was no sword in her possession. Instead, a single piece of equipment hovered close to her presence–a Tyrant Yul Shield. It was not carried in her hands, nor strapped to her body. It lingered as if partially merged with her, responding faintly to her spiritual fluctuations.

More unsettling than the shield itself was the silence of her trial token.

It offered no guidance.No clarification.

Princess Lainsa arrived soon after.

She carried nothing.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Kiaria's voice broke the quiet.

"Mu Long's."

Mu Long glanced at him and nodded once. "Chief's."

The Chief exhaled softly. "Lainsa's."

Princess Lainsa turned her gaze toward Kiaria. "Patron's."

The exchange was brief, but complete.

They all understood.

Inside each cave, the number etched alongside the sword and shield had identified its rightful owner. They had shared those numbers long before entering the grasslands, and recognition had come instantly to those who reached the wrong caves.

Only one pair had been different.

"The Patron's cave had no sword," Mu Long said slowly. "Only a shield."

Kiaria acknowledged it with a slight nod.

The shield he had obtained–a Tyrant Dragon Scale Body Shield–was no ordinary artifact. Like Diala's, it required no conscious activation and no physical handling. When dormant, it concealed itself within the bearer's body, waiting to respond on instinct alone.

Neither of them realized that yet.

Before further discussion could form, the ground reacted.

The teleportation formation that had taken Hylisi away earlier rose again from the grasslands. This time, seven stone monuments surfaced alongside it, ancient and worn, their surfaces carved with markings that radiated restrained authority.

They approached cautiously.

Diala stepped forward and read the inscription aloud, her voice steady despite the tension gathering behind her.

"To activate the monuments, fourteen beasts of the same species must be sacrificed to each."

The words settled heavily.

Fourteen.Same species.

Ru and Yi exchanged a glance. Neither spoke, but the faint lift at the corner of their expressions did not go unnoticed.

The others were not so composed.

"Going back to the caves is possible," Mu Long said after a moment. "Harvesting blood won't be difficult."

He clenched his jaw. "But we'll lose too much time."

The formation remained inactive, unmoved by debate or frustration.

Kiaria remained silent.

He did not interrupt.Did not reassure.

He simply waited.

Gradually, the voices faded. One by one, they fell quiet, turning toward him instinctively.

The murmurs did not stop abruptly.

They thinned, retreated, and finally collapsed into silence, as though the air itself had decided discussion was no longer permitted.

All eyes turned toward Kiaria.

He did not speak immediately.

Instead, he laughed.

It was quiet–unforced–but confident enough to fracture the tension that had gathered around the formation. Not mockery. Not relief. Certainty.

"Step aside," Kiaria said calmly.

No one questioned him.

The treasure hunters moved instinctively, stepping onto the inactive formation's center while leaving a clear ring around the seven stone monuments. Their attention followed Kiaria as he approached the platform's edge.

He began to walk.

Not hurried.

Not ritualistic.

A slow, deliberate circle–close enough to each monument that his shadow brushed their bases as he passed. Once. Then again. His steps were even, measured, unbroken.

The second circle ended.

Every mouth opened.

The monuments responded.

Red light bled from the inscriptions carved into the stone, not erupting outward but peeling away as if the symbols themselves had been unfastened. The glowing characters detached fully, rising into the air and spiraling around the formation in a tightening storm.

The ground vibrated.

One by one, the seven monuments hollowed from within, their cores splitting open to reveal unstable rifts. The stone did not crumble–it withdrew, reshaping itself into seven teleport channels.

Above each rift, glowing numbers manifested.

–8589

–8485

–99999

–6020

–9999

–150000

–1000000

Recognition was immediate.

No explanation was needed.

Each of them moved toward the rift marked with their own number, stepping through without hesitation. The formation flared once more, then shattered into light.

They vanished.

–

Diala was the only one who did not look surprised.

She watched Kiaria as the last rift sealed, eyes narrowed not in suspicion, but in understanding. She alone knew what he had done.

Far above, within the living chamber, Hylisi stood frozen.

The image replayed itself in her mind, sharper with each repetition. As Kiaria had walked, something had escaped his body–so faint it was nearly invisible. Reddish-brown mist. Sparse. Negligible.

Blood.

Not fresh.

Not flowing.

Residual.

Her breath slowed.

Fourteen Blood Worms.

The color was unmistakable. She had once used blood from dozens of species to unlock the secrets of Golden Berry Beads. That same muted hue–thin, exhausted, already spent–could only belong to Blood Worms long dead.

She knew where he had obtained them.

From the beginning.

Before the caves.

Before the assessment even began.

"…Patron," she murmured quietly, something close to admiration entering her voice, "you truly are a mystery."

–

Kiaria emerged alone.

The portal released him into a different region of the ruins, the air heavier, the silence sharper. He did not move immediately. Instead, he activated all Seven Senses at once, probing outward–testing spatial stability, illusion overlap, temporal distortion.

The world did not waver.

This place was real.

Part of the ruins.

He could not locate the others.

Distance folded strangely here, and whatever separated the paths was not simple terrain. Yet one presence brushed constantly at the edge of his awareness–close, persistent, unmistakable.

Diala.

He could feel her.

But not see her.

The ruins themselves were hostile in design. Pitch-black crystals rose from the ground like irregular grass, jagged and uneven, yet leaving clean, deliberate paths between them. Each crystal was hexagonal, its surface reflective like polished mirrors, capturing distorted fragments of movement and light.

A single step too close, and the reflections multiplied.

The terrain watched back.

–

From the chamber, Hylisi observed.

One gap after another displayed the candidates' new positions, each within different branches of the ruins. All except one.

Diala's gap remained dark.

Unresponsive.

Untouchable.

Hylisi did not force it.

She simply watched the others, her expression unreadable, while the echoes of Kiaria's quiet preparation continued to settle into place.

Curiosity won.

Hylisi felt it clearly–how it rose, quiet but persistent, pressing past the lingering worry she carried for Azriel and Aizrel. She had no authority to evaluate the Patron. No right to interfere. The chamber itself refused to highlight him for her.

And yet–

She stepped forward.

Only a little.

Enough to rest one hand against the table, angling her body as if merely steadying herself. In truth, her gaze never left him.

The Patron moved through the crystal field alone.

He slowed.

Then stopped.

From Hylisi's perspective, it looked as though he had paused to examine his own reflection. The pitch-black crystals mirrored him faintly, fractured and distorted.

That was not what he was seeing.

His monochrome gaze pierced inward.

He halted at a precise distance–no closer than the length of a drawn sword. Before him, the towering crystals rose two, sometimes three times his height. To his eyes, their pitch-black sheen faded away, revealing something else entirely.

Milky white.

Transparent.

Inside them–

Movement.

Countless shapes, clustered tightly together.

Eggs.

No–

Crystallized eggs.

Within them stirred forms that resembled humanoid ants, layered and dormant, packed so densely that the crystal itself felt more like a womb than a prison.

A voice echoed in his mind.

Old.

Measured.

Unmistakable.

"Little brat."

The Azure Dragon Emperor.

"Beware of these."

"They can become your grave."

"Or your fortune."

Kiaria did not move.

"These are crystallized eggs of Half-Demon Yaksha Army Ants."

"If virgin blood drips upon them, the shells will break."

"They will serve you as master."

"And acknowledge you as their father."

The voice hardened.

"They will have only one true master in their lives."

A pause.

Then a warning sharpened with urgency.

"But listen carefully."

"Army ants are never alone."

"They dwell beneath the ground."

"This place–"

The realization struck simultaneously.

"–is an anthill."

Kiaria's fingers tightened imperceptibly.

"Even ghost invisibility will not save you."

"Their antennae can detect it."

Images accompanied the warning.

"In calm state, they appear humanoid."

"Seven feet tall."

"But when enraged–"

The ground trembled faintly in his senses.

"They return to their true form."

"Nine to twelve feet."

The Emperor's tone dropped.

"This is not berserk."

"Berserk fades."

"This rage grows."

Each word struck like a hammer.

"Combat power doubles every few turns."

"Even after death–"

"They continue attacking until rage ends."

A final warning.

"They do not care what they destroy."

"Enemy."

"Ally."

"Terrain."

Silence followed.

Then–

"Now choose."

"Escape."

"Or annihilate the colony."

Kiaria inhaled.

"I choose to–"

The ground answered first.

A deep, layered buzzing surged upward from below, vibrating through crystal and stone alike. Heavy footfalls followed–numerous, synchronized, approaching.

The eggs pulsed.

Hairline fractures spread across the milky shells.

Hylisi's breath caught.

And–

The Final Hunt has truly begun.

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