Chapter 21: Result
Raven cut down the last three goblins on his path without breaking stride.
Stronger muscles, sharper instincts—one slash each, and they were done.
He wasn't the same boy who entered the woods last night.
As he neared the outer edge of the Mirage Woodlands, the shadows parted to reveal a cluster of students. Some limped, some supported each other, all of them exhausted.
"Raven! How did you manage to stay alive all alone?"
A girl's voice pierced through the chatter.
Raven stiffened.
Mary Whitbard stood at the front—fifteen years old, blonde hair tied back, spear in hand, leather armor hugging her small frame. Her olive skin and bright brown eyes were the same… as was the tone he remembered so well.
Mocking. Curious. Superior.
Raven forced a polite smile.
His old crush.
His very ex-crush.
Zera's voice drifted in his mind—dry as dust.
[Your so-called crush indeed…]
He ignored her.
Raven stepped toward the group and bowed slightly. "Greetings, My Lady. I hope your hunt went well."
Mary tilted her head, smirking. "Easier than expected. What about you? Did you at least kill a goblin?"
Her friends giggled.
"Y-Yeah," Raven muttered, scratching the back of his head.
She lost interest instantly.
"Let's go," she said, turning away.
The group emerged from the forest minutes later. Ahead stood Darkcross Town—walls fortified, guards at every gate, the sunrise painting the sky pale gold.
A calm, familiar voice echoed from the side.
"Form a line. Bring your loot."
Teacher Elizabeth stood beside a wooden table, her posture composed, her blonde hair tied neatly, a quill in hand. Behind her waited two silver-armored knights, several police officers, and three men in black formal coats—nobility assessors.
Raven and the others stepped into line as Elizabeth began calling names.
"Addison."
A lanky boy stepped forward and handed her a pouch.
Elizabeth poured the contents out—ears and fangs clattering on the table.
"Nine goblins, four kobolds. Seventeen points."
Addison nodded and stepped aside.
One by one, students approached, offering their kills—some confident, some trembling. Most fell between ten and thirty points.
Then—
"Mary Whitbard."
Silence fell.
Mary strode forward with practiced grace, untied her pouch, and spilled her spoils onto the table.
Elizabeth raised a brow. "As expected of the Whitbard household."
She counted quickly.
"Twenty-five goblins, fifteen kobolds, four wolves. Sixty-seven points. Excellent work."
The students gasped. Whispers exploded.
Mary lifted her chin proudly.
More names followed, more scores. None came close to Mary's.
Then—
"Raven."
Elizabeth's gaze flicked up, and for a heartbeat, something unreadable flashed across her eyes.
Raven stepped forward and placed his pouch on the table.
Elizabeth loosened the knot and tipped the contents out.
Silence.
Her eyes widened.
"Twenty-three goblins… seventeen kobolds… five wolves… Raven, that is seventy-two points."
The murmurs erupted instantly.
"What? Impossible!"
"He must've cheated!"
"There's no way!"
"He can't even form a mana circle!"
Mary's glare burned into him. Dennis jabbed a finger toward Elizabeth.
"Teacher, please investigate! Someone must have helped him!"
Elizabeth inhaled slowly.
Then—
"SILENCE!"
Her voice blasted out like thunder.
A shockwave rippled across the clearing. Students staggered; several fell to their knees. Even Raven felt his skull ring and clutched his forehead.
The crowd froze.
Suddenly, every student remembered:
Elizabeth wasn't just an etiquette teacher.
She was a Walker—a powerful one.
Once calm settled, she looked at Raven again.
"Congratulations," she said, her tone firm. "You are the winner of this test."
She returned his empty pouch and waved him back into line.
As Raven walked through the students, the air turned sharp. Eyes followed him—hostile, jealous, hateful.
Mary's glare felt like a spear.
Dennis scowled beside her.
Their friends mirrored their expressions.
Only three people showed genuine support:
Dante.
Chris.
Daisy.
All gave him small, stunned thumbs-ups.
The evaluations continued until 6:45 a.m.
Elizabeth straightened and raised her voice.
"Final results—"
The crowd leaned in.
"First place: Raven, seventy-two points.
Second: Mary Whitbard, sixty-seven.
Third: Dennis Sunfire, sixty-two.
Fourth: Chris, fifty-three.
Fifth—"
The rankings continued until twelfth place.
Then:
"Anyone with at least twenty-five points passes and will be promoted to Apprentice Walker. You will each receive a complete Beginner Knight Technique and an elemental affinity assessment."
"Those below twenty-five are demoted to Class Four. Failure for three consecutive years… results in expulsion."
A shiver ran through the crowd.
She paused, then smiled faintly.
"It's time for rewards. Third place—Dennis."
Dennis stepped forward, tall and sharp-eyed. Elizabeth touched her spatial ring, and a long sword materialized in her hand.
"This artifact was crafted by Rune Master Abel. It is enchanted with the Rank-1 Wizard spell Shock. Despite being made of common iron, it is powerful and valuable. Lord Baron gifted it for third place."
Students gasped. Even the knights exchanged looks.
Dennis, however, hesitated.
"Teacher… I chose Assassin Pathway. May I exchange this for a dagger?"
Elizabeth chuckled softly. "This is the Baron's decision. Even I can't change it."
Dennis grimaced but accepted the weapon.
"Next—Mary Whitbard."
Mary stepped forward, chin high.
Elizabeth withdrew a leather-bound book from her ring.
"This is a Common-Rank Spirit Technique: Boundless Sense. Lord Baron instructed me to award this only to first place… but I'll make an exception."
The crowd erupted—students whispering, officers raising brows, even the black-clad nobles exchanging surprised looks.
Mary froze, eyes widening at the book in her hands.
A Spirit Technique.
Even nobles rarely received one before adulthood. Unlike mana extraction, spirit techniques were locked behind bloodlines, political favors, and old family oaths. Commoners could beg for decades and never touch even a page of such knowledge.
Mary had fought hard, but even she knew the truth:
This gift wasn't free.
Her fingers tightened on the leather cover.
Baron Whitbard wants me in Crow's Misery Academy… no matter what.
The academy accepted only a handful from tens of thousands every year. The biggest hurdle wasn't strength, talent, or combat skill.
It was spirit power.
Anyone with less than two points of Spirit was rejected on the spot.
Mary had barely reached half of that.
But now…
Now she held a technique that could raise her spirit to the required threshold in months.
Her composure returned. She bowed, walked back toward the line, and lifted her chin with pride.
Elizabeth's gaze shifted to Raven.
"Raven. Step forward."
He obeyed, coming to stand in front of her—but her usually composed face held an uncharacteristic hint of frustration.
"In truth," she began softly, "Lord Baron expected Mary to take first place. He gave me three rewards: a Common-Rank bracelet for third place… a Common-Rank sword for second… and a Spirit Technique for first."
She paused, searching his eyes.
"That Spirit Technique was supposed to go to you. But I can't hand it over. You understand why."
Raven nodded. "It must be exclusive to the Whitbard Household. Giving it to an outsider would violate their lineage rights."
"Exactly." Elizabeth exhaled, rubbing her forehead. "And I can't hand you the bracelet either. Its value is half of the second prize. Giving it for first place would be… insulting."
She hesitated only a moment before reaching into her spatial ring.
Then she handed him a pair of sleek, obsidian-black boots.
"I intended to gift this to my younger brother once I returned home," she whispered, leaning closer, "but I'm giving it to you instead. These are Uncommon Rank—worth more than ten thousand gold."
Raven's breath caught.
Ten thousand?
Why… why him?
Elizabeth noticed the confusion in his eyes and smiled faintly.
"I have intuition for promising students. You carry a noble air in your blood… and I have never met a genius with your potential. If you enter Crow's Misery Academy, I believe—no, I'm certain—you will achieve greatness."
Warm sincerity radiated from her words.
Raven bowed deeply. "Thank you, Teacher."
"And one more thing." She took out a velvet-like gemstone—a deep crimson crystal. "Crush this only in life-threatening situations. I'll receive the signal and will come once to protect you."
Zera's voice hissed in his mind.
[She's far too generous… kid, she definitely has motives. Be cautious.]
I know, Raven thought.
But she's never wronged me. She protected me when the Academy tried to expel me, even when the Headmaster bowed to political pressure. I owe her.
Zera grumbled but didn't argue further.
Elizabeth finished her speech, dismissed the students, and the crowd dispersed toward the town.
Raven walked with Dante, Daisy, and Chris—his only supportive classmates. They talked about the test, the monsters, and the rankings.
But once they entered Darkcross Town, they split paths.
Raven headed alone toward Alm Street.
The boots and crystal disappeared into his inventory. Only his old leather bag hung on his shoulder.
It wasn't long before he stood at the familiar doorway of 15A Alm Street.
The door was open.
Raven frowned. "That's strange…"
He stepped under the porch and pushed the door wider.
"Aunt? I'm home!" he called. "Why is the door open—?"
No answer.
No light.
Only a suffocating stillness.
Raven's heartbeat quickened. He lit a lamp, and the small flame spread golden shadows across the room—
—and his breath froze.
A necklace lay torn across the sofa. Broken gems glinted like scattered tears.
Zera's voice sharpened instantly.
[Something is wrong. Use Past Finder—quickly.]
Raven grabbed the necklace and activated the skill.
Reality fractured—shattering like a mirror.
He stood again in the same hall… but he was no longer alone.
Gavin strolled in casually, dropping himself onto the sofa with familiarity—as if he owned the place.
Athena stood rigid, trembling with rage.
Shirley—his aunt—shrank back in fear.
A shadowy figure emerged from the corner—humanoid, black, without features.
Its hand closed around Shirley's throat.
Raven's vision blurred red.
The room dimmed into blackness. When light returned, Gavin alone remained—sitting calmly, smirking.
A hooded shadow knelt before him.
Their conversation echoed—cold and cruel.
Every word carved a hollow deeper in Raven's chest.
They're after me.
He wants to kill me.
The Past Finder illusion shattered.
A second later, Raven stumbled back into reality, drenched in sweat.
Zera sensed the panic radiating through him.
[What did you see? What's happening?]
"We're in trouble," Raven whispered. "The enemy is watching us already—"
A voice whispered in his ear.
"Hoo… to think a brat noticed me."
Raven spun left, instinct flaring.
"You're different from what Sir Gavin described," the voice continued. "Stronger. Interesting."
The sofa's shadow twisted—warping into a humanoid silhouette before stepping into the lamplight. A man cloaked in darkness appeared, face hidden, posture relaxed.
Raven forced his voice steady. "W-What do you want? Where are my aunt and sister?"
The man chuckled. "Worry about yourself. Your sister? The Emperor arranged a political marriage for her. Your aunt? She's probably in the Black Prison already."
Raven's vision tinted red.
He reached for his inventory—
—but an invisible force clamped around him, locking every muscle.
"Blame your bad luck, kid."
The shadowy man vanished.
A cold whisper brushed Raven's ear.
"May you rest in peace."
Pain exploded through his world.
For a heartbeat, he saw the floor rushing upward.
Then—blackness.
His severed head hit the ground with a soft thud.
His body toppled soon after.
Blood pooled.
…
The assassin—Jonas—stood over the corpse, pulling a crimson headband from his cloak.
"This should make it look like a Viser Kingdom assassination—"
He froze.
Heat washed over him.
"What the—?"
Fire burst from Raven's corpse—silent, sudden, and impossible.
A reddish flame wrapped around the body and head, burning without smoke, without crackle. It radiated no elemental signature.
"What kind of magic is this? A self-destruction spell? Did he have a Wizard master—?"
Jonas dashed into the kitchen, grabbed a jug of water, and dumped it over the fire.
The flames didn't even flicker.
They swelled.
Raven's head and body disintegrated—breaking apart into shimmering ember-like particles of pure fire essence, dissolving into thin air.
In seconds…
nothing remained.
No ashes.
No bones.
Not a single drop of blood.
Jonas stared, stunned and speechless.
What kind of monster had he just killed?