The wind followed Harold down the estate steps like a silent warning.
One week.
Three elite heirs.
A private proving ground.
No academy rules.
No public referees.
Just power.
He exhaled slowly as the estate gates closed behind him.
Inside his mindscape, the Monkey King was pacing atop his golden platform, tail flicking in irritation.
"Three heirs? Why stop at three?" the simian monarch scoffed. "Let them send ten."
The Devourer's vast form remained submerged beneath its endless ocean.
"He is not stable."
Harold clenched his jaw. "I know."
The truth was unavoidable.
When he awakened the Whale Falcon, his veins felt like they were tearing apart from within. The balance between fire and ocean was fragile—like glass under pressure.
If he pushed too far in the coming fight—
He might shatter.
—
Back in his apartment, Harold spread what little he had left on the table.
A few mid-grade blood stones.
Cracked beast cores from older hunts.
Barely enough for minor refinement.
He needed more.
But without academy backing, access to high-level gates was restricted.
Unless…
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
Three sharp taps.
Harold opened the door cautiously.
Lysandra leaned against the frame, casual but alert.
"You shouldn't come here often," he said quietly.
She shrugged. "I don't follow 'should.'"
Her eyes scanned his apartment briefly.
Small. Sparse. Honest.
"You're preparing."
"Yes."
"You'll need more than meditation," she said.
He didn't respond.
She stepped inside anyway.
"My father didn't mention who you'll be facing."
Harold raised an eyebrow.
"Because he wants to see if you'll still accept after knowing."
She folded her arms.
"First heir: Kael Lysandros. Fire-elementalist. Peak A-rank. Ruthless."
The Monkey King's flames flared slightly.
"Second: Seraphine Lysandros. Illusion and mental interference. Rare lineage gift."
Harold's expression hardened.
Mental interference.
That was dangerous.
"Third," she hesitated slightly, "Darius."
The name carried weight.
"He's the strongest of our generation. Dual affinity—gravity and reinforcement. Nearly S-rank."
Silence settled.
Three monsters.
And Harold was still stabilizing two SSS-tier Titans.
"You can still walk away," Lysandra said softly.
Harold looked at her.
"Would you?"
She smiled faintly.
"Never."
He nodded once.
"Then neither will I."
—
That night, Harold entered his mindscape deliberately.
No accidental triggers.
No external pressure.
Just intention.
Golden fire crackled as the Monkey King sat cross-legged midair.
The Devourer's ocean churned quietly.
"I need control," Harold said.
The Monkey King tilted his head.
"You need dominance."
The Devourer corrected calmly.
"You need equilibrium."
Harold closed his eyes.
"Then teach me."
Silence.
Then—
The ocean rose.
Water surged beneath his feet and swallowed him whole.
—
He was sinking.
Not drowning.
Sinking.
Deeper than before.
Pressure increased gradually.
Unlike the violent awakening, this descent was measured.
Intentional.
"Do not resist," the Devourer's voice echoed.
Harold relaxed his muscles.
His heartbeat slowed.
The crushing weight became… manageable.
"Water does not oppose force directly," the Titan continued. "It redirects."
Images flooded his mind.
A tidal wave curving around a cliff.
Currents eroding mountains over centuries.
Patience.
Adaptation.
Yield to endure.
Then—
Golden fire exploded through the depths.
The Monkey King dropped beside him in the abyss, grinning wildly.
"Enough sinking."
The ocean parted instantly.
They stood upon a floating platform of water and flame intertwined.
"Now," the Monkey King said, spinning his staff, "you learn to strike."
Harold inhaled.
Golden light wrapped around his arms.
Blue currents circled his legs.
For the first time—
He summoned both intentionally.
Not one overpowering the other.
Not clashing.
Blending.
The fire no longer burned wildly.
The water no longer crushed blindly.
They spiraled together.
Controlled.
Balanced.
He moved.
A step forward.
A punch.
The air inside the mindscape shattered with a controlled shockwave—heat wrapped in pressure.
The Monkey King's grin widened.
The Devourer remained silent.
But satisfied.
—
Hours later, Harold opened his eyes in the real world.
Sweat soaked his clothes.
But his breathing was steady.
No cracking veins.
No violent backlash.
Progress.
A faint vibration pulsed from deep within the darkness.
The third sealed door.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
But calmer.
As if acknowledging his growth.
Harold stood and stepped toward the window.
The city skyline stretched endlessly.
Somewhere beyond it, another anomaly had awakened beneath ice.
Somewhere else, ancient forces were moving.
And in one week—
He would stand before three heirs who had never tasted true defeat.
He flexed his fingers.
A thin spiral of water wrapped around his wrist.
Golden sparks flickered within it.
Balanced.
For now.
He whispered softly—
"Let them come."
Inside his mindscape, fire roared.
The ocean deepened.
And far in the darkness—
The third door pulsed once more.
Stronger than before.