Slade, a man in his mid-twenties, sat calmly reading a book. His long, blonde hair draped over his face, obscuring most of his features—only a faint glimmer of blue eyes was visible as they moved steadily from left to right across the pages.
All eyes in the room were fixed on him. Unbothered by the attention, he casually turned a page, then spoke without lifting his head.
“I don’t mind,” he said evenly. “You’re the boss—just tell me what needs to be done.”
The leader’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement. The others exchanged glances but remained silent. Even Sophia, known for her sharp tongue and playful teasing, held back. No one wanted to end up on Slade’s bad side.
With a resigned sigh, the leader swept his gaze across the group.
“Let’s stay focused,” he said. “We’ll start by solidifying our control over the southern side—then, if the opportunity arises, we move to take the city completely.”
Turning toward Ren, he asked, “How are our numbers looking?”
“In Quarath, we’ve gathered around twenty thousand,” Ren reported. “We’ve also planted people in Altura and several smaller cities across Earth.” He paused, then added with a hint of concern, “But there’s a potential problem—we have almost no presence in Univara or Tritus.”
Micah waved a hand dismissively. “Why are you stressing? The eight of us are more than enough to take Univara—never mind if we include our vice leaders and the rest of our soldiers.”
Ren shot him a glance. “There could be people stronger than us out there—ones we haven’t even heard of.”
Micah, still not bothering to look at him, replied flatly, “As if.”
Ren snorted. “No one thinks we exist—but we do. Just like no one believes there’s anyone stronger than the Federation. And yet, here we are.”
He tilted his head toward Micah. “So, do you still think I’m overreacting?”
Micah shrugged, clearly too disinterested to argue. “Whatever.”
The leader cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. Once the room quieted, he looked at each of them in turn.
“We can’t dismiss the possibility that someone out there is stronger than us—even if the chances are as low as 0.01%. If you encounter anyone like that, you report it immediately. No exceptions.”
From her seat, Hannah glanced up from the stack of papers in front of her. “Where do we start?”
“We’ll deploy our elites,” the leader replied. “Each one will take a unit of soldiers and begin the recruiting process in the city. But make it clear—no aggression. We’re here to win them over, not to force them.”
The others nodded, some with focus, others with an air of detachment—but all listening, at least on the surface.
Seeing no questions, the leader continued. “Taking over Earth was always part of our plan, and while it’s a good objective, it was the old one. It shouldn’t be our main focus anymore—it will happen eventually. What we need to concentrate on now is laying the groundwork for that eventual takeover. Don’t lose sight of the true goal.”
He paused, letting his words sink in. The room fell silent for several long seconds. Then, his voice lowered, turning gravely serious.
“Has anyone gathered more information about the end of the tutorial?”
As the underground meeting continued, the tournament between the four academies loomed ever closer. The location had been decided months in advance—preparations took time, and travel for the average person was slow and cumbersome due to the lack of transportation systems.
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The tournament would be held in Univara, the first and largest city on Earth since the establishment of the Federation. It had earned the right of hosting the inaugural national competition, aptly named Birth of Deities. The title was inspired by the system still widely known as God’s Path, a reference that resonated deeply with the population.
For those living in the other three cities, attending the event in person meant a long journey to Univara. Despite the months of advance notice, most people still opted out of traveling to witness the tournament firsthand. Instead, they chose to wait for the results to filter through the news, content to follow from a distance.
The fortunate ones were those with friends who had chosen the ‘None’ class, allowing them to train officially, or those who were among the thousands of instructors at the academy. Many of these instructors, not selected to accompany the academy’s team to the tournament, strategically took a week off to witness the event in person.
Such occurrences had become so commonplace that the academies of Altura, Tritus, and Quarath were forced to issue a joint statement announcing the suspension of lessons for the entire duration of the tournament.
The announcement had an immediate effect—attendance at the event soared, jumping from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands within days. This surge in interest came even as ticket prices had been doubled, a move that had done little to deter the eager crowds.
With no other viable options, the Univara’s academy, which was hosting the event, had no choice but to announce a priority list through their channels. Those who had already purchased tickets but weren’t included in the priority list and, thus, couldn’t attend due to full capacity would be refunded.
At the top of the priority list were government workers, followed by academy instructors and students. At the very bottom was a category labeled "Other," which prompted many to wrinkle their noses in disdain. They knew that, despite their complaints, nothing would change. So, they cursed the academies and the government in private, careful not to speak out publicly for fear of reprisal.
It took weeks for the tension to subside. But now, just a day before the tournament's start, everything seemed to be falling into place—at least for those in charge who could finally breathe in relief.
Amid the bustling streets, a young man with black hair and warm brown eyes walked calmly, his lips curved into a subtle smile. Beside him, a young woman with long, pale blonde hair and cold blue eyes moved with a detached, indifferent expression. Though they walked side by side, their silence made it impossible to tell they were together. If not for the fact that they maintained the same pace and direction, one might assume they were complete strangers.
The two were Elric Everhart and Neve Whitlock.
After a moment of quiet, Elric finally broke the tension. “Are you still mad?”
“No,” Neve replied flatly, her voice as cold as her expression.
Elric glanced at her, eyeing her carefully. “Doesn’t seem like it to me.”
“Not my problem,” she responded, her tone as sharp as ever.
A slight, teasing smile curled at the corners of Elric’s lips. “It was an order, you know. Don’t take it personally.”
Neve scoffed, her voice tinged with annoyance. “There were plenty of others who could’ve done this.”
Elric turned to face forward, his gaze steady. “That’s where your logic is flawed.”
Silence settled between them again, with Neve offering no response. Her expression was thoughtful, her mind clearly turning over his words.
Minutes passed before she finally spoke, her tone softer than before, though still cold and carrying a hint of indifference. “What do you mean?”
Hearing her take the initiative to talk, Elric turned almost instinctively, half-suspecting it might be a fake Neve. But no — it was the real one.
When he saw the raised eyebrow she gave him, a chuckle escaped his lips. He shook his head, then said, “We’re the best choice for this. Think about it. Aside from the generals, who else stands a chance of winning the tournament?”
“Commanders,” came Neve’s immediate response, but she didn’t stop there. “I get that, but why us?”
Elric, walking steadily ahead, took his time to explain. “There are two reasons. First, we’ve been commanders for a long time, which means, theoretically, we’re stronger than most of them. And second, our reputation. Why do you think it took us mere hours to enroll at Quarath’s academy?”
Neve paused for a moment, then spoke as the realization hit her. “They knew us.”
Elric nodded. “Exactly. There might be three or four other commanders who could’ve pulled it off, but the process would’ve dragged on for days, and they would’ve missed the tournament. That’s why it had to be us.”
A sound of acknowledgment escaped Neve as she came to terms with it, her expression softening. She understood now—this wasn’t a random assignment. She was here because she was the best choice and that made her feel better.
Just as her thoughts settled, Elric’s voice broke through the silence, snapping her out of her momentary daze. “This should be the hotel where our academy is staying.”
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