Chapter 18 — After the Silence.
POV: Northern Road — Outside the Capital (Several Hours Later)
The road back to the capital stretched ahead beneath a muted sky.
At the front rode the First Prince, accompanied by a unit of elite soldiers. Their armor was still marked by dust and travel, but their formation remained tight, alert.
The northern border lay behind them.
Stable.
Too stable.
The Minister rode a short distance behind the Prince, his expression troubled. He had remained silent for some time before finally speaking.
"Your Highness," he said carefully, "are you certain this is the right call?"
The Prince did not turn.
"The situation at the northern border has only just settled," the Minister continued. "Leaving now may be premature."
The Prince slowed his horse slightly.
"I know," he replied. "That's exactly why I don't like it."
The Minister frowned. "Your Highness?"
"The demons pulled back too easily," the Prince said. "No strong presence. No prolonged engagement. Just probing attacks and then silence."
He tightened his grip on the reins.
"Something feels off."
The Minister hesitated. "Still, returning now could be seen as abandoning the front. It may affect soldier morale."
The Prince shook his head.
"I left clear orders," he said. "And the Vice Commander is more than capable of holding the line."
His gaze lifted.
"If something happens, it won't be there."
They rode in silence after that.
Then—
The capital came into view.
White walls. Towering spires.
Home.
The Minister exhaled in relief—
Only for it to catch in his throat.
A massive barrier surged upward, encasing the entire city in shimmering light.
At the same time, a pillar of radiance shot into the sky from the direction of the Guardian Shrine.
The sky darkened unnaturally.
Mana twisted.
The air itself felt ominous.
The Minister froze.
"…Your Highness."
The Prince's expression hardened instantly.
"Move," he ordered. "We ride at full speed."
Magic flared as he reinforced his body and his mount, urging the horse forward with enhanced strength. The elite unit followed without hesitation.
As the capital drew closer, the Prince's thoughts raced.
Everyone… please be safe.
---
— Present Time
POV: Central Arena
The Central Arena dominated the heart of the capital.
From the outside, it resembled a colossal Roman colosseum—towering stone walls, layered arches, and banners bearing the Academy's crest fluttering high above.
Inside, however, it was something far more advanced.
The arena floor was vast, housing multiple circular battlefields arranged in a broad formation. Each battlefield was separated by distance and surrounded by floating magic crystals, their surfaces etched with runes that shimmered faintly. These crystals served as barriers, regulators, and emergency suppressors—designed to prevent stray attacks from spilling into adjacent fields.
The seating areas rose in layered tiers around the arena.
Each section—student, citizen, noble, and VIP—was reinforced with its own set of floating magic crystals at every corner, forming invisible protective grids. Even a full-powered spell wouldn't reach the stands.
Citizens and students steadily filled the seats, their voices blending into a rising hum of excitement. Second- and third-year students in Academy uniforms patrolled the walkways, guiding attendees with practiced efficiency.
"This way, please."
"Student seating is to the left."
Nobles and their families were escorted toward elevated sections, where staff members moved constantly—offering refreshments, arranging seating, and ensuring comfort. The difference between regular seating and VIP areas was unmistakable.
Higher still, enclosed booths were being occupied by influential figures—high-ranking nobles, visiting dignitaries, and special guests whose presence alone drew whispers.
Claire and Olivia entered the arena together.
Claire froze.
"…Whoa."
Her eyes swept across the vast space, from the towering stands to the glowing battlefields below. The floating crystals, the scale, the noise—it all hit her at once.
Olivia smiled faintly. "It really is something, isn't it?"
Claire nodded rapidly. "This is insane. How do people not fight every day here?"
They scanned the student seating area and soon spotted a cluster of open seats. After weaving through the crowd, they settled down, the stone seats cool beneath them.
Claire immediately leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes locked on the arena floor.
Below them, instructors were coordinating with the Student Council, reviewing formations, and signaling to assistants. Near the battlefields, rows of first-year students sat on benches assigned to their respective fields—some nervous, some excited, some visibly trying not to faint.
"The first round's for first-years, Class selection battles," Olivia said, following Claire's gaze.
"And later?" Claire asked.
"Fourth-year matches," Olivia replied. "Mostly to give them real combat experience before graduation."
Claire's eyes lit up. "That's unfair. I wanna fight."
Olivia sighed. "You're already in A-Class."
Claire slumped. "Because my mom forced me into it… with you."
Olivia gave her a sideways look. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It is when I can't punch people!"
Olivia shook her head. "Claire, getting into A-Class requires clearing both the physical and theoretical exams."
She paused pointedly.
"And considering your theory scores—"
Claire immediately looked away. "I passed."
"Barely."
Claire huffed and crossed her arms.
Olivia sighed, rubbing her temple. "You should be grateful."
There was a short silence.
Then Claire leaned closer. "Hey… what's the battle format again?"
Olivia straightened slightly, clearly pleased to explain.
"There are 640 first-year participants," she began."They're split across multiple fields simultaneously."
Claire blinked.
Olivia continued unfazed.
"Each match is either one-on-one or two-on-two, depending on performance. Winners advance, losers are evaluated and assigned classes based on their showing—not just victory."
"…Uh-huh."
"The rounds continue until the number is reduced to 160. From there, performance rankings determine placement into E, D, C, B, A, or Special Classes."
Claire nodded seriously.
She had understood absolutely nothing.
Olivia finished, looking proud.
Claire stared at her for a second."…Cool."
Olivia smiled in quiet triumph.
Then Claire's eyes sparkled again. "Oh! I heard something."
Olivia glanced at her. "What?"
"Some of the Guardian kids are participating, right?"
Olivia nodded. "The Fenris twins are in. And the youngest son of the Kharos family."
Claire leaned forward eagerly, scanning the benches, and thought.
"…This is gonna be fun."
---
POV: VIP Residence — Main Hall
The hall was silent.
Not the uneasy quiet of restrained conversation—but absolute silence.
Every soldier who had expected the masked adventurer to be sprawled on the floor now stared at Gerald instead—collapsed at the far end of the hall, clutching the stump where his arm had been.
Adults who had been moments away from intervening stood frozen, their instincts failing them.
They had prepared to stop Gerald from killing a reckless adventurer.
Instead, they were watching a veteran commander brought down in an instant.
Reinhardt was among the most shaken.
He knew Gerald's strength well—knew the man could fight above his rank and survive. Seeing him defeated so completely forced a single realization into place.
Cecil hadn't brought a nobody.
She had brought a monster.
Lucas was shocked for a different reason.
What he had imagined—Gerald humiliating the adventurer, forcing him to kneel—had shattered. Gerald was the one kneeling now. Broken. Bleeding.
Lucas looked up and saw that Hayato was looking at him.
Seeing this, Lucas stumbled backward, terror finally overwhelming arrogance. His legs gave out, and he fell hard onto the floor while looking at Hayato, who was now moving toward him.
That movement broke the spell.
"GERALD!" Iris screamed, rushing forward before stopping short, horrified.
Guards surged toward Gerald instinctively—but their eyes never left Hayato. Hostility mixed with fear.
Hayato ignored them and kept walking toward Lucas slowly.
Reinhardt appeared in front of Lucas in a flash, placing himself between his son and Hayato, ready to defend his son. Aldric and Kaelen shifted positions subtly, ready to act if needed.
Then—
A translucent barrier formed in front of Hayato, stopping him.
Morvane Kharos stood behind the barrier, his voice flat and controlled.
"That's enough," he said. "There's no need to escalate this further."
Hayato stared at him.
Morvane continued evenly. "He was simply testing you."
Silence stretched.
Then Hayato spoke and said, "And who gave him the right to test me?"
Morvane did not answer.
King Aldric stepped in instead. "It was just a precaution," he said. "To ensure you were capable of protecting the guests."
Hayato's gaze shifted to him.
"I'm here because Cecil called me," he said calmly.
"Not to prove myself to any of you."
His voice was cold—indifferent.
"I don't care about any of you," he continued. "Or your lives. The moment he pointed a blade at me, he became my enemy."
Shock rippled through the hall.
Aldric frowned. "But—"
Hayato cut him off, turning back to Morvane, looking at him, and said. "Next time, don't get in my way."
He looked at the barrier for a brief moment— Then he lifted a hand.
He simply reached out and tapped the surface of the barrier.
To everyone's surprise, the barrier shattered as if it had never been there at all—mana dispersing soundlessly into the air, broken not by force, but by pure physical strength.
Hayato then stepped backward, passing through the space, and continued walking toward the gate back to his original position as if nothing had happened.
For a second— No one moved, then the shock hit.
A ripple passed through the hall, quiet but unmistakable.
Even the Guardian families stiffened.
Kaelric Kharos felt it most sharply.
He had trained under his father since childhood. He knew the density of his father's barriers—knew how many SS-class warriors it would take to even crack one.
And yet—
This man had shattered it with a single, casual motion.
No stance.
No technique.
No visible effort.
Kaelric's fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
"…That wasn't mana," he realized.
Eryon Kharos stared openly now, sandwich forgotten in his hand, eyes wide with disbelief.
Aeron Fenris's lips curled into something resembling a grin.
Interest—raw and genuine—lit his eyes.
As someone whose family specialized in strength, Aeron understood exactly how absurd that feat was.
Valeria Ignis tilted her head, crimson eyes narrowing slightly.
"Well," she mused internally, "this just got interesting."
Roland Ignis's expression grew serious.
Cassian and Lunaria—though Lunaria was clearly frightened—watched with a mix of curiosity and unease.
Aurelia, while curious, was already thinking ahead. Connections mattered, and power like this was not to be ignored.
"Ara ara," she thought quietly. "Perhaps coming here wasn't such a bad idea."
Lyra and Seraphina, meanwhile, were openly excited. Both were already planning to ask Headmaster Cecil to arrange a duel.
Iris hurried to her father's side. She was curious—but fear outweighed it. She needed the reassurance of his presence.
Morvane outwardly remained calm.
But internally, he was shaken.
There were only a handful of people in the world who could do what Hayato had just done.
He could count them on one hand.
One of them was Aeron Fenris.
A thought surfaced.
Morvane looked at Hayato again, a flicker of realization crossing his eyes.
"…Could he be…?"
He made a mental note to speak with Cecil privately. If his suspicion was correct, she had a great deal to explain.
As the royal guards began to advance again, Cecil stepped forward and clapped her hands, smiling with satisfaction.
"I think that's enough excitement for today," she said lightly. "Why don't we end this here and head to the arena?"
One guard assisting Lucas tried to interject. "But Headmaster Cecil—"
Cecil cut him off.
"He reacted because Gerald attacked him first," she said calmly. "And he threw Lucas because he was helping Claire. Do any of you have a problem with that?"
Her aura flared slightly as she looked at both the guard and Lucas.
The guard shook his head immediately.
Her stance was clear.
Pursuing the matter further meant dealing with her personally.
Seeing this, David sighed and walked over to Gerald's severed arm, picking it up before heading toward Gerald, kneeling beside him to heal the wound.
Jane, meanwhile, approached Hayato near the gate.
Before he could say a word—She punched him on the head.
The room froze again.
But instead of retaliation, Hayato simply held his head and said, sounding genuinely hurt, "I didn't do anything. Why did you hit me?"
Jane scowled. "You overreacted. You could've knocked him out without taking his arm. He's weaker than you."
Gerald grumbled internally, hearing this as David healed him.
Hayato looked away like a child caught misbehaving and said nothing.
Jane sighed and turned to Cecil. "This is your fault."
Cecil pretended not to hear her.
David returned with a healed Gerald now, though he was visibly wary of Hayato.
Before Gerald could speak, Cecil laughed. "So? How does it feel to get your ass kicked by a kid?"
David sighed and turned his head toward. "Hayato, Gerald might be an annoying royalist, but he's a good man. He didn't act with ill intent."
Gerald wondered if David was helping him or insulting him.
Cecil added cheerfully, "Yes, he's just an old, stubborn knight who thinks everyone needs to be tested. That habit's gotten him beaten more times than I can count."
Gerald glared at her.
You're the reason for most of them, he thought.
He then looked at Hayato and said, "I won't apologize. But I acknowledge your strength. I look forward to working with you."
"I don't need your acknowledgment," Hayato replied.
Jane immediately hit him again. "Just say yes."
He ignored her.
The onlookers exchanged looks. It was now obvious that Jane and Hayato knew each other—and well.
Reinhardt and the others checked on Gerald, who confirmed he was fine.
Cecil then clapped her hands again and said, "Alright. Let's go to the arena. Everyone's waiting."
The group began moving toward the exit.
As they walked, Gerald turned to Cecil and said, glancing back at Hayato, "That reminds me—you never introduced the young man."
Curiosity returned instantly.
Cecil paused, then smiled mischievously at Hayato.
"Oh, right. I didn't."
Hayato felt a bad feeling settle in his gut.
Before he could stop her, Cecil spoke.
"His name is Hayato. He's eighteen years old."
She paused.
"He's a peak SSS-class adventurer."
Absolute silence fell.
Then Cecil delivered the final blow.
"And he's also known as the Dungeon Conqueror."
No one spoke.
All eyes turned to Hayato.
He sighed.
"…Just great."