The ten minutes Lord Zilton had granted them evaporated like water on a hot stone.
Ren could already hear the heavy, rhythmic stomp of the Royal Guards' boots echoing down the long marble hallway. It wasn't just a patrol; it was a raid.
"Erna," Ren said, his voice a low, urgent whisper that brooked no argument. "Eat the handkerchief. Now."
"But I wanted to save it!" Erna whined, clutching the purple silk to his chest. "It smells like fear and lavender!"
"Eat it, or the loud man will take away all your shiny rocks and lock you in a cage without snacks," Ren lied, knowing exactly which buttons to push.
Erna's eyes went wide with horror. He stuffed the entire heirloom into his mouth and swallowed with a single, decisive gulp. Gulp.
Just as the silk vanished, a soft, melodic chime echoed in Ren's mind—a sound of salvation.
[System Ping!]
[Condition Met: Summon has consumed a high-mana enchanted item.]
[Congratulations! Your summon 'Erna' has upgraded to Level 2!]
Ren's heart hammered against his ribs. 'Just in time.'
"Erna, listen to me," Ren commanded, grabbing the boy's shoulders. "The King said you have classmates here. You need to look like them. Use your new form. Human. Now!"
Erna squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunching up in concentration. A soft, silver light enveloped him, pulsing with ancient mana. His bushy, sledgehammer tail dissolved into a wisp of shadow that flowed into the floor. His sharp, ivory fangs retracted, replaced by the normal teeth of a human child. The only thing that remained were the two fluffy, silver wolf ears poking through his messy hair—the mark of his "Primordial Stubbornness."
"How do I look, Ren-ni?" Erna asked, spinning around. "Am I cool like you now?"
BOOM!
The door to the suite didn't just open; it exploded inward, the lock shattering under a magical impact.
Lord Zilton stormed in, flanked by four armored Royal Guards and a high-level Mage holding a pulsing mana-detection crystal. The official's face was a mask of cold, triumphant fury.
"Secure the room!" Zilton barked. "Don't let him destroy the evidence!"
The guards fanned out, their halberds leveled at Ren. The Mage raised his crystal, sweeping the room.
"There!" Zilton shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the cratered floor where the summoning circle had been. "The epicenter of the mana surge! I knew it! You were conducting unauthorized rituals in a Royal facility! That is a Class A felony, Dragon Slayer!"
Ren stepped in front of Erna, shielding the boy from view with his cloak. His Intelligence (142) was racing, calculating every variable. Fighting here was impossible. He had to talk his way out.
"I told you, Lord Zilton," Ren said, his voice calm despite the weapons pointed at him. "I was testing a new skill the System granted me. It got out of control. I'll pay for the floor."
"A skill?" Zilton sneered, stepping closer. "A skill that smells of wet dog, ozone, and... ancient earth? Do you take me for a fool?"
He pushed past Ren, his eyes scanning the room for a monster. Instead, he froze.
He saw Erna. A small, silver-haired boy with big, innocent eyes, clutching Ren's leg as if terrified.
"And what is this?" Zilton demanded, his voice dripping with suspicion. "A stray child? Are you harboring vagrants in the Academy now?"
"He is my brother," Ren lied smoothly. "He arrived this morning from my home village. He was frightened by the skill test."
Zilton looked from Ren to Erna. He narrowed his eyes. "Your brother? You told the court you were an orphan with no family name."
Ren didn't blink. "I said I had no family name. I didn't say I was alone. We were separated during the Batch Two incident. I found him recently."
It was a bold lie, but one that was hard to disprove instantly. Zilton turned to the Mage. "Scan the boy."
The Mage raised the crystal. It glowed a faint, steady blue—the normal mana signature of a living human. Erna's "Humanoid Mimicry" was perfect.
Zilton's face twisted. He had expected a monster. He had expected a dark ritual. Instead, he found a broken floor and a child. But he wasn't done.
"Fine," Zilton hissed. "But where is my handkerchief? The tracking spell led us directly to this room."
Ren shrugged. "I haven't seen it. Perhaps the 'mana surge' disintegrated it? Or maybe you dropped it in the Magic Creation lab? I hear the Devils there are quite fond of silk."
Zilton's face went purple. He stepped forward, getting right in Ren's face. "You are lying. You are hiding something, Ren. And I will find it. I will tear this room apart, board by board, until I find—"
"Lord Zilton! Dragon Slayer Ren!"
A voice boomed from the hallway, cutting through the tension like a blade.
A Royal Herald, dressed in the gold and white of the King's personal staff, rushed into the room. He looked breathless.
"An urgent summons from His Majesty, the King!" the Herald announced, bowing deeply. "All designated Heroes are to gather at the Royal Stadium immediately! The King has declared a State of Emergency Protocol!"
Zilton froze. A direct summons from the King superseded any local investigation. If he delayed a Hero now, he would be defying the Crown.
He shot Ren one last look of pure, unadulterated hatred. "You are lucky, boy. But luck runs out."
Zilton spun on his heel and stormed out, his guards scrambling to follow.
Ren closed the door, his back slumping against the wood. He exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Ren-ni," Erna whispered, tugging on his cloak. "The loud man smelled like rotten eggs. Can I eat him next time?"
"No," Ren sighed, pulling a spare hood from his inventory and placing it over Erna's head to hide the wolf ears. "Come on. The King wants to see his 'Heroes'. And if the King is calling, it means the game has changed."
The walk to the Royal Stadium was a journey through a city on the edge of hysteria.
The streets of Syrius were packed. Citizens lined the roads, whispering and pointing as Ren walked past. Rumors of the "Four Nations' Challenge" had already leaked. The air was thick with tension, excitement, and fear.
Ren ignored them. He focused on the massive structure ahead. The Royal Stadium was a coliseum of white marble and gold, built to hold fifty thousand spectators. Today, it looked like it was holding the entire kingdom.
As Ren entered the tunnel leading to the arena floor, the roar of the crowd washed over him—a physical wave of sound.
He stepped out onto the sand.
Standing in the center were the five "Pillars" he had met before: Suzume, Lira, Valerius, Marcus Hale, and Eren. They looked tense, their weapons ready.
But they weren't alone.
Standing slightly apart from them were two new figures. Their auras were immense, pressing down on the arena like gravity.
Ren's Appraisal worked instantly.
The first was a woman with fiery red hair and armor that seemed to be forged from dragon scales. She held a lance that radiated heat.
[Target: Fiora]
[Class: Dragon Knight (A-Rank)]
[Level: 36]
The second was a man shrouded in dark, swirling robes, his face completely hidden by a cowl of shadows. He didn't stand on the ground; he hovered an inch above it.
[Target: Kage]
[Class: Shadow Monarch (A-Rank)]
[Level: 34]
Ren's eyes narrowed. 'The King lied. He didn't have five heroes. He had seven. And now, with me, eight. He was hiding his aces.'
"The Dragon Slayer arrives!" the announcer boomed.
The crowd erupted. "RENNNN! THE SURVIVOR!"
Ren walked to the line, Erna trailing behind him like a shy shadow. The other heroes looked at him—some with curiosity, Valerius with hatred, and Marcus with a complicated mix of recognition and guilt.
The King stood on the Royal Balcony, his voice amplified by magic.
"Heroes of Syrius!" the King declared. "The Grand Hero Festival is in six months! But we do not have the luxury of time to train blindly. We must know our strengths, our weaknesses, and our true order of battle!"
He spread his arms wide.
"Therefore, I have decreed an impromptu competition! Over the next week, you eight will face each other in a series of trials to determine your official ranking, from One to Eight! The entire kingdom will bear witness to your power!"
The crowd roared again. This wasn't just training; it was a spectacle. It was a way to boost morale and terrify spies.
"The competition begins in one hour," the King continued. "And to the one who proves themselves the strongest, who claims the title of Rank One... the Crown will grant any single wish within its power."
Ren's heart skipped a beat. Any wish.
The power to leave the kingdom? The wealth to buy ten thousand stat points? The authority to crush Zilton and Shein?
It was the ultimate prize.
The King's voice boomed one last time, sealing their fate.
"Let the trials begin! The first match of the day will be... The Royal Prince, Valerius versus The Blade Emperor, Marcus Hale!"
The crowd erupted. It was the "Golden Boy" of the Kingdom against the "Leader" of the Otherworlders. A clash of politics and power.
Ren looked across the arena.
Prince Valerius stepped forward, his golden armor gleaming, a confident, arrogant smirk plastered on his face. He raised his spear to the crowd, basking in the adoration.
Opposite him, Marcus Hale drew his massive claymore. His face was grim, his eyes focused. He wasn't playing to the crowd; he was playing to win.
Ren stepped back into the shadows of the waiting area, Erna clutching his leg.
'Good,' Ren thought, his Intelligence (142) already activating to analyze the fight before it even started. 'Let them tear each other apart. I'll watch. I'll learn. And then... I'll buy the winner.'
The game had begun.