The Unvanquished: Child of Nihility-Chapter 53: Thrill of Battle

Beep. Beep.

A flickering red panel appeared in front of them:

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[Academy Trial Notification]

ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.

Sur...vive f...five mi...nutes...

Rein...force...ment will ar..rive soon...

Beep. Beep. Beep.

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Unknown to the trial candidates, three monitoring drones had been drifting silently above the entire trial dungeon, hovering high in the sky to observe and record every display of power from each participant.

However, now–without warning–the drones, which were linked to the candidate’s wrist devices, began to lose it connection. They drifted erratically, spiraling out of control before crashing mid-air...

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Outside the trial dungeon, nestled in a region surrounded by towering cliffs, stood an institute encircled by high fences reinforced with mysterious black metal. At the very heart of Section Two, this proud structure represented the pinnacle of achievement on Eden Planet: The Eden Domineer Academy.

At the center of the academy rose a towering glass building, nearly 100 floors high, its surface gleaming with reflections of the sun and the illusionary blue sky. Inside a dimly lit control room illuminated only by glowing screens, a brown-haired man in a black cloak and intricately patterned green-accented armor, clutched a device tightly at his side. His eyes were locked on the display, as though he wished to leap into the screen itself.

"How is this possible...? Could it be...?" Vice Principal Evans Tamar muttered with a deepening frown.

It had all happened just seconds ago...

---

Vice Principal Evans Tamar sat calmly on his chair atop the flat platform at the center of the trial ground, eyes closed in his usual nonchalant manner. At first glance, one might think he was asleep–unaware of his surroundings. But how could a man forged from the furnace of countless battles not be attuned to his environment?

The very thought was ridiculous.

At his level, Sir Tamar didn’t even need his eyes to tell what was happening around him. His senses were sharper than any mortal’s sight, tuned to the very frequencies of space and spiritual pressure. Every movement, every shift in energy, was as clear to him as daylight.

He was one of the three vice principals of Eden Domineer Academy, officially titled the Second Vice Principal. But his authority and power far exceeded that of the others. A man of unshakable principle, Evans Tamar never bowed to influence or manipulation, no matter how high the source—save for one person.

Principal Stuart di Milla.

One of the first supernatural experts in the history of Eden, the man was a living legend and the only person Sir Tamar could not defy. When The Principal personally ordered him to oversee the 0289 Academy Trial, Evans had no reason–or perhaps courage–to refuse.

He could have easily passed the responsibility to a subordinate. But Evans chose to take it on himself. Not because he was afraid, but because he understood the weight of what this trial represented. And more importantly, what was at stake.

His meditative peace was shattered by the sharp, repetitive beep of his communication device. Without opening his eyes, he glanced at it. The caller ID flashed: Surveillance Operations Committee.

His brow twitched.

He answered, already anticipating trouble.

A hurried but respectful voice blared through the line, "Sir Tamar, this is urgent–Threat Number 003 has appeared inside the trial dungeon! Reinforcements are needed immediately!"

Sir Tamar expression darkened, and his eyes finally opened.

"What went wrong for a Threat Level 003 to appear?" he asked coldly. "Are you telling me the dungeon trial was infiltrated by a monster of that level without the academy knowing?"

No reply came. Just silence.

But the air around him had already started shifting.

His figure vanished from the platform, leaving only a gust of wind behind. In the next instant, he reappeared inside the surveillance operations room.

All six operators inside the chamber stood stiff as boards, eyes wide and pale as the images on their screens began to flicker and fade. The last footage showed a thick, crimson mist rolling over the battlefield like a wave. Trial candidates vanished into the fog just before the drones lost control and crashed into the stone floor, their feeds cutting to static.

Sir Tamar narrowed his eyes, stepping toward the primary console.

The room was silent–too silent. The operators knew the gravity of the situation. If anything were to happen to the trial candidates–especially those scions from the Seven Ancient Families–they would be the first to suffer the wrath.

"There are still eight 2-Star monsters active... and now a Threat Level 003," Evans muttered, voice calm but sharp as a blade. "We should’ve already sent in the three specialized 003-Response Fighters. Have you dispatched them yet?"

One of the operators shook his head, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. The moment he did, a suffocating pressure descended. Sir Tamar’s spiritual aura slammed him to the floor, forcing him onto all fours.

"What are you waiting for?" Sir Tamar barked. "Get to work!"

The air trembled at his command, sparks dancing across nearby screens from the sheer force of his spiritual presence.

Without delay, the operators scrambled into motion. Alarms blared, data streams realigned, and emergency protocols began running in full force.

Sir Tamar stood silently, watching the dim screens, his mind racing through hundreds of scenarios. His fingers tightened around the communication device in his hand, a sharp crack splitting along its edge as his grip strengthened.

’Let’s hope none of those ancient family scions die... or the academy will drown in their wrath again,’ he thought grimly.

He sighed. ’We really need to amend the trial laws. Something like... "In the event of death during survival trials, the academy is not to be held responsible."’

But he shook his head. That would never pass.

The other faculty members would vote against it without hesitation. After all, every ancient family had someone watching from within, always scheming, always protecting their own. While instructors were forbidden from interfering in student trials, political pressure always found its way into the cracks.

---

Inside the trial dungeon, silence reigned.

The battlefield was frozen. Candidates stood still, breath caught in their throats, as the massive Bone Devourer Skeleton Monster fixed its hollow gaze on them.

Then, its third eye opened.

A beam of dense crimson light exploded from its forehead, shooting directly toward the candidates still engaged with 1-Star+ monsters. A collective chill spread down their spines. And then–before they could even think to retreat–he light swallowed them.

In an instant, both monster and human alike were reduced to fine powder.

Even those wearing protective armor only resisted for a few seconds longer before crumbling to dust.

Every candidate fighting 2-Star+ monsters stopped at once. The battle had come to a standstill the moment the 3-Star Bone Devourer appeared. And now, in the face of this overwhelming might, every face turned pale.

Morca stared at the creature. The black blade in his grip–Avoc–vibrated violently, reacting to the pressure with excitement. It fed off his rising bloodlust.

And then Morca moved.

In a flash, he appeared before the monster.

The beast sneered, lifting one bony finger. Space warped around Morca, locking him in a dense spatial field. Before he could react, the monster blinked forward and slammed into him.

BOOM!

Morca’s body flew across the dungeon, smashing into the dusty ground.

With him out of the way, the monster turned its attention back to the battlefield. Just a glance–and dozens died.

Chaos erupted. The surviving trial candidates rushed toward the dungeon’s edge, desperation etched on their faces.

But before the dust could settle, Morca rose from the rubble. He didn’t crawl. He stood.

Blood ran down his lip, but his eyes were bright–alive with the thrill of battle.

His blood pumped faster. His instincts sharpened. He was facing something far stronger than himself, and he loved it.

He dashed forward once again.

This time, he analyzed the monster’s every move, his left eye glowing faintly with hidden power. The monster growled, sensing his defiance.

"How dare a mere human child stand against me," it seemed to roar.

In a flash, it reappeared beside Morca, its crimson-cloaked claws swinging for the kill. Morca twisted midair, dodging by inches. But the monster didn’t let up. It swept its second hand with brutal speed.

Already anticipating it, Morca spun sideways in midair, barely avoiding the first blow and raising his blade to meet the second.

CLANG!

The shockwave rattled his organs. He was hurled backward, skidding across the ground, one leg dug in to halt his momentum.

Dust burst upward–but not enough to obscure the battlefield.

Across from him, the Bone Devourer reeled slightly. Black ichor dripped from its left hand where Morca’s blade had struck. Its crimson eyes flashed with shock.

And then...