The Unvanquished: Child of Nihility-Chapter 62: Apex Grade–Strength Result

"Huh, I passed the fourth phase without doing anything?" Morca muttered, a little surprised. Then it dawned on him – the results from Phase Three had exceeded the threshold required for Phase Four. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Phase Five: Epic Grade – 8,000 units."

The voice resounded once again.

A hush fell over the room. Phase Four was where most candidates stopped. Only a handful with strength-based bloodlines ever reached it.

"Huh... 8,000 strength units? That’s the requirement for Mythical Grade – four times the threshold of Phase Four? How is it even possible? Even a newly ascended Saint-rank expert might struggle to meet that level..."

Clearly, this phase wasn’t meant for the Awakened. Only one person among the trial candidates had managed to pass it – someone Morca suspected, but with no proof. It was simply too insane.

"He may have guessed it, but I want to see if he’ll back down or push forward. Though... there’s no hope for him to pass this phase," Instructor Dale thought. But this time, a small smile crept to the corner of his lips. "This brat has shown some worth – more than the rumors suggest."

As far as Dale was concerned, only five – no, four – trial candidates had ever passed the fourth phase. Among them, three were Saint-rank, and one, surprisingly, was still at the Awakened rank. So far, the only person known awakened rank expert to have achieved Epic Grade was none other than Karon, the tan-skinned prodigy of the Tarma family.

This excluded that monstrous weirdo who shattered the academy’s previous record with 15,900 strength units – at Saint-rank – a level even some Sage-rank experts would struggle to reach.

"Let’s see how you’ll manage to pass this one," Dale said, tapping on a device.

The gravity pressure intensified fivefold inside the trial chamber – but Morca stood still. It was surprising – he didn’t flinch. Yet, a closer look at his forehead revealed a bead of sweat running down. He was truly on the edge.

"Ah..." he let out a cold breath.

"Should I stop here? ...No."

The moment the thought of stopping crossed his mind, something deep inside screamed, as if the very idea was taboo.

Forget it. Let’s just see my limit in the strength test. Besides, I’m already a Saint-rank expert – even if I pass, no one will suspect anything unusual.

That’s what he thought.

His arms trembled slightly.

Not from fear – but from the raw, molten power boiling in his marrow. The Oblivion Blade Skill wasn’t meant for raw strength... yet his blood – his strange, dual bloodlines – refused to obey normal laws. Both his mismatched eyes locked onto the conduit core.

His fist clenched into a tight ball.

He channeled everything.

Red lightning – born from blood threads – snapped across his limbs.

He struck.

BOOM.

The entire dome rippled.

The pillar flared gold – then cracks began to crawl across the surface of the conduit core before it dimmed into a radiant violet.

Above the trial chamber, Instructor Dale stared at the results in his hand, eyes wide in disbelief.

’Th... this can’t be right. What did he just do? He left a mark behind on the core pillar...’

In that moment, he even forgot to announce the results. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his mind and finally spoke:

"Result: 15,799 strength units — Passed.

Grade: Mythical."

Instructor Dale wore a full smile without realizing it. His gaze was locked on the boy in the chamber, who was breathing heavily, his fist bruised, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

’He’s... not just a talent. He’s something else. That bloodline... no. That’s not just a bloodline. It’s something beyond...’ Dale muttered under his breath. I’ll have to recruit him into the Voidtech Guard. ’There, he could unleash his full potential. If successful, our Guard would have someone at the Apex grade. That boy... he’s not just talented. No, talent is too shallow a word. What I saw – raw, primal force wrapped in control. That bloodline... it doesn’t follow the known paths. It defies them.

’Voidtech Guard... yes, he could become our edge. If nurtured right, he might redefine what it means to be a combatant. But if mishandled... he could become a calamity.

That strike... it wasn’t just strength. It carried intent. Will. A hidden instinct born of something ancient.

I need to reach him. No, I need permission to reach him. But if they–’

Just then, a sharp beep interrupted his thoughts.

A message. Simple, direct... and chilling:

["Let him be. No further action is to be taken. Wrap it up."]

’They know. They’re watching. Just how deep does this boy’s presence go? I was just an observer. Now I’m involved.’

"He’s watching..." Dale whispered, cold sweat trickling down his back.

Morca glanced upward briefly, meeting Instructor Dale’s eyes through the glass. A flicker of mutual understanding passed between them – one of power, caution, and unspoken danger.

’15,799... That’s what it takes to shake the veil a little. Still not enough. something brushed against me during the test. A presence? No. A watcher.’

Gaze still on the instructor Morca thought ’He isn’t the only one looking.’

And for the first time, Dale Earnhardt, battle-hardened instructor of Eden Domineer, with a slightly trembling hand, typed a private note into the system:

---

"Morca Sherman – Potential candidate for Apex Grade Trials.

Keep under strict observation.

Extreme risk. Higher potential."

---

-----

Inside the gleaming Grand Hall of the Physique Trials Facility, Maya stood with arms crossed, her navy-blue trench coat flowing with an unseen force beneath the ambient blue lights. As Rank 7 of the Monument Tower and a third-year student of EDA, her presence alone was commanding – but her sharp eyes were fixed on a single door. Her foot tapped ever so slightly – betraying a flicker of curiosity.

How many phases can he pass? she wondered.

Maybe epic... but what if – no, no, that’s not possible. Even if he slew a 3-Star monster, that doesn’t mean he can pass that phase. Just like some of the second-year students – most of them are barely able to achieving such results.

With a low hiss of pressure, the Body Strength Test Chamber doors parted. Morca stepped into view, steam rising from his body, shirt torn at the shoulder, muscles twitching slightly from exertion, his breathing steady. His ink-dark hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his right crimson eye glowed faintly. Meanwhile, the left eye swirled slowly and ceaselessly – as if it had a will of its own.

Maya’s gaze sharpened. She took a step forward, her voice casual but firm.

"How was the trial? Any questions bothering you?"

Morca wiped his brow, nodding slightly. "I don’t know the specifics, but the Body Strength Test result was announced as... 15,799 strength units. Passed. Grade: Mythical."

He looked at her with a slight tilt of his head.

"By the way, what’s the difference between each grade? And what benefits does the grade determine?"

"Not bad, your performance resul– " She suddenly paused, realization dawning. "Wait... what did you say your strength test result was?"

Her green eyes widened, as if trying to drill into Morca’s soul.

"15,799 strength units. Passed. Grade: Mythical," Morca replied casually. Though he suspected it was the highest grade, based on the differences he noticed between Phase Four and Phase Five, he wasn’t sure about the specifics of the grading system.

Maya blinked once. Then twice.

"Myth – Mythical...?" Her voice caught. "That can’t be – those are usually reserved for–"

She inhaled sharply, on the verge of saying ’those are usually reserved for elite Saint-rank experts,’ but stopped herself. Her gaze flickered toward him. Right... it’s him. She steadied her expression. Her next words came slower, more composed, though her eyes still held the edge of disbelief.

"You really don’t know what you’ve done, huh?" she asked.

Morca simply stared back at her in silence.

His silence was confirmation enough. Maya cleared her throat with a soft ahem.

"I’ll brief you on the first trial – Survival Trial," she said, though her voice carried a subtle tightness, as if still processing the weight of Morca’s results. She turned, facing the second trial’s entrance: a spiraling gateway pulsing with faint technolight embedded into its frame. Her trench coat fluttered with each step as she slowly walked toward it.

"You’ve already experienced the chaos first-hand," she said. "The monster outbreak was intentional – an adaptive survival scenario. It wasn’t just about testing combat strength, but leadership, adaptability, mental resilience, and – more importantly – how much candidates could influence others when the system goes off-script."

Morca walked toward the second trial, his expression unchanged, though his mind pieced together her words with everything he’d endured.

"The Vice Principal left you all with a warning to let your guard down – and that’s because the Apocalypse Crisis that struck two centuries ago caught humanity off guard. We survived not just through strength alone, but through leadership, adaptation, mental fortitude, willpower, and the influence of those who led from the front.

That’s why this trial was designed to mimic the crisis. The real apocalypse is still ongoing, though on a smaller scale. We don’t know when they’ll attack again, so the Academy trains students to stay alert at all times. You can call it brutal or unfair, but..." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

At that moment, she stopped in front of the second trial’s entrance, staring at it as if watching the brutal trial their group had endured two and half years ago.

In their case, there hadn’t been a monster like the 3-Star Bone Devourer Skeleton, but the 2-Star+ monsters they faced were still far beyond what most awakened geniuses could handle at the time. Out of nearly 300 candidates, only about 100 survived – that alone speaks to how cruel the trial was. They were later nicknamed the ’worst academy Freshmen.’

Unlike Morca’s group, which not only includes dozens of awakened geniuses capable of going toe-to-toe with 2-Star+ monsters – often in pairs – but also have the appearance of five Saint-rank experts among the trial candidates.

"You were being watched, you know," Maya added, glancing over her shoulder. "Not just by instructors... but by the Technol Eyes."

"Technol Eyes?" Morca asked, brows slightly raised.