The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 260: Chapter 255 — Over

Lumi still followed him.

However, as though she could read his terrible mood, a fact Zephyrion knew she was more than capable of, she kept her distance, silently trailing behind him. Somehow, the fact that she remained at arm’s length brought a measure of ease to Zephyrion, especially after everything that had just happened. At the same time, it only made him feel even worse about himself.

The night wind was gentle, the silver moon painting the forest in a ghostly light. It was truly enchanting, yet he saw none of it.

The reason for Zephyrion’s current crappiness had nothing to do with Vaelor’s sudden attack, or even Lumi’s unexplainable power. The truth was, even if Lumi hadn’t stepped in, Vaelor would’ve died in a single attack. Well... if an instructor hadn’t intervened.

No, the reason he was so pissed at himself was because of the state he’d been in before Vaelor’s attack.

If it had been any other night, Vaelor wouldn’t have made it within a hundred feet of him without him noticing. Yet somehow, he’d gotten close enough to stand over him while he slept, all because he’d chosen peace. Chosen to relax.

He clenched his fists.

’It’s my fault.’

Zephyrion didn’t blame Lumi, or anyone else for that matter.

He blamed himself.

How could he be so stupid? He’d gone through hell in the Order, where countless instincts had been carved into him. From childhood, his mother had drilled countless rules into him, rules that had become one of the biggest reasons he was still alive.

And tonight, it was as though he’d taken all of it, the instincts, the survival rules, and crushed them beneath his own feet.

Peace... how could he be so foolish?

How could there possibly be peace with everything happening right now?

Frost’s plot. His mother’s disappearance. His own weakness. So much uncertainty...

Yet he’d chosen peace when he wasn’t even halfway to achieving his goal.

He could accept stupidity from a lot of people, but he was supposed to be above this. He wasn’t supposed to be this dumb.

Zephyrion felt his blood boil.

’Never again.’

Until he took revenge on Frost, until he found out what had happened to his mother, until he achieved his goal of total world domination, there could be no moment of peace. He would never let his guard down again, no matter what.

The air around Zephyrion gradually turned cold.

Throughout the night, he wandered the forest, unable to sleep.

...

The next day, Zephyrion ordered the cadets to pack up camp and immediately continued their journey. It didn’t get any better. If anything, it only became worse.

This time, the environment itself proved to be the enemy. The scorching sun gave way to biting snow the moment they cleared the desert. The group had to trudge knee-deep through the snow just to make progress. It went without saying that several succumbed to the strain, having to be dragged forward by the other cadets.

However, throughout those torturous hours, the cadets’ eyes somehow remained glued to their Prime’s broad back.

Zephyrion had made the forefront his place and never once yielded it. The cadets watched him press forward without pause, never once complaining, his broad back seeming to bear the weight of the entire group on its own. And every single time, each of them, even the City Lord’s descendant, though neither would ever admit it, felt another surge of motivation, pushing through the pain and continuing onward.

After uncountable hours of marching, their hard work finally bore fruit.

The harsh, biting winds vanished along with the endless sea of snow, and every cadet found themselves standing in the middle of a familiar plain.

A small hill rose to the south. Off in the distance, one could make out the faint outlines of the jagged fortresses in all four directions. It was the place they had first gathered on the day they arrived at the academy.

’So we were still in the academy,’ Zephyrion thought.

It meant everything they had experienced, from the attacks to the shifting weather, might have taken place inside some kind of mirror world.

The complexity required to create something like that was difficult to fathom, but at the same time, it explained all the inconsistencies; the unnaturally long days and nights, and how quickly they became exhausted. Simply being away from the test for a few seconds was enough for him to feel his body recovering at a noticeably faster pace.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Zephyrion looked ahead.

Several cadets and instructors were already gathered in the middle of the field. He swept a glance around and realized the South had arrived last once again. However, something about the arrangement immediately caught his attention.

In the Eastern House, only their Prime, Arcturus, and a handful of others stood near the platform, while the rest of the cadets remained farther back, as though an invisible boundary separated them.

The Northern House had several more standing at the front, but they barely numbered thirty.

The Western House was even worse. Only their Prime stood at the front, while the hundreds behind her wore weary expressions.

They were soon ushered forward by the instructors, and the moment Zephyrion saw the Southern cadets standing beside him without any separation, he understood.

’The cadets standing behind failed the test.’

Only those at the front had passed. And considering how their own test had gone, aside from Vaelor, who had been removed from the trial, every single Southern cadet had made it back together.

The sight of hundreds of Southern cadets standing shoulder to shoulder before the platform was enough to draw stunned expressions from the other houses, who had also clearly realized the reason for the separation.

Before long, the whispers died away as several heavy presences descended onto the platform.

Zephyrion’s eyes briefly met his sister’s. Ingrid gave him an approving nod with an expressionless face, and he found himself standing a little straighter.

Then his attention shifted away from her, drawn toward the overwhelming force pressing down upon them all.

High General Rathen observed the cadets with an unreadable expression. After a moment, he spoke.

”If that had been real life, most of you would be dead.”

A deathly silence settled over the field. His opening words struck home, and several cadets, especially those standing at the back, lowered their heads.

”I won’t waste much time talking. It’s clear these past few weeks haven’t done much for you. You’re still weak. Pathetic little infants who still need to be spoon-fed. You still need to be tempered. Fortunately...” He paused. ”Time is one thing we have.”

He let the weight of his words settle before continuing.

”If you think what you just experienced was terrible, think again. It only gets worse from here. So much worse that this little test will one day feel like a pleasant memory. So I’ll ask you one last time. If you think this is too much... if you don’t believe you can survive what comes next... then walk away. Now.”

No one moved.

Several moments passed before a small smile tugged at Rathen’s lips.

”Good.”

He gave a single nod.

”During this test, some of you survived. Others didn’t make it to the end. Some reached the finish faster than the rest.”

His gaze drifted over Arcturus, Malach, and Rhaena.

”Others... took longer.” His eyes eventually settled on Zephyrion, who caught the sharp glint hidden within them. ”But I’ll have you know something. The point of this test was never speed. It was solidarity. As for how well each of you did... I’ll let your points answer that for me.”

With a tap on his rune tab, every cadet’s rune tab lit up. Many hurriedly checked their results, and countless eyes widened in shock.

In the next instant, every gaze snapped toward the Southern House, especially Zephyrion.

Even he was slightly taken aback.

[+5000 Temper Points]

Five thousand. It was a lot. Even killing the sanguines and rescuing the cadets hadn’t earned him half that during the last test.

Still, he was more curious about what effect it would have on the rankings.

He quickly checked.

...

Zephyrion Calderalth — 3690 >> 8780

Arcturus Aur Eryndor — 3750 >> 6500

Malach Sanct Sarakhel — 3670 >> 6450

Rhaena Kharadun — 3710 >> 6200

...

The increase was significant, and through this test, he had finally attained first place.

”I know some of you think these results are unfair. Fortunately, your opinions don’t matter. You get what you earn.

Rathen paused, taking in the cadets’ darkened expressions.

”That said, this isn’t the finish line. There’ll be more tests. More chances to climb. More chances to fall. But before that, there’s something else you should know.”

”Those of you with more than rocks rattling around in your skulls have probably already figured out why you’ve each been given a fortress. Still... I’ll spell it out for the rest of you.”

”War.”

”Once these tests are over, you’ll be left on your own. Each house will fight until only one remains standing. More importantly, it’ll be your greatest chance yet to earn Temper Points.”

”And when it’s all over, the Prime with the highest number of Temper Points will be named First Prime.”

A chorus of whispers immediately rippled through the gathered cadets. Even Zephyrion narrowed his eyes.

First Prime.

A title of immense significance, one that signified a single cadet as the best among the thousand others of their year. It granted immense privileges, and every person who had earned it throughout history had gone on to become a great general or a powerhouse in their own right.

The cadets’ eyes changed. They turned hungry. Among everyone present, there wasn’t a single person who didn’t want that title.

Seeing the hunger burning in their eyes, Rathen smiled. However, just as he was about to continue, a hand rose into the air.

Rathen’s gaze shifted toward Arcturus Aur Eryndor, whose hand remained raised.

He gave a small nod, silently motioning for him to speak.