Vergil instantly climbed out of bed the moment the morning horn echoed through the underground town.
Without wasting a single second, he hurried into the bathroom and splashed freezing cold water across his face to clear his mind.
Then, he immediately rushed toward the front door.
The moment he pulled it open, he froze slightly on the threshold.
A coarse cloth bag had been left outside on the floorboards.
Vergil quickly picked it up and glanced inside to inspect the contents.
Two complete sets of clean clothes.
And a pair of simple leather shoes.
Looking down the long residential corridor, he noticed identical bags placed neatly outside every single room door.
The freezing underground wind brushed sharply against his bare upper body, making his skin shiver.
Without hesitation, he quickly returned inside the room and shut the heavy door behind him.
The clothes packed inside the bag were entirely grey.
Loose, durable pants.
And loose leather robes designed for ease of movement.
Vergil quickly dressed himself, adjusting to the alien fabric.
The grey robe reached down only to his upper thighs, forcing him to tightly secure the excess material using the attached fabric sash.
After putting on the stiff leather shoes, he immediately rushed back outside into the hallway.
All around him, the other captive boys were running through the corridors in a frantic hurry as well.
By the time they exited the main entrance of the building, Madam Sierra already stood waiting in the exact middle of the dirt training field.
Standing firmly beside her flank were the guards A, B, and the two silent uniform women.
The panicked boys quickly rushed forward across the dirt and lined up in columns facing Sierra.
Sierra calmly looked across the rows of thirty-six youths before speaking in an even tone.
“Starting right now…”
“You will run continuous laps around the perimeter of this training field.”
“And you will not stop under any circumstance until your body physically collapses.”
“The top five performers who endure the longest will receive special contribution points.”
The boys immediately exchanged uneasy, competitive glances.
Vergil was the very first individual in the front row to start running, setting his footing.
He had absolutely no concrete idea what these contribution points actually represented in this underground economy.
But since they were directly tied to their daily training performance and future rewards, they were obviously highly important for survival.
Vergil deliberately and intelligently maintained a steady, moderate pace instead of sprinting forward.
Minutes later, one hot-headed boy suddenly sped past him at full speed, kicking up dirt.
The provocative boy glanced back toward Vergil smugly while overtaking his position.
Vergil recognised his face immediately from the day before.
Yesterday, that same aggressive boy had managed to kill a black wolf completely alone without assistance.
More boys gradually passed Vergil as the laps accumulated.
But Vergil stubbornly and precisely maintained his own constant, unbothered rhythm.
He did not yet understand the exact underlying criteria for victory in Sierra’s test.
Perhaps the winner would be determined by:
The total number of completed laps.
Or simply whoever lasted the longest chronologically without collapsing.
Without an explicit time limit announced, exhausting his lung capacity too early in the trial would be foolish.
So Vergil simply continued steadily circling the wide dirt field while counting the laps internally.
One…
Two…
Three…
Five…
Eight…
Nine…
Ten…
Gradually, a dull, throbbing pain began spreading rapidly through his calf muscles and thighs.
His forward pace slowly and naturally weakened under the physical strain.
Fourteen…
Sixteen…
His heartbeat grew increasingly violent against his ribs, ringing in his ears.
Drawing a deep breath became a difficult task.
Still, Vergil firmly refused to slow his pace down to a comfortable walk.
Earlier, an exhausted boy had attempted to switch to fast walking instead of running to catch his breath.
Sierra had immediately and ruthlessly kicked him out of the test without a single word of hesitation.
Seventeen…
Eighteen…
Suddenly, without warning, Vergil’s heavily fatigued knees buckled beneath his weight.
He crashed heavily onto the hard ground, scraping both knees painfully against the rough dirt.
Panting heavily, his chest heaving, he lifted his sweaty head and looked around the field.
Only five people still remained running along the perimeter line.
Within the next several minutes, one after another, all five of the elite runners finally collapsed into the dirt as well.
Only then did Madam Sierra step forward toward the middle of the field again.
“N-03 finished in first place.”
“He officially receives thirty contribution points for his endurance.”
The guard named A walked forward and handed Gregory several small, uniquely coloured cards.
Vergil carefully observed the exchange, noting the details:
Green cards clearly represented five points each.
Red cards represented exactly one hundred points each.
Sierra calmly explained to the gasping crowd,
“The red cards distributed today are your designated rewards from successfully passing yesterday’s wolf test.”
Then, she continued down her list.
“N-15 finished in second place.”
“He receives twenty contribution points.”
N-15 was a tall, dark-skinned boy with a powerful frame.
Vergil vaguely remembered from their brief whispers that he came from the northern Wild Grass Region.
Then, Sierra’s sharp eyes shifted directly toward his position on the dirt.
“N-25 finished in third place.”
“He also receives twenty contribution points.”
Vergil forced his sore body to step forward out of the line and received his physical tokens from A:
One red card.
Four green cards.
The remaining two endurance rewards were distributed to the fourth and fifth place finishers afterwards.
The final recipient turned out to be the provocative, arrogant boy from earlier in the run.
The boy clearly looked intensely dissatisfied with ranking fifth overall and seemed ready to open his mouth to protest the score.
But one cold, piercing glance from Sierra instantly silenced his complaints.
After that, the rest of the thirty-one surviving captives each received a single red card for surviving the arena.
Once all the physical rewards were distributed, Sierra spoke again, her voice echoing. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
“Everyone.”
“Follow me inside.”
Vergil slowly and painfully forced himself back onto his feet, his muscles screaming.
Every small step he took made his thighs burn with lactic acid.
Still, he masked his discomfort and continued walking silently alongside the others.
Eventually, Sierra led the line of thirty-six boys into a massive room on the ground floor.
Immediately, the rich, savoury scent of hot food filled the entire room, causing countless empty stomachs to growl loudly in unison.
Vergil’s eyes immediately moved toward the opposite side of the expansive hall, scanning the layout.
A long, heavy wooden table had been arranged there, completely covered with steaming trays of food.
He saw:
Multiple types of seasoned roasted meat
Fresh fruits
Thick loaves of bread
Hard-boiled eggs
Large bowls of mashed boiled potatoes
Madam Sierra calmly spoke, her voice cutting through the heavy aroma.
“Take your designated seats immediately.”
“Your assigned numbers are clearly written on the backs of the chairs.”
Vergil quickly located seat N-25 and sat down, adjusting his grey robes.
On his left side sat a brown-skinned boy with long, straight black hair.
On his right sat a tall, exceptionally lanky boy with messy brown hair.
The three briefly exchanged silent, cautious glances before remaining perfectly quiet.
Meanwhile, the two uniform women began carrying large trays of plain mashed potatoes throughout the room, dropping a basic scoop before each captive.
At the exact same time, the guard named B handed a crisp sheet of paper to every individual in the rows.
Sierra explained the distribution calmly, leaning against the head table.
“The plain mashed potatoes are entirely free of charge for everyone in this camp.”
“But every other type of luxury food on that table requires a direct payment of contribution points.”
Vergil lowered his eyes toward the pricing sheet, his mind working through the math thoughtfully.
Originally, I almost thought they were genuinely feeding and training us properly out of necessity.
Now, the real, psychological purpose behind this setup becomes entirely obvious.
Food was simply another calculated tool of manipulation.
A brutal way to instantly intensify internal competition among the ranks.
If proper physical sustenance itself depended entirely on contribution points, then the starving captives would desperately and violently fight for every scrap of reward.
The system was intentionally and systematically designed to force conflict, betrayal, and raw ambition.
Soon, Vergil received his baseline portions from the attendants:
One meagre serving of plain mashed potatoes
One official pricing sheet
He quickly examined the text on the paper.
Every single food item had its own specific contribution-point cost clearly listed beside the description.
After calculating his remaining green and red cards briefly to maximise his recovery, Vergil placed his order:
One plate of dense chicken meat
One plate of fresh, hydrating fruit
Once the premium food arrived at his station, he immediately began eating, savouring the protein.
By the time he finished cleaning his plates, only a single red contribution card remained in his possession.
Everything else he had earned during the endurance run had already been entirely spent.
After everyone in the hall finally finished swallowing their rations, Sierra spoke up again, her tone hardening.
“Starting tomorrow morning…”
“You will only have exactly thirty minutes to sit and eat your meals before the trays are cleared.”
The harsh sound of wooden chairs scraping against stone echoed loudly throughout the hall as everyone stood up in unison.
“Now,” Sierra continued, turning toward the double doors, “follow me to the next facility.”
The tired captives quietly obeyed, matching her steady stride.
Eventually, Sierra led the line toward the corner of another massive stone building that closely resembled a large commercial storehouse.
She stopped outside the reinforced entrance and gestured toward the iron-bound doors.
“You can officially purchase anything stored inside this facility using your contribution points.”
Vergil’s sharp eyes immediately began searching the perimeter instinctively, looking for any signs of paper supplies or raw crafting materials.
Sierra continued speaking calmly, a playful glint in her eyes.
“And when I say anything, I mean absolutely anything your bodies desire.”
A faint, highly seductive smile appeared on her lips as she scanned the teenage boys.
“Inside the store ledger, you’ll also find a dedicated list of women available to spend a private night with.”
“My own name is explicitly included on that list as well, provided you have the points.”
Instantly, many of the hot-blooded boys’ breathing became visibly heavier, their postures shifting.
Several pairs of eyes even turned a slight shade of red with primal excitement and desire.
Vergil alone remained completely, chillingly calm, his heart rate never skipping a single beat.
He had absolutely zero intention of wasting hard-earned contribution points on temporary physical comfort or women.
Every single point he accumulated in this hellhole would be strictly used to increase his baseline strength and maximise his overall statistical chances of survival.
Sierra’s teasing smile gradually faded back into professional indifference as she noted the mixed reactions.
“You can check the full ledger later during your designated free time.”
Free time?
Vergil quietly raised an eyebrow internally, analysing the phrase.
Originally, he had assumed their daily schedule would involve nonstop, gruelling physical training from morning until mandatory sleep.
“Now,” Sierra said again, waving them forward, “follow me to the primary hall.”
This time, she led the thirty-six captives into a large, well-lit classroom structure.
Rows of clean wooden desks filled the space neatly, facing a wide black slate board.
“Take your seats according to your preferences.”
Vergil glanced around the room briefly to choose a strategic position near the exit before suddenly feeling someone tap his arm from behind.
He turned around smoothly.
The shorter boy, Maras, stood directly beside his flank.
“Let’s sit together at this desk.”
Vergil quietly nodded, accepting the offer, and followed him to a middle row.
Soon, Aaron, Gregory, Basil, and Damien joined their immediate vicinity, effectively clustering together.
At the front of the classroom, Madam Sierra calmly faced the rows of assembled youths, her posture straight.
Then, she finally spoke, her voice echoing clearly across the silent, stone classroom.
“Today…”
“I will officially teach you the true foundational basics of cultivation.”
“Listen carefully to my explanations.”
“Because I will absolutely not repeat these lessons again.”
Vergil subconsciously straightened his physical posture immediately upon hearing her tone.
He quietly pulled his wooden chair closer to the table and leaned slightly forward, both hands folded neatly before him on the desk.
I really should have taken a front-row seat.
Sierra calmly began speaking, scanning the room.
“Everyone present here should already know that after training a specific skill to a sufficiently high mastery level…”
“A physical Skill Seed naturally forms within your Spirit Space.”
Vergil silently and imperceptibly nodded his head.
That much baseline theory he had already discovered and validated on his own.
What he truly, desperately wanted to understand were the higher cultivation realms existing far beyond ordinary Skill Seeds.
Sierra continued, pacing slowly behind her podium.
“The next major realm after successfully forming a standard Skill Seed…”
“Is called the Star Master Realm.”
Vergil blinked slightly, his analytical mind catching the wording.
Not the standard Knight Realm or Mage Realm?
All around the crowded classroom, quiet whispers immediately spread as many of the other captives clearly shared the exact same confusion.
Sierra heard the murmurs and calmly clarified, her voice dropping an octave.
“Knight and Mage are not actual cultivation realms.”
“They are merely combat classifications.”
“If a cultivator primarily chooses to strengthen their physical body and fight using physical martial arts, they are classified by society as Knights.”
“Meanwhile, cultivators who specialise in casting spells, runes, and long-range elemental abilities are classified as Mages.”
She paused briefly, letting the distinction sink in.
“But at the truly higher levels of power…”
“Most elite cultivators can fluidly function as both simultaneously.”
Vergil quietly nodded, processing the framework.
Honestly, being captured and brought to this underground facility no longer felt entirely like a complete disaster.
Without the structured environment of this camp, obtaining such highly guarded information might have taken him years of dangerous wandering on the surface.
Even before being kidnapped by Almus’s men, he had already decided against participating in the Mirror Lake Academy entrance tests due to the risks.
Thinking about the academy trials suddenly reminded him of his friend Sam.
Sam had been lying unconscious right beside him before Vergil had been blindsided in the dark alleyway.
But ever since waking up inside the stacked cages, Vergil had not seen a single trace of him even once.
A brief, genuine trace of concern appeared within his chest.
But Sierra’s next spoken words quickly pulled his focus right back to the lecture.
“To officially advance your cultivation into the prestigious Star Master Realm…”
“You must successfully evolve your existing Skill Seed into a fully manifested Star Seed.”
Evolve?
Vergil immediately focused his attention even harder, his eyes narrowing.
He had originally assumed that evolution simply required endlessly practising a skill until it naturally transformed through repetition.
Sierra continued calmly, shattering that assumption.
“Skill Seed evolution differs fundamentally from the initial formation process.”
“After successfully forming a baseline Skill Seed…”
“You will discover that your spirit space grants you a unique, core ability tied to that skill.”
Vergil remained perfectly expressionless externally, masking his thoughts.
But internally, he immediately thought of his own unique abilities:
Paper Manipulation
Paper Explosion
Sierra continued, drawing a simple diagram on the slate board.
“To successfully evolve a standard Skill Seed…”
“You must intentionally develop three additional sub-abilities explicitly related to your primary skill.”
“Once exactly four total distinct abilities exist within the seed framework…”
“The Skill Seed will automatically evolve into a true Star Seed.”
Vergil’s eyes subtly brightened in the dim classroom light.
Finally.
This was the concrete, mechanical path forward he had desperately lacked during his solo training in the village.
Just as everyone in the room braced themselves to listen further—
Sierra suddenly stopped writing and said calmly,
“Class dismissed for the afternoon.”
Instantly, a wave of loud, frustrated protests erupted throughout the classroom rows.
Even Vergil intentionally joined in on the verbal complaints, purely to blend in and avoid standing out as an anomaly.
Sierra ignored the loud noise completely, packing up her materials with practised indifference.
“If you desire more advanced cultivation information…”
“You may read the instructional book titled Basic Cultivation located inside the camp library.”
“Access to it costs exactly ten contribution points.”
Ten points.
Vergil immediately memorised the cost, filing it away as a primary objective.
Sierra then stood up straight, her uniform tight.
“Now, follow me back outside.”
“Your midday food rations should already be properly digested by now.”
The rowdy group was quickly led out of the classroom back toward the wide dirt training grounds.
There, Vergil immediately noticed thirty-six armoured guards already waiting in a silent line.
Each guard held a long, heavy metal staff in their grip.
On the ground nearby lay an identical row of metal staffs prepared specifically for the captives.
Stick training?
Vergil silently guessed, evaluating the weight of the weapons.
Sierra spoke up again, her voice echoing off the stone barracks.
“Pick up a staff from the ground.”
“Then stand in formation according to your assigned numbers, facing the guards.”
Vergil walked forward calmly, picked up one of the cold metal staffs, and stood directly opposite a waiting guard.
The guard facing him immediately turned around without a word and began walking toward the edge of the field.
Vergil followed his footsteps closely.
Soon, he discovered numerous large, circular rope rings spread across the massive training field, each functioning as a separate combat arena.
The guard led Vergil directly into one of the rope rings.
Then, Sierra’s booming voice thundered across the entire expanse of the grounds.
“Guards!”
“You currently possess only one single objective for this exercise.”
“Beat these captives with your staffs until they are nearly dead.”
A chilling, terrified silence spread instantly across the rings.
Sierra continued speaking calmly, her tone terrifyingly casual.
“And novices, don’t worry your little heads.”
“I will personally stop the guards before they actually take your lives.”
“Then, I will use my magic to heal your broken bones afterwards.”
Vergil’s grip around the cold metal staff immediately tightened, his knuckles locking.
Then, Sierra shouted the final command.
“As for you novices…”
“Your only objective is to survive their assault for as long as physically possible.”
“The five who perform the best according to my personal judgment…”
“Will receive a bounty of contribution points.”