Rivers of the Night

The appearance of the five Core Disciples wasn’t something the Inner Sect was expecting on this day. But no one would think that it was a coincidence.

As they approached, it was clear that there was a divide between them, forming three total groups.

The first carried the fifth and second ranked Core Disciples—Jodie Sine and Aeryn Vermouth. They walked shoulder to shoulder, their presences somewhat muted.

There was a calmness they both carried that belied the weight in Jodie’s gut. The young man knew that today would either end in triumph or humiliation, and of all those here… it was the most obvious what his outcome would be.

There was nothing he could do about it. Who asked him to be the weakest?

That said… it said something about his strength of character that he had appeared here nonetheless.

If this was where his fate as a genius ended, then fine. But he would be damned if he fell in the shadows of his own abode, locked in by four walls not placed up by another, but rather his own cowardice.

The second group was that of the third and fourth ranked disciples, Dorian Valebane and Vaeilina Blackthorn.

The Valebane and Blackthorn Clans were both Baronies that specialized in a special branch of poison Soul Mancy. They had always had a close relationship and often matched themselves together in marriage.

What was odd was that poison masters didn’t seem to have a place in this sort of Sect at all. But if one were to look at the two of them, it would be impossible to guess that they dabbled in such arts. In fact, they looked more like Flux Mancers than Aeryn, who specialized in strength.

Dorian had wide shoulders and stood at over seven feet tall. But his wife-to-be was probably even more freakish considering her gender. Vaeilina’s delts were even more defined than her fiancs, her skin carrying a bronze sheen to it that told a story of many hours training beneath the sun.

At first glance, neither looked like Soul Mancers at all.

And then there was the last "group." The number one ranked Core Disciple, a man who simply went by Ironvale.

He wore black leather armor so tough and rigid it almost looked like shingles of metal pasted onto his body. A sword that was no less draped in dreary blackness hung on his back, but rather than being in a sheath, it just seemed to hover there, following after him of its own will and volition.

Among all of the Core Disciples here, Ironvale was the one and only that had integrated a Sixth Silver Resonance Echo at Quasi Silver. The moment he entered Silver Resonance, it broke through, passing the most difficult bottleneck and rising to Seventh Resonance.

Now, no one was sure what level his Echo had reached, but since he had long reached the higher tiers of Silver Mancy, he had likely already reached the cap.

It was really just a question of how much he had refined it.

Ironvale walked forward on his own. Considering how indifferent he was to everything, it really did seem like his appearance today was nothing more than a coincidence. Experience new stories on

Everyone seemed to expect that Jodie would enter first as the last ranked, and they would have to wait for Ironvale’s performance at the very end of it all.

No one expected that, ignoring everything, Ironvale would simply walk ahead and straight into the tower.

"… That guy…" Jodie muttered under his breath, feeling as though he had already lost.

How much confidence did it take to be number one, know that two weak Bronze Mancers before you had already succeeded, and yet still boldly take the first step while everyone else was more than willing to allow you the grace of going last?

Jodie felt a pat on his shoulder.

"Keep your head up. There’ve been many failures in the past. The main difference between him and us isn’t that he’s confident he will succeed. It’s that he’s indifferent to success and failure."

Jodie looked to the side to meet Aeryn’s gaze, but the Vermouth heir was focused on the images ahead.

"… You fought him."

"I did."

"And?"

"I didn’t stand a chance," Aeryn replied calmly.

"… It sounds like you’re indifferent to success and failure too."

"If I was, I would have challenged him publicly. I’ve already lost. It took me a while to understand just what the difference was. Now I feel it all the more right this moment."

Ironvale’s trial began and everyone watched in silence.

The process wasn’t nearly as graceful as Theron’s, nor did Ironvale seem eager to chase after that sort of perfection at all.

There was a wildness to his every action that made it feel like he was having…

Fun.

When he failed, there was no embarrassment, just an eagerness to jump in again.

Half a day passed like this, the Sect watching Ironvale teeter on the edge of failure again and again…

Only to finally step out of the ninth floor—successful.

The image flashed and Ironvale vanished, a heavy silence hanging over them all like a cloud.

For some reason, they found themselves respecting Ironvale far more than they did Theron or Thessa. But most of them couldn’t vocalize why as clearly as Aeryn had.

Much like the other successes, Ironvale didn’t appear again.

Aeryn took a deep breath.

"I guess this means that it’s my turn."

If he didn’t go now, he would forever be behind that man. And… how would he protect his sister from Theron in the future?

There was a flash of near madness in Aeryn’s gaze, something else churning inside of him for a moment.

He didn’t seem to notice as he stepped forward, but his hair rose up almost like the mane of a lion fluttering in the wind before he disappeared into the tower.