"However, do not babysit the kid too much, or else you will only hinder his growth. A blade that isn’t tempered in fire will always break when it matters most. And... cherish your wife well."

"I will take your words to heart, Senior. Th-"

"Enough with the pleasentaries." The emperor sounded a bit annoyed. "Anyway, since I’ve answered your questions, it’s time for me to take my leave. The trial is about to reach its conclusion, and I have to go and meet my successor."

"Wa-!"

Before Soren could finish the word, the golden mist imploded, and the Emperor simply ceased to be.

"-it..."

Soren’s hand was left hanging in the mid-air, grasping at nothing but cold, empty space. He stood frozen for a moment before sighing and retracting his arm, his gaze falling upon the unconscious Ryan.

"He said the trial is about to end, right?" he muttered to himself and clenched his fists slightly. "You must succeed, Ryan... Everything depends on it."

Knowing he could do nothing but wait, Soren sat down cross-legged on the cold stone floor. He wasn’t one to waste an opportunity; the concentration of energy in this place was a resource he couldn’t ignore. He closed his eyes and began to draw in the surrounding atmosphere.

There was a sharp resistance at first, but it disappeared quickly under his control. Once the floodgates opened, Soren’s eyes snapped open in brief shock.

The mana here was easily ten times purer than anything in the real world.

As it entered his veins, it didn’t just supplement his reserves; it instinctively refined itself, converting into pure ice mana the moment it touched his core.

’Amazing!’

Without wasting a second, he dove back into cultivation.

The silence of the hall became his sanctuary.

Time seemed to stretch and thin as he rhythmically absorbed the frigid energy, his breathing slowing and growing heavy.

Then, the stillness was violently shattered.

"GAH!"

Beside him, Ryan’s body arched off the ground as he jolted awake, his lungs desperately clawing for air. The boy’s eyes were blown wide, darting frantically across the vaulted ceiling as if expecting a roof to collapse. Beads of sweat rolled down his pale face, and his uniform was visibly drenched, clinging to his back in dark, heavy patches.

"Huff... Huff..."

"Ryan. Easy," Soren said, breaking his meditation and shifting his attention to the panicked youth.

Ryan flinched, his head snapping toward Soren. He blinked through the sweat and the haze of exhaustion, his face twisting into a mask of pure shock.

"S-S-Supervisor?" Ryan stammered, his voice cracking and thin. "W-why are you here?! How—"

"I’ll explain later," Soren interrupted, his voice firm enough to anchor the boy’s drifting mind. "First, drink this."

He reached into the vial of high-grade recovery potion he already prepared. Ryan stared at the shimmering liquid, his confusion and curiosity practically radiating off him. Despite the million questions clearly burning in his throat, his body was too shattered to argue.

"T-thank you... Sir," Ryan whispered. He took the vial with trembling hands and downed it in one go, the cool liquid of the potion finally beginning to still the frantic beating of his heart.

After a few minutes, the potion’s effects began to take hold. Though his face remained pale and his hands still shook slightly, Ryan managed to push himself up and sit properly, leaning heavily against the pillar with Soren’s help.

"Are you okay?" Soren asked, his eyes scanning the boy for any signs of lingering injury and mental trauma.

"Yes... thank you for the concern, sir," Ryan answered. His voice was raspy, but as he continued, his tone became noticeably clearer. "But... why are you here? And... where are the others? Where are the others?"

Soren immediately noticed the shift. Usually, whenever Ryan spoke about those classmates, his voice carried a faint, subconscious tremor—a hidden fear that had become part of his identity. Now, that fear was gone. It had been replaced by a grounded sense of curiosity and confusion.

’It seems like the trials the Senior mentioned changed him. Probably a lot,’ Soren guessed inwardly before replying.

"They broke the rules, so I subdued them and sent them out of the gate. I stayed behind and came here to find you."

Soren paused, glancing at the empty space where the golden silhouette had stood. He was just about to mention his meeting with the Emperor when that familiar booming, resonant voice echoed through the vast hall, vibrating the very floor beneath them.

"The Trials have been cleared."

"The successor has been chosen."

The voice carried the same weight as the Emperor’s, but it sounded hollow and programmed, lacking the sentient spark from before. It was a cold decree triggered by the conclusion of the trial.

The remaining shadows in the room began to swirl toward the center of the chamber, and the massive stone doors at the far end groaned. The ancient seals finally began to glow with a blinding, final light.

"The chosen one shall enter the Sunless Chamber and claim the inheritance."

The voice went silent, leaving the hall in a heavy, expectant stillness.

Ryan didn’t move. Instead, he slowly shifted his gaze toward Soren, his eyes filled with a sharp, instinctive caution. He quickly realized he was in a precarious position. He was completely drained, barely able to sit up, while the Supervisor stood over him, perfectly composed. Even in his weakened state, Ryan could feel the gap in their power. Even if he had recovered to his peak state, he wouldn’t be able to defeat Soren.

A dark thought crossed his mind.

Would the Supervisor try to kill him now? Would he betray him and try to steal his inheritance?

However, contrary to his fears, Soren didn’t even glance toward the glowing doors. He looked down at Ryan and offered a small, encouraging smile.

"What are you waiting for?" Soren gestured toward the radiant doorway. "Go. You must’ve crawled through hell to get this far. Go and claim what you worked for."