The Vengeful Extra's Ascension-Chapter 269: Massive Abyssal Conspiracy!

The remainder of the practical examinations concluded without incident.

At least, that was how it appeared on the surface.

Team after team entered the dungeon gate suspended above the platform of the Astraeum Coliseum.

Biomes shifted like the turning of pages, frozen tundras laced with jagged ice spires, ruined cities choked by creeping vines, subterranean lava chambers that pulsed with oppressive heat. Each environment tested adaptability. Each wave of monsters was carefully calibrated.

No sudden High Amethyst beasts, and no obvious manipulations or catastrophic incidents.

By the final day of practicals, murmurs had shifted from anxiety to relief as most people had performed well enough to get a passing grade.

Graves had not acted, nd that, more than anything, unsettled Albedo

When the final evaluation results were posted, the outcome surprised no one.

Albedo ranked first overall. Lucian followed closely behind.

Miranda secured a position in the top five. Morgana maintained her quiet consistency within the upper tier, with other students and some transfers sprinkling in.

Professors offered reserved commendations. Students began packing belongings. The semester was closing and it was time for people to head their separate ways.

The tension that had once suffocated the Academy eased into something almost celebratory. On the surface, Zephyr Academy had survived another examination cycle.

But Albedo felt no relief. He had watched Graves too closely. There had been no frustration in the man’s expression, only patience, and that implied confidence.

Three days after the final practical concluded, the Academy bells rang at an unusual hour. Students gathered once more in the Grand Hall beneath the painted constellations wondering what they were called for.

Faculty stood in a line before them. Graves among them.

This time, he did not look merely composed.

He looked resolved.

One of the Elder Professors stepped forward, "Due to increased Abyssal activity across the surrounding provinces," she began, "Zephyr Academy will be initiating emergency supervised field missions."

A murmur rippled across the hall.

Field missions were typically reserved for second-years and above.

"I know this is bad timing, but it is necessary. For many of you," she continued, "this will serve as your final evaluative component. Successful completion will positively impact your semester standing."

There it was.

An emergency mission woven into grading.

Albedo’s eyes flicked toward Graves.

The professor’s gaze remained forward.

"Abyssal Worshippers have been sighted establishing hidden enclaves within forest and ruin territories. These cultist groups are known to summon corrupted beasts and destabilize local mana flows."

Albedo felt something colder settle within him. In the original timeline, Abyssal Worshippers had not been tied to the Academy at this stage.

They were a distant threat. Not integrated into semester evaluations. Something had changed, and only one catalyst existed for that shift.

Assignments were distributed via mana-sealed scrolls. When Albedo unrolled his, the sigils pulsed once before stabilizing.

Mission Objective:

Scout and confirm activity at a suspected Abyssal Worshipper outpost.

Location: Northern Shatterwood Forest, Sector 9.

Engagement: Avoid direct confrontation. Gather intelligence.

Support: Observation Array active. Extraction available upon signal.

Albedo’s expression did not change.

But his mind sharpened instantly. This was a Solo Assignment and a scouting mission. He expanded his perception subtly, brushing the scroll’s residual mana signature using Source Code.

There it was.

A faint thread.

Dark.

Not overtly Abyssal.

But resonant with corrupted frequency modulation.

He had felt that before.

During the dungeon’s low hum.

During the compressed wave intervals.

The same underlying current.

His gaze lifted slowly.

Across the hall, Lucian held his own scroll.

Their eyes met briefly.

Lucian’s expression was serious.

Concerned.

Albedo did not need to see the contents to know.

Lucian would be sent elsewhere.

Likely similar terrain.

Likely similar "scouting."

Likely similar escalation.

Divide them.

Eliminate separately.

Plausible losses during emergency operations.

And if High Amethyst beasts were summoned under the banner of Abyssal cult activity?

Who could question it?

Realization

That night, in the quiet of his quarters, Albedo laid the mission scroll across his desk.

He allowed a thin filament of Amethyst mana to probe deeper.

The sigil encryption dissolved layer by layer.

What he found beneath confirmed everything.

The "Observation Array" was not centralized within Academy grounds.

It was anchored at a secondary node.

One that did not exist in official campus schematics.

Its mana signature bore three distinct overlays.

Alexander Graves.

Professor Halvern.

And a third signature that was distorted and abyssal-touched.

Albedo leaned back slowly.

In the original timeline, Graves had been ambitious, but not Abyssal. That meant this deviation was not merely an adjustment. It was either something had changed drastically, or there was more information from the Novel he didn’t know about.

What was obvious was that Graves had accelerated his alignment because Albedo’s presence had forced his hand.

The following morning, mission teams departed under controlled dispersal. Teleportation arrays flared one by one.

Lucian vanished toward the western marshlands.

Miranda was assigned to a fortified ruin cluster with two upperclassmen.

Albedo stepped onto his own array. The northern forest materialized around him in a breath of cold air and shadow.

Shatterwood Forest lived up to its name.

Trees rose tall and skeletal, bark splintered as though struck by invisible lightning. Mist hung low, thick and metallic against the tongue. Mana currents flowed unnaturally—jerking, uneven.

Abyssal corruption.

Subtle.

But present.

Albedo moved without sound.

His presence folded inward.

Amethyst mana compressed until even the forest seemed to forget him.

After twenty minutes, he saw it.

An altar carved from blackened stone.

Cultist sigils etched into the ground.

Three robed figures kneeling.

And behind them was a containment circle. Large enough for something far beyond Gold rank.

He did not step closer.

Instead, he expanded perception outward. He knew that if he died here, it would be attributed to cultist ambush.

If he survived but destroyed the Abyssal plans, Graves would deny involvement.

If he exposed the Abyssal linkage, Graves would accelerate his plans in some way.

Lucian was likely standing before a similar altar at this very moment, facing a similar threshold.

Albedo’s gaze turned northward, a cold resolve settled over him.