Chapter 92: The Gate Standoff

The tunnel leading to the primary descent elevator was a bottleneck of desperation. The natural stone walls of the cavern had given way to reinforced obsidian blocks, carved with ancient runes that hummed with a low, rhythmic power. This was the chokepoint. With only fifty keys available for two hundred and fifty squads, the air here was thick with the scent of sweat, ozone, and the sharp, metallic tang of unsheathed weapons.

Vane led the Calamities Squad through the throng. He kept his star-steel spear held vertically, its tip silent and unlit. They moved with a synchronized efficiency that drew eyes from every direction. The news of the Rank 4 Guardian’s fall had traveled faster than the squads themselves. Whispers followed them like ghosts. The commoner and his high-born allies had done the impossible, and they had the key to prove it.

Valerica walked at Vane’s right shoulder. She did not need to use a skill to command the space. Her mere presence, cold and immovable, acted as a physical barrier. To her left, Ashe scanned the crowd with a predator’s hunger. Her obsidian horns seemed to absorb the dim bioluminescence of the tunnel, and her red eyes narrowed at anyone who lingered too long on Vane’s pocket. Isole brought up the rear, her bone staff tapping softly against the stone floor, her mismatched eyes distant as she monitored the mana-signatures of the surrounding tunnels.

They were less than fifty meters from the massive iron doors of the elevator when the crowd parted. It was not a voluntary movement. A squad of four students in high-quality, customized armor stepped into the center of the corridor. At their head stood Jax. His face was a mask of pale, suppressed fury. The silver trim of his Adept uniform was dulled by the dust of the caverns, but his posture was still rigid with the arrogance of his station.

“Stop right there, Vane,” Jax said. His voice echoed off the obsidian walls, drawing the attention of dozens of nearby squads. He did not look at Valerica or Isole. His eyes were locked on Vane with a hatred that was almost physical. “The evaluation is about the preservation of the hierarchy. A commoner holding a Major Sentinel key is a glitch in the system. It is a theft of merit that cannot be allowed to stand.”

Vane stopped. He did not drop into a combat stance. He simply stood there, his spear resting loosely in his hand. ’He is over-extending his aura,’ Vane thought, observing the way Jax’s mana was flaring wastefully around his feet. ’He is terrified that the Midterm rankings were right. He is fighting to convince himself more than me.’

“The only glitch I see is a squad of forty-second rank trying to block the path of the fifth,” Vane replied. His voice was quiet, but it carried through the silent tunnel with the weight of a stone dropping into a well. “Move aside, Jax. We have a schedule to keep.”

Jax’s jaw tightened. He drew his straight-sword, the steel singing as it left the scabbard. The blade was etched with fire-runes that began to glow with an expensive, orange light. “Rankings on a board are theory, Vane. This is the reality of the deep. You got lucky with the Construct. You scavenged the work of the Blue Tower and finished a dying beast. But here, there are no bronze giants to hide behind. Just bloodlines and the steel that backs them up.”

Behind Jax, his three teammates shifted. They were Adepts, trained in the same rigid imperial style. They looked capable, but Vane could see the tension in their shoulders. They had seen the ruins in the basin. They knew what Ashe and Valerica were capable of. They were only standing their ground because Jax’s pride demanded it.

“Ashe, Valerica, Isole,” Vane said, his eyes never leaving Jax. “Stand down. This is not a team fight. This is a correction.”

“You want him all to yourself?” Ashe asked, a hint of disappointment in her raspy voice. She crossed her arms over her chest, her horns humming with a low, restless vibration. “He looks like he would break with one good kick.”

“He is not worth the mana,” Vane said.

Jax roared, his patience snapping. He lunged forward. He did not use a complex technique. He relied on the raw power of his mana-flare to overwhelm Vane’s senses. His sword came down in a heavy, overhead arc. It was a strike designed to shatter the guard of a weaker opponent through sheer force. The fire-runes on his blade flared, trailing a wake of orange heat through the air.

Vane did not flare his mana in return. He did not use a skill. He did not even move his feet. He waited until the glowing blade was inches from his head, then he tilted his shoulder. The sword hissed past his ear, the heat of the fire-runes brushing against his skin.

In the same breath, Vane shifted his grip on the ash-wood shaft of his spear. He didn’t thrust. He didn’t use the Silver Fang. He used the basic geometry of the Argent Horizon to find the pivot point of Jax’s over-extended posture.

Vane swung the butt of the spear in a low, lightning-fast arc. It was a simple movement, a sweep of wood against shins. But it was executed with a kinetic precision that bypassed Jax’s clumsy mana-shield. The wood connected with Jax’s leading ankle at the exact moment his weight shifted forward.

The effect was instantaneous. Jax’s momentum, which he had relied on to provide power to his strike, became his undoing. His feet were swept out from under him as if he had stepped on a patch of ice. As he began to fall, Vane rotated the spear again, the mid-section of the shaft slamming into Jax’s wrist.

The sword flew from Jax’s hand, clattering against the obsidian floor. Jax himself hit the ground with a heavy, ungraceful thud, his customized armor clanging against the stone. He scrambled to get back up, his face red with humiliation, but the tip of Vane’s star-steel spear was already resting against the hollow of his throat.

The silence that followed was absolute. The other squads watching from the shadows were paralyzed. There had been no explosion of mana. No S-rank skill. No reality-warping authority. Just a boy with a stick proving that a noble’s training was a hollow shell compared to a warrior’s technique.

“Your form is garbage, Jax,” Vane said. He looked down at the Adept, his eyes cold and clinical. “You rely on your mana to fix your mistakes. You swing wide because you think your aura will cover the gap. In the slums, a mistake like that does not lose you a rank. It loses you your life.”

Jax stared up at the spear-tip. He could feel the high-density star-steel vibrating against his skin. The fire in his hands had died out, leaving him in the dim, grey light of the tunnel. He looked like a child who had been scolded in front of the entire world.

“The House of Glacium will not save you from a bad pivot,” Vane continued. He withdrew the spear and stepped back, turning his gaze toward the other three Adepts. They had not moved. They were staring at their leader on the floor, their own weapons lowered. “If you want to try again, do it on the next floor. But for now, you are in our way.”

Vane didn’t wait for a response. He walked past Jax, his squad falling in behind him. Valerica didn’t even look down as she stepped over Jax’s discarded sword. Ashe let out a short, mocking bark of a laugh as she passed, her red eyes lingering on the humiliated Adept for a fraction of a second. Isole simply kept her eyes on the elevator doors, her expression as detached as ever.

They reached the heavy iron gates of the descent elevator. Vane held the Major Sentinel key to the sensor. The ancient mechanism groaned, the massive gears turning with a sound like grinding teeth. The doors slid open, revealing the dark, metallic interior of the lift.

Vane stepped inside and turned to face the corridor. He saw the noble squads staring at them, their faces a mix of awe and terror. He saw Jax standing up, his hands shaking as he retrieved his sword. The hierarchy of Zenith was indeed being rewritten, but not by the light of the boards. It was being rewritten by the silence of the steel.

“Floor 2,” Vane said, his voice echoing in the small space of the elevator.

The gates slammed shut. The floor beneath them dropped away as the lift began its long, jarring descent into the Iron Labyrinth. The weight of the world increased as they left the caverns behind, falling deeper into the gut of the academy.

Vane gripped his spear, his pulse steady. He knew the true test was waiting in the rust and steam of the labyrinth.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep