Chapter 457 — Marshal

Inside the chamber, the pressure exploded.

Level 15

BOOM

Kaelen Hayes dropped immediately, his knees slamming into the cracked stone as blood poured from his eyes and nose.

His mental defense skills shattered like glass under the crushing weight.

’Fuck this.’

His thoughts came clear despite the pain lancing through his skull.

’I’m already in the last three... That’s a guaranteed willpower treasure and whatever bonus payment they promised for ranking high.’

He stumbled toward the exit, his hand pressed against the wall for support.

’I’m not getting paid enough to risk permanent soul damage competing with whatever the fuck those two are.’

His eyes tracked back to where Damian and Sicar, both refusing to fall completely.

Now only two remained standing.

Blood covered Damian’s face completely now, streaming from every orifice and soaking into his uniform.

The crimson liquid dripped onto the floor in steady streams, pooling around his feet.

Crack Crack Crack

The stone beneath him fractured further, the spider-web pattern spreading outward as his legs trembled under the accumulated pressure.

His knees buckled slightly.

Then he locked them, forcing his body to remain upright through pure willpower.

The man’s voice came again, carrying no emotion.

"Level 18."

Boom

Both Damian and Sicar dropped to their knees simultaneously, the impact creating twin craters in the already damaged floor.

But neither of them fell forward.

Damian’s hands planted on the ground, fingers digging into stone as his back remained straight.

Sicar’s pink Aura blazed brighter, every defensive skill pushed to maximum capacity as he fought to stay upright.

Then Sicar’s head turned, his eyes locking onto Damian’s profile.

His voice came out strained, forced through clenched teeth.

"You... don’t have any mental defense skills, do you?"

Damian said nothing, his hair falling forward to cover his face.

Blood dripped from the strands, hitting the cracked stone beneath him.

Outside the chamber, everyone’s attention focused completely on the two remaining candidates.

Icarus’s eyes tracked to his interface, pulling up Damian’s detailed information.

His expression shifted, realization dawning.

"Indeed... There’s no record of him ever learning or using mental defense skills."

The statement hit the watching crowd like a physical blow as whispers erupted immediately.

"He doesn’t have Will Strengthening or Mental Barrier?"

"But those are basic skills! Everyone learns them in the academy!"

"Wait, he just entered his second year at the Academy..."

"Most students don’t learn mental defense until later in third or fourth year..."

Suddenly, the newly-arrived man turned toward the chamber entrance.

Before stepping through, he spoke without looking back.

"Keep increasing the level, General Icarus."

His tone made it clear this wasn’t a request.

Zara stepped forward immediately, her voice urgent.

"Marshal, the candidates inside will risk soul damage if we push beyond–"

The man’s eyes shifted toward her.

Just a glance, nothing more.

But all protest died in Zara’s throat, the words evaporating before they could form.

Icarus opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking.

And the man stepped into the chamber, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

The moment he disappeared, whispers exploded through the observation area.

"Who is that man?"

"Why aren’t the Generals saying anything?"

"Did you see how they froze when he arrived?"

Regulus leaned toward the Sword Demon, keeping his voice low.

"That’s one of the Nine Marshals of the military, isn’t it?"

The Sword Demon’s lips curved slightly, his blindfolded face somehow conveying recognition.

"The youngest of the Nine... The man who left the Eckhart Imperial Family to carve his own path in the military rather than inherit his family’s position."

Torin’s voice joined from nearby, equally quiet.

"One of the most arrogant and greatest geniuses the Federation has ever produced."

Helena’s excited whisper cut in.

"I know who he is! My mother told me stories! He’s–"

Icarus’s voice carried across the observation area.

"Marshal Lysander Eckhart."

****

Inside the chamber, Sicar’s eyes tracked the man’s approach.

’Is that... What is he doing here?!’

Damian’s head turned slightly, his crimson eyes tracking the newcomer through blood-matted hair.

’Who is he?’

Lysander’s gaze remained fixed on Damian’s kneeling form, ignoring Sicar completely as he spoke.

"Heir of the Verratoux family, you may leave now." His tone remained casual. "I don’t want your family sending complaints about me trying to kill their successor."

Sicar’s jaw clenched, pride warring with self-preservation.

But after several seconds, he pushed himself to his feet with visible effort.

His legs trembled, blood covering his face, but he managed to stand.

He glanced at Damian one final time, taking in the younger candidate’s kneeling form.

’What does this freak want with Damian Valcor?’

Then he turned and walked toward the exit, each step requiring tremendous concentration.

The door closed behind him.

Now only Damian and Lysander remained in the chamber.

"Level 19."

Lysander’s voice echoed despite the empty chamber.

BOOM!

Damian collapsed completely, his arms giving out as his chest hit the blood-soaked stone.

His body went flat against the ground, trembling from the crushing pressure bearing down on his consciousness.

Lysander stared down at him, his expression showing mild disappointment.

"I’ve been hearing things about you for over a year now."

His voice carried contempt.

"The supposed greatest genius of the younger generation. A boy who killed a few low-rank demons and survived two portals filled with weak insects."

He began walking in a slow circle around Damian’s prone form.

"Recently you even managed to kill a demon-contracted human in Tranquil City. Impressive achievements for someone your age."

His footsteps echoed against stone.

"But do you know what a true genius is? It’s not about talent or potential."

Lysander stopped walking, looking down at Damian’s unmoving body.

"A true genius is someone who can stand at the peak when everyone else has fallen. Someone who breaks past limits that shouldn’t be breakable. Someone who makes the impossible look inevitable."

He crouched down, bringing his face closer to Damian’s hidden expression.

"And most importantly, a genius has the mentality to match their gifts. The absolute confidence that comes from knowing you’re superior. The certainty that you will win because losing isn’t in your nature."

Lysander stood up.

"For the geniuses of other races, this level of mental pressure is nothing more than a warm-up exercise."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"But looking at you now, witnessing how you collapse under pressure that barely qualifies as training for real talent..."

His tone carried finality.

"I have to say I’m disappointed... You are no genius. You just have some luck that’s kept you surviving until now."

He turned away, walking toward the exit.

"And that luck will run out eventually."

"..."

Nobody spoke in the observation area, dozens of eyes tracking the Marshal’s words and Damian’s motionless form.

Lysander reached the chamber door, his hand rising toward the handle.

But suddenly a sound emerged from behind him.

A broken giggle, wet with blood and carrying edges of something unhinged.

"Hehe... hehehe..."

The giggle grew louder, more manic.

"HAHAHAHA!"

The laughter exploded across the chamber, raw and filled with genuine joy.

Lysander stopped, his hand on the door handle.

"FINALLY!"

Damian’s voice came out ragged but ecstatic.

"Finally I can feel some fucking pressure!"

The Marshal turned slowly.

Damian had pushed himself to his knees, hands pressed against the blood-soaked stone.

His head tilted back, both hands coming up to sweep his blood-matted hair away from his face.

Crimson eyes blazed with manic glee, his smile stretching too wide.

"It’s so... exhilarating!"