Re: From Elf Mage to Overlord Slayer-Chapter 26: The Gate of Echoes

Chapter 26: The Gate of Echoes
I stepped through the portal thingy.
My shadow titan buddy melted back into the shadows at my feet, a quiet little hum that only I could feel.
The two guards, the Sentinels, clomped down the stairs after me.
This staircase was designed to make you feel like crap—carved from the same black rock as the school up top, with glowing silver runes that pulsed like a slow, creepy heartbeat.
It felt less like a school and more like some high-tech dungeon.
The stairs finally opened up into this huge, church-like room.
You couldn’t even see the ceiling, it was so dark.
The floor was a giant circle made of more glowing runes.
Dozens of other newbies were scattered around, all wearing the same boring black training clothes.
They all stood around in little groups, looking tense and sizing everyone up.
This wasn’t a welcome party.
It was a shark tank, and I was the fresh meat.
My "Aura of Fear" skill was making the air all staticky, and it worked like bug spray.
Heads turned when I walked in.
People stopped talking.
A big empty space opened up around me as everyone shuffled away, looking at me with a mix of "who’s this guy?" and "I don’t trust him."
They could feel something was off about me, but they had no idea what it was.
The Sentinels walked me to the middle of the big rune circle, where a giant crystal pillar was floating in the air.
It was pure white and hummed with this low power that made my teeth hurt.
"The Anvil," the first guard said, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else.
"It will assess your potential and assign your rank."
"It measures the stability of your soul, the purity of your will, and the raw output of your controlled energy."
"Place your hand upon it."
Controlled energy.
The system’s warning popped into my head.
You won with a meltdown, not skill. You are a weapon that will misfire.
So this was the test.
Not how strong I was, but how much I could hold it back.
If I let out that raw, crazy power that flattened Kazuki, this place would either think I was a god or a bomb they needed to get rid of.
Both of those sounded like a huge pain in the ass.
Secrecy is good.
Making people underestimate you is even better.
My goal was simple: learn the good stuff, get really good at it, and then go hunting.
I didn’t need to be the top student in this school.
I just needed to be the deadliest one when I left.
I put my hand on the crystal.
It was smooth and cold.
The Anvil lit up with a blinding white light, and this wave of energy washed over me, like a deep scan that was trying to read my diary.
It went right past the crazy berserker rage I was hiding and only focused on the cold, disciplined power I had on a leash.
The power of a Slayer, not the broken guy underneath.
After forever, the light finally faded.
Three glowing silver runes appeared in the air over the crystal.
<INITIATE RANK: 3>
A low grumble went through the room.
It wasn’t a gasp of awe.
It was more like a big, collective sigh of disappointment, followed by a bunch of quiet little laughs.
Level 3.
In the pecking order of this place, that was basically a failing grade.
It was the rank for a newbie with a little potential, but no skill.
Cannon fodder.
The two Sentinels, the same guys who saw me make a scene at the gate, just stared at the number.
Their whole attitude shifted from "let’s be careful around this guy" to "what a loser."
"All that pressure... for a Level 3?" the first guard said, his robot voice dripping with sarcasm.
"The Anvil doesn’t lie."
"Your little show at the gate must have been a fluke."
"A one-time surge from a weak soul about to snap."
"A scream, not a war cry," the second guard added, his silver eye-slits narrowing.
"We get them sometimes."
"They burn bright for a second, then they shatter."
"You’ll be one of the first to wash out."
They turned their backs on me, completely uninterested now.
I wasn’t a cool, mysterious threat anymore.
I was just another piece of low-grade junk not even worth melting down.
Perfect.
As I stepped away from the Anvil, a new voice cut through the noise.
It was pretty and musical, but had an edge like steel.
"You’re the one who made the Sentinels flinch at the gate."
I turned around.
A girl was standing there, her arms crossed.
She was an elf, with hair the color of moonlight and sharp, sapphire-blue eyes.
Her black training clothes fit her perfectly, and she wore them like they were a royal uniform instead of cheap fabric.
I could see a faint golden shimmer on the seams—high-level enchanted gear.
Yep, she was a noble, for sure.
She’d been watching me, looking like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
She felt my power spike at the entrance, and she was smart enough to know it didn’t match the pathetic number floating over the Anvil.
I didn’t say anything.
I just gave her my best blank, emotionless mask.
She took a step closer, her sapphire eyes scanning me from head to toe.
"I am Seraphina."
"And you are...?"
"Quinn," I said, my voice totally flat.
Her eyes flicked up to where my rank had been, like she could still see the ghost of the number ’3’ in the air.
Her curious smile vanished, replaced by a perfect, delicate little sneer.
"Level 3?" she said, and the words just dripped with disappointment.
"How... utterly mundane."
"I must have been mistaken."
"I thought I sensed something of substance."
She uncrossed her arms and looked down her nose at me, her whole attitude flipping in a second.
"Listen to me, Level 3."
"This is the Forging Ground."
"Here, rank is everything."
"It dictates your training, your resources, and your chances of survival."
"It is the measure of your worth."
She waved a hand at the other newbies, who were now staying far away from me, not because they were scared, but because they didn’t want to be seen with a low-ranking loser.
"Some of us," she continued, her voice like a cat purring down at a mouse, "are destined to become blades worthy of slaying gods."
"We are the Level 7s, the 8s, the future of the Corps."
"Others..."
She paused, letting her eyes drift over me with fake pity.
"Others are just the slag to be discarded in the process."
My Slayer protocol just filed her words away as data.
Social hierarchy.
Arrogance.
Potential future pain in the ass.
My old pride didn’t even twitch.
This was all just a game, and she was just an NPC with a script.
"I will give you one piece of advice, out of pity," she said, leaning in a little.
"Know your place."
"Stay out of the way of your betters."
"Don’t speak to me again unless you are spoken to."
"And if you find yourself in a sparring match with me, forfeit immediately."
"It will be less embarrassing for you."
With that, she spun on her heel.
Her moonlight-colored hair fanned out in a perfect, snotty little arc, and she glided back to a group of other high-ranking players.
They all nodded at her respectfully, then glanced over at me with the same amused look before ignoring me completely.
I’d been here less than ten minutes.
And I’d already been tested, ranked, laughed at, and dismissed.
Some guy in a robe, probably a low-level instructor, showed up and motioned for me to follow him.
He led me out of the big room, through a bunch of plain black hallways, and into a tiny, empty room.
A simple cot, a small chest, and one glowing rune on the wall for light.
Welcome home.
The instructor left, and I sat on the edge of the cot.
The cold silence of the room closed in around me.
The System’s objective was clear: learn control.
Seraphina’s little speech just told me how I was going to do it.
Here, surrounded by arrogant, power-hungry killers, no one would look twice at a quiet, mediocre Level 3.
I could watch, learn how this place really works, and tame the storm inside me without anyone paying attention.
I closed my eyes.