Demonic Spirit Holy Body

The Dragon-Slaying Guard’s final selection had three trials:

Talent Assessment, Combat Trial, and Heart’s Trial.

I. TALENT ASSESSMENT
The cruelest test of all.

A candidate placed a hand on a runic crystal orb—

and their innate spiritual or magical potential would surge as a pillar of light:

White for Spirit,
Blue for Magic.
Fail to clear the red line?

Instant disqualification.

No second chances.

Talent was fixed—effort meant nothing here.

Amidst hundreds of hostile eyes,

Black pressed his palm to the orb.

Warm energy flooded his veins—

and a white pillar began its rise.

Good, he thought. My Spirit talent should suffice.

The light climbed—

90%… 95%…

—then stuttered just below the line.

GASP!

“HA! Told you he’s a fraud!”

“Backdoor scum! Can’t even clear the basics!”

Mockery rained down.

Even Leon and Land winced.

But Black frowned.

This isn’t right. My combat feats prove my talent—

Then—chaos.

The white pillar plummeted—

vanished completely!

Silence.

Then—blue light erupted!

A magic pillar surged—

only to stall at the same cursed line.

“What in the—?!”

The hall erupted in confusion.

But on the examiner’s bench—

a wizened old man shot to his feet,voice trembling:

“M-Magic-Spirit Saint Body!”

“WHAT?!”

The crowd froze.

Magic-Spirit Saint Body—

a million-to-one anomaly—

the same dual-affinity physique as Dragonheart Academy’s founding Dean!

Upstairs, Hawkins gaped.

“No way!”

Rosie whispered: “Rarer than a dragon’s tear…”

Only Noa remained serene,

sipping tea like she’d expected this.

Rosie turned to her:

“My Lord—you knew?!”

Noa turned a page.

“I investigated him.

When he summoned a dragon as a Mid-Tier… I suspected.”

Below, the old examiner shouted orders:

“Bring the Dual-Energy Crystal!”

Black placed both hands on the new orb—

and unleashed his full power.

BOOOOM!

A golden pillar detonated from the orb—

shattering records:

Cleared the line—
Blew past Mid-Tier—
Obliterated High-Tier—
Crushed Peak-Tier—
—and STOPPED a hair below the absolute cap!

The orb cracked from the sheer force.

Silence.

Then—chaos.

“HE’S A MONSTER!”

“LEGENDARY TALENT!”

Even Noa’s eyes widened.

Romain Horn, of the Imperial Magic Academy , rushed forward,beard quivering:

“Join my Academy! I’ll make you Archmage!”

Black shook his head.

“I’m here for a dukedom—earned through this trial.”

The crowd gasped.

He refuses him!

But Horn laughed, thrilled:

“A DUKE?! You’ll have it!”

Black’s talent had shattered expectations.

II. COMBAT TRIAL
The golden afterglow faded.

Black stepped into the second trial’s arena—

a circular pit of black stone.

No frills. No tricks.

Just pure combat.

Before him stood three adversaries:

A Level 45 Warrior—armor gleaming, greatsword resting on his shoulder.
A Level 45 Assassin—shadows clinging to his form, twin daggers glinting.
A Level 45 Mage—staff crackling with violet lightning.
All elite. All lethal.

The examiner’s voice boomed:

“Defeat them. Survive. Pass.”

Black cracked his knuckles.

Let’s see what the Guard’s “final test” really is.

He drew the Overlord Spear—

and smiled.

Game on.