Seventy Seventh Seven-Chapter 54: Fifth Test E. S. A. T.

"Fucker. You're still alive?"

Lythian knew well that Seven had seven lives because of the artifact, but a part of him had still hoped the bastard had used them all up somewhere.

That he had died, permanently, out of his sight.

But now, standing in the same place where he himself had ended up after the mirage village, he cursed under his breath as he looked at Seven.

"Tch."

"Aren't you happy to see your master alive and well?"

"...?!"

Seven's voice carried an irritating mix of sarcasm and seriousness. His mind was elsewhere, tangled with thoughts of the village, the mysterious girl, and the vision of the prison where the first trial had taken place in the novel.

He didn't know if he should be grateful for the end of the cycle, or if he should be afraid of what he had become in that endless loop.

He needed a distraction.

He needed to forget, even if only for a moment.

And right now, Lythian was the easiest target.

'Why is he here...?'

Seven's gaze darkened. By counting 177 777 seconds, and confirmed by the system that displayed the date for him, two days had passed in that illusion.

[Date: 6th Day of the First Season, Year 776.]

Meaning today should be the third day after the second test. That meant they should be at the fifth test by now.

'Potion brewing...'

A memory flashed in his mind—one of the original Seven botching the test so badly that the entire room exploded while he rambled to the stars.

But then his eyes caught sight of something.

A red ankle bracelet on Lythian's leg.

'Sixth test...?'

A hunting test.

The red bracelet was a tracking device. The purpose was if an applicant remained in one spot too long, it would alert the proctor that they were likely dead.

His gaze lingered on it for a moment longer.

Lythian sighed, following his eyes before casually pointing westward.

"The proctor's that way."

He didn't respond, just watched as Lythian turned and continued his hunt, disappearing into the dense trees.

***

Two hours ago, at the Academy, the applicants had been guided to their designated testing sites.

Everything had been in order.

At least until the last moment where the test was abruptly canceled due to a missing ingredient.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

Now, in her office, Vice Headmaster Cylinth sat with her legs kicked up on her desk, munching on Matsa-a flavored Sevyaki as she glared at a crumpled document in her hand.

"Crappy proctors..."

It was the proctor's responsibility to double-check materials, ingredients, and test logistics.

And yet, somehow, this had been overlooked.

"..."

Cylinth exhaled through her nose.

No.

Blaming the proctor was pointless.

The real responsibility fell on her especially now that she was the acting Headmaster in Magnus's absence.

And so, with no other choice, she had declared the sixth test to be the fifth, pushing the hunting exam forward in the schedule and sending the applicants into the eastern forest.

"Crappy position..."

She should have been traveling across the seven continents by now. As a peak Fifth Gate magician, she should have had privileges, opportunities.

...Just not in the Sixth Continent.

"If only not because of..."

Her fingers tightened around her chest as if grasping something only she could see. The past was a heavy thing.

She let out a slow breath, forcing herself back to the present. With one hand, she reached for a small crystal resting in the farthest corner of her desk.

Ring...

"Crappy old... I mean, M-M... Master, the Academy requests a cart of Vitalis pills."

Thud.

She slammed the crystal back down and shoved it as far away as possible before reaching into her drawer for another Sevyaki.

Her gaze shifted to the wall behind her, where various application forms were pinned.

Among them, one had a faint burn mark left by her disciple's magma needle recently.

Seven Hart's application form.

The applicant who had yet to show up for the test.

"And a crappy applicant."

***

Step.

Seven emerged from the dense forest, his tired eyes locking onto the proctor ahead. The man was massive, muscles coiled with power, a giant axe leaning beside him.

He sat comfortably in a makeshift throne crafted from wolf bones and skulls, eyes glued to a floating window displaying red dots which were the tracking system monitoring each applicant's location.

On his wrists, four brown bracelet-tattoos gleamed, marking him as a Fourth Gate aura user.

Tap.

The proctor waved his hand over one of the dots, summoning a small video feed that showed an applicant slicing through wolves with barely a flick of his hand.

Golden hair.

Golden eyes.

Golden sword.

The bastard who had breezed through every test so far.

The proctor clicked his tongue.

"What's the point of a hunting exam if they don't even break a sweat?"

His annoyance was clear, but it vanished the moment his gaze shifted to Seven.

Step.

Seven took another step forward, and the proctor frowned. His eyes flicked to the floating screen and found no corresponding dot.

'This is not an applicant.'

His fingers twitched toward his axe.

"Who are you?"

Seven reached into his pocket and pulled out his identification tag, marked with the number 777.

"Sorry. I'm late—"

"Buzz off. I don't buy tardiness."

"..."

He frowned. His stomach growled, loudly. Two days in the illusion without food had left him with barely enough energy to stand, let alone partake in the test.

A sound interrupted them.

A sharp scream.

The proctor's eyes snapped to the floating screen just as one of the red dots disappeared. He tapped the one specific dot and an applicant thrashed on the ground, blood pooling beneath them, claws and fangs tearing through flesh.

"...Howler?!"

The proctor shot to his feet, his axe gleaming as his aura flared.

'Impossible.'

Ever since he had taken up this post, the only threats in these forests were wolves. Howlers were extinct in the Seventh Continent. Instead, the Sixth was their domain.

"Stay here."

The proctor's voice commanded. His aura coated his body in a dense shield.

"If you're not here when I come back, you're dead. Applicant 777."

Dash.

The ground beneath him shattered as he launched forward, vanishing into the trees. The force obliterated his bone throne, leaving only dust in his wake.

Step.

Seven walked forward, glancing at the now-empty space. A pouch sat on a small table beside the wreckage. He picked it up and checked the contents: apples, dried fruits, and a few other small rations.

No meat.

He leaned against the table. His fingers brushed over each fruit until they landed on an apple. His stomach twisted at the memory of his first day in the Academy's clinic, the bitter taste of apples from back then.

With a groan, he put it back.

"Fudge."

His gaze drifted to the forest.

"Vegetarians exist in every world, huh?"