UNMEI: Pantheon's Game-Chapter 135: Titles

[ 3 Days Before the Trial Begins! ]

Whispers of anticipation swept through the city of Rendely.

In inns, taverns, and quiet streets, voices rose in hushed tones and urgent murmurs.

"They say the gates will open in three days... and the children of Bloodrose will walk through them," an old soldier muttered to his companion over a mug of ale.

"I don't know how I feel about it," another said. "Some of them are barely sixteen. What kind of king lets his future be gambled in a place like that?"

Another voice chimed in near the window of the bar. "You mean King Aramir? Letting Atlas and Azrael join the trial? That's insanity. They're Ceresey and Rodeny, too valuable to lose!"

The room fell into a brief, uneasy silence. Someone finally replied, "Maybe that's the point. If even the brightest stars risk their lives, then the rest will follow with courage."

A cloaked woman nearby gave a cold chuckle. "Or they'll die with honor. Either way, Rendely will get its entertainment."

The entire city was holding its breath. The Trial was coming, and not everyone would come back.

Bloodrose Academy - Morning Class

Inside the Academy's marble halls, tension simmered beneath the surface. The elite class sat straight-backed as Head Instructor Ramires stood at the front, his sharp eyes passing over them like a hawk watching prey.

Dune sat near the middle of the room, eyes half-lidded, legs aching, mind clouded by exhaustion.

The last few days have been hell, he thought. Training from dawn till dusk. Theory tests. Neba manipulation. Weapon sparring. I can barely feel my fingers.

In just three days, he and the rest would cross the line into full Neba Mastery. Then, no matter their background, they'd be sent into the Trial. Into whatever mystery or horror waited on the other side.

"Ember Rose... A New Threat."

Ramires broke the silence with a loud clap of his hands.

"Alright," he began. "Let's address something before we continue with your final prep. Many of you have heard the rumors. A rogue figure within Rendely's borders, named Ember Rose. Kills swiftly. Moves without being tracked. Wears red and black. Wields red Neba... or Zeten."

The class erupted into whispers.

"He's real?"

"I thought it was just a rumor."

"Why hasn't he been stopped?"

"Could he sneak into the Trial?"

Ramires raised a hand. Silence returned.

"She is a concern. And the Academy is in contact with the castle over containment. But that's not today's lesson. Today, we talk about Titles."

Ramires turned back toward the class, his expression darkening as he mentioned the name again.

"Ember Rose... it's a problematic title."

He folded his hands behind his back, pacing slowly.

"That's why the castle, and this Academy, are keeping it quiet. The less people know, the better. Because mystery fuels fear... and fear fuels power."

He stopped, letting the weight of his words settle.

"People are afraid of the unknown. When they don't understand something, their minds create monsters worse than reality. And that's exactly what's happening with Ember Rose. The longer she remains in the shadows, the more powerful she becomes, not from strength, but from belief."

He turned sharply to face the students.

"That's why we must contain it. Quietly. Swiftly. No spectacle. No panic. If Ember Rose continues to rise in the minds of the people... she'll become unstoppable, not because of what she is, but because of what we think she is."

Silence followed. Even the loudest students didn't dare interrupt. That's why titles are dangerous.

"Titles Make or Break You."

"You will all receive your first title after the Trial," Ramires continued, pacing in front of the glowing crystal board behind him. "These are not just names. They carry weight. They define your future."

He tapped the board, revealing glowing examples:

"Blade Saint." "Storm Reaper." "Whisper of Plague." "False prophet."

"Titles are shaped by perception. The way people see you, their fear, respect, admiration, it all molds your power."

He looked each student in the eye.

"Fear is power. If your Title is The Reaper, and the world believes you can end lives with a blink, your Neba will adapt, enhance and evolve."

The class sat still, listening.

"That's why some Neba users chase fame. Recognition. Chaos. Because the stronger your Title's reputation, the more it enhances your abilities."

"But," Ramires said, pausing, "there are limits."

"After the Trial, your Title will be judged. If your nature, is deemed dangerous to Rendely or its people, your Title will be removed."

A collective gasp broke out.

"Removed? But—"

"Yes," Ramires nodded solemnly. "Stripped. By a special Crowned Neba user... Serena. Known as Soul's Mirror. She sees everything inside you."

Hazel Amellia at the back rised a hand. "That's not fair! Why send us in the trials and get a Title just to take it away after? It's not like we decide what title to take."

"It's not about fairness," Ramires replied. "It's about direction. Titles are mirrors. If what they reflect threatens the innocent, then the mirror must break."

He sighed, softer this time. "That's why your path matters. Your choices. Be remembered for the right reason, and your Title will carry you to the heavens. But stray too far, and it will become your chain."

Silence returned to the classroom. Only the distant toll of a Rendely bell echoed through the windows.

Dune closed his eyes. A Title, huh?

He couldn't help but wonder: What would his become? What would the world see in him?

And if they saw something dangerous...

Would he let them take it?

Two more days passed in a blur of pressure and silence.

Dune sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, eyes closed, hand resting on the core in front of him. It shimmered faintly, pulsing with green light, his final Neba core.

He exhaled slowly, and as he absorbed it, a rush of warmth traveled through his veins like fire chasing breath. Numbers surged in his mind.

[ Green Neba: 10% ]

It was done.

When he opened his eyes, the world felt quieter, and heavier. He wasn't alone. Hundreds of others across Bloodrose Academy were doing the same, their final cores drawn in, Neba reaching the final threshold.

From Class D to Class S, more than a hundred students had made it. Some fell to their knees in joy. Others shouted, cheering with friends. And a few stood silent like Dune, hearts pounding as reality set in.

Tomorrow, they would be forcefully transported.

No delay.

No choice.

No turning back.

The Trial was coming.

Ramires stood before them all in the academy's great hall, voice calm, but firm.

"You've done it," he said. "Each of you has crossed the threshold. Ten percent."

He paused, his eyes scanning the crowd, pride in some, worry in others.

"In twenty-four hours, you will leave this world behind. Not for long... but long enough that nothing will ever be the same again. The Trial is a place where Neba shapes itself to who you are. You will suffer. You will fight. And some of you—" he swallowed the words gently, "—some of you will not return."

A silence stretched.

"So go," Ramires said, louder now. "Say your goodbyes. To your friends, to your families. And come back tomorrow ready to leave the real world behind..."

He pointed to his chest.

"...and enter the war for your survival."

A wave of emotion passed through the students. Cheers broke out. Some hugged. Some cried. Dune didn't move. He felt it in his chest, the truth of what was coming.

It wasn't excitement.

It wasn't fear.

It was something else.

I'm ready.