The crowd gathering in the distance immediately grew restless.

"It's about to start!"

"Those guards… They're no ordinary people! They're high-level senior students!"

Argh!

Even though they were standing far away, several students clutched their heads in pain. The pressure in the air was suffocating. The guards' murderous aura was so intense it made them nauseous. If it felt that unbearable from a distance, what more for Eman, who stood right in front of them?

"That guy's dead meat!"

"No one can survive that kind of killing intent at point-blank range!"

Eman stood perfectly still, unmoving. Seeing this, the corners of the guards' mouths curled into mocking grins.

"Hah! Did he just faint standing up?"

"This bastard dropped unconscious in less than a second!"

HAHAHAHA!

They burst into laughter, holding their stomachs as they pointed at him with ridicule.

But then—Eman's shoulders began to tremble. A moment later, a low chuckle escaped his lips.

"—Pfft. Hahaha."

He slowly lifted his head, a faint smirk forming on his face.

"Kidding."

The guards' expressions froze in disbelief before twisting into furious red.

"You bastard! How dare you toy with us! And how are you still fine after that?!" One of them shouted angrily.

Eman shrugged lightly. "Relax. I didn't come here to stir up trouble."

Unbeknownst to them, the murderous aura directed at him had never posed any real threat. He had faced killing intent far more terrifying not too long ago. Compared to that, this was nothing but a passing breeze.

With a slight upward curve on his lips, he looked straight at the tall guard in the middle.

"So… aren't you going to let me in?"

The guards widened their eyes in shock. Not only was Eman completely unaffected by their pressure, but he also remained calm and composed. It was unthinkable.

Most people who were subjected to that kind of killing intent would tremble in fear—or worse, faint on the spot. Some even lost control of their bladder.

Yet this guy stood there, unfazed, as if it was nothing.

'How is this possible?!' The tall guard's mind reeled in disbelief. Even the onlookers from afar murmured in astonishment.

"He's… fine?"

"No way. What kind of trick is that?"

The tall guard clenched his fists and shouted, "Who do you think you are?! You think you're worthy to meet our leader?!"

This time, he didn't hold back.

"HAAAH!"

The ground trembled as his aura burst forth, green light surging around his arms. The spectators gasped—his power was real, overwhelming.

But before he could take a single step forward—

THUD!

His body suddenly went limp, crashing to the ground with a heavy sound.

Everyone froze in shock. Just moments ago, the tall guard had been radiating power, and now he was motionless, kneeling on the dirt.

"Is this… some kind of joke?" An onlooker whispered.

"Hey, man! What are you doing?" One of the guards asked, poking his side.

No response.

The tall guard's eyes were wide open, rolled back to white.

"H-He fainted?"

"No way… are you serious?!"

A stunned silence spread across the area, broken only by the rustle of wind.

In the next moment the guards turned on Eman with predatory glares, as if they could devour him whole. "You bastard! What did you do?!" One of them hissed.

"Huh? Did I do something?" Eman pointed at himself, feigning innocence.

"If you didn't, then why did he faint like that?" Another snapped.

"Why are you asking me? I'm not his doctor. Maybe he forgot to eat yesterday or this morning. Besides, I came alone as your leader wanted—so are you going to let me in?" Eman replied, cool and unbothered.

Furious, the guards bared their teeth and lunged forward. "Since you insist on entering—show us what you've got!"

"HAAAH!" Five of them bellowed in unison, summoning their magical auras as they charged.

Their intent was unmistakable: to end Eman's life.

However, before they could even touch a strand of his hair, the five guards collapsed one after another—dropping like flies.

"Ehhh?!"

The onlookers froze in confusion.

"What just happened?!"

"Did anyone see what Eman did?"

"Did he even do anything? I didn't see him move a finger!"

"Exactly! He didn't even blink!"

Whispers spread rapidly through the crowd. From what they could see, Eman hadn't moved an inch—he was simply standing there, calm and motionless—yet the guards had fallen as if struck by an invisible force.

"Could it be… they all forgot to eat breakfast too?" Someone said—whether he was serious or not only the person himself knew. Though, he didn't seem like he was joking.

But no one could agree with that. After all, these were Red Tyrant Clan guards they were talking about. Their resources and provisions were among the best in the Academy. But strangely enough, no one dared to disagree either.

Their attention slowly shifted back to Eman. Some of them suspected he had done something, yet it remained nothing more than a suspicion. No one had actually seen him move.

Eman swept his gaze around the area. "So… am I allowed to enter now?"

At his words, the remaining guards exchanged uneasy glances, clearly hesitant to answer. Most of them were still trying to make sense of what had happened to their fallen companions.

Before any of them could respond, a sudden metallic sound echoed from behind.

Kaching!

Everyone turned toward the gate—just in time to see it slowly opening.

"Yes, you may enter," a feminine voice rang out.

A young woman in a student uniform stood by the gate—it was she who had spoken and opened it.

Eman gave her a brief glance before stepping inside without a word.

As soon as he passed through, the gate closed behind him with the same heavy, metallic rattle.

Kaching.

After Eman stepped inside, the gate clanged shut behind him, leaving the outside world—and the startled murmurs of the crowd—behind. The remaining guards immediately rushed to lift their unconscious companions, their confused shouts fading as the gate sealed with a final metallic thud.

Inside, Eman was greeted by an unexpectedly vast courtyard. The air was thick with the scent of metal and sweat, a clear sign of constant training. The Red Tyrant Clan's grounds were far more expansive than he had imagined—a wide, manicured lawn stretched before him, surrounded by sleek stone walkways that led toward a towering building at the far end. Its red-and-black banners fluttered in the wind, proudly bearing the clan's crest—a roaring dragon encircled by flames.

Dozens of students filled the courtyard. Some were performing physical drills, running laps or striking wooden dummies wrapped in enchanted bindings. Others were engaged in heated duels, their weapons clashing with sparks and bursts of mana. The air rippled with energy every time their spells collided, shaking the ground beneath his feet.

Is this where they train? Eman wondered, his eyes narrowing slightly. No wonder they're called one of the top clans.

As he walked forward, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path, the lively atmosphere began to shift. One by one, the students halted their movements, sensing something unfamiliar. Conversations died mid-sentence. Weapons lowered.

When they finally noticed who had entered, silence rippled through the courtyard like a wave. Every gaze turned toward Eman—some curious, some hostile, others mocking.

The once-bustling training ground grew still. The air seemed to tighten, heavy with unspoken tension, as if the Red Tyrant Clan itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what this uninvited guest would do next.

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