SSS Rank: Strongest Beast Master

The two words hung in the air between them, heavy and unbelievable.

I made it.

Sergeant Seraph's face, which Jonah had thought was already as hard as it could get, somehow sharpened even further. The faint hint of intrigue in her eyes vanished, replaced by an intense, diamond-hard focus. She took a half-step closer, her presence suddenly filling the entire room.

"Made it?" she repeated, her voice low and dangerous. "Explain. Now."

Jonah's throat felt dry. This was it. He could keep his mouth shut and let her think he was lying, or he could tell the truth and pray she didn't think he was insane. He looked at the woman in front of him, stern-faced and not the type to bend saw a hint of something beyond skepticism: a demand for information. She wasn't judging him; she was analyzing him. Maybe, just maybe, she could understand.

"It's a process," Jonah began, his voice shaky but determined. "I call it Synthesis. I need two things. A foundation… a Genesis Core, my power calls it. Like the egg I used for Rook."

"And the second thing?" Seraph pressed, her eyes unblinking.

"Essences," Jonah said. "The… blueprint of a creature. I have to get it from them myself." He gestured vaguely toward the lush, green world of the Vivarium behind him. "This place… it's full of them."

Seraph's gaze followed his hand to the Vivarium, then snapped back to him. The logic, however insane, was there. A room full of life. A power that used life.

"A demonstration," she commanded. It wasn't a request. "Show me how you acquire an 'essence'."

Jonah nodded, turning to his private little ecosystem. His eyes scanned the mossy rocks and tiny streams. He spotted his target near the base of a miniature waterfall: a Moss-Shelled Turtle, no bigger than his palm. It was placidly chewing on a leaf, its shell looking like a perfect, green stone.

He moved slowly, his Cinderfall instincts for trapping small game kicking in. With a swift, practiced motion, He picked up the turtle, gently.

The creature retreated into its shell with a soft hiss.

"I have to… defeat it," Jonah explained, his voice dropping. He felt a bit of guilt, but this was a necessary sacrifice. He had to prove himself. Turning his back slightly to Seraph, he placed the turtle on a flat rock and, with a quick, decisive press of his thumb, ended its life. It was over in an instant.

The moment it was done, he felt the familiar, faint pull. A glow of green, earthy energy, invisible to the naked eye, flowed from the turtle and was absorbed into his body. The silent message appeared in his mind.

`[Moss-Shelled Turtle Essence x1 Acquired (Earth, Defense)]`

He turned back to Seraph. "I just acquired its essence. It's… stored now. In here." He tapped his temple. "In my Beast Space. It's like a mental workshop. That's where I combine the Genesis Core and the Essences to create something new."

He had laid all his cards on the table. He braced himself for disbelief, for laughter, for the call to the Academy's psych ward.

Instead, he was met with absolute silence.

Seraph didn't move. She didn't even seem to be breathing. She just stood there, her gray eyes fixed on a point in the distance, seeing something far beyond the walls of the small dorm room. Her mind, Jonah realized, was a terrifyingly fast machine, and he had just given it a new and impossible variable to compute. One second passed. Ten. Thirty. A full minute of suffocating silence stretched between them.

He could almost see the gears turning behind her eyes. Genesis Core… Essence… Synthesis… She wasn't processing it as magic. She was processing it as logistics. As a manufacturing process.

She was no longer looking at a Tamer-lite. She was looking at a one-man bio-weapon factory.

When she finally spoke, her voice was completely different. The scorn was gone. The curiosity was gone. All that remained was cold, hard, military precision.

"Forget combat training," she declared, her voice flat and absolute. "Your PT, your tactics classes, your history lessons, all of it is secondary. Your mission, as of this moment, is singular: Synthesis."

Jonah stared at her, dumbfounded.

"You have the essence of that moth you killed," she continued, already in planning mode. "And you have your hatchling. That's your homework. I want a new Progeny. A Grade-2. Combine your bird with the moth essence. I want a full, detailed report on the process – the mental cost to you, the incubation time, and a complete list of the new creature's abilities. It will be on my desk by 0800 tomorrow."

Jonah's head was spinning. "Tomorrow? But–"

"This is no longer about passing a first-year assessment," she cut him off, her gray eyes boring into him. "I am reporting this directly to the Headmaster. The strategic value of what you can do… it's incalculable. Custom-made beasts for any situation. Infiltration. Assassination. Deep reconnaissance. You are no longer just a student, Jonah."

She took a step toward the door, then paused, turning back to him one last time. Her expression was serious, a clear and undisguised warning.

"I will secure you any resources you need. More Cores, access to the high-grade beast pens, whatever. But in return, you will not speak of the specifics of your ability to anyone. Not to other students, not to other teachers. To no one. Is that clear?"

Jonah could only nod, his throat too tight to speak.

"As of now," Seraph said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, "your power is a state secret. And so are you."

With that, she turned on her heel and was gone, leaving Jonah standing alone in the quiet of his room, the weight of her words crashing down on him like a collapsed mine shaft. He was no longer a fraud. He was no longer a dud.

He was a weapon. And he had just been handed his first orders.