Why is Background Character the Strongest Now?

Renji leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. "This is about the dungeon exam, isn't it?"

Ezra's tone was steady, confident. "Yes. You haven't been inside one before—same as us when we started. But I can guarantee your safety. The test's in a week."

Renji raised an eyebrow. "Is it really okay? I mean… what if I slow you down?"

"You've trained with us for a month," Ezra said with a faint smirk. "You'll manage. Trust me."

Renji gave a short nod.

Ezra turned to Xavier. "Go register us. Leader—me. Members—Dravis, you, and Renji."

Xavier left without a word.

Renji hesitated, then leaned forward. "About that mana core I mentioned… I told my father. He sent elite hunters to check. Nothing."

Ezra's gaze sharpened, voice dropping an octave. "Don't worry. I'll handle it. But we stick to our deal—fifty percent yours, fifty percent mine."

Renji nodded.

Ezra's expression shifted, his words slower now. "Renji… have you heard of the collapsed Rift in Silvermist Valley?"

Renji frowned. "The one cleared out years ago? There's nothing left."

"That's what they think." Ezra leaned in slightly. "The collapse didn't destroy everything. It left behind compressed mana pockets—unstable, dangerous. Most hunters avoid them because they can't detect what's inside. But in those pockets… rare arcane fragments form. I know how to find them."

Renji smirked faintly. "So you harvest and sell them at a high price?"

Ezra shook his head. "No. We collect, store, and release them slowly into the market. Just enough to stir demand, never enough to satisfy it. Prices rise naturally."

Renji nodded. "A monopoly without the label."

Ezra's smile deepened. "That's only the first layer. Those fragments? They're critical for refining mana filtration gear. Without them, deep-dungeon runs become suicide. If we control the supply, we decide which guilds can equip themselves to survive… and which can't."

Renji's smirk froze for a second, then widened. "You're playing a dangerous game."

Ezra's eyes gleamed. "The best kind. We'll selectively sell to certain guilds—those tied to the exam's grading committee. They'll think they're getting a deal, but what I'm really buying is their loyalty… and information."

Renji leaned back, impressed. This guy's not just making money—he's controlling the board.

Ezra didn't stop. "And if anyone tries to bypass us? We flood the market, crash the price, ruin their investment, and then… vanish the supply. They'll come crawling back."

Renji chuckled. "This is going to be fun."

Ezra's gaze flicked briefly to the side, almost as if looking at something only he could see. Funds for the force I'll need. Safe guild allies. Control over dungeon access. All necessary before the war no one else knew was coming.

When he looked back, that faint, unreadable smile returned—the kind that made you wonder if you'd just heard the whole truth, or only the part he wanted you to know.

—————————-

Etherlight School of Awakeners – Grand Auditorium

The Grand Auditorium of Etherlight School of Awakeners was built to impress—and intimidate. Rows upon rows of polished obsidian seats curved around a vast central stage, rising in tiers like an ancient coliseum. Arched glass panels overhead revealed the dusky skyline of Ethrendale, the faint hum of mana conduits running through them like glowing veins. Floating crystal orbs drifted above, casting a soft golden light that shimmered against the high, mural-painted ceiling depicting legendary awakeners battling titanic beasts.

The air carried the faint scent of enchanted wood polish and ozone from the mana channels embedded in the walls. Students filled the seats in a slow, noisy wave—chattering voices, hurried footsteps, the occasional spark of magic flaring from impatient fingers.

Then she walked in.

Professor Yumina moved with an elegance that silenced the crowd—not instantly, but gradually, like a tide pulling away from the shore. Her long, dark-violet robes flowed behind her, embroidered with silver runes that pulsed faintly as if breathing. Her presence was not loud, but commanding, the kind of grace that made people sit straighter without realizing it.

Stepping onto the center of the stage, she raised a hand toward the floating podium. With a small gesture, mana surged around her fingers, and the runes on the podium glowed. When she spoke, her voice carried clearly to every corner of the vast space, amplified by mana resonance rather than mechanical speakers.

"Students," she began, her tone both warm and sharp, "your Dungeon Raid Exam will begin in exactly one week. As you have already been informed, teams should be formed in advance. Those without a team will be automatically assigned by the school."

There was the usual rustle of movement—students leaning over to whisper to their friends, some still scribbling in notebooks, others glancing at rival groups across the rows.

Yumina's eyes swept the hall like a blade. "However," she said, pausing deliberately, "this year will be different."

That got their attention. The auditorium stilled—no more scattered whispers, no idle mana sparks. Every gaze was on her.

"The school will not assign you a specific dungeon."

A collective gasp echoed through the room. Even the older students, who had thought they'd seen it all, exchanged stunned looks.

Marcus, seated near the center, frowned and stood, using mana to amplify his own voice so it carried. "Why? This has never been the case before."

Professor Yumina's lips curved in a knowing smile. "Because this year is unlike any other. Many of you are exceptionally talented—more so than previous batches. The council has decided that your growth should not be limited by a pre-selected challenge. You will have the freedom to choose your dungeon."

Excited murmurs broke out across the auditorium—some thrilled by the prospect, others already looking nervous.

"But," Yumina's voice cut sharply through the noise, "freedom does not mean recklessness. Choose wisely. If you select a dungeon far below your strength, your score will be heavily penalized. If you choose one far above it… what happens to you inside is not our concern. No protectors will be assigned. This will be your responsibility, and yours alone."

Her gaze swept across the faces before her.

Daelen leaned back in his seat, brows raised. "Well… that's one way to separate the reckless from the dead."

Beside him, Lyria narrowed her eyes in thought, tapping her chin. "Or the ambitious from the brilliant."

Dravis didn't say a word, his expression unreadable, arms crossed.

Evelyne, sitting two rows down, muttered under her breath, "So basically… we're gladiators with homework."

But all of them turned their heads slightly when they noticed one person's reaction—or lack thereof.

Ezra sat still. No change in his expression, no spark of excitement or worry in his eyes. He looked almost bored, but in truth, his thoughts were sharp and focused. Now I can follow my plan without interference.

Professor Yumina continued, "As I said, submit the dungeon you wish to enter. We will record your choice. No one is allowed to select a dungeon that has already been cleared. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the students answered in unison, voices ringing through the vast space.

"Good." She gave a small nod, then, without another word, stepped back from the podium. A ripple of mana surrounded her, and in a blink, her figure dissolved into shimmering motes of light.

The moment she vanished, the auditorium erupted into a wave of chatter, footsteps, and bursts of laughter and argument. Students scrambled to meet with their teams, debating strategies, bragging about their choices, and in some cases, panicking.

⸻

After the Assembly

Daelen, Lyria, Evelyne, and Marcus had claimed a corner near the west exit, the hum of conversations around them blending into a constant background buzz.

"Alright," Daelen said, leaning against the wall, "I'm calling it now—half the idiots here are going to pick something way above their level just to look cool, and we'll be hearing their names on the memorial wall next week."

Lyria smirked. "That's optimistic. I give it three days."

Evelyne rolled her eyes. "You two are morbid."

"I'm realistic," Daelen shot back.

Marcus, arms crossed, glanced around. "So, what's everyone thinking for their dungeon pick?"

Before anyone could answer, Lyria's gaze slid to a familiar figure walking past. "Hey, Dravis!" she called out. "Did you select a team yet?"

Dravis paused mid-step and turned to them. "Yeah. I'm already in Ezra's team. We've also selected our dungeon."

Daelen's eyebrows rose. "Already? That was fast. Ezra's not one to waste time, huh?"

Dravis gave a faint smirk. "He's on his way right now to get permission."

Evelyne tilted her head. "Permission? Don't tell me you picked some ridiculously dangerous dungeon."

"It's not dangerous," Dravis replied casually. "We just… chose an unranked dungeon. So, yeah, you need clearance for that."

The words hit like a spark in dry tinder.

Marcus straightened. "What?"

Daelen leaned forward. "Wait, wait—unranked dungeon?"

Dravis nodded once. "Yes."

For a moment, all three of them just stared at him, as if waiting for him to say he was joking. But he didn't.

Evelyne blinked slowly. "…You know, usually when people pick those, it's either because they're crazy, desperate, or stupid."

"Or all three," Daelen muttered.

Dravis didn't rise to the bait. "We know what we're doing. Anyway—" he lifted a hand in a casual wave "—I'll see you guys later."

And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving the group exchanging looks that ranged from curiosity to disbelief.

——————————

Headmaster Lyssara sat behind her desk, golden spectacles glinting in the afternoon sun filtering through the tall windows. Across from her stood Ezra, arms crossed, his expression firm.

"For the last time, Ezra," Lyssara said slowly, "you are not taking a team into that dungeon. Do you understand what unranked means?"

Ezra's tone was steady. "I understand it's a dungeon whose rank couldn't be determined even with the Federation's latest scanning tech. Which is rare, considering it usually takes seconds to identify one. I also know several hunter teams went in before… and none returned."

"That's exactly my point." Lyssara's voice hardened. "Most suspect it's a high-tier dungeon, possibly Rank 6 or above. If anything happens to you or to Dravis you think the academy will survive the political storm that follows?"

Vice Principal Varian, standing to the side, spoke up. "It's not just politics. By Federation law, no more than four hunters can enter a dungeon at a time. That's to control population flow and because the death rate spikes if numbers are higher. Schools are not responsible for fatalities inside a dungeon."

He stepped closer, his tone grim. "If you destroy a dungeon core from outside, it collapses instantly. Only Rank 9 magicians can do that. If you can't, you go in blind. And in there… we can't help you."

Ezra met his gaze. "I'll bring my team back alive."

Rhovan frowned. "Promises are cheap. I want it recorded—on official terms—that if you die, the academy holds no responsibility."

Without hesitation, Ezra agreed. "Fine."

A crystal orb was brought out, its surface glowing faintly. Ezra spoke into it, leaving a calm, almost unnervingly confident message:

"This is Ezra Celestrian. I, of my own free will, choose to enter the unranked dungeon listed under ID-113. I acknowledge the academy is not responsible should I or my teammates fail to return."

The orb dimmed, storing the message permanently.

Lyssara exhaled slowly. "…You are a stubborn one, Ezra. If you were anyone else, I would've thrown you out of my office already."

He smirked faintly. "Good thing I'm not 'anyone else.'"

Varian lips tightened. "If you're going, make sure you do come back. Because if you don't, it won't be the dungeon I'll be hunting—it'll be your ghost."

Ezra simply turned toward the door. "I'll be back. Save that threat for someone who needs it."

As he left, the room felt heavier, as if the unranked dungeon's shadow had already crept into the academy.