SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 515: What the Directors Saw

Above the hunting grounds, the floating projections continuously changed, each light panel displaying a unique part of the test zone. Forests, shattered ridges, the lake, vast barren plains. Students dotted every area, some battling in teams, some hauling selected prey, others discovering the hard way that desire didn't match skill. Out of all these scenes, one suddenly captured the complete focus of the four directors.

Bartholomew loomed over the serpent's dead body, his chest rising and falling heavily, uniform ripped, one hand shaking from the power of that last blow. Nearby, Trafalgar stayed apart, composed, unscathed, without ever stepping in.

Selara pushed up her glasses, a smile already tugging at her mouth. "He killed it."

Kaelen offered a slight nod, his stance steady, but the praise in his tone clear. "Yes. That was a very good performance. Better than anyone here expected."

The serpent Bartholomew had felled wasn't some common foe. It was Pulse Rank, matching his own level, yet near Flow, so most students like him would require a team for a safe takedown. He'd managed it solo.

That was no small thing.

Eryndor emitted a deep hum, arms crossed over his chest, his massive build holding its usual solidity even as he merely observed. "The timid one did better than most of them would."

Althea stayed silent. Her focus had shifted to a different projection.

Selara spotted it right away and traced her gaze. Xavier appeared there, by the lake, spear gripped, advancing with confidence few first-years could pretend. Next to him battled an Echo mimicking his elder brother, weaker than the real one naturally, but similar enough in form and moves to be unmistakable. They coordinated along the water's edge, avoiding the depths, aiming to lure something out. Xavier jabbed the surface, shifted position, provoked action, then pulled back slightly to force the beast from the water where he could finish it right.

Selara’s smile turned gentler, more playful than mocking. "How is your son doing, Althea?"

Althea locked her eyes on Xavier. Her reply stayed in her typical cool voice. "Well enough. I suppose he also wants to leave a good impression after what Trafalgar is doing, he likes to compete with him."

Eryndor eyed Xavier’s projection a bit longer before commenting. "Hm. He is not bad. Your son is a capable fighter, Althea." A brief pause came next, his lip twitching in the barest smirk. "Though honestly, he still has a long way to go before he reaches higher levels. Especially compared to..."

"Trafalgar?" Kaelen completed for him.

Eryndor tilted his head slowly. "If you want."

Kaelen fixed him with icy eyes that briefly wiped the grin from Selara. "I heard what you did, Eryndor. It could have been interpreted as an attempt to kill an heir from one of the Eight Great Families."

Eryndor snorted dismissively. "Oh, come on. Do you really think they would have done anything? The boy is intact. I did not even use a skill. It was pure strength, and he took it well." He lifted one shoulder. "What happened to part of the Academy was collateral."

Althea regarded him quietly.

Kaelen did the same.

Selara as well.

Eryndor tsked his tongue. "You three are dramatic."

Selara chose to ignore that, raising a hand to another projection. "You are all staring at Trafalgar as if he is the only one who has exceeded expectations." Her tone held its familiar cheer, yet carried a sharper intent beneath. "Do you really think he is the only first year who has grown that much?"

Eryndor glanced where she pointed. "Who are you talking about?"

The view switched to Alfons au Vaelion.

He positioned himself solo on a wrecked barren plain, robes pristine, face set in haughty calm. Dozens of mana orbs floated in the sky nearby, each packed tight, glowing fiercely, remarkably steady for a seventeen-year-old. They circled him in flawless array before unleashing a destructive volley. The blasts hit the encircling monsters from all sides, shredding flesh, cracking ground, and emptying the area around him. Alfons hardly stirred amid it all.

Kaelen’s look grew keener. "Alfons au Vaelion... yes. His magic is impressive for his age. His family is hiding his true talent."

Selara faced him with evident astonishment. "Eh? Hiding what? His talent is common knowledge to all."

Kaelen shook his head briefly. "No. The Vaelion family hides its true depth. Just like the Morgains concealed Trafalgar's." His eyes remained glued to the projection. "The technique he's wielding now is beyond what any seventeen-year-old should unleash so soon. Unless deeper secrets lurk beyond what they've revealed."

Althea nodded slightly. "That's clear enough."

Nearby, another projection flickered into view, showing Zafira standing solo in the wasteland. She confronted a grotesque beast, a nightmarish blend of scorpion and assorted horrors sewn together by cruelty and ugliness. Covered in chitin, armed with claws, boasting excess limbs, and topped by a hefty tail that overwhelmed most freshmen. Still, Zafira stayed utterly calm, as if the monster already bored her.

Eryndor exhaled sharply from his nostrils. "Looks like the freshmen trials will spark fiercer competition this time around."

Selara's eyes sparkled with excitement. "That just amps up the thrill."

Far beneath their perch, Bartholomew remained oblivious to it all.

He'd at last steadied his breathing, no longer gasping like a man on death's door. The serpent's massive, hideous corpse sprawled behind him, its shattered stone plating caked in soil, gore, and shattered mana remnants. Trafalgar lingered close, eyeing the carcass once before fixing his gaze back on Barth.

"I'd say that wraps up your test," Trafalgar remarked. "You're finished here."

Bartholomew nodded, his face caught midway between shock and fatigue. "Y-yes." He gulped, then met Trafalgar's eyes squarely. "Thanks, Trafalgar. You gave me the courage to even challenge that beast." His grip clenched on the bow. "I need to head out..."

Trafalgar shrugged casually. "No sweat. I won't get lonely. I'll manage." A subtle grin curved his lips. "I've still got my own to slay, so no concerns for me."

That drew a faint, genuine chuckle from Bartholomew, fragile yet authentic. He readjusted his hold on the bow, shot one last glance at the serpent to confirm its demise, then nodded farewell to Trafalgar before departing.

Trafalgar observed his retreat for a moment.

Barth's gait wobbled initially, his frame aching from battle, yet a newfound poise marked his posture now.

Trafalgar pivoted and pressed onward solo.

The woodland transformed gradually as he advanced. Dryness hit the air first. The scent of damp wood and fertile soil faded, giving way to stifling stone warmth and arid earth flavor. Trees grew sparse with naked limbs, trunks ghostly and frail, roots desperately gripping barren dirt. Sand intruded in spots, starting narrow then widening to fracture the forest's form.

He strode forward undeterred.

This was precisely his goal.

Such a border area promised sparser crowds and tougher foes. Most stuck to the dense woods or lakeside comforts. The sands drew bolder souls.

Once the final skeletal trees vanished behind, the expanse unfolded fully.

The pocket desert stretched before him.

Breezes now bore scorching gusts over moisture. Sand swirled in restless veils across the surface. Jagged rocks jutted like sun-bleached relics from the void. Though compact compared to vast wastes, it radiated severity surpassing the woods he'd abandoned.

Trafalgar halted at its brink, scanning the landscape.

Finally.

Here lay his sought-after ground.