Arthur staggered through the streets of Alorod, sweat streaking his face, muscles screaming with every movement. His body had become a battlefield of exhaustion and restriction. Every attempt to summon even a fraction of his cultivation was met with violent resistance, the Soulborne chains tightening around his mana core like living steel.
SYSTEM ALERT: Unauthorized cultivation detected. Misfit restraint reinforced.
Every breath burned. Every step felt twice as heavy, every strike of his fists slower and yet somehow harder to lift. The title conditions were merciless: growth reduced, experience cost doubled, mana pool halved. And yet, for every ounce of effort he poured in, the compensation bonuses—+1 Strength and +1 Speed per level—kept him moving, kept him alive, kept him searching.
Seven days. That's all he had. Seven days to find Rex—or lose everything he had cultivated.
Arthur had followed every lead he could find: the villages surrounding the academy city, traders who had seen a boy with familiar features, whispers in taverns. Each attempt drained him more than the last. The chains reacted instantly to his failure, punishing him with searing pain, forcing him to confront the weight of his past choices.
"Where… where are you, Rex?" he gasped, clutching his head as the shadows of the fallen pressed on him, echoing their pain, their fear, their betrayal. The SYSTEM pulsed like a heartbeat in his mind:
SYSTEM NOTICE: Sub-task incomplete. Failure imminent. Punitive feedback will escalate.
Day after day, Arthur pressed on. Each lead ended in a dead end, each inquiry a reminder that Rex had already been reincarnated and hidden from his reach. His body became weaker, yet the chains pulsed ever stronger, punishing not only his failure but the stubbornness with which he refused to accept his helplessness.
By the seventh day, Arthur collapsed on the outskirts of Alorod, chest heaving, blood mingling with sweat and dirt. His vision blurred, muscles trembling, and his core throbbed violently as the chains reacted to his utter exhaustion. He had given everything, yet it had never been enough.
SYSTEM ALERT: Sub-task failed. Soulborne punitive escalation initiated.
Arthur's knees hit the ground. Pain, frustration, and guilt surged through him like wildfire. The Misfit title did not merely restrict him—it amplified every failure, every hesitation, every choice he had ever made to run from responsibility.
He whispered hoarsely, voice shaking, "I… I can't fail… I won't… but… what now?"
The chains pulsed sharply, almost sentient, as if answering. The SYSTEM's mechanical voice echoed in his mind with icy clarity:
"Failure will be met with greater consequence. Mortality is a gift you squandered. Prepare for escalation, Misfit."
Meanwhile, back at the academy, news of Arthur's failure had reached the Headmaster. The Ascendant-tier cultivator's presence alone filled the council chamber with an oppressive weight, commanding silence. His piercing gaze fell upon the gathered instructors, who shifted nervously under his scrutiny.
"Arthur Frederick," the Headmaster's voice cut through the room like steel, calm yet absolute. "Your failure to complete what was demanded of you… cannot go unaddressed. You have squandered the academy's trust and brought dishonor to its name."
The instructors exchanged uneasy glances. None dared speak, for the Headmaster's reputation for precision and judgment was well known.
"Effective immediately," he continued, voice steady and chilling, "Arthur Frederick is expelled from the academy. All cultivation rights, privileges, and access to academy resources are revoked. Should he attempt to return, he will be considered a trespasser and subject to containment or further disciplinary action."
A murmur rippled through the council, but the Headmaster raised a hand, halting any argument. "This is not a decision made lightly. But the responsibility he failed to uphold… and the consequences of that failure… are too severe to ignore."
He paused, his gaze darkening. "Know this—if Arthur dies, if his body fails him in the outside world… his soul will face subjugation. Endless suffering. Punishment without reprieve. There will be no redemption for failure."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Even seasoned instructors felt a chill at the weight of his words. This was no ordinary expulsion; it was a warning, a grim reflection of the academy's standards—and the unseen forces Arthur had already provoked.
Outside, Arthur lay battered and humiliated, unaware of the formal decree. His body screamed in pain, but beneath it all, a spark of defiance remained. He had been crushed by the trial, punished by the chains, and yet… he still lived.
And somewhere in the shadows of his failure, a seed of determination took root.