Chapter 518: Rare A grade Potential

“Next is you,” the red-robed old man said, pointing calmly at a tall young man with silver streaks running through his black hair. The chosen youth stepped forward with quiet confidence, his eyes calm but sharp like unsheathed blades.

“I’m Alaric Vane, of the Crimson Star Lineage,” he introduced, his voice measured, almost regal in tone.

Without hesitation, he walked to the Ancient Dragon Scroll and stood before it, exhaling softly. As he locked eyes with the image of the dragon embedded within the ink, the temperature around him subtly rose.

His aura sharpened, and almost immediately, the first black orb emerged, then the second, then a third in rapid succession. The crowd’s murmur quieted as the orbs continued to appear without pause—four… five… six… seven…

Alaric’s face remained unmoved, his eyes glowing faintly as if he were seeing something others couldn’t. Eight… nine… ten… the orbs hovered around him in a perfect circle, pulsing with increasing brilliance.

When the eleventh appeared, a soft gasp rippled through the hall.

But it didn’t stop.

A twelfth orb emerged, slower than the others but clear and steady. And only after that did the scroll release a deep thrum of rejection, sending a shockwave that forced Alaric several steps back.

“Twelve origin strands in just twelve minutes,” the old man evaluated, his tone more respectful than before. “B-grade potential. Impressive.”

Whispers stirred as Alaric nodded silently and returned to his place, his gaze impassive but the corner of his lips curving ever so slightly.

“Next,” the old man said, gesturing to a girl with emerald eyes and short brown hair. She stepped forward with a faint smile, unbothered by the crowd’s attention.

“Selene Faye. From the Irondust Star,” she announced, her voice bright.

As she stood before the scroll, the atmosphere shifted again—this time gentler, more fluid. Her energy didn’t surge like a blade—it flowed like molten silk. The dragon’s eyes on the scroll seemed to flicker for a brief second, as if recognizing her.

The first orb appeared in less than three breaths. Then the second. The third followed soon after, slower, but glowing brighter. As Selene stood unmoving, the air around her glimmered with a faint, flame-touched shimmer.

Five… six… seven…

She lasted fifteen minutes before the scroll ejected her softly, like a flame receding rather than being extinguished.

“Seven origin strands in fifteen minutes. D-grade potential. Below average,” the old man said with a light disappointment tone.

Selene smiled wryly and returned to her spot with a flustered face.

The testing continued as more stepped forward.

Kael Thornwright, a fiery youth with wild red hair and a storm-like presence, stepped forward with bold confidence. He drew ten strands of Black Dragon origin source in thirteen minutes, earning a solid B+ grade for his vigorous yet steady comprehension.

Nyra Vale, quiet and enigmatic beneath a black flame-threaded cloak, surprised many with her intense focus and graceful stillness, managing to draw fifteen strands in sixteen minutes, securing herself an A-grade and drawing admiration from her peers.

“Her potential is A grade…!”

“Yeah and she is from the mortal realms.”

“She truly is a genius!”

“From what have I heard, very few from mortal realm geniuses are there someone who were tested with A grade potential… She is a rare genius!”

The mortal realm geniuses were all amazed by her. After all to given a potential of A rank despite being from mortal realms was the mark of a true genius.

‘Hmm… Her bloodline is also a Source Bloodline but its slightly different.’ Max noticed glancing at her.

The evaluations continued as others went on to face the Ancient Dragon Scroll.

Draven Lux, the brooding heir of the Obsidian Horn Clan, exuded a powerful aura but lacked refined insight. He managed only five strands in ten minutes, evaluated at D grade, his raw strength clearly not enough to impress the scroll.

Thorne Eldwyn, loud and full of pride, crumbled quickly under the pressure, being thrown back after nine minutes with only four strands, resulting in a disappointing D- grade.

Like that, one after another, more young elites stepped forward to test their comprehension before the Ancient Dragon Scroll. The fiery anticipation that had filled the air earlier slowly mellowed into quiet discussion and comparative whispers.

Most of the geniuses—though undeniably talented—only managed B or B+ grade evaluations. While these results were nothing to scoff at in the mortal realms, A-grade assessments remained rare and elusive, the mark of exceptional comprehension and innate compatibility with the Laws.

Among all the mortal geniuses present, only a scarce few had touched that standard, and each time they did, murmurs spread like wildfire.

The red-robed old man, expression unmoved, continued calling names at random. He showed no favoritism, no impatience—just a cold, systematic tone that made the pressure even heavier. But after dozens of evaluations, his gaze shifted sideways toward the corner of the hall, where a small, elite group stood detached from the rest.

These were the Divine Realm geniuses—their posture proud, their expressions cold, and their silence haughtier than any words could be. They hadn’t mingled, hadn’t spoken, and hadn’t so much as glanced at the results of the others.

The old man’s brows twitched. ‘Tch… They really send their “disappointments” from the Divine Realm to the mortal realms? Do they think going their trial in the mortal realm will ignite their talent? Pathetic,’ he thought with undisguised disdain, but he said nothing aloud.

Instead, he raised a hand and pointed. “You. Step forward.”

From the group, a tall youth stepped out. He had pale violet eyes and wore a robe with star-patterned embroidery that shimmered subtly when he moved. His name was Zeran Nightvale.

Zeran walked forward without speaking, stopping before the Ancient Dragon Scroll with calm indifference. But as he stood there, the air around him tightened. Without even actively releasing his aura, the temperature began to rise.

The first orb of black origin source emerged just five seconds after he started. Then the second. Third. Fourth… the speed was unlike anything seen so far. By the eighth orb, the entire scroll pulsed faintly as if reacting to a familiar rhythm.

The orbs spiraled around Zeran’s body like planets orbiting a star. Eleven orbs appeared in just under ten minutes, and finally, after drawing a seventeenth, the scroll rejected him with a wave of heat.

The old man’s eyes gleamed with the faintest hint of approval. “Seventeen strands in ten minutes. A+ grade potential. Steady, refined, and exceptional comprehension.”

Zeran nodded silently and returned to his group without acknowledging the murmurs or the attention he drew.

Then, another stepped forward—Iris Caelum, a girl with glistening silver hair and serene blue eyes, her movements graceful and almost unreal. Her steps made no sound as if the world bent slightly to let her pass.

She stood before the scroll, and within seconds, light flared. Her comprehension didn’t roar like fire—it shimmered like moonlight over still water. Her orbs emerged slower but brighter, each one pulsing with a richer hue than the last.

Ten minutes passed. Eleven orbs floated around her. Then twelve… and astonishingly, three more began to flicker into being, though faint and unstable. The crowd held its breath—but before it could solidify, the scroll pulsed and pushed her back softly.

“fifteen origin strands in thirteen minutes,” the old man announced, this time with a visible shift in tone. “A- grade. Nearing perfection in fire compatibility and spiritual sensitivity. Remarkable.”

The remaining four Divine Realm geniuses stepped up one by one, each cloaked in silence and silent confidence.

Darius Fell, a broad-shouldered youth with golden tattoos, drew fifteen strands in twelve minutes — solid A-grade.

Sylva Rainhart, a pale elven girl with ember-tipped hair, manifested fourteen strands in eleven minutes — A-grade.

Ren Kairos, sharp-eyed and calm, pulled fifteen strands in fourteen minutes — A-grade.

And Lyra Moonsong, graceful and cold, drew fiteen strands in nine minutes — A+ grade, with whispers that she could’ve drawn more had the scroll not pushed her early.

All four passed with poise, leaving behind ripples of awe. Unlike the excitement and noise caused by the mortal realm talents, the Divine Realm geniuses left only quiet pressure in their wake—an unspoken declaration that the gap between realms still existed.

But in the minds of many watching, a single question stirred: Could someone from the mortal realms stand on equal footing with them… or surpass them?

And now… it was Max’s turn.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay