"There are still six spots."
Old Man Grey's voice rang out again, firm and commanding.
Then—
A clear, crisp female voice cut through the air.
"Me."
Max's gaze shifted as Amara Moyer from the North Region stepped forward.
The moment she moved—
Chaos erupted.
Several young geniuses immediately scrambled forward, desperate to join the squad.
A blur of bodies, each one rushing like madmen, as if the Mourning Depths were a secondary concern.
And just like that—Old Man Grey's squad was instantly full.
Actually—overfull.
There was even one extra.
Max stood there, watching it all unfold.
His expression?
Utterly speechless.
"Seriously?"
Even now—even here—some people still had the state of mind to chase after girls?
Wasn't the Mourning Depths a death trap?
Yet, these idiots were treating it like a dating contest.
"This is just ridiculous."
But as Max thought about it more carefully—it made sense.
Amara wasn't just anyone.
She was from the North.
