The sun blazed high, casting golden beams through the towering crystal windows of Nalanda Academy's Great Tower. The Sovereign Class hall, a coliseum-like room lined with obsidian stone and shimmering mana-conducting veins, pulsed faintly with energy.
Within it sat thirty students — the top 30 prodigies of the continent. Future emperors. Scions of ancient clans. Genius battle freaks. Monsters in human form. They lounged on thrones rather than chairs, each marked with their current rank. And yet, despite their power, an almost electric tension vibrated through the air.
Whispers filled the chamber until the iron double doors creaked and groaned open.
CLANG.
The sound alone shattered the murmur. Every eye turned.
A towering figure entered — a monster in the shape of a man.
Massive. Greenish-grey skin. Muscles like coiled steel beneath a trimmed academy coat, which couldn't quite hide the battle-worn armor underneath. Scars decorated his skin like medals. His deep yellow eyes scanned the room like a wolf scenting blood.
Gorath Ironsoul.
Race: Orc
Rank: SS+
Title: Homeroom Teacher — Combat and Leadership
He marched in with the weight of war in every step. As he approached the podium, the stone beneath his boots cracked subtly — a silent warning.
Then, he roared:
> "SIT STRAIGHT! EYES FRONT!"
His voice hit like a war drum. Students flinched. A few noble heirs stood so quickly their thrones nearly toppled.
One didn't move. Lucien Arkanveil.
Rank 1. The Sovereign Seat.
He simply leaned back, arms folded, crimson eyes calm and unblinking.
Gorath's lip twitched. Approval? Displeasure? No one could tell.
He stomped once and the mana crystals above flickered. A glowing stone tablet levitated behind him.
> "Welcome to Sovereign Academy," he growled. "Forget everything you were before. Out there, your name and blood mattered. Here? It means nothing."
Silence.
> "From now on, your value is determined by one thing. Credits."
The tablet lit up.
---
Academy Credit System
Every student begins with 10 credits.
Earn Credits:
Complete missions, exams, and trials
Win combat challenges
Contribute to academy events
Demonstrate excellence
Lose Credits:
Fail missions
Break academy laws
Lose challenges
Show cowardice or underperform
Spend Credits:
Private training facilities
Rare artifacts, potions, forbidden scrolls
Access to SS+ tutors
Permission to form elite squads
Zero credits = Immediate expulsion. No second chances.
---
> "Some of you will climb," Gorath said with a predator's smile. "Some of you will crawl. Some... will fall."
He paused. The tablet flickered, showing current credit balances. All displayed '10.'
Then he stepped down from the podium.
> "I can already see it. Some of you scheming to target the weak. Good."
His smile turned savage.
> "This academy won't protect the weak. Only those who fight, think, and evolve will remain."
Whispers rippled. A few nobles exchanged knowing looks. A couple of commoners paled. Some tried to look strong. Others looked away.
Lucien didn't even blink. His thoughts were cold, methodical.
> (Lucien, inwardly:) "Let the jackals hunt. I'll devour the hunters."
---
Faculty Appearances Begin
The doors opened again.
First came a graceful woman, silver hair flowing like silk. Scales shimmered faintly near her ears.
Name: Selena Vermillion
Race: Half-Dragon (Space Bloodline)
Rank: SS+
Subject: Advanced Magic Studies
She carried a long silver staff that buzzed with compressed spatial mana.
> "I do not care about your ego or lineage," she said coldly. "I will only teach those who prove worthy. Waste my time... and I will erase yours."
Her crimson eyes passed over the students like a stormfront.
---
Then came thunderous steps.
A wolf-headed beastkin in survival gear walked in, scarred, armored, and radiating danger.
Name: Fenrir Blackmane
Race: Beastkin (Wolf)
Rank: SS+
Subject: Survival and War Strategy
> "War doesn't wait. Out there, no one gives you a second chance. Fail once, and your pack dies. Prove yourself... or get eaten."
He sniffed the air, as if judging fear.
---
Last came a human — a sharp-eyed man in noble military dress.
Name: Leon Dobhal
Race: Human
Rank: SS+
Subject: Strategy and Politics
He smiled — a politician's smile.
> "Power doesn't come from strength alone. Learn to play the board, or become a piece on someone else's."
He bowed mockingly toward the class. "I look forward to watching you betray each other."
Some students looked stunned. Others smirked.
---
Finally, Gorath returned to the center.
> "Your first practical trial begins tomorrow."
He raised a thick finger.
> "Survival of the Fittest. Location: Undisclosed. Objective: Stay alive.
Optional objective: Earn credits."
He turned.
> "The weak will be expelled within three days."
The room exploded into tension. Nobles whispered, eyes scanning for weak prey. Teams began forming in the shadows.
Lucien rose from his throne slowly.
He stretched, yawned.
Crimson eyes gleamed like embers.
> "So it begins," he whispered.
The storm was coming. And he stood at its eye.