"Mr. Vireon, trying to be first through the door? Eager to face destiny already?"
The voice came sharp, sarcastic—cutting through the haze that clouded Kael Vireon's mind.
His eyes flicked upward.
Rows of classmates stared at him from their desks, confusion etched into some faces, mocking smirks spread across others. Whispers buzzed around the room like static. Yet Kael barely heard any of them.
His gaze dropped once more to his chest.
No blood. No pain. No wound.
Only a single object rested in his hands—an old, tattered book. Frayed edges. Faded ink. Familiar weight.
Moments ago—no, seconds ago—he had been on a battlefield. He could still feel it. The scent of blood. The roar of power. The overwhelming presence of death looming over a man whose name he didn't even know.
A dream?
A vision?
No… that was too real.
His grip tightened around the book.
That scene, that spear, that man standing alone against gods and monsters… It was burned into his memory.
Was it a fragment from the book? A buried truth passed down through the bloodline?
His thoughts spiraled.
"Kael Vireon!"
The shout dragged him back to reality. The voice, now angrier, belonged to none other than Mr. Kelen Dame, their ever-irritable homeroom teacher. Kael blinked, then muttered under his breath without thinking:
"…screw this…"
A hush fell over the class.
"EXAMINATION CHAMBER. NOW!"
Mr. Dame's voice cracked like a whip, silencing the laughter that threatened to erupt.
Kael sighed, shoving the book into his bag. He grabbed his things and approached the front of the class, casting a quick glance at the glowing projection hovering above the crystal watch on his wrist.
9:01 AM.
'If I finish by noon… I'll still have time to think this through.'
The projection faded.
Standard issue—these watches connected every student to Starnet, a vast stellar network that linked humanity across star systems. A tool. A tracker. A tether.
Kael reached the front. Mr. Dame didn't waste the opportunity.
"Don't think passing the graduation exam will make you a hero," the man said, eyes narrowing. "The Primordial Domain
doesn't care about delusions of grandeur. It devours them."
Kael didn't respond.
He was used to the venom. So were the others.
A voice chimed in.
"Don't worry, Mr. Dame. We understand not everyone awakens a War Rune!"
Niklas Liekhoven.
Smirking, the tall, broad-shouldered student raised his right hand, revealing a faintly glowing white sigil—his freshly manifested War Rune.
Kael didn't even look.
Niklas and Dame loved playing their little game—one fueled by superiority and favoritism.
"Enough flaunting, Niklas," Mr. Dame said, though his tone lacked bite. Instead, he emphasized every word, making sure the class saw exactly who the 'chosen' one was.
Kael stood quietly, eyes half-lidded.
His mind wasn't here anymore.
Not really.
Eventually, Mr. Dame turned and motioned toward the door. Kael followed without a word.
He was led down a hall into a smaller, dimly lit room. As the door slid shut behind him with a pneumatic hiss, silence fell like a guillotine.
Kael was alone.
On the other side of the building, Mr. Dame stepped into a control room where a dozen instructors gathered, eyes locked onto various floating holographic screens—each one displaying a different student.
He recognized the names immediately.
Jasmine Blade. Oliver Kaelte. Peter Seakal.
He sighed.
'Should've sent Niklas first.'
Too late now. Kael's screen appeared.
And deep down, Kelen Dame already believed the outcome was certain.
Kael Vireon was a nobody.
Ordinary bloodline. No wealth. No prestige. No connections.
He was lucky to even be standing here.
Dame had seen countless students like him—low-born dreamers who thought that reaching a top-tier academy meant they were destined for greatness.
They weren't.
The Primordial Domain didn't care for dreams. It respected only power, blood, and legacy.
Kael had none.
"He's not one of your hidden aces, is he?" one of the teachers beside Dame—Hagen—asked with a raised brow.
Kelen scoffed.
"Hidden trump? Please. Kael Vireon is a commoner clinging to luck. His brother barely maintained his Lordship before fading into obscurity."
He sneered.
"That boy does two things well—read books and sleep through lectures. He's barely made it this far."
Hagen frowned.
'Why do I even try to talk to this man? He's practically throwing the poor kid to the wolves.'
Before he could say more, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence.
A presence entered the room like a stormfront.
All the instructors turned.
She wore simple clothes, but her aura was unmistakable—cold, powerful, commanding.
Miss Zephyra.
One of the exam's supreme overseers.
"Are you sure that student's as weak as you say?" she asked, eyes locked onto Kael's screen. "Because what I'm seeing doesn't match your description."
Dame's mouth opened to reply but faltered. Words failed him as he looked back at the screen.
Kael stood there.
Silent. Still.
But something was shifting—something deep and ancient awakening behind his eyes.
A cold ripple ran through the room.
"Who… the hell is that?" one instructor whispered.
Kelen Dame couldn't answer.
All he could do was stare.
And for the first time in years…
He was afraid.