The robotic voice crackled through the hall, metallic and cold. "All candidates will proceed to the assembly hall in orderly fashion. Diamond-rank to the front, platinum next, gold following. All others to the rear." The words were crisp, efficient, and utterly devoid of compassion.
Keyos Leray stood in the middle of the shuffling crowd, his shoulders tense beneath the weight of sneers and scornful glances.
Some students veered away from him as if he carried some contagion, their noses wrinkled in disgust.
Others didn't bother—they simply knocked into him as they passed, never uttering an "excuse me," never acknowledging his existence beyond the inconvenience of his presence.
He exhaled slowly and let himself drift to the very back of the procession. Better to be unseen than to be a target.
The hall was vast, students clustered in groups—elves with their effortless grace, vampires with their predatory smirks, even the beastmen with their rough camaraderie.
Keyos walked past them all, and took a seat at the very last row. A few students glanced his way before turning back to their conversations, their laughter sharp and exclusionary.
Some flipped through textbooks, pretending to study, though their eyes flickered toward the front of the room in anticipation.
At the front, the ten teachers materialized in unison—a display of coordinated teleportation magic.
At their center stood the principal—an elf, tall and imperious with long his silver hair. His presence alone commanded silence, and within seconds, the hall was utterly still, the last whispers dying as students scrambled into their proper seats.
"Well done, chosen candidates," the principal began. "You have the potential to be the next generation's leaders. Warriors. Generals." A deliberate pause. "And maybe... the Apexes."
The word sent a ripple through the room. A few students shifted, their breaths quickening.
"But if you think your journey has already begun..." Another pause, heavier this time. "Then you're wrong."
Keyos kept his face blank, but his fingers curled slightly against his knees.
"We need to take the most intelligent, the most adaptive from amongst you. To do so, we are going to need you to take a test." The principal's gaze swept over them, lingering for the briefest moment on Keyos before moving on.
"A test of wits, skills, and power abilities. Most of you here have been taught basic skills, and that is all that is needed—for now. Tomorrow, we go to the Dungeon of Maw."
A wave of excitement surged through the hall. Cheers erupted from the front rows, fists pumping in the air. A real battle. A chance to prove themselves.
"The teachers will accompany you, of course, to prevent excess damage." The principal's tone turned icy. "But note this: if you require help against a basic-tier beast, then you have no special skills. You will remain in training while your friends enjoy the privilege of hunting—until you prove otherwise."
The dismissal came swiftly. The robotic voice returned, instructing them to move to their assigned dormitories or familiarize themselves with the academy grounds. Lessons would begin tomorrow.
Keyos rose with the others, his mind racing. How am I supposed to survive the dungeon with just a Thread Card? The thought coiled in his gut like a serpent. Should I just skip the test? Go back to the slave pit? He nearly snarled at himself. No. Never.
He had endured worse than this. He would endure this too.
The dormitory was a luxurious room with five beds, four of which were already claimed by laughing, jostling boys.
The blue flame wielder—Gilbert Crown—stood at the center, his mark gleaming on his forearm as he demonstrated his newfound power tricks.
Blue fire twisted between his fingers, forming intricate shapes—a coiled serpent, a spinning dagger, a flaring sword that hovered above his palm before dissolving into embers.
The other boys watched with rapt attention, their eyes wide with admiration.
Keyos ignored them. He moved to the last remaining bed—the one at the far corner, the mattress thin and uneven, but still infinitely softer than the worn-out mats of the slave caves.
He lay down, exhaustion dragging at his limbs. For the first time in his life, he had slept on something that wasn't stone.
"Hey, Thread Boy." Gilbert's voice cut through the room like a whip. "Are you planning to go to the dungeon test?"
Keyos didn't answer. Why bother? If he said yes, they'd laugh. If he said no, they'd mock him for cowardice. Silence was the only shield he had left.
Gilbert let out a humorless chuckle. "He's afraid. He wants to go home."
Keyos turned his face toward the wall.
"I wouldn't blame him," another boy chimed in. "I'd run too if I were him."
"What, you pity him?"* a third sneered. "If he dies, nothing of value will be lost."
Keyos bit his lower lip until he tasted blood. He had endured worse than words.
He had taken lashes from hot whips, had gone days without food, had slept in the dark with only the rats for company. Insults were nothing. They were just noise.
But beneath the numbness, beneath the practiced indifference, something burned.
I will show them.
I will show them all.
Then—
A screen flashed before his eyes, searing bright against his vision.
```
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
RETURN OF THE ABSOLUTE WEAVER.
ACTIVATION SEQUENCE: INITIATED.
USER PRESENCE DETECTED...
>> SCANNING COMPATIBILITY...
>>> BLOODLINE CONFIRMATION... IN PROGRESS.
...
...
ROYAL LINEAGE DETECTED.
COMPATIBILITY: SUCCESS.
...
POWER INFUSION: BEGINNING.
...
SYSTEM AWAKENING HAS COMMENCED SUCCESSFULLY.
```
Keyos barely had time to process what he was seeing before agony beyond description tore through his body.
It began as a sharp, stabbing pain in his skull, as if someone was driving needles directly into his brain. Then the torment spread to his chest, feeling like his ribs were being pried apart by invisible hands.
Every nerve in his body suddenly erupted in synchronized torment. It felt as though invisible threads were being woven through his muscles, his bones, his very soul.
Each thread was white-hot agony, stitching together something new and terrible inside him. The pain was so intense, so overwhelming, that his vision went white.
A scream tore from his throat - raw, primal, filled with such anguish that his roommates jumped back in alarm.
The scream cut off abruptly as consciousness fled, and Keyos collapsed onto his bed, his body convulsing once before going completely still.
Then—blackness.
The last thing he heard was Gilbert's voice, shrill with something that almost sounded like fear.
"What the hell is happening to him?!"