I shouldn't have let go of her hand. Why did I let the past come between us? Now I've lost someone precious to me.
****
Today, I, Cecillia Florence, will be starting my glorious days as a student of the Imperial Academy, known for its prestige. Since my parents also graduated from there, I, too, wanted to enroll since I was five. Ten years later, I'm finally a student at the academy of my dreams. But first, I have to take the entrance exam.
The Imperial Academy stands like a polished blade driven into the heart of the Empire—sprawling marble towers, spires that scrape the sky, all gilded windows and sanctimonious banners fluttering in a wind that smells like old money and older blood. They say it's where the gifted gather: heirs, prodigies, monsters in velvet gloves, all clawing for a scrap of power to drag back to whatever noble house spat them out.
Inside, the halls are wide enough to swallow your secrets whole. Lecture halls echo with ancient chants and thin applause. The gardens bloom out of season—they're watered in secrets and spilled ambition. You can't walk ten paces without tripping over someone's ego or, worse, their schemes.
The professors hands you an "Academy Guide" on your first day, a neat little booklet stuffed with polite rules about curfews, dueling etiquette, and which corridors not to wander at night. It might as well be blank. Everyone knows the real rule: don't get in the way of someone stronger.
Some of them always try. Some half-baked noble spawn, all smug, thinking they can do whatever they want just because the Academy says we're equals here.
This place breeds monsters and crowns them in silk and gold. But that was their first mistake—thinking I'd come here to play by its rules.
"Look, it's Margrave Florence's daughter. She's enrolling here at the Academy."
Some things never change. No matter where I go, people whisper and spread rumors about me. I've gotten used to it. They always have something to say about my appearance or my powers. For once, why can't these people focus on something else and leave me alone?
I thought since I'm attending the academy now, I wouldn't have to face those criticizing gazes anymore. It turns out nothing changed.
Not their gazes.
Not the way those cold eyes look at me.
I only wanted—no, I hoped—I would make a single friend. Now that seems like a dream that won't come true.
"Those students who have passed the written examination may proceed to the practical exam in training grounds six and nine," the announcement was made through the golem rune.
They had us divided into two groups for the practical part. The first group was assigned to training ground nine and the second group to training ground six.
The walk to the training ground was quite a distance. Some students were huffing for their lives, lacking stamina despite coming from prominent knights' families.
"All right, everyone, pay attention. I'm your overseer for the practical. My name is Esther. I hope everyone here is prepared for the test. Let's begin, shall we?"
"The rules are simple," she began. "Your test is survival and how well you can assess the situation and take control of it. The duration is seventy-two hours. Those who are not sure they can survive are allowed to withdraw. Those who surrender in the middle of the test will be escorted by senior students or the overseers."
I was excited for it, but a few students withdrew from the exam. The more they withdrew, the more chances I'd have to relax and take over it with ease. Mother strictly told me not to go overboard, but if the situation calls for it, I'm definitely going overboard.
"Your destination is the Forest of Abyss. I wish you all good luck."
With that, we were teleported to the entrance of the forest. I could feel the Forest of the Abyss breathing around me—slow, patient, and alive in a way that makes one's skin crawl. There's no wind here, no birds, no sound at all. Just the soft crunch of rotting leaves under my boots and that low hum—like something murmuring just below hearing, waiting for me to lean in and listen.
Every tree looks diseased, bark split open like old scars, dripping with something that smells like iron. I can't help but run my fingers over it once.
The roots shift when I'm not looking. I catch them in the corner of my eye—tangled, slick, curling back into the earth like they've just tasted me. I know for a fact that the deeper I go, the thicker the air will get, warm and wet in my lungs like I'm breathing through cloth.
It feels like the forest is pressing in, testing how much I can take before it breaks me. Time doesn't work here. Memory doesn't either. Illusions and monsters lurk in every corner. It must think I'll be afraid of it like everyone else is, but this is where I thrive. This is the place where I can finally breathe.
The flare signaled the start of the practical. Without haste, I moved forward. There's no need for me to rush. Unlike the students here, I have real-life combat experience.
The goal was simple: to conquer and establish authority. And what's a better way to demonstrate one's skill than in this place?
Ever since I stepped foot in front of the Abyss, my bloodlust has been roaring high. All my senses are heightened. It's easy to tell who's anxious, who's overwhelmed, and who's feeling fear. A three-day survival means the top priority should be shelter, but it's not mine. Mine is to hunt.
I haven't come across a single monster yet, even on the outskirts of the Forest of Abyss. Nothing lurks in the shadows here, nothing to test my resolve, my strength. There were no rules or restrictions mentioned against venturing deeper, nor were there signs to turn me back. And without risk, my purpose means nothing.
"Master, can't I unleash a little havoc now?" The voice slithered through the silence. "There's no one here to stop us. Isn't that why we came—to carve our authority into their bones?"
"Nox." I stopped in my tracks. "It's not time yet. Stay quiet."
"A genius like you, hiding her strength behind a mask of civility—pathetic." Nox's laugh rattled against my skull. "All because you're terrified they'll call you cold. Numb. Heartless."
I yanked his chains hard enough to make him flinch, my voice low and seething. "Listen well, Nox, just because I got you out of that pit that doesn't mean you get to run your mouth. And I don't care what those bastards label me. You know my true nature, my true self."
The forest seemed to hush around us as I leaned in, eyes narrowed. "I don't need your chaos to unleash destruction. I'm more than capable of unleashing it myself."
The chain in my hand rattled as Nox shifted, his laughter curling through the darkness like smoke. "Bold words, Master. But we both know what you really are when the mask slips."
I didn't flinch. I let the silence answer for me—the wind weaving through the trees, the soft crackle of distant underbrush as something or someone fled before I could notice. They'd be wise to keep running.
I tugged the chain tighter, feeling him coil against it, hungry to break free. "Stay where you are, Nox. When I want your chaos, I'll tear it out of you myself."
The forest seemed to lean closer; the branches groaned, shadows pressed in like a heartbeat. I could almost taste it on my tongue: the promise of ruin waiting at my fingertips.
And when I finally gave the word, not even the Abyss would remember what came before me.
The deeper I went into the Forest of Abyss, the more they crawled out to greet me—monsters. A herd of chimeras was the first to try their luck. Patchwork bodies, rotten breath, claws that never touched me. I butchered them like cattle. I could have done it half-asleep.
I still remember my very first kill: the heat of fresh blood soaking through my clothes, the sting of it in my eyes. My heart didn't pound from fear. It was something colder, sharper—a thrill that dug its claws in and refused to let go.
They're nothing to me. My sword alone is enough. I laced its edge with flame, watched flesh blacken and curl. A little charred chimera—I suppose that passes for a meal out here.
They kept coming. A Minotaur that thought its bulk would save it—it didn't. Rock golems cracked open like rotten fruit. Goblins squealed and begged as they burned. I carved my way through all of them. The deeper I went, the stronger they got, but never strong enough to be interesting.
Yet still, I haven't found it—the place I desperately need more than any kill. Until I do, these chains around Nox are just an illusion. He's not truly mine, not until I find that place.
If I can't, then all this blood I spilled means nothing. And I can't stand that. I crave power. It's in my blood. It's not just a want, I need it. Without power and authority, there's nothing. Without it, everything is meaningless.
The students who thought they could stand in my way, flaunting their power like it meant something—they learned quickly what happens when you stand in front of raw chaos. Some were smart enough not to meddle. Figures—they know I'm not someone they can take on carelessly.
I didn't bother with warnings. I didn't bother with mercy. I cut them down where they stood, one after another, until their pride was nothing but meat and stains on the ground.
Now their whispers follow me through the trees—half fear, half disbelief. Let them whisper. I want them to whisper.
I've been killing without pause for hours now—monsters, anything that hinders my path. My muscles ache, but I keep going. I have to.
If they want to test me again, they're welcome to try. I'll show them the same lesson again and again until there's nothing left to stand against me but silence.
I killed and killed until a trail of blood started to form. With every step I took, I made my mark. This is just the beginning of my revenge.
It took me three days to find the altar. It was in the middle of the abyss, hidden behind and buried in deep darkness.
Deep in the Forest of Abyss, where the trees knot together so tightly they choke out the moonlight, the altar waits—half-swallowed by roots that look too much like veins. Black stone, cracked and slick with damp, juts from the earth like something that forced its way up from below.
The ground was littered with bones—some new and some so old they crumbled at a touch. Others were fresh enough to stink in the damp air. Thorns glistened with something that wasn't dew. If you listen, you can hear them shift—a slow, wet drag like the forest itself is breathing.
Dead branches hang above, dripping tatters of something that might be skin. Faint symbols flicker along the stone, not carved but grown, pulsing like an infection. They don't cast light so much as they drain it, turning the clearing into a bruise of shadows.
The silence here is thick. Too thick. Even the monsters keep away. When the wind moves through, it doesn't rustle—it whispers, low and broken, threading through the bones and whatever is buried beneath.
Stand here long enough, and the forest presses closer. The trees start to lean in, roots twitching just under the soil. If you're foolish enough to touch the altar, it knows you—and the forest does too. And once it knows you, it doesn't let you leave whole.
I finally found it after years of tearing through monsters and half-truths and empty trails. Now it stands before me, buried in rot and shadows at the heart of this forsaken forest.
With this, I'm an inch closer to what I want—closer to tearing the chains off my throat and unleashing the chaos they all thought they could keep caged.
Let them tremble. Let them beg. It won't matter. Destruction is coming, and this time, it answers to me. And this time, it comes when I say so.
To be continued.