Finally, it was the long-awaited day—the day where all the current students would traverse into their first realm.
And just as the day stood historic, grim, and one to be feared rather than celebrated, each student had woken up early and gone to the gathering hall.
Ragnar was no exception, as he had also come into the hall with a very empty demeanor, while within him stood very tensed, scanning the expressions of those that saw him.
Probably he was looking for the face of a frightened murderer, or maybe just cold stares directed his way—but all he found were worried gazes not aimed at him. Each person was in their own world, reminiscing on the dangers of the First Realm.
Fear was truly a powerful thing, wasn't it?
Finally, the royal instructor that was to take them came up to the front of the class, followed by two attendants dressed in total medieval armour. Their armour looked old, dark, and maybe tied to some history.
But for Ragnar, he could tell these were the ceremonial Royal Armoured Knights of the King of their lands.
'That's strange. According to the notebooks, the king's guards do not usually take part in this... Why are they here?' he asked himself. But just as he did, he realized—there was no real reason for him to be bothered by it.
Since it did not concern him directly, the young Lord Rok wanted no further connection to royalty more than he already had.
So he listened to the old instructor speak.
"You all will receive a storage ring on this journey, and you all know what these rings are used for," the old man let out a grunt, feeling a lump in his throat. Then, afterward, he continued, "Normally you can store many things in this ring, like clothing and food. But these are not like the usual rings—they are Rune Galathine, a special type of ring that can accompany you to the First Realm. But it does not store as much within its space. However, the necessities of food and clothing will be taken care of by the Rune Galathine, so that is a little bit of trouble off your hands—"
With that, the old man stopped again, waiting for at least one annoying student to raise a hand to ask a question. But none came—at least not in time for him to consider them.
"So with no further questions, please, let us proceed to the gateway."
With that, the old instructor and the two royal guards clad in dark behemoth armour turned around and led the students outside the academy, past the gates of the Academy's outskirts, and into a large barren wasteland that surrounded it.
There it stood—primordial.
Ragnar's gaze grew wide at the view of it. A mighty, enormous statue erected just before them, made entirely of gold, holding a long spear upwards and wearing the greatest masterpiece he had ever seen of an armour. A statue this priceless seemed like something that should not be lying in a wasteland to rot.
And yet it is.
But that was not the awe of the sight—but what stood in the distance behind the statue.
It was a massive tear, a scar—an unruly scar in the Earth's surface, a hole that held no bottom.
Reaching the scar in the earth, all of the almost hundred students stood by the edge of the crater and stared into its deep, cursed darkness. It was so large that all the students could stand directly on the edge and stare down into the gnawing pit—and still, there was more than enough space for twice their number to occupy.
The young Lord Rok felt his throat go dry as he stared into the dark depths of the pit. It was pitch black. It seemed evil, deceptive, and very much perilous. As though a fallen god had simply dug the pit of hell for those stupid enough to jump to their demise.
And scarily, he was one of the stupid ones at this point.
"Jump into the Tear of Reality and ascend the First Realm," the instructor gave what sounded like his last lecture to his students.
'To jump in children and come back adults… what an encouraging way to educate your students.' Ragnar grimaced, casting a resentful look at the darkness one more time.
And without a second thought, he took a step forward—and fell into the abyss.
"Ragnar that mad man!!!"
This was shocking to everyone—the other students, the proud nobles, the instructor, and even the Royal Guard.
This was a first for them: seeing a student jump without hesitation. What sort of moxie… or insanity would clarify such actions?
But for Fang Zhen—not Ragnar—he was willing to give all to ascend the ladder to power. What was jumping into an abyss, a world of demons, compared to gaining the power of the abyss and demons?
With that established, Ragnar Rok was the first to dive down the depths of the cursed pit.
His journey—the journey of the Faceless Son of Darkness—had begun.