LYRRISE POV...
The dorms were alive with noise the next morning. Students rushed through hallways, half-dressed in their uniforms, hair wild from sleepless nights. Everyone wanted the same thing—the scoreboards.
I walked calmly, katana slung across my back, heart beating faster than I'd like to admit. Today I'd find out where I stood.
When I reached the main hall, the crowd was already packed shoulder-to-shoulder, all staring at a holographic board displaying the Division Placement Results. It glowed bright blue, names scrolling fast before locking into place.
1. Lyrrise Marcilles – Blue Dagger Division (Assassin Class)
2. Mathilda Corven – Red Shield Division (Vanguard Tank)
3. Ryn Ashvel – Green Eye Division (Scout)
4. Jace Korran – Blue Dagger Division (Assassin)
The list continued, but my eyes locked on my own name. First place. Assassin Division. My chest tightened, then eased with pride.
Around me, whispers broke out:
"Who is Lyrrise?"
"Didn't she just get here?"
"Blue Dagger first place? That's insane."
And then came the voice I was expecting.
"What?"
Mathilda stood near the front, her perfect blonde curls trembling with rage as she saw her name in second place. Second. For someone like her, that was probably worse than death.
She turned to me slowly, eyes sharp as daggers. "You."
I smiled sweetly. "Morning, Mathilda. Love the hair. Really says 'I tried too hard and still lost.'"
Her jaw dropped slightly. Her two minions shifted uncomfortably behind her, clearly unsure whether to agree with their queen bee or pretend they didn't exist.
"You think this is funny?" she hissed.
I shrugged. "A little."
Before she could respond, a voice boomed over the speakers:
"All students report to your assigned division training grounds. You have five minutes to arrive. Late arrivals will run five laps around the entire campus."
Perfect timing. I walked away before Mathilda could explode.
Assassin Division Grounds
The Assassin Division training grounds were unlike anything I'd ever seen—a blend of traditional dojo aesthetic and high-tech military facility. Platforms floated midair for acrobatics training, holographic Riftborn targets blinked in and out of existence, and the entire area smelled faintly of polished steel and ozone.
Waiting at the center was an instructor I hadn't seen before. He wore a simple black combat suit, his face hidden behind a mask with a single crimson lens over the right eye. His presence was unnerving, silent yet commanding.
"Welcome, Blue Daggers," he said, voice calm and cold. "I am Instructor Kaelen, and from today, you belong to me. You will learn to move unseen, strike without hesitation, and kill without mercy. If you cannot handle that, leave now."
No one moved.
Kaelen nodded slightly. "Good. Warm-up. Two laps around the arena, then group up for your first evaluation."
We obeyed, running across platforms and walls like rats in a high-tech maze. It was grueling but exhilarating—I felt my body adjusting, muscles screaming but alive.
After warm-up, Kaelen called names. "Lyrrise Marcilles, step forward."
My stomach clenched. First day and I was already being singled out?
"You scored highest in combat instinct yesterday," he said, scanning a tablet. "We're going to see if it was luck… or skill. Jace Korran, you're up too."
A tall boy with sharp features and dark hair stepped forward, spinning twin daggers with an easy confidence. He gave me a half-smirk. "Guess I'm your welcoming committee."
Kaelen motioned us to the center ring. "Spar. First to disarm or incapacitate wins."
I took my stance, gripping my katana.
Jace attacked first, fast—closing distance with a flurry of strikes. I parried, sparks flying as our blades clashed, then rolled to the side and swung upward. He blocked easily, his smirk never fading.
"Not bad," he said, twisting to aim for my ribs.
I ducked, then kicked his knee. He staggered just enough for me to swing my katana and tap the flat side against his throat.
Kaelen raised a hand. "Stop. Winner: Lyrrise."
Jace stepped back, laughing lightly. "Alright… you're good. Guess the scoreboard wasn't lying."
I lowered my weapon, breathing hard but exhilarated. Kaelen's head tilted slightly, like he'd seen something he hadn't expected.
"This one," he said quietly to himself. "She's different."
That night, lying in my dorm bed, I stared out at the crimson sky of Dris. The Riftborn were out there, waiting. I tightened my grip on my katana's hilt.
"This is just the beginning," I thought. "Watch me, Mom. Dad. I'll make this world better."
---
Morning classes hit like a storm.
We started with Agility & Stealth Fundamentals, which basically meant being chased by surveillance drones while trying not to get detected. Spoiler: I got caught once, only because one drone decided to scan the ceiling—seriously, who programs drones like that? Still, I finished the drill faster than most, and Kaelen gave me a slight nod. For him, that was like a standing ovation.
Next was Weapons Handling, where we trained with various blades and short-range firearms. My katana skills impressed the instructor enough that he let me try a prototype Riftborn-hybrid blade. It hummed in my hand like it was alive.
By noon, my muscles ached, but my head buzzed with excitement. This place was brutal… but it was my kind of brutal.
Cafeteria
The cafeteria was bigger than I expected—more like a mall food court than a school lunchroom. Long tables stretched from wall to wall, some already packed with students talking about classes and ranks. A digital menu hovered above the serving counters, offering meals designed for "optimal combat nutrition." (Translation: fancy protein sludge and veggies.)
I grabbed a tray and scanned for an empty spot when I heard it—her voice.
"Ugh, seriously? They're letting her eat in here?"
Mathilda sat with her usual two minions at the prime center table, where everyone could see her. Her food looked untouched—probably too busy talking to chew.
One of her followers, a girl with neon-blue hair, leaned in. "She did score first, Mathilda. Maybe she's actually good."
Mathilda shot her a glare so sharp it could cut glass. "Don't be ridiculous. Scores don't mean anything. It's probably a glitch. Or maybe she bribed someone."
I sighed and walked past their table. "You know, Mathilda, for someone who doesn't care about me, you sure talk about me a lot. Should I start charging rent for living in your head?"
The cafeteria went quiet for half a second before a few students chuckled under their breath. Mathilda's cheeks flushed, but she quickly masked it with a smirk.
"You think you're clever," she said sweetly, voice dripping venom. "But this isn't over, redhead."
I leaned on her table slightly, lowering my voice so only she could hear: "Sweetheart, I already won. You're just catching up."
Her jaw clenched. The minions looked like they wanted to disappear. I straightened, smiling, and headed toward an empty table near the back.
As I sat down, a boy from my division—Jace, the one I sparred with earlier—joined me. He dropped his tray and grinned.
"Wow. You don't hold back, huh?"
I shrugged. "Why would I? Bullies only win if you let them."
He chuckled. "Fair point. Just be careful—Mathilda's the type to hold grudges."
"She can hold as many as she wants," I replied, stabbing a piece of protein meat with my fork. "I'm not going anywhere."
The rest of lunch passed quietly, but I could feel Mathilda's glare burning from across the room. Whatever she was planning next, I had a feeling she wouldn't stop until she got her revenge.
The afternoon classes were focused on Live Combat Exercises—the kind of lesson every student had been waiting for.
We gathered in the Simulation Yard, a wide-open arena bordered by high-energy containment walls. Holographic generators flickered, projecting terrain modeled after Riftborn hunting grounds: jagged rocks, pools of crimson light, and shifting shadows.
Instructor Kaelen stood at the center, arms folded, his masked face unreadable. "You will work in pairs. Your objective: eliminate all Riftborn simulacra within the time limit. Fail, and your ranking will drop. Permanently."
His crimson lens scanned his tablet before calling out names:
"Jace with Ren. Kira with Solen. Lyrrise with…" He paused, and I knew what was coming. "Mathilda."
Of course.
Mathilda grinned smugly, already twirling her spear like it was an accessory.
"Try not to slow me down, redhead," she said.
I sighed. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing."
The Simulacra
When the signal sounded, the arena shifted. Crimson mist swept over the floor as wolf-like Riftborn simulacra spawned, their glowing eyes scanning for prey.
Mathilda charged without hesitation, yelling over her shoulder, "Stay behind me!"
"No thanks," I muttered, already sprinting left to flank. My katana sliced cleanly through the first construct, sparks flying as it dissolved. Mathilda took down two more with wide sweeping arcs of her spear, but she left herself open.
"Behind you!" I shouted.
She didn't even glance back. "Don't tell me what to—"
A simulacrum lunged from her blind spot. I moved without thinking, sliding under its strike and slicing through its throat in one fluid motion. Mathilda froze for a moment, then scowled.
"Fine. One lucky save."
I rolled my eyes and kept fighting. She's really doing this on purpose…
Even as we cleared the wave quickly, I noticed Mathilda intentionally stepping into my space, trying to trip me or block my swings. She wanted me to screw up—to look incompetent in front of Kaelen.
Not today.
The Rift Opens
Just as Kaelen signaled the end of our session, alarms blared across the arena. The containment field flickered, then pulsed violently.
"Warning: Riftborn signature detected near the Academy perimeter," a mechanical voice announced. "All trainees remain inside the yard. Instructors, secure students immediately."
Everyone froze. Simulation drills were one thing. A real Riftborn breach? That wasn't supposed to happen on day one.
From the far edge of the arena, a crimson rift tore through space, spitting out a small—but real—Riftborn. Its body was twisted and jagged like scrap metal brought to life, its red eyes glowing with hunger.
Mathilda gripped her spear tighter, her face pale but defiant. "This… this isn't part of the simulation."
Kaelen's voice cut through the fear like a blade. "Defensive formation! This is not a drill. Stay alive!"
But the Riftborn lunged straight at one of the smaller trainees before anyone could form up.
I didn't think. I moved.
Instincts Unleashed
My katana hummed as I sprinted, sliding under the creature's slash and countering with a rising strike across its chest. Sparks and black ichor scattered as the Riftborn screeched, turning its attention to me.
"Lyrrise, wait!" Mathilda shouted, but I ignored her.
The Riftborn swiped again, fast. Too fast. But somehow… I knew what it would do next, like my body had memorized its moves before they happened. I ducked, sidestepped, and countered with a spinning slash, catching its weak spot under the shoulder.
One final step, one clean slice across the neck joint, and the Riftborn collapsed, dissolving into black smoke as the rift sealed shut.
The yard went silent.
Kaelen walked toward me slowly, his mask tilted like he was studying me. "That… was efficient," he said at last. "Reckless, but efficient. You just earned yourself a reputation, Marcilles."
Around me, whispers spread:
"Did she just kill a real Riftborn?"
"On her first day?"
Mathilda stared, her knuckles white on her spear shaft. She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut, storming off instead.
That night, my hands still trembled—not from fear, but from something else. Excitement? Power? I didn't know.
But I did know one thing: this wasn't luck. Something inside me… knew how to fight them. And that scared me more than any Riftborn could.
By the time evening came, the Academy was buzzing louder than a nest of hornets. Word of the Riftborn breach had already spread through every hallway, every dorm, every conversation.
"Did you see her? She moved like an elite assassin!"
"She didn't even hesitate."
"They say Instructor Kaelen personally praised her."
Everywhere I went, eyes followed me—not with hostility, but with curiosity… and maybe a little fear.
When I reached the dorm hallway, Jace leaned against the doorframe of my room, smirking like he had been waiting for me.
"Valemont, you really know how to make an entrance," he said. "Day one and you're already the Academy's favorite rumor."
I shrugged, brushing past him. "Not sure I asked for that."
He followed me in. "Yeah, but you earned it. That Riftborn was real—everyone saw it. And you didn't freeze. Most first-years would've run for cover."
I set my katana down on the table, the blade still faintly humming with residual energy. "I didn't have time to think. I just… moved."
Jace tilted his head, studying me. "That's the weird part. You fought like someone who's done this before. Have you?"
I hesitated. "No. This was my first real Riftborn fight."
Something flickered in his eyes, but he just nodded and changed the subject. "Well, whatever it is, keep it up. Just… watch your back. People don't like being outshined."
Mathilda's Perspective (Unheard by Lyrrise)
In another dorm room across campus, Mathilda paced like a caged beast. Her two loyal minions sat on the edge of the bed, nervous.
"She embarrassed me twice in one day," Mathilda hissed, her voice low and sharp. "First, she takes my top score. Then she steals the spotlight by killing that Riftborn like she's some kind of hero. Everyone's talking about her. Her!"
The blue-haired minion cleared her throat. "Well… she did save that trainee. People respect that, Mathilda."
Mathilda turned slowly, eyes burning. "Are you taking her side?"
"N-No! I just mean—"
"Shut up," Mathilda snapped, turning back to the mirror. She stared at her reflection, gripping her spear tightly.
"She thinks she's better than me… she thinks she's untouchable. I'll show her she's not. Tomorrow, she's going to regret crossing me."
A slow, cold smile spread across Mathilda's face.
Back to me
By the time I finished my evening routine and sat on my bed, the whispers outside my door hadn't stopped. I didn't know if I liked the attention, but one thing was clear: today changed how people saw me.
And for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was only going to get harder from here.
"Whatever Mathilda's cooking up… bring it," I thought, gripping my katana's hilt. "I'm not afraid of her."
left the training hall late, long after most of the other students had gone to their dorms. My muscles ached from the day's drills, but it was a good kind of ache—earned. Still, something felt… off.
Halfway down the corridor toward my room, the world tilted slightly.
My hand shot to the wall for support. What…? My vision blurred, and a sharp ringing echoed in my ears. My knees weakened.
"Not now…" I thought, trying to steady myself, but it only got worse.
My breathing quickened, my head pounding like it was caught in a vice. Images flashed in my mind—crimson skies, Riftborn screaming, and… something else. A face I didn't recognize, pale eyes glowing faintly red.
My knees buckled.
Before I could hit the floor, strong arms caught me.
"Whoa—hey, I've got you."
I blinked, trying to focus. The face above me came into view: a boy with blue hair and piercing green eyes, his expression both calm and concerned.
"You okay?" he asked softly, adjusting his grip so I wouldn't slip. His voice was low, soothing, but there was something about it—something… familiar?
"I… I'm fine," I muttered, though it was a lie. My head still spun.
"Doesn't look like it." He carefully guided me to a nearby bench along the hallway, sitting me down. "You were about to face-plant on the floor. That's usually not fine."
I managed a weak smile. "Thanks… I guess I owe you one."
The boy studied me for a moment, his green eyes almost glowing in the dim corridor lights. "You're Lyrrise, right? The one who took out the Riftborn today."
"News travels fast," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Yeah, that was me."
He chuckled softly. "Impressive. Not many first-years would've done what you did."
Something about his voice was steady, grounding—like it was pulling me back from whatever that dizzy spell was. Slowly, my vision cleared.
"You're new too?" I asked, noticing his unfamiliar face.
He nodded. "Just transferred in. Name's Cyril."
Cyril… I repeated it in my head, still watching him. There was something strange about him—not bad, just… different. Like he didn't quite belong to the same rhythm as everyone else here.
"Well, Cyril," I said, finally able to stand again, "thanks for catching me."
He smiled faintly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Anytime, Lyrrise. Just… take care of yourself. You look like you carry too much weight already."
Before I could respond, he turned and walked down the hall, leaving me with one hand still on my katana and one thought echoing in my head:
"Who is he?"
By the time I reached my dorm room, I felt steadier, though the strange dizziness still lingered in the back of my head like a fading echo. I exhaled, ready to collapse onto my bed and forget everything for a few hours.
But when I opened the door, I froze.
There was someone already inside.
A duffel bag rested on the floor near the second bed—the bed that had been empty since I arrived. And standing beside it, unpacking neatly folded uniforms, was Cyril.
He turned his head at the sound of the door, his green eyes meeting mine with calm recognition. "Oh. Guess you found out sooner than I thought."
I blinked. "You… are my roommate?"
He gave a small shrug, almost apologetic. "The housing office just finalized it an hour ago. They said you didn't have one yet, so…" He gestured to the empty bed. "Here I am."
Of course. Out of all the people in this Academy, I had to share a room with the mysterious guy who caught me from collapsing earlier.
"Is this… a problem?" Cyril asked, his voice unreadable, but there was something behind it—like he already expected me to say yes.
I shook my head. "No. Just… unexpected."
He chuckled lightly, putting away the last of his things. "I guess we'll both have to get used to it. Don't worry—I'm quiet, I keep my space clean, and I don't snore."
I set my katana by my bed and sat down, still watching him carefully. There was something about Cyril that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He didn't feel like a normal student. The way he moved, the way he looked at people—it was like he was watching everything, analyzing, waiting.
"So," he said, breaking the silence, "do you always push yourself until you almost pass out, or was today special?"
I frowned. "That… wasn't normal. I don't know what happened."
Cyril tilted his head slightly, almost like he already knew the answer but wasn't going to say it. "Then maybe you should be careful tomorrow. Sometimes the body knows things the mind hasn't figured out yet."
That… wasn't exactly reassuring.
Still, I managed a small laugh. "Thanks, roomie. Just don't do anything weird while I'm asleep, alright?"
He smirked faintly. "No promises."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't ignore the weird feeling crawling under my skin—like Cyril being here wasn't just random chance.
---
It was late.
Cyril had already turned off his lamp and was lying on his bed, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady. I wasn't tired—not after everything that happened today. My body was exhausted, but my mind… it wouldn't stop racing.
So I slipped quietly out to the small balcony attached to our dorm room.
The night sky greeted me like a painting of chaos—Dris. The world bathed in crimson, the bloody moon hanging like a scar across heaven itself. The Riftborn were out there right now, prowling somewhere beyond the Academy's walls.
I gripped the balcony rail, staring at that cursed sky.
"Why does this feel so… familiar?" I whispered to myself.
My thoughts flashed back to earlier today—the way I moved against that Riftborn, the way my body reacted before my brain even processed what I was doing. I had fought like I'd been trained for years, but… I hadn't. I'd only ever practiced in controlled drills, not actual life-or-death combat.
"How did I know where to strike? How did I know its patterns?"
The truth made no sense. I couldn't even remember learning those moves.
I closed my eyes, trying to dig into my memories, but there was nothing. Just blank space where something should have been.
And then I felt it—a strange chill on the back of my neck, like someone was watching me. I turned quickly, half-expecting Cyril standing there, but the balcony was empty except for me.
I leaned back against the wall, sighing.
"Am I… even normal?" I muttered under my breath.
For a moment, I thought about waking Cyril, asking if he'd ever felt like his body knew things his mind didn't. But I stopped. No… I didn't know him well enough yet. Not for this.
Instead, I gripped my katana, holding it tight against my chest. "Whatever this is… I'll figure it out," I whispered to the red moon above. "And I'll use it to stop them. I don't care where it came from."
The bloody moon loomed silently, offering no answers—only its cold, crimson glow.