I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Even after the arena emptied, even after Kaelen dismissed us with that sharp tone, the symbol still burned in my mind. Ω. Not a letter rank, not a number—just that strange symbol glowing above me like a curse.
By the time I made it back to the dorm, Cyril was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me as if he had been waiting the entire time.
"You're quiet," he said. "That's not like you."
I dropped onto my bed, glaring at the floor. "Ω. What the hell does that mean, Cyril?"
He hesitated for a moment, then sat across from me on his own bed. His usual calm demeanor looked heavier now, like he was choosing his words carefully.
"You really want to know?"
I shot him a look. "Would I be asking if I didn't?"
He sighed softly, running a hand through his blue hair. "Fine. Word by word, then."
Cyril's Explanation
"Ω isn't a normal rank," Cyril began. "It's not even supposed to exist for students. The Academy uses letters to categorize us—E through SS. That's skill, potential, and combat efficiency. But Ω…" He paused, locking his green eyes on mine. "Ω means Mythical."
"Mythical?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded. "The rarest classification possible. The last person who ever held that rank was… well, let's just say the Academy doesn't like talking about it."
I swallowed. "Why? What's so bad about it?"
"Because it means you're beyond anything measurable," he said, his voice firm now. "It means you're not just strong; you're something the system can't even quantify. And history has shown that people with that classification… change things."
My stomach twisted. "Change things how?"
He looked away for a moment. "Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for the worse. Depends on what kind of person you are when the power starts waking up."
His words hit me like cold water. Power? Waking up? That was the same thing he hinted at before.
"So what, I'm… dangerous now?" I asked quietly.
He finally met my gaze again, eyes steady. "Not yet. But everyone who knows what Ω means is going to be watching you now—Edric, Kaelen, even the Agency generals. Some of them will see you as hope. Others… as a threat."
I leaned back, running a hand over my face. "Great. Just what I needed."
Cyril smirked faintly, though there was no humor in it. "Welcome to the big leagues, Lyrrise. Whether you wanted it or not, you're in it now."
The Silent Promise
I sat there for a long moment, staring at the floor while the words sank in. Mythical. Me? The kid who dyed her hair and wore contacts just to stop people from calling her a Riftborn lookalike?
But deep inside, something stirred—something warm and fierce. Maybe this is why I fight like I do. Maybe this is what's been waking up in me.
I gripped my katana, whispering to myself, "Fine. If this power is mine, then I'll use it. I'll use it to end this Riftborn nightmare."
Cyril's eyes softened slightly as if he had heard me, and for the first time, he didn't look like just another recruit. He looked like someone who already knew what it was like to carry that kind of weight.
————
The next morning, an announcement blared through every dorm speaker:
"All students report to the Grand Hall immediately. This is a mandatory assembly."
I exchanged a look with Cyril, who simply nodded. "Looks like Edric wants a word."
The Grand Hall
Every student from every division crowded into the massive hall. The air was tense, whispers rippling through the crowd. I could feel eyes on me already—people were still talking about the Ω symbol from yesterday.
Then Edric Valemont stepped onto the stage. His presence silenced everyone instantly. He stood tall, his cloak flowing behind him, golden eyes sharp enough to pierce steel.
"In all my years running this Academy," Edric began, his voice calm but heavy, "I have never seen what I witnessed yesterday."
He paused, scanning the crowd before locking eyes on me for the briefest moment.
"One of our recruits received a classification never intended to appear in this generation."
The hall went silent, almost painfully so. Edric's gaze swept over the students again.
"You all know our ranking system: E through SS, determining skill and potential. But there is one rank beyond even that. One that has appeared only once in the past century." He raised his hand, and a holographic symbol appeared above him—Ω.
Gasps echoed across the hall.
"This," Edric said, "is the Mythical Rank. A designation given to individuals whose potential cannot be measured by conventional means. Those who hold it are… exceptional. Dangerous, even—to enemies and, if uncontrolled, to allies."
The whispers started again, louder this time. I heard my name ripple through the crowd like a wave.
Edric's eyes landed on me again. "Yesterday, that rank appeared… on Lyrrise Marcilles."
The hall erupted.
"She's Mythical?!"
"That's impossible!"
"On her first day?!"
Even Mathilda, who had been lounging smugly in the front row, sat bolt upright, eyes wide. For once, she had nothing to say.
Edric raised a hand, silencing them again. "This is not a reason to treat her differently—yet. The Mythical rank is both a gift and a burden. History remembers those who bore it, and not all fondly. From today forward, she will be watched, trained, and tested harder than any of you."
He looked at me one last time, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as if measuring me. "Lyrrise, step forward."
I swallowed hard, stepping up to the stage. Hundreds of eyes burned into me.
"Do you accept the weight of this rank?" Edric asked. His voice was like a hammer striking steel—final and unyielding.
My hand instinctively went to the hilt of my katana. I raised my chin, meeting his gaze. "I do."
A faint smile flickered on his lips—almost proud, but distant. "Then train harder than anyone else, because Mythical is more than a rank… it is a responsibility."
The crowd whispered again, but quieter this time. Mathilda just sat frozen, eyes narrowed like she'd just swallowed fire.
After the Meeting
When the hall emptied, Cyril walked beside me, his usual calm smile in place. "Well," he said, "you just became the most talked-about person in the Academy."
I groaned. "Great. Exactly what I wanted."
But deep down, I felt something else—a strange weight on my shoulders. Mythical. Ω. Whatever it meant, there was no turning back now.
The Grand Hall emptied slowly, whispers following me like shadows.
"Did you hear what Edric said? Mythical rank…"
"She doesn't even look special."
"She killed a Riftborn on day one, though…"
Some students stepped aside when I passed, their eyes wide, like I might explode at any second. Others gave me respectful nods, almost bowing their heads. One even muttered, "Congrats, Marcilles…" before scurrying away.
But the loudest voice came from right behind me.
Mathilda's Confrontation
"Enjoying the spotlight, redhead?"
I turned to see Mathilda striding toward me, her spear slung across her back, eyes burning like twin flames. Her two minions trailed behind, looking like they wished they were anywhere else.
"Mathilda, not today—" I started.
"No, today." She jabbed a finger at me. "I worked for years for my SS rank, and then you—someone who hides her own damn hair and eyes—waltz in and get Ω on day one?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You mad because I'm better, or because you can't figure out why?"
Her face flushed. "You think this is funny? You think you're special?"
"I don't think anything," I said, stepping closer. "I just am. Apparently, the system agrees."
A few students nearby gasped, muttering, "She just said that to Mathilda…"
Mathilda's knuckles whitened on her spear shaft, but she didn't swing. Instead, she hissed, "You're going down, Marcilles. You're not keeping that symbol forever." She shoved past me, her minions scrambling after her.
Students' Behavior
The rest of the day was… weird.
Some students treated me like royalty, offering me their spots in line or avoiding eye contact like I was some kind of dangerous beast. Others stared like they wanted to challenge me—jealousy flashing in their eyes.
Jace caught up with me in the cafeteria, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. "You realize you're famous now, right? You should've seen Mathilda's face."
"Yeah, I saw," I muttered, stabbing at my protein cubes. "She's not going to let this go."
Jace shrugged. "She never lets anything go. Just watch your back."
That evening, while I sat in the dorm trying to ignore my rising headache, something else was happening in the highest tower of the Academy.
Edric stood at a round table with Kaelen and Cyril—yes, Cyril—who had apparently been called there too.
"Ω," Edric said quietly, his golden eyes reflecting the table's hologram. "I never thought I'd see that symbol again."
Kaelen folded his arms. "Should we contain her training? Restrict her access to advanced weapons until we understand what triggered it?"
Edric shook his head. "No. Containing someone like her will only push whatever's inside further. We need to control it, guide it."
Kaelen's lens glimmered faintly. "You think she's like… the other one?"
Edric's jaw tightened. "I don't know. But if she is… the Academy isn't ready."
Cyril, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "She doesn't even know what she is yet," he said calmly.
Both men looked at him.
"You seem awfully certain," Kaelen said.
Cyril met Edric's gaze, his green eyes steady. "Because I've seen something like this before. And if you want my opinion… you'd better prepare. Because she's not going to stay ordinary for long."
As I sat by the dorm window, staring at the crimson Dris sky, I couldn't shake the feeling something had changed forever.
People didn't just see me as Lyrrise anymore. They saw Ω. A Mythical.
And I still had no idea what that really meant.
The next day, training felt… different.
Kaelen stood in the center of the arena, tablet in hand. "Today we're focusing on sparring drills. Pair up. You know the rules—no fatal strikes, no Riftborn weapons, controlled power only."
I grabbed my katana, scanning for a partner, but as soon as I moved toward a group, they all froze.
"Uh… I already have a partner," one student stammered, stepping back.
Another shook her head nervously. "Sorry, Valemont, I… I think I'm supposed to train with someone else."
I blinked. Seriously?
Across the arena, students were exchanging looks, whispering:
"She's Mythical… what if she hurts someone?"
"I'm not sparring with her, no way."
Even Jace, normally confident and cocky, hesitated when I approached him. "Uh, hey, Lyrrise… don't take this the wrong way, but after what you did in your rank test…" He scratched the back of his neck. "I kind of like living, you know?"
I groaned, planting the katana tip on the ground. "I'm not going to kill anyone."
Kaelen noticed the hesitation. His crimson lens swept across the arena before locking on me. "Problem?"
"Yeah," I said, glaring at my classmates. "Apparently no one wants to spar with me."
Kaelen was silent for a moment, then turned his head. "Cyril. With her. Now."
Cyril Steps In
Cyril casually walked over, rolling his shoulders. "Guess it's you and me then, roomie."
"You don't have to—" I started.
He smirked. "Relax. I don't scare that easily."
We took our stances. Kaelen raised his hand. "Begin."
Cyril moved first, twin short blades flashing. He was fast—faster than I expected—but my instincts kicked in, my katana intercepting every strike. The clash of steel rang through the arena as students watched, wide-eyed.
He spun low, aiming for my ribs. I jumped back, countered, and swept my blade forward in a powerful arc—only for Cyril to block it with a crossed guard, his boots sliding back across the floor.
For a split second, we locked eyes. He smiled faintly. "You're holding back."
"You are too," I shot back.
Kaelen finally raised his hand. "Enough." His voice echoed through the silent arena. "Result: Draw."
The Reactions
The students whispered among themselves again, but this time it wasn't fear—it was awe. Cyril approached me, resting one blade on his shoulder. "See? No one died."
I smirked despite myself. "Thanks for stepping in."
He shrugged. "Someone has to remind them you're still human. Well… mostly."
After Training
When we left the arena, I overheard a few classmates whispering:
"She's insane… did you see how fast she moved?"
"Yeah, but Cyril kept up with her… who even is that guy?"
I sighed, gripping my katana tighter. Mythical rank, huh? Great. Now I'm either a monster or a celebrity. Neither feels good.
Cyril walked beside me, calm as always. "You'll get used to it," he said quietly.
I glanced at him. "Used to what?"
He gave me a knowing look. "Being untouchable."
The arena emptied after sparring, but Cyril stayed behind, wiping down his twin short blades. I lingered too, still irritated that no one wanted to spar with me except him.
"Still thinking about earlier?" Cyril asked, sliding his blades into their holsters.
"Yeah," I muttered. "They all act like I'm a Riftborn in disguise."
He smirked. "Get used to it, Mythical."
I frowned. "Don't call me that."
"Why not? It's what you are now." He tilted his head, studying me. "Come on, roomie. Let's train a little more. Just us."
Private Training
We moved to one of the empty side arenas, far quieter than the main one. Cyril removed his gloves, flexing his fingers. "I want to see something," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "See what?"
"How far you can push those instincts of yours before you start thinking too much."
The moment he moved, I barely saw it—he was faster than he'd been in our earlier spar, his strikes sharper and unpredictable. But my body… it reacted on its own. I blocked, dodged, pivoted, countered, my katana whistling through the air like it was an extension of me.
We moved like that for minutes, until Cyril suddenly stopped, holding his blades loosely at his side. "Yeah," he said softly, almost to himself. "Just like I thought."
I lowered my katana, breathing lightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He smirked faintly. "You're not fighting like someone who's learning. You're fighting like someone who's remembering."
I frowned. "I don't even know what that means."
"You will," he said, slipping his gloves back on. "Sooner than you think."
Unbeknownst to us, Mathilda had been watching from one of the observation windows, her arms crossed tight and her face twisted in quiet fury.
"She's sparring privately now? With him?" she muttered. One of her minions hesitated behind her.
"Mathilda, maybe you should let this go. She's… Mythical. That's—"
"Shut up," Mathilda snapped, spinning on her heel. "If she thinks she can waltz in and steal everything I worked for, she's wrong. Mythical or not, I'll bring her down."
Her grin returned, sharp and cold. "And I know exactly how."
Later that day, as I was leaving the dorm, an Academy courier approached me. "Lyrrise Marcilles, Edric Valemont requests your presence. Now."
My stomach dropped. What did I do this time?
I followed the courier to Edric's private office. The man himself stood by the window, hands behind his back, his silhouette framed by the crimson sky of Dris.
"You wanted to see me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Edric turned, golden eyes sharp. "Your performance today confirmed what the rank test suggested. You are beyond what this Academy usually handles."
I tightened my grip on my katana. "So what does that mean?"
"It means," he said slowly, "you will begin special training. Starting tomorrow morning, you will train under me and Kaelen personally."
My eyes widened. "Special… training?"
"You are Mythical, Lyrrise," Edric said firmly. "That is not just a title—it is a responsibility. You are either going to master it… or it will destroy you."
The weight of his words hit me like a blade to the chest. I nodded stiffly. "I understand."
Edric's gaze softened slightly, but only for a second. "Good. Because from this point on, your life is no longer ordinary."
As I headed back to the dorm, Cyril fell into step beside me like he had been waiting. "Special training, huh?" he said with a smirk. "Figures."
"Yeah," I muttered. "And Mathilda's going to hate this even more."
He gave me a side glance. "Let her. People like her always break themselves trying to break others."
I exhaled, staring at the crimson sky. Ω… Mythical… special training… what am I becoming?
The next morning, another summons came through the dorm speakers.
"Lyrrise Marcilles, Cyril Avencrest, Mathilda Corven—report to the strategy chamber immediately."
Cyril glanced up from lacing his boots, smirking. "Looks like we're popular."
I groaned. "Mathilda's going to love this."
The Strategy Chamber
Edric stood at the head of a wide, circular table when we arrived. His golden eyes swept over us as we stepped inside. Kaelen was there too, arms crossed, silent but watching.
"Good, you're all here," Edric said. "From today onward, you three will form Team Veil—a special squad under my direct oversight."
Mathilda's reaction was immediate. "Excuse me, what?!" She stepped forward, finger pointing at me like I'd committed a crime. "You want me to work with her?"
"Correct," Edric said evenly.
"With Miss Mythical?!" she continued, glaring at me. "She's reckless, she doesn't deserve that symbol, and she—"
"Enough." Edric's voice cut like a blade. Mathilda flinched but didn't back down completely.
Edric stepped closer, his presence heavy enough to silence even the most stubborn students. "You are one of the strongest recruits this Academy has produced, Mathilda. Lyrrise is something beyond that, and Cyril is one of the most tactically adaptive students I've seen in years. Separately, you are impressive. Together, you could change everything."
"I don't need her slowing me down," Mathilda muttered, crossing her arms.
Cyril chuckled softly from his corner. "You're just mad she outranked you."
Mathilda's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "Stay out of this, transfer boy."
He shrugged. "Just saying what everyone's thinking."
I sighed, stepping forward. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but Edric clearly thinks this is important. Can we at least try not to kill each other before lunch?"
Mathilda scoffed. "Fine. But don't think for one second I trust you."
"Wouldn't dream of it," I shot back.
Edric's Terms
Edric cleared his throat, silencing us. "Team Veil will undergo specialized training together. You will operate as a unit, whether you like it or not. Your first field trial begins tomorrow."
"Field trial?" Cyril asked, intrigued.
"A live Riftborn hunt," Edric said simply. "Controlled, but real. Consider it your team's first chance to prove you can function together."
Mathilda groaned. "This is ridiculous."
Edric's eyes narrowed slightly. "Mathilda, if you cannot work with this team, I will personally reassign you to basic drills for the rest of the term."
That shut her up instantly.
"Good," Edric said, turning back to Kaelen. "Prepare the team for combat readiness."
Kaelen nodded silently.
After the Meeting
As we exited the chamber, Mathilda stomped ahead of us, muttering under her breath. Cyril walked beside me, hands in his pockets. "This is going to be fun," he said with a grin.
"Fun isn't the word I'd use," I replied.
He glanced at me, green eyes shining faintly. "Don't worry. I've got your back."
I smirked despite myself. "Yeah? Even if she tries to stab me?"
"Especially if she tries to stab you," Cyril said casually.
I glanced at Mathilda's back as she stormed away and sighed. Great. Tomorrow, we hunt Riftborn… with her.