The academy bells tolled deep into the night, their solemn chimes rolling over stone walls and towers. Semester's end had come, and with it the reckoning.
Students gathered in the Grand Hall, a cathedral-like chamber lined with banners of every noble house. Chandeliers flickered above, their glow spilling across marble floors polished to a mirror's shine. Here, the rankings would be declared. Triumph or humiliation—both waited in equal measure.
Lucian Ardelion entered with quiet steps, Kael lounging beside him like an unbothered wolf, and Seren trailing a half-step behind, her expression veiled. The crowd parted instinctively, some sneering, others whispering.
"He'll be lucky if he's not dead last.""No, didn't you hear? He dismantled the Trial of Elements.""That wasn't victory—it was heresy."
Lucian ignored them all. He had no need to defend his name. Not tonight.
The rector's voice cut across the hall like a blade.
"Students of the Academy of Wolves, the semester is ended. Your performance—trials, duels, conduct—has been judged. Your ranks will be declared, from last to first."
One by one, names echoed through the hall. The weakest shuffled forward, heads bowed in shame. Some sneered at their peers, some wept quietly, others bore the humiliation with clenched fists.
Kael leaned toward Lucian, grinning. "Ten gold says I'm ranked just above you."
Lucian's lips curved faintly. "You'd lose."
Kael chuckled. "Confidence. I like it."
Seren said nothing. She watched the rankings climb, her eyes never leaving Lucian.
By the time the lower half had been called, the tension was thick enough to choke. Prodigies strutted, nobles smirked as their family banners rose higher.
Then came the names of rivals.
"Calvus Renard. Rank: Fourteenth."
A murmur swept the hall. Calvus stiffened, his jaw tight. He had expected higher. His eyes darted toward Lucian, blazing with hate.
"Alaric Veynar. Rank: Seventh."
Alaric strode forward with quiet pride, bowing his head in acknowledgment of the rector's words. His gaze flickered to Lucian, cold and sharp.
And then—
"Lucian Ardelion. Rank: Ninth."
The hall erupted.
"Ninth?!""He was lowest seat—he should have failed!""He climbed to the top ten?!"
Lucian walked forward, every step measured, his expression unreadable. The gasps, the outrage, the disbelief—they washed over him like nothing. He stood tall as the rector handed him a silver token etched with the number nine.
The whispers spread like fire:
The Crownless Wolf rises.
Kael whistled low, slapping him on the back. "Top ten, eh? Guess I lost that bet."
Lucian's smirk was faint. "I warned you."
Seren's voice was softer, edged with something he couldn't name. "This path you walk… it's dangerous."
Lucian's gaze met hers. "All paths worth walking are."
But celebration was short-lived. As students dispersed, noble families gathered like hawks. Lucian could feel their eyes—calculating, weighing, plotting.
A viscount's heir sneered. "Tricks. He won't last another semester."A marquis's daughter whispered to her companion, "If he rises further, he'll upset the balance. He must be stopped."
The academy was a forge, and Lucian had just proved himself a flame worth fearing. That alone painted a target on his back.
That night, the Grand Banquet filled the hall again. Long tables groaned beneath silver trays of roasted meats, jeweled goblets brimming with wine. Laughter and false courtesy rang out, nobles smiling as daggers hid behind their teeth.
Lucian dined in silence. Kael tore into venison like a starved wolf, while Seren ate sparingly, eyes scanning the hall as though searching for threats.
Then came the moment all had waited for: the toasts.
A duke's heir stood, goblet raised. "To the academy! To those who climbed by merit—and not by deceit." His gaze slid like poison toward Lucian.
Laughter rippled.
Lucian lifted his goblet calmly. "To the academy. To those who cling to excuses… because merit eludes them."
The hall stilled.
Kael nearly choked on his drink before roaring with laughter. Seren's lips twitched despite herself.
The nobles seethed, but Lucian only sipped his wine. His fire was not in the outburst, but in the restraint. He had learned: words cut deeper when spoken with calm steel.
Later, as the banquet wound down, Lucian slipped away into the night air. The academy towers loomed against the moonlit sky, their shadows long across the courtyard.
Kael joined him, leaning against a column. "You've got every viper here sharpening their fangs."
Lucian's eyes gleamed in the dark. "Good. Let them try. A wolf grows sharper only when the pack turns against him."
From the shadows, Seren's voice was soft. "And when the pack succeeds?"
Lucian turned toward her, expression unreadable. "Then the wolf will rise from ashes. Stronger. Hungrier."
The night wind stirred his cloak. In the distance, a bell tolled.
Far above, unseen, the masked professor watched from a balcony, arms folded.
"The boy has fangs. And fire."
A voice in the shadows replied, low and cold. "Then the game begins in earnest."
The professor's masked eyes lingered on Lucian. "From ashes to fire. But fire consumes as easily as it warms."
Lucian did not hear those words. He stood beneath the stars, silver token in hand, eyes fixed on the future.
Top ten is only the beginning.One day, the crown itself will be mine.
And in that silent vow, the night seemed to tremble.
The Crownless Wolf had risen. And nothing—not nobles, not assassins, not fate itself—would cage him again.