The teleportation glow faded, and the candidates found themselves back in the grand orientation hall. The marble floor was slick with blood from wounds still healing. Instructors moved among the survivors, handing out medkits and cold glances.
Kaelith stood with Lyra slightly behind him. He felt the hollow ache of his burned lifespan, a phantom weight in his chest. But outwardly, his face was calm. Unreadable.
> "Still breathing," Nyxion's voice curled in his mind like smoke. "Good. I was starting to wonder if you'd crumble."
Kaelith ignored her. He'd learned early that feeding the System attention only gave it more to work with.
Above them, a floating crystal projected the list of survivors — their names flickering in glowing script. Kaelith's name appeared at rank 15. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"A commoner?" someone whispered.
"He's above three noble heirs…"
"That's impossible…"
Draven Altair's name glowed at rank 7. The noble heir's jaw clenched as his eyes found Kaelith across the hall. No words passed between them, but the promise of a future clash was written in the air.
Lyra tugged at Kaelith's sleeve. "You're… you're ranked…"
"It doesn't matter," he murmured. "Ranks don't protect you."
An instructor barked for silence. "All survivors will now be assigned dormitories. Classes begin at dawn. Do not be late. If you are, you will be expelled. Or worse."
Floating runes formed in the air, dividing the candidates into groups. Kaelith found his and led Lyra through a side door.
They emerged into a long corridor lined with tall windows. Beyond them stretched the academy grounds — manicured gardens hiding sparring pits, shimmering lakes, and towers bristling with arcane energy. Students milled about, some in crisp uniforms, others in training gear. The air buzzed with magic and ambition.
Lyra's eyes were wide. "It's like another world…"
"It is another world," Kaelith said quietly. "One built to break us."
Their assigned dorm, Obsidian Hall, rose ahead like a fortress of black stone threaded with silver veins. Its arched doors opened into a common room lined with couches, bookshelves, and a massive fireplace. A handful of other candidates were already there, tending wounds or whispering in tight circles.
Kaelith guided Lyra to a corner table and sat. He scanned the room, noting faces. Rivals. Potential threats. One girl with fox ears and a sly smile glanced at him, tilting her head. A tall boy with dark hair and faintly glowing tattoos leaned against a pillar, eyes narrowed.
> "They're all measuring you," Nyxion murmured. "Some want to fight you. Some want to use you. Some want to see you bleed. Careful, little pawn."
A bell chimed overhead. A floating panel appeared before each student.
> [Dormitory Assignment: Obsidian Hall – Class F]
[Schedule: 1st Day – Combat Fundamentals / Arcane Theory / Rank Assessment]
Kaelith closed the panel. Lyra fidgeted, glancing at him. "Kaelith… are we safe here?"
He looked at her — the only warmth in his eyes surfacing for an instant. "No. But we're together."
Her lips trembled, but she nodded.
Footsteps approached. Kaelith turned to see the fox-eared girl from earlier. She leaned on their table, her golden eyes glittering with amusement.
"You're the commoner who killed the chimera," she said, voice low and musical. "Impressive."
Kaelith's expression didn't change. "And you are?"
"Selene Veyth. Top-ranked of Class F. For now." She smiled. "I like to know who I might be fighting next."
He didn't rise to the bait. "Then you know."
Selene tilted her head, studying him. "Cold. I like that. But be careful. This academy chews up lone wolves."
She winked at Lyra and sauntered off. Lyra stared after her, then looked at Kaelith. "Do you trust her?"
"I don't trust anyone here," he said.
From across the room, the tattooed boy still watched him. Draven Altair was nowhere to be seen, but Kaelith could feel his presence like a storm on the horizon.
Night settled over the academy. The students retired to their rooms. Kaelith and Lyra's quarters were small but clean — two narrow beds, a desk, a single window overlooking the training fields. He sat on the edge of his bed, opening the System panel.
> [Negative Points: 315]
[Potion – Minor Life: 150 NP]
[Shadow Dagger – Temporary: 200 NP]
[Escape Scroll: 500 NP]
[Lifespan Fragment – 1 Year: 750 NP]
Nyxion's voice purred.
> "So many toys. So few points. Earn more. Spend wisely."
Kaelith closed the panel. His body still ached from the Wrath Surge. Fifteen years gone. He wondered if it showed in his face yet.
Lyra sat on her bed, hugging her knees. "Kaelith… do you ever think about home?"
He stared out the window at the dark training fields. "Home is gone. All that's left is this."
She hesitated. "You're not alone."
His eyes softened for a heartbeat as he looked at her. "I know."
Silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken promises.
> "Sweet," Nyxion drawled. "Almost touching. You'll lose her if you're not careful. Or worse — you'll lose yourself first."
Kaelith didn't answer. He lay back, staring at the ceiling, planning. Every class, every trial, every rival — all stepping stones to power. Power enough to save Lyra, and maybe to burn the world that had taken everything from him.
Beyond the window, the academy bells tolled midnight. Shadows shifted over the grounds like living things.
And far above the spire of Aetherion, unseen, a rift flickered open for an instant — a wound of shifting colors. It closed as quickly as it came, leaving only a whisper of power.
Kaelith's eyes snapped open. He sat up, heart pounding. He hadn't seen it, not fully — but he'd felt it. Something old. Something vast. Watching.
Nyxion's voice was a whisper now, almost pleased.
> "Ah… so the board moves already."