The air inside the gates of Dusk Academy felt different. It pressed down like a heavy hand, thick and suffocating, reminding every hopeful gathered that this was not just a place of learning but a crucible. The weak would be burned away.
Aeron stood quietly among the crowd, his dark cloak hiding the pale, revitalized form beneath. His hood shadowed most of his features, but his eyes—sharp and unflinching—swept over the sea of faces. He saw it all: the nerves of the poor, the smug confidence of the rich, the detached arrogance of elves, and the quiet pride of dwarves standing in tight clusters. Everyone carried their own ambitions. Everyone thought they had a chance.
But Aeron's thoughts were elsewhere. His fingers brushed the cover of the book tucked against his side. Its faint pulse was a constant reminder of what he carried inside him—dark knowledge, power waiting to be grasped.
He inhaled, steady and deliberate. Let's see what I'm really up against.
At his will, the system's cold, mechanical voice filled his head.
"Scanning the gathered races. Analysis in progress…"
A holographic display unfolded in his vision, each race detailed with precise, merciless clarity.
---
Dragons appeared first. The description was simple but devastating.
"Dragons: A race born near perfection. Even a hatchling possesses strength surpassing a human who has trained for centuries. Their bodies are weapons, their scales nearly impervious. They command elemental magic with ease and live long enough to master it. Apex predators."
Aeron's jaw tightened. He had expected them to be strong—but not that strong. A newborn stronger than a century-old human? The gap was almost laughable.
---
Next, the Elves. Graceful. Untouchable.
"Elves: Born with inherent affinity for the Laws of Life and Nature. Their longevity grants them centuries to refine their magic. Even the youngest elves outclass humans in spiritual depth and control."
Aeron scoffed under his breath. Centuries of practice as a baseline? It was insulting how far below them humanity truly stood.
---
The list went on.
Dwarves: unmatched craftsmen, their bodies as sturdy as the mountains they mined. Earth affinity, runes, endurance that seemed limitless.
Beastfolk: wildly varied—some with strength rivaling dragons, others gifted with animalistic senses and speed. A gamble of bloodlines, but never weak.
And then finally—
Humans.
"Humans: Versatile but inherently weaker. They lack the innate advantages of other races but adapt quickly. Survivors, but rarely victors."
The words landed like a blow.
Aeron let out a bitter laugh. "So basically, I'm trash?"
The system didn't soften the answer. "Correct."
His hands curled into fists, nails pressing into his palms. For all his bravado, hearing it stated so plainly stung more than he expected.
The system went on, flat and unbothered. "However, your affinity with Death alone places you above the average human. Comparable, perhaps, to a weak elf's affinity with Life."
Aeron raised an eyebrow. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
The system replied instantly. "It didn't? It was not intended as comfort. Only fact."
He clicked his tongue. "Tch. Whatever."
---
Still, he couldn't shake the truth of it. He was different. The Death Law coursed through him, corrosive and terrifying, but his. Every life he took, every essence absorbed, would push him further. Others feared it, but for him it was a weapon. Maybe the weapon.
"Your affinity with Death," the system continued, "is unlike any other here. Its growth is tied not to bloodline or heritage, but to will. With time—and sufficient lives—you could surpass many of the so-called superior races."
Aeron's eyes narrowed. The sting of inadequacy was already cooling into determination.
"Alright, Booky," he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Let's show them what a human can really do."
The book pulsed at his side, its voice a low, amused whisper only he could hear. "Yes… let them learn why death is feared by all."
---
The crowd began to move, a tide of bodies surging toward the looming trial grounds. The first test of worthiness was about to begin.
Aeron took one last breath of the heavy air and followed, his steps calm, measured.
Dragons, elves, dwarves—it didn't matter. He wasn't here to survive. He was here to rise. And soon, the academy itself would see it.