Chapter 2 The Trial of the Blood Moon
The night bled away into a quiet dawn.
Sunlight, sharp and new, glinted off silver rooftops and pierced the morning mist. Lyon watched from his window as winged carriages, their hulls etched with glowing runes, drifted between spires. Below, the cobbled paths swarmed with students in fitted uniforms, their laughter a stark contrast to the solemn tolling of bells.
He sat up, the ghost of last night clinging to him—the crash-landing, the system's cold voice, the girl with winter in her eyes.
As if summoned by the thought, the screen materialized.
[Quest: Survive the Academy's Entrance Trial]
Time Remaining: 22 hours, 14 minutes.
Objective: Pass the Blood Moon Trial before midnight.
Hint: "Courage is not enough. Comprehend what you see."
Lyon exhaled, a dry sound in the quiet room. "Comprehension. You're really stuck on that, aren't you?"
[Affirmative.]
The system's deadpan response was somehow more irritating than silence.
"Yeah, thanks for the clarity."
On a stool beside the bed lay a fresh set of clothes: a dark-gray uniform trimmed with silver, light leather bracers, and a black cloak fastened with a simple crystal brooch—the mark of a first-year aspirant. The fabric was tough, subtly woven with mana-conductive threads. The boots molded to his feet as if they'd always been there.
Stepping outside was like walking into a new world. The air was a mix of ozone, dew, and baking bread. The courtyard was a vast expanse of training fields ringed by glowing mana-crystal pillars, dueling platforms, and statues of heroes long petrified in victory. Floating banners shimmered, their arcane script screaming a single message: The Blood Moon Trial – Commencing at Dusk.
He moved through clusters of murmuring students, his new skill, Adaptive Comprehension, already passively dissecting their chatter.
"They say only one in ten passes."
"The last Blood Moon Trial killed three candidates."
"Aria Valeheart is leading the Saint Division.She's practically guaranteed to top the rankings again."
Lyon's gaze drifted across the courtyard, drawn by an instinctual chill. There she was. Aria Valeheart, a spot of unwavering gold and steel amidst the scholars and instructors. She didn't acknowledge him, which felt more deliberate—and more threatening—than any glare.
A shadow fell over him, long and arrogant.
"You look lost, commoner."
Lyon turned. The speaker was a tall youth with silver hair slicked back from a haughty brow, a gilded crest emblazoned on his chest. His uniform was the same, yet undeniably superior in make.
"oh?" Lyon rise an eyebrow at those words.
The silver-haired youth's smirk tightened. "You must be the stray Aria dragged in. Lyon, was it? Don't think that little light show impressed anyone. You likely just tripped over a treasure you don't understand."
Lyon offered a lazy shrug. "Maybe. But I'm the one standing here in a new uniform. You're just the guy who felt the need to introduce himself. What does that say about your confidence?"
A flicker of genuine anger crossed the noble's face. "Remember the name Ryn Caldris. Heir to House Caldris, top of my division, and a future you can't even imagine. Try not to die too early. It would be a waste of my valuable attention."
He turned on his heel, his entourage falling in behind him.
Lyon watched him go. "Some archetypes are universal, I guess."
At dusk, the bells tolled a darker melody.
Hundreds of aspirants stood in the Grand Arena, a colossal ring of marble and steel whose runic walls pulsed with a rhythm like a slow, crimson heartbeat. Above them, the Blood Moon began its ascent, staining the world in shades of dried blood. The air itself grew heavy, thick with anticipation and raw mana.
Headmaster Orren, a figure of imposing grace in ceremonial half-armor and a scholar's mantle, addressed the silent crowd. His voice echoed not just in their ears, but in their bones.
"Tonight, the moon judges your worth. You will enter the Phantom Labyrinth—a realm woven from the moon's own reflection. There, you will not fight monsters of flesh and bone, but the phantoms of your own fear, desire, and regret. To conquer them is to conquer a part of yourself. Only those who do may step forward as true disciples of Aetherion."
A nervous tremor ran through the students.
"Remember," the Headmaster added, his tone grave, "the robed masters will observe from the aether. If your soul shatters, we will retrieve your body. Nothing more."
Comforting, Lyon thought, his mouth a dry line.
The crimson light in the arena's center coalesced, swirling into a vortex that drank the sound from the world. One by one, students stepped into it and vanished. Aria was a flash of gold before she was gone. Ryn offered Lyon a mocking, two-fingered salute and followed.
Lyon took a final, steadying breath and stepped into the red.
Reality twisted inside out.
He stood in a ruin swallowed by blood-tinted fog. The ground beneath his feet pulsed like a sick heart. Shadows moved with a life of their own.
[Entering Blood Moon Realm]
Objective: Find the Core of Reflection.
Warning: Mental corruption increases with exposure.
A whisper, cold and intimate, coiled into his ear. "You don't belong here…"
He spun. Nothing but shifting mist.
The whisper came again, softer, a lover's caress. "You should have died in that fire."
Heat washed over him. The acrid stench of smoke and melting metal filled his nostrils. The roar of the lab explosion from his past life deafened him. His hands trembled, slick with phantom sweat.
It's not real. But it feels real.
[System Alert: Mental stability 82%]
Lyon gritted his teeth, forcing a bloody-minded grin. "Is that all you've got? I've lived through this once already."
He focused, and his mind—the mind of an engineer, a reader, a comprehender—engaged. Adaptive Comprehension tore at the illusion, pulling threads of logic from the tapestry of terror. The fire flickered, its colors bleeding into meaningless data. The memory dissolved into motes of harmless light.
[Comprehension achieved: Illusion Resistance +1%]
"One down," he muttered, the adrenaline a sweet fire in his veins.
He pushed deeper into the labyrinth. Then, a cry—sharp, feminine, laced with genuine panic—cut through the silence.
"Help!"
He moved without thought, bursting into a small clearing to find a girl pinned under a collapsed pillar. She was ethereally beautiful, with long black hair and crimson eyes that held a universe of secrets. The air around her shimmered, distorting the very light.
"Don't move," he grunted, heaving the spectral stone aside. It was lighter than it looked, a phantom of true weight. "You okay?"
She looked up, her surprise evident. "You… you helped me?"
"Strange custom where I'm from. Name's Lyon."
A hesitation, then a soft reply. "…Seraphina. Seraphina Nightveil."
The name landed in his mind with a weight that made his system hum in quiet recognition.
"Well, Seraphina. This place feasts on the lonely. Stick close."
Her lips curved into a smile that was both grateful and deeply mysterious. "Then it seems our paths are aligned… for now."
As they navigated the ever-shifting corridors, Lyon felt the weight of unseen eyes. Seraphina moved with a predator's grace, her calm unnerving. When the wraiths came—pale, shrieking things of regret and fear—she didn't so much cast spells as unleash reality's flaws. Black-crimson flames, silent and hungry, devoured the monsters whole.
Lyon stared. "You call that a 'family art'?"
"It is," she said, her voice cool. "Most call it forbidden."
A slow grin spread across his face. "Forbidden is my favorite flavor."
She glanced at him, and for the first time, her amusement seemed genuine.
Time became meaningless. Illusions shattered against his growing comprehension; monsters fell to her forbidden flames. His system chronicled his growth.
[Skill Progression: Adaptive Comprehension Lv. 2]
[New Passive: Soul Focus — Minor resistance to mental corruption.]
They finally reached the heart of the labyrinth: a circular chamber where a crimson crystal, the Core of Reflection, pulsed with the moon's own light. And standing before it, hand outstretched, was Ryn Caldris.
"Perfect timing, peasants," he sneered, triumph in his eyes. "I'll be taking the glory."
As Ryn's hand touched the crystal, it didn't yield its power—it fractured. A web of cracks exploded across its surface. A raw scream tore from Ryn's throat as spectral chains erupted from the ground, binding him in ethereal iron.
[Warning: Core Instability Detected]
"Get back!" Lyon yelled.
He grabbed Seraphina, pulling her behind him as the chamber convulsed. The Core of Reflection shattered, and a wave of pure crimson energy blasted outwards, swallowing sight and sound.
Everything turned to white noise.
Consciousness returned with the feel of cold marble against his cheek. Lyon gasped, pushing himself up. The sky above was clear, the malevolent Blood Moon gone.
[Quest Complete]
Reward: Origin Skill Slot + 10 Aether Points
Title Unlocked: Survivor of the Red Trial
All around, students were stirring, groaning, some weeping. Others lay too still. He looked to his side. Seraphina was already standing, her gaze meeting his. A silent understanding passed between them.
"Not a bad first day," Lyon rasped, getting to his feet.
Her mysterious smile returned. "Perhaps fate has a soft spot for fools."
He grinned, the motion feeling natural on his face. "Then it must absolutely adore me."
From her vantage point across the arena, Aria Valeheart watched them. Her expression was a mask of ice, but her eyes were fixed on the faint, stubborn glow of the Origin Seal at Lyon's chest.
The prodigy of light.
The princess of shadows.
The boy with a forgotten star burning in his soul.
The game was now, truly, afoot.