In a chamber lit by the hum of crystal bulbs, a man sat alone — head buried in his hands, the table before him cluttered with ink-stained documents and fading sigils.
The light carved sharp lines across his weary face; though young, he bore the exhaustion of centuries.
"If only the King would just show himself," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm drowning here. If this keeps up, I'll die before the beasts do…"
"Keep them in check, keep them from tearing each other apart. That's what he asked for. Easy words for a ghost of a king."
Papers fluttered as a faint pulse of essence shivered through the room.
He dragged his hands down his face, weariness etched into every line. *'You can't really be that hurt after that war, can you?'* he thought,
But the thought died quickly as he recalled the chaos that followed — the Shattering Hall.
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"
Lucien's voice thundered through the council hall, his essence erupting into a violent corona.
Across from him, Lucy smirked, her own energy flaring to meet his. "I thought Keepers weren't supposed to meddle in internal disputes," she said backing Lucien with a cool, challenging stare.
"You brats have truly lost your sense," came a soft, calm voice from behind.
The Eternal Scribe — ancient, unbothered — sighed as the hall trembled beneath their rage. "He's the Vice Leader. His strength doesn't erase his station."
"Please, Lucien," the Vice Leader said, voice firm but tired, "stop this nonsense before---"
Immediately, the VC let out a low, mirthless laugh. "*You* warn *me*? Says the person who was pushed back by an elder."
The insult was the final spark. Lucien launched himself forward, a blur of lethal intent. Steel and essence collided — a roar that split the chamber.
The Vice Leader twisted midair, manifesting an essence blade to parry.
BAM!
The shockwave rippled through the walls.
There was no room for recovery. "Let's see you handle this!" Lucy joined the fray, her leg empowered with the terrifying force of the 9th Level essence, streaking toward his side. The very hall shook from the released power. For James, everything slowed down. He saw the attack coming, felt the imminent crack of his own bones five inches from impact.
*'If I take that, my whole arm will be blown away.'*
He tried to create distance, to dissolve into essence and retreat, but Lucien was faster. "You're not the only one who's fast!" Lucien snarled, grabbing his wrist and yanking him forward, delivering a devastating kick to his side that sent him careening directly toward Lucy's incoming punch, who switched to a punch
SLAP!*
That was the next sound everyone heard—not a crash of energy, but a simple, crisp impact.
Standing between them was the Eternal Scribe. He had merely slapped Lucy's empowered fist aside, his hand showing no flare of essence, no sign of strain.
James was speechless, stumbling to one knee. *'Did he just... slap it away? With no essence force?'*
"I think that's enough," the Scribe said, his voice flat. *'But seriously, what are these people doing? That punch was weak.'* He turned to James, placing a hand on his shoulder. A faint blue glow emanated from his palm, and James felt every broken bone knit together, his strength returning in a warm, soothing wave.
"You need to be more careful, James," the Scribe chided. "And we will resume your training." He made his way toward the exit.
"Yes, sir. I will," James replied, dusting himself off and falling into step beside him.
"As for you all, goodnight," the Scribe called over his shoulder without looking back. "Arrh, I am too old for stuff like this. The Supreme is probably enjoying himself somewhere. I'm going to increase your training, lad." His voice faded as the two men walked out of the ravaged hall.
"Well, that was entertaining," Draeven remarked, already walking away. "But you people should be careful. They always say a Keeper isn't a warrior, but that man is a different case. There's a reason he's lived for so long, and don't forget he is above Level 9—a realm most of you may never reach... Well, goodnight all, and bye, Headmaster." He left, with the exhausted Headmaster following close behind. "I need a rest from all this"
Later, in the quiet of his quarters, James — the Vice Leader — sighed heavily.
"Lucky that old man was there. I didn't expect them to gang up on me like that. Lucien is strong, but that snake Lucy…"
He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'll survive. Always have."
He rose, grabbed his coat, and vanished into the corridors. "Time for training."
**BOYS' DORM - 5:20 AM**
A shadow moved with silent grace past the sleeping forms in the common room. Just as it was about to pass Zerathos's couch.
"—HA!"
A sudden kick flashed through the dark.
The intruder caught it barely in time, stumbling backward.
"Wait—stop! It's me, Chris!"
The lights flared on.
At the switch stood Marik, brows furrowed
What's going on? I heard sounds of fighting," Malen mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he came down the stairs, followed by a yawning Oscar.
"I just wanted to turn on the light," Chris explained, nursing his forearm.
"Lights? You're a Level 2, at least. You should be able to see a little or make a small light essence," Marik said, judging him.
"Fine," Chris admitted. "I just wanted to use the training dummy first."
Immediately, Miles sprinted off, grabbing his long sword in a blur of motion. "Shit, I woke up first!" Chris shouted.
"Me too!" Oscar yelled, already running. "What? I'm in it for the fun, and I want to watch a show!" His voice echoed through the suite.
"They are aware that there are more than six training dummies, right? Like a dozen," Marik said dryly.
"Don't worry, they'll figure it out," Vex's voice echoed from his corner. "After all, I entered the toilet first." Zerathos let out a low chuckle.
After Vex had announced he was going to bed the previous night, he had opened a door to reveal not a simple bathroom, but a sprawling complex, housing a total of thirteen individual bathrooms and toilets, easily accommodating twenty-five people.
"I'm going to meditate," Marik announced, slumping into a corner and crossing his legs.
"I'll join the others," Zerathos said, heading downstairs.
Vex watched him go, his mind whirring. *'Such a unique and odd group. Chris walked around the room normally, yet even I couldn't sense his presence or hear his footsteps. But Marik knew and was already awake. And Malen, so fast for someone his size. Zerathos is no exception; others may not have seen it, but that kick left a red mark on Chris, with enough force to take him down, even if it was unexpected... All these people here are monsters in the making. Even Jane.'*
BANG!
Malen's punch crashed into a dummy, sending shards of essence scattering.
"Set it to Master level already," Oscar groaned. "This is child's play."
"Fine." Malen adjusted the tablet. The dummy's eyes lit red.
"It's amazing how these things mimic real essence," Chris said in awe.
"It's the crystal core," Oscar explained. "Can store up to Ascendant-grade power — tech and essence fused."
"Alright, my turn." He stepped forward, taking a breath.
"Ok, it's set to Specialist, 1st stage," Malen said, deciding to tune it down and increase it gradually so everybody could learn their limits.
Oscar stepped into the arena, took a deep, slow breath, and then—
Lightning cracked down his arms — KZZZAAAK!
Something was sent flying from the training area. *Drop.* It landed on Chris's lap: the dummy's arm. Chris, who had been seated on a chair, stared at it.
"Huh? I didn't even see you move. What level are you?" Chris asked, impressed.
"Adept, Stage 2," Oscar said, a hint of pride in his voice.
"This is the thing with fighting people with special traits," Malen complained. "Their strength isn't always what it seems."
"Wait, doesn't this thing have a trait-fighting setting?" Zerathos chimed in.
They all raised an eyebrow. Immediately, Malen ran through the tablet's settings. "It... it really does have a trait ability section," he confirmed.
"Really? But how did *you* know, Zerathos?" Oscar asked, clearly intrigued. "Most of us here haven't even used this. Even I only do under strict supervision; it isn't cheap."
"Actually, I saw it in a place I worked, and a friend of mine always talks about it," Zerathos shrugged.
"For a moment, I thought it was something cool, considering your kick really hurt," Chris said, showing the red mark on his arm.
"Dude, can't you just heal that? You're not planning on carrying that thing around like that, are you? Creep," Malen argued.
"What? No, no," Chris said. Immediately, a dark grey color tinged with blue lightning swirled over the mark, and the wound vanished.
"Yet again, another cheat code," Malen grumbled, clearly irritated as he swung his long sword at the dummy. "I'm nothing compared to Jane's decay manipulation. After all, only about three to five students out of all of us are known to have a skill like that."
"Anyway, Zerathos, mind if we go a few rounds?" Malen asked, turning his focus.
"Well... alright," Zerathos agreed.
"Vex! Marik! Come down immediately! Malen is about to go out with Zerathos!" Chris shouted.
The two descended the stairs almost instantly.
*'This should be good,'* Vex thought, taking a seat. *'At least I can assess their skills and know what move to make when needed. But most of all, let's see what Zerathos has got.'*
They all took seats around the arena.
"Now remember, no underhanded tactics. A clear and clean fight," Chris announced, standing just outside the boundary.
*BANG!* A low bang echoed as Oscar fired a bolt of thunder into the air to signal the start.
"Don't hold back, Zerathos," Malen said, already on the move, his sword held low at his side.
*BOOM!*
The sword struck the floor where Zerathos had been a moment before. This routine of attack and dodge went on for more than five minutes.
"This wasn't what I was thinking when I came down," Vex said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
"It's as if you were expecting something from Athos," Chris remarked.
"Obviously, of course I am. His kick left a red mark on you," Vex replied.
"It will be over now. Miles is basically toying with him," Chris said.
"You're wrong," Marik interjected, his voice quiet but certain. "It's far from over."
*BAAM!*
Immediately, Malen delivered a powerful kick, looking to end the fight. But to his surprise, Zerathos blocked it perfectly with his elbow, then flowed seamlessly into a leg sweep. Malen managed to force himself out of the hold, creating a gap between them.
Zerathos stood in the center of the arena, breathing heavily, his body now sheathed in a faint, visible aura of essence.
"Is he supposed to look like that?" Oscar asked, concerned by Zerathos's strained appearance.
"I'm not sure, but we should visit the clinic later," Vex murmured, his analytical eyes narrowed.
"Guess I should take this seriously, then," Malen said. Immediately, his sword ignited with a dark gray essence. In a burst of moderate speed, he leaped into the air and sliced downward. Zerathos reacted, shifting to the side and moving to bat the sword away. Malen's saw the move and attempted to transfer the sword to his left hand, but before he could grab the hilt, Zerathos delivered a compressed essence punch to his right shoulder joint.
*CLACK.*
The jolt made Malen's left hand miss the blade handle. Seeing his chance, Zerathos spun to kick Malen at the left side of his head. Malen reacted, blocking with his left hand while his sword, as if alive, retracted back to his right hand, and he pointed it the opposite way—directly at the *real* Zerathos, who stood behind him, his hand glowing with enough faint essence to knock someone unconscious.
The clone Zerathos had created dissipated. The real Zerathos's hand and Malen's sword were locked in a crossed standoff.
Silence.
"You're better than I thought, Zerathos," Malen said, a newfound respect in his eyes. "You've fought before, and not just once." Zerathos gave a single, sharp nod. "Anyway, nice battle IQ." Miles lowered his sword and walked away. Zerathos canceled the remnants of his essence and slumped into a chair, exhausted.
Vex watched it all, his mind racing. *'He's better than I thought. Fast. Good IQ. Though Miles wasn't even taking it seriously, so it's not far-fetched to say they both haven't shown everything. But the real problem is the guys beside him.'* He could feel a palpable pressure emanating from Chris, Oscar, and Marik, like hungry wolves watching the fight. *'Monsters.'*
"Hey, Miles, let's have a go!" Chris shouted.
"Hey, Zerathos, let's have a go!" Oscar echoed.
"I'll take both of you on," Marik stated flatly.
Silence.
"I know you don't talk much," Chris said, breaking the quiet, "but don't you think your first words are a little greedy?"
***
**"ALL STUDENTS, YOU HAVE THIRTY MINUTES TO PREPARE FOR THE DAY."**
The announcement boomed through the entire dormitory, its authority undeniable.
Silence.
Then, in a blur of motion, everybody sprinted upstairs in a panic.
"I forgot we were in the academy!" Chris said, already changing his clothes and wrapping a towel around himself as he headed for the baths.
"Thank the Veil we don't have to share the same toilet and bathroom," Oscar breathed, a sentiment of profound relief echoing in everyone's mind.
Zerathos picked up his towel and walked into his assigned bathroom. Inside, he took his shirt off and stood in front of the mirror. For a moment, a dark purple essence, like old, bruised injuries, brimmed just beneath the surface of his skin. He took a very deep breath in, held it, and then let it out slowly. The unnatural essence faded, receding back into his body.
It revealed a muscular upper body, crisscrossed with a tapestry of different scars, each one like a dark tattoo carrying a memory of pain, survival, and fleeting joy.
*'I understand why the tailor screamed,'* he thought, his expression grim. *'Some of them aren't even fully healed. I'm just using my essence to keep them from decaying. I should see the Supreme Healer's apprentice, though I doubt even they can fully heal these.'* He sighed, looking at the chronometer on the wall: 7:12. He stepped into the shower, the hot water stinging against his skin, and prepared for whatever the new day would hold.