The teleportation sickness hit Ash like a physical punch to the gut. The world blurred into a streak of white light, and when it snapped back into focus, the nausea was overwhelming.
He wasn't in the corridor anymore.
He was standing on a plush, crimson rug that felt more expensive than his entire house. The room was grandiose, high-ceilinged, and smelled of old paper and ozone. Trophies lined the walls—golden cups, severed beast heads mounted on plaques, and framed certificates written in a language Ash couldn't read.
Behind a massive desk made of dark, polished wood sat the Head Student. A golden nameplate rested on the desk: 21st Head Student.
The clone Usher who had brought them was gone. Vanished into thin air.
But they weren't alone.
Leaning against a bookshelf to the right was another boy. He wore the white uniform blazer of the elite, but without the cape or crown. He was tall, impossibly lanky, with jet-black hair that fell to his shoulders in a curtain. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, and currently scanning Ash and Mugino like they were interesting bugs.
"Have a seat," the Head Student said, gesturing to two leather chairs in front of his desk. His voice was calm, lacking the theatrical projection he used in the Assembly Hall.
Ash sat down cautiously. Mugino practically threw himself into the chair, crossing his legs and trying to look important.
"I assume," the Head Student began, lacing his fingers together, "you are wondering why you are here."
"My father's lawyers—" Mugino started.
"Are irrelevant," the Head Student cut him off smoothly. He leaned forward, his blue eyes softening. "I apologize for the... theatrical display earlier, Mr. Kurosaki. It was necessary."
Mugino blinked. "Necessary? You tied me up with magic glowing ropes!"
"It is a yearly tradition," the Head Student explained. "A test. We create a situation of extreme pressure to see if anyone in the new batch has the spine to stand up for a stranger. Most years? Silence. Fear. But this year..."
He looked at Ash.
"You stood up. And you," he looked at Mugino, "you attacked me first. Foolish, yes. But brave."
He raised a hand. A soft golden light enveloped both boys for a split second.
Ding.
Ash heard the sound in his head. He tapped his ear instinctively. The blue holographic screen flared to life.
Name: Asher Adams
Class: Freshman
Artifact: [Sealed]
Rank: 4,000,123
Power Level: 1
"Consider that a head start," the Head Student said. "You are now Level 1. Once you activate your Artifacts, you will jump to Level 2. In this world, every digit counts."
Ash stared at the screen. Level 1. It wasn't much, but it was better than zero.
"Thank you," Ash said slowly. "But... I have questions. If you don't mind."
The Head Student glanced at an ornate clock on the wall. "You have three minutes before the Activation Ceremony begins. Make them count."
Ash leaned forward. "Who built this place? Who runs it?"
"The Principal," the Head Student said, pointing a thumb upwards. "The Sovereign Ruler. He is the only adult here, other than the AI teaching staff. Apex Academy has existed for a millennium. Since the Middle Ages."
"A thousand years?" Ash's eyes widened. "But... everyone looks seventeen."
"Time is paused," the tall, lanky boy by the bookshelf spoke up. His voice was quiet but carried a strange resonance. "You enter at fifteen, you stay fifteen. Forever. Unless you die."
"Or unless you leave," Ash countered. "You said someone escaped. Who?"
The Head Student's expression tightened slightly. A shadow passed over his face.
"Fifty souls have attempted the Pilgrimage of Freedom in the last century," he said softly. "Forty-nine were spat back out by the Valley of Salvation, broken in body and mind. Madness. Dismemberment. Total spiritual collapse."
Ash swallowed hard. "And the one?"
"Constantine Allegory," the Head Student said, the name sounding like a prayer. "The 15th Head Student. A legend. His power level was rumored to be over eight thousand five hundred."
"Eight thousand..." Mugino whispered, turning pale. "You are only seven hundred."
"Exactly," the Head Student said dryly. "Constantine never returned. The Valley didn't vomit him out. That means he made it. He is the proof that escape is possible."
"Has anyone tried recently?" Ash asked quickly. "Like, in the last year?"
The Head Student stood up abruptly. "Time is up."
Ash frowned. That was... evasive.
"Kelvin," the Head Student gestured to the lanky boy. "Escort them. They cannot miss the ceremony."
The lanky boy pushed himself off the bookshelf. He walked over, a warm, easy smile transforming his face. "Hey. I'm
Kelvin. Nice to meet the troublemakers." He held out his hands. "Grab on."
Ash and Mugino took his hands.
Zip.
The sensation of being squeezed through a straw returned. In a heartbeat, the office was gone. They were standing in a massive hall. It smelled of oil, rust, and old magic. Thousands of students were packed into the space, murmuring nervously.
Ash realized with a start that they weren't in the crowd—they were on the stage.
Kelvin released their hands and stepped forward to the podium. "Go join the flock, guys," he whispered, winking.
Ash and Mugino hurried down the stairs, blending into the mass of confused teenagers.
"Welcome to the Armory!" Kelvin's voice boomed, amplified by magic. "I know, I know. You're confused. You're scared. You want your mommy. We've all been there."
He held up a hand.
"Today, you stop being victims. Today, you get your claws."
"What is an Artifact?" Kelvin continued, pacing the stage. "It is whatever object you were holding when the Collectors grabbed you. It is soul-bound. It is enchanted. It is yours."
He pointed to the crowd. "Check your pockets. What did you bring to the war?"
Ash reached into his pocket. His heart hammered.
He pulled out the heavy bunch of keys.
Twelve of them. Ordinary, jagged, brass and steel keys.
"Are you kidding me?" Ash groaned. "Keys? I'm going to fight with keys?
"Behold!" Mugino shouted next to him.
Ash looked over. Mugino was holding a small, plastic toy robot. Optimus Prime.
"A toy?" Ash deadpanned. "You brought a toy?"
"It is a collectible figurine!" Mugino hissed, shielding it. "Mint condition!"
Around them, other students were pulling out items.
A girl held a silver table knife. A boy held a fountain pen. Another held a smartphone.
Then, a gasp rippled through the left side of the hall.
A tall, scarred boy held up a Glock 19 pistol.
"He has a gun!" someone whispered. "He came in strapped!"
Kelvin ignored the commotion. He pulled a long, sleek object from his blazer. It looked like a wand, but the tip was soft bristles.
"This," Kelvin said, twirling it, "is a paintbrush. When I came here, I was just an art geek. Now?"
He slashed the brush through the air
Black ink hung in the void. He drew a quick, complex symbol.
SCREE!
The ink exploded into light. A silver Pegasus, translucent and glowing, burst from the drawing. It shrieked, flapping magnificent wings, and soared over the heads of the students. It circled the hall once, leaving a trail of stardust, before dissolving into mist.
"Magic," Kelvin said, smiling. "We call it Spirit Activation. You invite a spirit to inhabit your object. It changes form. It grants abilities."
He pointed to a student in the front row.
"You. With the phone."
The student stepped up, trembling. "Me?"
"Yes. What do you mostly use your phone for?"
"I... I guess read manga," the boy stammered. Lots of them."
"Activate it," Kelvin commanded. "Focus your will. Say 'Awaken'."
The boy closed his eyes. "Awaken!" The phone glowed blinding white. It melted, reshaping itself, flowing over the boy's hand.
When the light faded, the phone was gone. In its place, the boy wore a sleek, futuristic visor over his eyes.
"Whoa," the boy said. "I can... I can see stats. And... wait."
He tapped the visor. Suddenly, his muscles bulged. His hair spiked up. He looked exactly like the protagonist of a generic shonen manga.
"Your power is Transformation," Kelvin nodded. "Because you consumed stories, your Artifact allows you to become characters from them."
"Now!" Kelvin shouted. "Everyone! Focus on your object! Pour your desire into it! Scream the command in your heart! AWAKEN!"
The hall erupted in light.
It was blinding. Thousands of objects flashing simultaneously.
"Awaken!" Mugino screamed, holding his toy aloft like Simba on Pride Rock.
The plastic robot dissolved into liquid metal. It flowed over Mugino's arm, then his chest, then his legs.
Clank-whirrr-hiss.
When the light faded, Mugino wasn't holding a toy. He was wearing it. A sleek, metallic exo-skeleton suit encased his body, glowing with blue neon lines. It looked like something out of Iron Man, but smaller. Agile.
"Yes!" Mugino laughed, his voice amplified by the helmet. "I am the mecha! I am the Gundam!"
Ash looked down at his keys.
"Okay," he muttered. "Let's do this. Awaken." He focused. He thought about unlocking doors. About escaping. About finding answers.
The keys glowed... faintly. A dull, bronze light.
They didn't turn into a sword. They didn't turn into a mech suit.
The metal shifted, becoming heavier, older. The modern steel rusted instantly, turning into ancient, dark bronze. The jagged teeth became complex, rune-carved patterns. The keyring itself turned into a heavy iron hoop.
They were still just keys. Just... older.
"Seriously?" Ash sighed, dangling the heavy, ancient ring. "That's it? Vintage keys?"
Around him, chaos reigned. The boy with the toy car was now sitting in a full-sized, floating Ferrari. The girl with the table knife was holding a shimmering dagger that dripped frost. another guy with a phone was summoning Instagram models that were posing and taking selfies.
Ash felt a crushing sense of disappointment.
I'm useless.
Click.
The lights went out.
Not dimmed. Gone. The magical illumination of the hall died instantly.
Screams erupted from the students. "Stay calm!" Kelvin's voice cut through the dark.
"Do not move!"
Flicker.
The emergency lights buzzed on, casting the hall in a dim, red gloom.
Ash squinted toward the stage.
They weren't alone anymore.
Standing in the open space below the stage were figures.
Fifteen of them.
They wore long, tattered white robes that looked like burial shrouds. Their faces were hidden behind porcelain white masks—ghost masks, with hollow black eyes and frozen, screaming mouths.
They stood in perfect silence, an island of stillness in the chaos.
"Who are you?" Kelvin demanded from the stage, his voice hard. "How did you breach the perimeter?"
A student in the front row, panicked by the creepy figures, turned to run.
"Get away!" the boy screamed.
The central figure in the white robes moved. He didn't speak. He simply raised a hand.
From beneath his sleeve, moisture in the air froze instantly. A spear of jagged, translucent ice formed in his grip.
Thwip.
He threw it. It was a blur of motion, aiming straight for the running boy's back. Ash opened his mouth to shout a warning.
Whoosh.
Kelvin ghosted.
He appeared directly in the path of the ice spear. He didn't try to catch it. He swung his black paintbrush.
Ink sprayed into the air, instantly hardening into a solid black spear—an exact replica of the ice weapon.
Crack!
The two spears collided in mid-air, shattering into shards of ice and dried ink.
Ash stared, his jaw slack. He's fast. He's insanely fast.
Kelvin stood between the students and the intruders. His easy smile was gone. His eyes were cold, dangerous slits.
"I am Kelvin Wagner," he announced, his voice vibrating with power. "Rank 3 Student of Apex Academy. Member of the Student Executive Council. Identify yourselves, or be erased."
The leader of the robed figures stepped forward. His mask tilted slightly, as if examining a specimen.
"Rank," the figure rasped. The voice sounded like dry leaves scraping over stone. "We do not care for your ranks."
He spread his arms.
"We are your reckoning."