By the time afternoon classes concluded, whispers of Elias's victory against the Intruders had cascaded through the academy like a raging tempest.
Students gathered in tight circles, their voices hushed yet excited as they recounted what they'd witnessed—or claimed to have witnessed.
"Did you see how it happened? He was so magnificent!" A first-year girl clutched her books to her chest, eyes wide with admiration.
"No, I only heard parts of it," her friend admitted, leaning closer.
"I watched it all play out," another student interjected, gesturing dramatically. "He didn't even draw his sword—he defeated the enemies without even attacking!"
"What? For real? That's insane."
"Yes, and he made it look effortless. Like he was merely playing with them."
"That's a top-ranked student for you. It's just surprising how the attackers were stupid enough to target this academy of all places."
"Elias is so cool," sighed the first girl, a dreamy expression washing over her face.
The story of the fight spread like wildfire, each retelling more exaggerated than the last.
With every passing hour, Elias's reputation soared, cementing his position as one of the most formidable first-year students.
Some claimed he'd moved faster than the eye could track; others insisted he'd predicted his opponents' moves before they themselves knew what they would do.
Meanwhile, the academy administration scrambled to handle the aftermath of the attack.
Organizing repairs for the damaged structures, arranging treatment for the injured, and determining what to do with the captured Intruders.
Guards patrolled the grounds with increased vigilance, their expressions grim, hands never straying far from their weapons.
Later, in Professor Alric's office, three students stood before him in a tense line.
The room was suffocating—heavy drapes drawn across tall windows, leaving only flickering tube to illuminate the ancient tomes lining the walls and the professor's weathered face.
Elias stood at attention, his posture perfect, not a single hair out of place.
Beside him was Ilyana, her violet eyes calculating, taking in every detail of the room while revealing nothing of her thoughts.
The third student was unfamiliar to most—a boy with striking purple hair that fell over one eye, his stance casual to the point of seeming disrespectful.
These were among the top five students in their year, summoned for one reason that hung unspoken in the air between them:
Arashi Kurobane.
Professor Alric steepled his fingers before speaking, his voice like gravel. "I'm sure you've got word of the upcoming event," he suggested, studying each face for a reaction.
The students remained still, their silence confirming what he suspected—they were already well-informed.
"I'm sure you are aware that this is how the school usually weeds out the bad crops," he paused, adjusting his sitting position with a creak of his chair that echoed through the silent room.
The light cast deep shadows across his face, accentuating the lines of concern etched there.
"The Survival Series is not merely a test—it's a crucible."
His gaze swept over them, lingering on each face. "You've seen this Arashi fight. Can you beat him?"
The question hung in the air, heavy as lead.
"Professor, with all due respect," Elias finally broke the silence, his voice cooling the room by several degrees.
"I don't believe there is any need for questions. You are supposed to be telling me what happens after I win." His eyes narrowed slightly. "After all, a commoner like him could never beat me."
Ilyana remained quiet, observing the exchange with clinical detachment.
While the purple-haired boy barely suppressed a yawn, as if the conversation about potential life-or-death combat bored him to tears.
Throughout the academy, tension thickened the air like smoke.
Only days remained until the Survival Series test, and students prepared with the desperation of drowning men clutching at straws.
Some formed alliances, others trained until their bodies gave out, and a few resorted to underhanded tactics to eliminate competition before the test even began.
From the fragments of information that had leaked, several facts were abundantly clear:
The test offered opportunities to climb the social ladder—a chance for commoners to ascend into nobility if they proved exceptional enough. But it never happened before.
It promised unexpected rewards that could change the trajectory of a student's life—rare magical artifacts, exclusive training methods, or mentorship from legendary figures who rarely took interest in mere students.
And perhaps most coveted: a position in the student council awaited the top five performers—a status that carried authority not just within the academy walls but recognized throughout the kingdom.
Of course a test like this comes with consequences for some who fail, unknown ones.
"So, Arashi, what did you think of Elias? Was he impressive in your eyes?" Kaito asked playfully as he walked beside Arashi, his dual swords catching the late afternoon light.
"A little," Arashi replied, his voice measured, betraying nothing of his true assessment.
"A little? I guess you're hard to impress," Kaito chuckled, shaking his head.
"As for me, he was way beyond my level—and I'm supposed to be one of the best dual wielders in this academy." The admission seemed to pain him physically.
Then Kaito's eyes lit up, a dangerous glimmer appearing.
"Arashi, let's train together," he suggested, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.
"Why?" Arashi's question came out composed, but his mind was already calculating.
"I think that's the only way I can get stronger." The desperation in Kaito's voice was barely concealed beneath his casual tone.
"I have other things to do. Maybe another time," Arashi replied, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts.
But internally, his mind worked differently
'Training together with me is volunteering to become my training dummy, which makes me feel bad for you. That's why I'm backing out.'
They eventually reached the imposing structure known as the House of Shadows.
Ancient stone gargoyles leered down from the eaves, their eyes seeming to follow visitors as they approached.
Rumors claimed the house had stood for centuries before the academy was built around it—that it had chosen its location rather than being constructed there.
When they entered, Ayame was giving instructions to some of their members, her authoritative presence filling the dimly lit hall.
"Hey, when did she become in charge?" Kaito complained, his brow furrowing.
"Since the creation of this house," Arashi explained with a shrug. "I thought this whole administrative business was a pain, so I left the job to her and she gladly accepted." There was something almost different in his tone as he watched her command the room.
Then Ayame noticed him and approached with the grace of a predator, her steps silent on the stone floor.
"You came back here faster than expected?" She mused, a half-smile playing on her lips.
"Yeah, it even surprised me too," he said playfully, matching her tone.
She let out a chuckle under her breath, the sound like silk against steel.
Kaito opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Ayame before he could utter a word.
"So are you prepared for the upcoming test?" She asked as they walked toward the house's office, not even acknowledging Kaito's presence.
Kaito followed from behind, trying to find the right moment to join the conversation.
'It's like the moment Ayame appeared, my existence was erased,'
he thought bitterly as he trailed after them, feeling increasingly like an unwelcome shadow.
"What's there to prepare for?" Arashi's casual dismissal of the test that had the entire academy in an uproar was either supreme confidence or dangerous arrogance.
"I... I guess you're right. It's not like they've given us any official details we can use." She tilted her head slightly, studying him.
"But aren't you a little too calm for someone at the center of it all?" Her question carried an undercurrent of suspicion beneath its playful delivery.
'Talking about the situation like it has nothing to do with you, Ayame,' Arashi thought, watching her through narrowed eyes.
'I wonder what move you'll make, because I think this is a good chance for you to make your first grand statement.' The thought bothered him more than he cared to admit.
They reached the room and entered, the heavy door closing behind them with an ominous thud that echoed through the chamber.
Arashi took the largest chair, which resembled a throne more than a mere seat, crossing one leg over the other with casual dominance.
The chair seemed to embrace him, as if recognizing its rightful occupant.
Ayame and Kaito sat on chairs positioned lower than Arashi's—a physical reminder of the hierarchy that existed between them, subtle but unmistakable.
They had barely settled when a knock echoed through the room—three sharp raps against the ancient wood.
"Oh, I forgot to mention you have a guest," Ayame said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes as she rose to open the door.
The hinges creaked as the door swung inward, revealing a familiar face.
Mikasa Veyne stood in the doorway, but she was almost unrecognizable from the vibrant, shy student she had been just days before.
Her usually immaculate appearance was disheveled, her uniform wrinkled as if she'd slept in it.
Dark circles shadowed her eyes, which now looked hollow—dead—as if she had witnessed something that had stripped away her very soul.
Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
Blood stained the cuffs of her sleeves.
she tried say something but it was only a whisper, her voice ould be heard properly.
And then she collapsed to the floor.