So Villey... Razeal spoke inside his mind, eyes half lidded, boredom bleeding through his expression as he sat hunched in a shaded corner of the arena.
What exactly does that Shadow Affinity do and how the hell am I supposed to use it?
A mont of silence passed. Then the familiar, emotionless voice of the System echoed back, [Why ask when you already know the answer, Host?]
Razeal’s eyebrow twitched.
[My authority over affinity related data is restricted. If you wish to learn about Shadow Affinity and its applications, you must access the System Space and consult with the Villains. I’m confident they will have all the answers you’re looking for.]
...Figures. Razeal sighed internally, shaking his head as if he’d known this would happen all along.
He leaned back slightly, blood from his still-injured arm pattering softly onto the ground near his feet. The crimson trail had lessened but hadn’t fully stopped. Pain was dull now, but present like a silent reminder of everything he’d just crawled through.
Ten minutes had passed since the instructor had told him to wait.
Ten minutes of doing nothing but watching, Razeal thought, his gaze drifting across the bustling coliseum.
Candidates moved about with frantic purpose. So were sprinting toward the exits, unwilling to face confirmation of failure. Perhaps they knew they didn’t et the quota. Others were arguing, laughing, or tending to injuries. Cores were being counted, bags returned. The energy in the air was tense but vibrant the aftermath of survival.
And slowly, steadily... the crowd began to shrink.
More and more people left the grounds. So in groups, so alone. Many faces were heavy with disappointnt but they carried their weight with the kind of silence that only near death could bring.
Eventually, the filtering was complete.
Only those who had passed remained.
The once crowded arena now held barely seven hundred candidates, scattered in small groups. Despite their injuries, despite the exhaustion still weighing down their limbs, most wore quiet smiles the kind that ca not from pride, but from relief and belonging.
And from the flicker of dreams that felt finally within reach.
Bright futures. Glorious prospects. All of them were now part of an elite.
You could see it in their expressions the shared understanding that these people would one day be generals, leaders, fad mages or elite nobles. The socializing had already begun. Connections were being ford. Words exchanged with gravity.
They weren’t just making friends.
They were securing alliances for the future.
Razeal observed it all with passive interest, unmoving.
So they’ve already started playing the next ga, he thought.
He didn’t move to join them. He never would.
He had no need for friendships. Not yet. Not here.
And just as the social warmth was peaking, a sudden sharp, commanding voice sliced through the coliseum like a blade.
"Attention, candidates."
The air froze.
Every head instinctively turned toward the raised platform at the far end of the arena.
A figure stood there, tall and poised cloaked in a flowing violet silver robe, threads shimring faintly with ethereal embroidery under the afternoon sun.
Her very presence demanded silence.
Vice Headmistress Selvara.
Razeal’s eyes narrowed.
"I would like to extend my congratulations."
Her voice was smooth, controlled neither warm nor cold, but balanced in that delicate in-between that made her impossible to read.
Her gaze swept across the battered survivors below, her sharp silver eyes pausing only for brief seconds on different faces asuring, weighing, judging.
"You stand here because you survived."
A beat passed.
"You earned that survival. Not by luck, cheating or any accident. But by clawing your way through a trial ant to break you. And you didn’t break."
Razeal noticed several around him straightening instinctively, as if responding to an unspoken challenge. So even clenched their fists in pride.
"From this mont on, you are no longer wanderers... no longer hopefuls or naless candidates. You are now, officially, students of Arkanveil Academy."
A ripple of breath swept through the crowd. A few gasps. A few tears held back. And the smiles oh, they widened.
Razeal’s face didn’t change.
Selvara continued, her tone shifting only slightly:
"What you endured was a reflection of the world outside."
"Brutal. Unfair. Unforgiving. And yet... you passed."
"Good."
"Because that ans you might just be worth the resources we’re about to spend on you."
That last line stung a few smiles off faces.
Razeal’s lips curved slightly, but it wasn’t a smile.
So that’s how it is, he thought.
Blunt. Honest. Unapologetic.
The academy wasn’t here to pamper anyone. You were a calculated investnt, and nothing more.
Vice Headmistress Selvara let her gaze sweep once more across the small sea of survivors battered, bloody, but unbroken standing with pride.
Then, her voice rang out again. Calm, crisp. Yet beneath it lay an almost imperceptible weight like a steel blade wrapped in velvet.
"Starting tomorrow, your formal instruction begins."
Murmurs flickered through the crowd, excitent stirring beneath the surface like a restrained tide.
"But before that, I would like to announce the privileges you’ve already earned rewards granted simply for passing the Trial."
The air seed to hold its breath.
"Every student regardles of the future results will receive the following."
Her eyes sharpened as she began.
"One hundred third-rank elental cores per month tailored to your preferred elental affinity. From rare to common. No exceptions."
Gasps.
A few candidates couldn’t help but exhale sharply. Even so of the noble-born widened their eyes in disbelief. For a commoner, a single rare elental core could equal months of wages. This was wealth and power in its rawest, most consumable form.
A total of thousand gold coins literally at very least. A middle class family can live for thousand months with that.
"Free access to Tier Four of the Grand Library containing knowledge across every major magical discipline: Spellcraft, Enchantnt, Alchemy, Elental Theory, Mana Control, Cursecraft, Summoning, and more."
A ripple ran through the students. Knowledge was power especially for those whose families had never had access to such elite level theory. For so, this was more valuable than gold.
"Monthly resource packs. Potion sets. Mana recovery elixirs. Low tier artifacts. Ritual scrolls. All provided at no cost."
A stunned silence.
Eyes flicked sideways. Whispers began to rise.
"Access to training chambers reinforced to withstand Tier 6 magic."
More heads turned. So students audibly gasped. That was the kind of facility even major noble houses couldn’t afford to construct.
"One on one evaluation sessions with advanced instructors every two months."
More whispers.
"dical care at no charge including limb or organ regrowth up to Tier 3 loss."
A single injured student sitting near the front dropped to his knees, covering his face with a trembling hand.
"Free als. Housing. Uniforms. Clothing tailored specifically to mana compatibility."
So began nodding in disbelief, as if trying to convince themselves this was real.
"Full education coverage: Combat theory. History of mana. Beast lore. Noble etiquette. War strategy. Magical ethics."
A few of the more scholarly students couldn’t hide their enthusiasm eyes lighting up like stars.
But Selvara wasn’t finished.
Her next words froze even the most jaded of hearts.
"And your imdiate families, if applicable, will be placed under the direct protection of the Academy. Their housing, education, and safety guaranteed."
A wave of stunned silence blanketed the arena.
Then, it broke.
Cheers. Gasps. So students clutched each other. One girl fell to her knees, sobbing quietly, repeating the words "My brother... he’ll be safe now..."
Even a few noble born tilted their heads in grudging approval. So clapped softly, respectfully.
This was it.
This was why people gambled their lives for Arkanveil.
They hadn’t even fully stepped into the Academy yet and already the weight of what they’d gained eclipsed their imagination.
Selvara gave them a mont to breathe. Let the storm of gratitude run its course.
Then she raised a single hand, and silence returned like a curtain falling.
"Yes. These are your baseline rights compulsory benefits you receive just for surviving.
Regardless of your background. Regardless of your power level. These are yours."
She paused.
"No special treatnt. No favoritism. The Academy honors its word."
Silence.
This ti, it was thick with awe.
And then, with a shift in her stance, her voice grew colder sharper. Like frost spreading across warm glass.
Razeal silently chuckled at her words. ’These fucking politicians’. he thought in his head
"But"
The word rang like thunder.
"If any of you believe this is not enough... if your greed, your hunger, your ambition still claws at your chest..."
She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.
"Then work for more."
She shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Beco stronger. Climb faster. Take more."
A crackling energy pulsed through the air now charged and electric.
"There is still more? Dammn" Commoners were shocked at richness already.
Other students clenched fists. So breathed faster. One boy near the back whispered, "That’s what I’m talking about."
"The path forward is open to all of you. Contribution Points will determine it. From tomorrow, your instructors will explain how to earn them missions, academic excellence, research, combat rit, or service to the Academy."
"Your opportunities to rise... are endless."
Her final words fell like a challenge branded into the air itself:
"There is no cap. No ceiling. Take as much as you can carry."
Razeal yawned.
These sly foxes.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or respect it.
Afterall manuplation has already started.
And then, Selvara’s voice rose for one final decree this ti laced with a note of challenge that ignited the battlefield instincts in every soul present.
"Arkanveil Academy is open to every advantage you can take."
"Want more?"
"Earn it."
---
User Comments
0 comments from readers