The morning of the Tournant arrived not with a welcoming sunrise, but with a thick, suffocating fog that rolled off the jagged mountain peaks, blanketing the academy in a shroud of ghostly white.
Despite the freezing mountain air that bit at exposed skin, the entire student body was wide awake.
A nervous energy pulsed through the corridors as hundreds of fledglings, all dressed in their crisp, pitch-black academy tracksuits, marched in unison toward the center of the grounds. The hierarchy among the students was clearer than ever today.
The initial stage fledglings hovered near the edges of the walls, their faces pale and their eyes darting around in terror. They knew they were nothing more than fodder.
On the other hand, the middle and peak-stage fledglings walked confidently down the center of the path.
Evan walked quietly alongside Santiago and Hannah, his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his pants. His fingers gently brushed against the smooth, cool handle of the white bone dagger Santiago had gifted him.
Outwardly, Evan kept his aura tightly suppressed, perfectly mimicking a standard peak-stage fledgling.
’Look at this crowd,’ Santiago muttered, his tall, muscular fra cutting through the fog. His jade green eyes were sharp, scanning the passing students like a predator selecting its prey.
’Half of these fools are shaking in their boots. They think this is just a standard academy test.’
’Let them be careless,’ Evan replied softly, his voice cutting through the whistling mountain wind.
’The more arrogant they are, the faster they fall.’
’Can you two please stop acting like brooding dark lords for five minutes?’ Hannah’s voice broke through their serious conversation as she skipped to a halt in front of them.
Her eyes were wide and shining like diamonds, practically vibrating with competitive excitent.
’We are finally here! The Three Peak Stage Fledglings. Let’s make sure we show those noble snobs exactly what we can do.’
As they rounded the final corner, the fog suddenly parted, revealing the true scale of the tournant grounds.
The academy’s central training ground had been completely dug out and transford into a massive, single ring colosseum.
The stadium was already packed to the brim. Thousands of voices lded into a deafening, chaotic roar that shook the very dust from the stone walls. In the lower tiers, rows upon rows of fledgling students and outer sect disciples cramd together, shouting and pointing. In the middle tiers sat the wealthy aristocrats and rchant lords from the lower city, dressed in velvet top hats and heavy fur coats, holding smoking pipes and clutching slips of paper as they placed their bets.
But the true terror of the arena sat high above everyone else.
In the grand wooden platform decorated with luxurious crimson drapes and golden tassels, resting in plush velvet chairs on this floating stage were the VIP guests, Adept-rank core disciples, high-born clan leaders, and clad in heavy, blood-red robes, the dreaded Ascendant Sect Elders.
Even from across the stadium, the sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from those Elders made the air feel heavy, like breathing underwater.
’Welco, students of the Vampire Academy!’
A voice bood like a clap of thunder. It didn’t co from a gaphone, but from the high balcony of the floating platform where the Principal stood.
He was utilizing a high-grade Sound Amplifying Blood Worm, and the sheer force of his voice instantly silenced the thousands of shouting spectators.
’The path of a true cultivator is not forged through peaceful ditation or the reading of dusty scrolls,’ the Principal announced.
’It is carved through blood, iron, and absolute ruthlessness. Today, you do not step into this arena to show off your forms. You step into this arena to survive.’
’The rules of this tournant are absolute,’ the Principal continued.
’It will be a series of strict one versus one matches on the central stage. There are no restrictions on weapons or the Blood Worms you utilize. Victory is achieved when your opponent surrenders, becos completely incapacitated, or... when their breathing stops.’
’Now let’s start the pairing for the fights... it will be shown on the screen there,’ the principal said pointing above where the elders were sitting.
Thousands of eyes locked onto the screen as nas began to spin rapidly, pairing students together for the entire stadium to see. It was a layout identical to a grand martial arena, one stage, one fight at a ti, where every single spectator would watch every single drop of blood spilled.
’The matchups are appearing!’ Hannah gasped, leaning over the iron railing of the front row, her eyes darting across the glowing text.
The wheel spun violently before locking into place for the first few opening matches.
Match 1: Julian (Peak Stage Fledgling) vs. Tim (Peak Stage Fledgling)
Match 2: Clara (Middle Stage Fledgling) vs. Marcus (Middle Stage Fledgling)
Match 3: Hannah (Peak Stage Fledgling) vs. Kyle (Middle Stage Fledgling)
’Oh!’ Hannah let out a sharp breath, a fierce, competitive grin spreading across her face.
’I’m the third match! I get to go up early, against a middle-stage fledgling.’
’Don’t get careless, Hannah,’ Santiago warned, his eyes tracking further down the board as the nas continued to populate the list.
Finally, the glowing text spun one last ti for the opening round, locking in the fourth match of the morning.
Match 4: Evan (Peak Stage Fledgling) vs. Bruce (Peak Stage Fledgling)
The mont that specific na appeared next to Evan’s, the air around their section of the bleachers seed to drop by ten degrees. Santiago’s jaw tightened so hard his veins popped against his neck, and his jade green eyes widened in genuine shock.
’Evan... you pulled Bruce?’ Santiago whispered, his voice losing all of its previous bravado.
’Who is Bruce?’ Evan asked, his voice entirely calm, almost bored, as he stared at the board.
"He’s a monster masquerading as a student," Santiago said, gripping the stone railing tightly.
’He failed the outer disciple advancent trial last year on purpose, Evan. He stayed back in the fledgling tier just so he could spend another year slaughtering new students during the arena matches for fun.’
Far across the arena grounds, standing near the entry tunnel of the central stage, a tall, gaunt boy with deathly pale skin and matted hair slowly turned his head.
His eyes were small, orange slits. Sensing Evan’s gaze, the boy slowly raised his hand, dragging a jagged, dirt-caked fingernail across his throat, his teeth bared in a sickly, psychopathic grin.
Hannah looked between Bruce and Evan, her excitent completely vanishing, replaced by a wave of cold dread.
’Evan... if it gets too dangerous... you have to surrender imdiately. Promise . Don’t let your pride get you killed.’
Evan didn’t look away from Bruce, nor did he flinch from the psychopathic stare. Instead, a very small, terrifyingly cold smile played at the corners of his lips.
The stage was set and the thousands of spectators were leaning forward in their seats, waiting for the first scream.
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