Under the gaze of the full moon, bright yet cold, trying to imitate the warm glow of the sun but failing miserably, it cast a pale, freezing light across the night sky. Rough winds swept through the streets below, shaking patches of trees into restless motion beneath its dim celestial glow.
The hissing wind echoed through the quiet, restless night as two individuals ventured forward along an empty road, walking at an unsteady pace while chatting in a hushed, carefree manner.
They were two young males with a slight height difference between them. Occasional chuckles slipped from their lips as their conversation deepened, the alcohol in their system loosening their control over both speech and balance.
One of them suddenly slowed down, his attention caught by something unusual growing along the edges of the cemented walkway near a flickering, worn streetlight.
"Eh… what's wrong? Hurry up, we'll be late for curfew," his friend called out, glancing back with a lazy expression.
"Oh… oh… yeah, sorry," the other replied, blinking a few times. "I thought I saw something, but never mind. Let's go. Hurry before someone sees us."
"What did you think you saw? Are you sure you're not drunk?" the friend teased. "Keke… you did drink quite a lot of beer tonight, didn't you?"
"Yeah, yeah, but I can still stand. Unlike you, who almost fell earlier."
"…"
They both laughed again, stumbling slightly as they continued down the road, neither able to walk in a straight line.
As their figures slowly distanced themselves from the patch of overgrown leaves, something shifted silently within the darkness.
Two pale, moonlit eyes opened without warning.
They did not reflect light like normal eyes—they absorbed it. For a moment, they quivered, then phased away, leaving behind faint afterimages that dissolved into nothingness as though they had never existed.
Then a silhouette moved.
It did not walk.
It flowed through the shadows.
In a single motion, it leapt across space, overtaking seven steps in one silent bound. Its movement was not natural—it was controlled, precise, and inhumanly smooth.
The figure darted through tall grass and broken patches of shadow, completely unnoticed by the drunken pair who had just passed. His presence was erased from perception itself, like a ghost moving through reality.
With each step, his legs pulsed with faint dark energy.
Draconium.
Like an engine fueled by something beyond human limits, his body accelerated forward. His movements were no longer bound by muscle alone, but by energy that rewrote physical limitation itself.
His speed reached nearly three times that of a normal human sprint. Even trained ability users would struggle to match it—unless they specialized purely in speed enhancement.
He kicked off the ground again.
This time, his claws dug five inches into the bark of a tree, stopping his ascent for only a fraction of a second before he surged upward. His body moved with silent precision, scaling the trunk and reaching the top in one fluid motion.
From there, he stood above the world.
The wind brushed past him as he observed the night sky.
"What a wonderful night," Victor muttered softly.
The moonlight reflected faintly across his eyes as he inhaled deeply, studying the environment below. The academy grounds stretched far behind him, guarded and structured like a prison disguised as a school.
To test his Draconium energy further—and fully understand its potential—Victor shifted its flow.
He guided it toward his ears.
At first, nothing seemed to happen.
Then—
A sudden piercing screech exploded inside his head.
It wasn't external.
It was internal violence.
The sound struck his eardrums like a blade of pure frequency. His vision flickered as he clutched the side of his head, muscles tensing violently.
Blood trickled from both ears.
His body trembled under the unbearable pressure, the sensation so overwhelming it felt like his skull might crack from the inside.
But Victor endured.
And just as quickly as the pain came—
It vanished.
Silence returned.
Not ordinary silence—but absolute clarity.
His hearing had changed.
He could hear everything.
The rustle of leaves a kilometer away.
The shifting footsteps of insects beneath soil.
The faint electrical hum of academy surveillance systems in the distance.
It was as if reality itself had been amplified into layered sound.
"…Interesting," he muttered.
Almost instantly, something else caught his attention.
A cluster of voices.
Several meters away.
Too many people gathered in one location at this hour.
Victor narrowed his eyes.
The academy had strict curfew enforcement. It was already past 9 p.m., long beyond the allowed time of 8:30 p.m. There were no exceptions.
The reason Victor was moving so carefully was simple.
The night guards.
They patrolled every inch of the academy perimeter without rest.
Any student caught outside was immediately electrocuted and knocked unconscious. The voltage was severe enough to incapacitate even strong ability users. Painful enough to make most students avoid breaking curfew entirely.
Victor had experienced it once.
He had no intention of repeating it.
A sudden movement shifted ahead.
A guard stood near a patrol route, holding a baton that crackled faintly with stored electricity—around 120 volts of controlled discharge. Enough to light a small house. Enough to drop a student instantly.
Victor didn't hesitate.
He moved.
A blur of motion crossed the space between them.
He landed silently above the guard without a single sound.
Then vanished again.
Another guard turned slightly—
Nothing.
Only wind.
Victor continued forward, weaving through patrol routes like a shadow with intent. His movements were precise, calculated, and disturbingly efficient.
Within moments, he had crossed the final perimeter.
'Either those guys are dumb… or I'm just too good at stealth,' he thought with a faint smirk. 'Hehehe… what a lucky escape again.'
Beyond the academy's outer boundary stood the great wall—a massive structure encircling the entire institution like a fortress built to contain something far more dangerous than students.
On the other side, a dense forest stretched endlessly.
Something about it felt wrong.
Not dangerous in an obvious way—but wrong in silence. Like the kind of place that noticed when you looked at it.
Victor ignored it.
Instead, his attention turned forward.
There it was.
A small, isolated building.
Old.
Abandoned-looking.
Yet standing too perfectly intact for something supposedly forgotten.
The walls were cracked and mold-stained, yet structurally firm. No collapse. No decay that matched its appearance. It felt staged—like something deliberately made to look abandoned.
A single red door stood at the front.
Faded paint.
No sign.
No markings.
Victor stepped closer.
He placed his hand on it.
The wood was cold.
Strangely preserved.
Not rotting. Not aging naturally. Almost as if time itself had avoided it.
Without hesitation, he pushed the door open.
It swung inward smoothly.
No resistance.
No creak.
Inside, warm yellow light filled the entire space, spilling across all four walls like a contained glow. The room felt enclosed—like stepping inside a sealed box of light.
Empty.
Except for two things.
Another red door.
More refined than the first.
And a man standing at the center.
Completely still.
Perfect posture.
Not a single movement.
So motionless it was difficult to tell whether he was alive or simply placed there.
Victor stopped.
The air changed.
Then the man spoke.
"Welcome…" his voice echoed through the room like distant thunder trapped inside a hollow cave.
A pause.
"…to Fight Night."
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