The air was thick with tension.
Hundreds of students stood on a bloodied field, teenagers dressed in black and white uniforms adorned with the emblems of their families. Some clutched weapons. Others whispered incantations under their breath, testing their mana flow. A few simply stood frozen, their eyes wide with the dawning realization that this wasn't a game.
High above them, a tall, lanky man stood on the sky itself—no platform, no visible support, just his polished shoes resting on empty air as if the atmosphere had solidified beneath him. His face was friendly, almost grandfatherly, but when he spoke, his voice roared across the field like thunder.
"Welcome, witches from around the world!" He spread his arms wide, embracing the crowd. "This will be the official entrance exam for Hex Academy. I won't make the introduction too long, something like this isn't really worth my time so here are the rules."
He began to float downward, descending toward the ground with the leisurely grace of a falling leaf.
"Only forty percent of you will pass," he continued. "That'll be about one hundred and twenty students. Your objective is to gather golden points hidden throughout the forest, they'll be hidden every single nook and cranny so do your best to look properly. The exam will last thirty-six hours. You are permitted to steal points from others and murder each other if you must, your lives aren't worth very much after all."
He touched down on the blood-stained grass, his smile widening.
"The top ten will receive special treatment and prizes. So, everyone-"
He paused, letting the anticipation build.
"Unless you want to spend the rest of your pitiful witch lives being hunted down or used as a battery, try your best. Anything goes."
"Good luck to all of you."
Then the drones overhead whirred to life, their cameras swiveling, recording every face, every flicker of fear or determination.
Thousands of screens flickered to life across the country, in government buildings, in private viewing parties, in the homes of citizens.
The ground trembled.
Massive steel doors groaned open, revealing the dark maw of the forest beyond.
Hoshimi stared at his watch, counting down the seconds. His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing against the object he'd smuggled past security.
[I can't believe that it took me this much effort just to smuggle this in]
Beside him, a girl stood motionless. Her brown hair was long and disheveled, falling across a face that looked like it hadn't known sleep in days. Her blue eyes, those tired, yearning eyes, stared at the forest gates as if hoping they would swallow her whole.
She breathed slowly. Deliberately. Like each exhale cost her something.
Shirogane watched her for a moment, curious.
Then the students around him began to collapse.
One after another, they dropped to the ground, their bodies folding like paper.
[Already? It's barely started]
Shirogane's vision blurred. The world tilted, spun, threatened to invert itself.
[I'm going to vomit.]
His legs went weak. His lungs seized.
But his eyes snapped open.
[Hold your breath.]
The memory crashed over him.
[Carbon monoxide poisoning.]
His mind latched onto the source immediately.
[I remember this sensation, that stupid grueling training]
Kira Aamon.
The skin at the base of her neck was open, a raw, fleshy valve that seemed to drink in the morning light. Her chest expanded. Contracted. Expanded again. With each exhale, people dropped.
The gates swung fully open.
Shirogane held his breath and ran.
Kira stood alone among the fallen.
Students crumpled around her with every step she took, their bodies slumping, their eyes rolling back. She didn't look at them. Didn't acknowledge them at all. She just kept breathing, deeper and deeper, the skin at the base of her neck flaring open like a second mouth.
[Please, don't make me do this, I don't want to hurt anyone] She thought, her hands trembling at her sides. [I never wanted this.]
But she didn't stop breathing.
The forest swallowed him whole. Trees loomed tall and twisted, their branches interlocking overhead to form a canopy that filtered the sunlight into dim, dappled shadows.
The temperature dropped immediately, a cold shiver racing down his spine. The sounds of the field—the screams, the collapsing bodies, the chaos, faded behind him until there was nothing but the rustle of leaves and the pounding of his own heart.
Shirogane climbed a tree near the forest's edge, his fingers finding purchase on rough bark, his body pulling itself onto a thick branch. He sat with his back against the wood, the rough texture pressing into his skull, and finally allowed himself to exhale.
"Kira Aamon,"
"The range of her ability seems limited, it's gas after all, it disperses, maybe ten meters, but in a crowded space like that starting field,]
He loosened his pants, and screws and pieces of metal began to fall out, steel components.
[No matter how strong she is, I can always shoot her in the head, everyone has a weakness]
His fingers moved with practiced efficiency as he reassembled the weapon. [The question is finding it before she finds me.]
Thirty minutes had passed since the exam began.
Dominic Walker was a guaranteed first place. The real question was-
"Who gets second?"
"I have to at least get third," he murmured.
The wind rustled through the thick bushes as David stepped forward, his white gloves brushing aside leaves and thorns without complaint. His uniform was clean, pristine, his family's emblem gleaming on his shoulder. Unlike the other students, his boots were unstained by dirt or blood.
Hoshimi moved through the undergrowth, his white gloves brushing aside leaves and thorns without complaint. His boots were clean, unlike the others he'd seen, splattered with mud and blood and the evidence of desperation.
[It's best if I don't engage him in a fight, especially in a forest]
His name tag read: David Smith.
One of the four great families, renowned for their ability to combust any flammable object with a single touch.
[Let's go!!! I have to win this!]
He grabbed the golden points from within his pants, flat, round pieces of plastic coated in a thin golden sheen, clinking together as he counted.
"But for now, I only have thirty-five points so far," he muttered. "I need to find someone-"
Rustle.
He stopped.
The sound came from his left
Snap.
A twig broke underfoot.
Then the ground rumbled. Rocks jumped. Trees shook.
He threw himself sideways just as the nearby trees exploded into shards of wood, the burst of sound tore through the earth itself, carving a crater where he'd been standing moments before.
He landed hard on the grass, rolling, barely avoiding being completely obliterated. His breathing was ragged and his eyes wide.
"What-" he gasped, scrambling to his feet.
"Peasant." A voice emerged from the darkness between the trees. "Hand over your points already or do I have to dig it out from your dirty little soul?"
A small girl stepped into the light.
She had long blonde hair and blue eyes, unsettlingly bright, like chips of glacial ice.
Her long brown coat reached her knees, and beneath it, a short red frilly skirt swayed with each step. Her expression was bored, almost sleepy, as if this entire ordeal was beneath her attention.
"I've met you before at the usual family meetings," she said, tilting her head. "David, was it? You're rather unremarkable for a Smith."
David wiped a strand of drool from his mouth, his breathing accelerating. "Neila. I've heard of you, the problem child."
He grabbed a handful of fallen branches and hurled them toward her without hesitation.
"The child that crawled from hell," he said, "sorry but I'm going to beat you."
The branches crackled in mid-air, the air around them heating until they burst into flames.
Neila's eyes narrowed. She dashed sideways, avoiding the fire, her coat catching a few sparks that she patted out with mild irritation.
"What did you say, you filth? You dare call me by that stupid little nickname?" Her voice was calm, almost conversational.
Snap.
Neila's fingers curled.
Sound erupted from her hand. A focused point of compressed air and mana that crossed the distance between them in a fraction of a heartbeat, aimed at David's chest.
David's eyes widened.
He threw himself sideways, the sonic needle passing close enough to tear through his sleeve and draw a thin line of blood across his bicep.
The impact behind him was worse, the tree he'd been standing in front of splintering apart like a toothpick snapped between fingers.
He hit the ground rolling, came up on one knee, and thrust his palm toward her.
He grabbed a fistful of dirt.
Then came a focused jet of condensed flame that turned the air between them into a corridor of superheated plasma. Neila dove behind a tree, the bark blackening and cracking where the fire kissed its edges.
David took the chance and closed the distance.
He was fast, faster than someone with his destructive power had any right to be. His fist, encased in a layer of mana, drove towards Neila's face with enough force to crack iron.
She sidestepped.
Her hand caught his wrist. The back of her other palm struck his elbow.
The joint hyperextended with a wet, grinding pop.
David screamed, stumbled, caught himself. His arm hung at a wrong angle, the elbow swollen and discolored.
A single leaf slowly came down from a nearby tree.
His other hand shot out, fingers extended, and the air between them ignited.
Fire bloomed between them like a flower.
Neila leaped backward, her coat catching flame at the hem.
She patted it out with quick, efficient movements, her blue eyes never leaving David's face. Her expression hadn't changed. Still bored. Still dismissive.
"Your casting speed is way too slow."
She moved.
Not toward him. Toward the ground.
Her palm struck the earth, and the sonic wave that erupted from the impact point traveled through the soil, through the roots, through the very foundation beneath David's feet.
The ground bucked. His balance faltered. The fire sphere collapsed.
Neila was on him before he could recover.
Her knee drove into his stomach. Her elbow came down on his spine. Her hand closed around his collar and threw him into the burning remains of a nearby tree.
He hit hard. His back cracked against the charred wood. Blood sprayed from his lips.
And when he looked up, she was standing over him, her blonde hair framing her face like a halo, her blue eyes cold as winter stars.
"Your points," she said. "Hand them over."
"Y-you—"
"Now."
His hand shook as he reached into his pocket. The golden coins clinked together, twenty of them, thirty, sixty.
He changed his mind.
David closed the distance in a blur, launching a mana-enhanced punch straight toward her face.
"Hm?"
Within a fraction of a second, she ducked under his strike, her blonde hair swaying with the motion.
David's fist cut through empty air, smashing into the bark of a tree behind her. The trunk cracked, splintered, and began to fall.
"A surprise attack? I was planning on letting you go the first time, but now I'm going to tear you from limb to limb." Neila muttered, her voice barely audible beneath the sound of collapsing wood.
David didn't give her time to recover. He closed the gap again, combusting his own leg, the fire licking at his pants, the heat warping the air around him and swung toward her stomach.
Neila jumped. Her body twisted, her coat flared, and she landed on the grass with a soft thud, sliding backward to create distance. The hem of her skirt was smoking, a small flame had caught, and she patted it out with an expression of mild annoyance.
[That's stupid of him] she observed, her eyes tracking his movements. [He's setting himself on fire, is he really trying to burn himself? That isn't my problem anyways, I just don't want to get fire on me]
[It's best if I don't use what little mana I have on this peasant] She decided.
She dashed toward him.
Her movement was a blur. She dodged David's incoming punch, but he fast, faster than she had expected him to be.
He threw another punch. She dodged, spinning inside his guard, and grabbed his head with both hands, driving her knee into his face.
Crack.
His nose broke.
David stumbled backward, blood streaming from his broken nose. His brown hair was disheveled, his uniform torn, but his eyes, his eyes were still clear.
He touched his face, stared at the blood on his fingers, and smiled.
"You're strong," he admitted.
"I don't like it when peasants are telling me something I already know." Neila's fist tightened.
Neila's fist connected with his jaw. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing into a tree. Bark splintered. Leaves rained down.
David hit hard, slid down, and landed on his knees. But he was smiling. Spitting blood from his mouth, he pushed himself upright.
"I'm done here."
He turned and ran.
Neila stared after him, confusion flickering across her features.
Then her eyes widened. Her hand dove into her pocket.
Empty. All sixty of her points were gone, vanished into thin air while she'd been focused on the fight.
Her brows furrowed. Her teeth ground together.
"I'm going to kill that bastard," she whispered.
The air turned cold.
Neila froze, not from fear, but from pressure.
Something vast and heavy pressed down on her from all sides, pinning her muscles in place, locking her joints, stealing her breath. She had never felt this much bloodlust before.
A man with a large build and dark blue hair stepped out. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, he leaned against a tree, his posture relaxed, his hands in his pockets.
Dominic.
One hundred and fifty points.
"Heyyy," he said, leaning against a tree. "Hand over your points, and let's make this easy."
Neila crossed her arms, sighing dramatically. "I don't have any. I just got mugged by a peasant."
Dominic's composure cracked. He grabbed a branch to steady himself, barely containing his laugh.
"How?" he wheezed. "Imagine getting robbed. That's really funny."
"Shut up."
He stepped forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet.
"Miss stuck-up princess finally got humbled."
Neila's arms remained crossed, her foot tapping against the soil. Her expression was disdainful and there seemed to be a flicker of genuine irritation.
Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Who even robbed you?"
"David Smith."
One eyebrow rose higher. "One of the Smiths, huh? They're really aggressive when it comes to their little witches. How badly did you damage him?"
She waved a dismissive hand. "I broke his nose."
Dominic hid his smile behind his hand. "Make sure not to kill him. Even someone as amazing as me can't deal with an entire great family by myself."
"I wasn't planning on killing him," Neila said, brushing dirt from her shoulders. "Just enough to do some damage."
Dominic's eyes narrowed. A smirk spread across his face. "You sure you're not lying so you can get away with your points? That's seems like something you'd do."
She looked at him from beneath her eyebrows, a scowl curling her lips. "You gonna frisk me for it? Bit desperate for the future head of the Walker family?"
Dominic laughed and turned his back, beginning to walk away.
"Keep the attitude," he called over his shoulder. "It suits you."
Hoshimi watched from the tree line.
His mana signature was suppressed to almost nothing, his body hidden in the shadows between trees.
He'd been tracking the fight since the first explosion, watching the exchange with a detached assessment.
[Neila Shaw. What do I do with you?]
He tapped his chin.
[I heard she has a mana deficiency but this was way more than I expected out of her]
He filed the observation away and melted back into the shadows.