The Academy's yearly tournament was supposed to start in three days.
Cale had seen the posters going up around the campus—bold letters, gold trim, and names of top teams already being whispered in the dining hall. Students obsessed over brackets and rankings, debating which Aethel squad would take the top spot or if any lower faction could break into the top ten. Many simply refused to join, paralyzed by the fear of being crushed by the Noble powerhouses.
Cale ignored the noise. His focus was narrowed to a needle-point: his next class, his next training session, and the agonizingly slow creep of his Experience toward two hundred. The tournament was just static. And he didn't need static.
Then the message came.
It was evening. Cale was in his room, reviewing Professor Harlow's notes on joint vulnerabilities, when his gauntlet pulsed. A summons:
```
All first‑years are to report to the main auditorium. Immediately.
```
He met Val and Ethan in the corridor. Their faces were tense, their jaws set tight.
"What's going on?" Val asked.
"I don't know," Ethan said. "But summoning the entire year at once? It's never a good sign."
They fell into step with the flow of students heading toward the main building. The auditorium was already half‑full, the air thick with the hum of nervous gossip. Cale spotted Riker near the back, his slate‑grey eyes fixed on the stage. Beside him stood a boy Cale didn't recognize—dark hair, arms crossed, and a black mask covering the lower half of his face. He wore a Koinos uniform.
The lights dimmed. The Vice Chancellor walked onto the stage, her robes casting a long, sharp shadow. Behind her stood four instructors, including Rourke, who was lighting a cigarette with practiced, agonizing slowness.
"At ease," the Vice Chancellor said. The whispers died instantly. "I have a simple announcement. The tournament has been postponed."
A ripple of shock went through the room. Val sat forward, her eyes narrowing.
"Instead, a more immediate opportunity has arisen," the Vice Chancellor continued. A holographic map flickered to life. It showed the region surrounding Veridian, with a cluster of jagged red markers near the eastern border. "Three days ago, a Fallen nest was discovered in the high valleys. Scouts have identified a swarm of low‑tier beasts and at least one entity of significant strength. The Astral Wardens are currently occupied with a larger incursion in the north, and the elite guards have been summoned by our Immortal Lord to the Capital. Therefore, the Academy has been asked to provide containment support."
Cale's heart skipped a beat.
"A team of fifteen first‑years will be dispatched to assist the Wardens. Your performance on this mission will serve as your tournament ranking. Those who distinguish themselves will earn their place. Those who fail… will remain unknown."
She stepped back, and Rourke stepped forward, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Selection is based on combat assessments and instructor recommendations. The following students will report to the eastern gate at 0500 tomorrow."
He began reading the names.
From the Aethel Faction: Vorian Ashkar. Lysander Leonis. Lana Voss. Cassius Vale. Soren Darrow.
From the Koinos Faction: Riker. Rel Hyander. Kyra Mona. Theron Esse. Alyss.
From the Anómalos: Valerie. Ethan Modred. Mira. Garrick. And Caelan.
Cale's name hung in the air. He felt a surge of grim satisfaction. *"Right back at you, old man,"* he muttered, thinking of his father.
Val let out a low whistle. "Fifteen students. Five from the bottom. They must really think we're expendable."
"Or they just want to make the slaughter look fair," Ethan added quietly.
The team was divided into three mixed groups. Cale's team—**Team Beta**—was a strange cocktail: himself, Val, Ethan, Riker, and the masked boy, Rel.
In the courtyard that night, the team gathered under the sharp light of the stars. Rel stood motionless beside Riker, his gaze hidden behind the black cloth.
"So. We're a team," Val said, crossing her arms.
Cale looked at the silent boy. "You have a name?"
Rel reached up and touched a thin silver disc clipped to his collar. A holographic screen flickered in front of his mask: **[Call... me... Rel.]
"Why the mask? And the screen?" Cale asked.
Rel's fingers moved over the device. [This is my Flaw. I cannot speak without consequences. Anything I say... happens. If I told you to fall, you would fall. If I said die...] The letters faded into the night air.
Val went rigid. Ethan's hand tightened on his staff.
"When he speaks, it sounds like static to the human ear," Riker explained, his voice low. "But the world hears him. The device lets him communicate without... breaking reality. We've trained together for a while."
Cale let out a slow breath. "A dangerous ability. Good to have you with us, Rel."
At dawn, they were met at the eastern gate by a Warden named Corvin—a man whose face was a roadmap of scars. He led them into the high valleys where the air tasted of frost and old blood. By mid‑morning, they reached the ravine. Smoke rose from the depths like the breath of a dying god.
"The nest is a B‑rank infestation," Corvin warned. "We handle the big one. You clear the outer tunnels. Beta, take the right. Move."
The right tunnel was slick with moisture. Cale led the way, his **Death Sense** screaming in his mind. They reached a wide chamber, and the darkness began to move.
Dozens of creatures emerged. They were grey, six‑legged monstrosities with jaws that split open to reveal needle‑like fangs. They had no eyes, only sensitive, twitching pits where their faces should be.
"Pale Skulkers," Ethan whispered. "They hunt by sound."
"Then be quiet," Val breathed.
Too late. A Skulker lunged.
Cale's blade took it in the throat, but the chamber erupted. The sound of claws on stone was deafening.
"Val, fire! Ethan, block the exit!"
Val's wildfire illuminated the chamber as Ethan sealed them in. They were trapped with the swarm. Cale moved like a ghost, his sword a blur of steel. Riker raised his hands, and the Skulkers nearest him began to tear into each other—illusions turning their own hunger against them.
Then Rel spoke.
The sound wasn't a word. It was a guttural, grinding snap, like a mountain cracking in half. A single syllable of pure power.
A Skulker froze mid‑leap. Its blind head twisted toward Rel. Then, it turned with savage fury and began shredding the swarm behind it.
[I told it to turn,] Rel's screen flickered.
Riker glanced back. "It drains him. He can't sustain it." Rel's hands were indeed trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The fight was a blur of black blood and heat. Then, a roar echoed from the deep—a sound so heavy it felt like it was crushing Cale's lungs. The Skulkers froze, then fled, scrambling over each other to escape into the dark.
Silence fell, heavy and cold.
"What was that?" Val whispered.
The roar came again. The earth shattered as a massive shape pushed through Ethan's wall. It was twice the size of a Cyclops, its hide a slick, spine‑studded black. Three eyes arranged in a triangle glowed with a sickening red light. Its mouth was a cavern of glowing, hungry heat.
A Grave‑Watcher. It was The B‑rank threat. Rourke had told them about this creature in one of his classes. But he never went into details. Probably because they weren't supposed to even fight it.
The creature lunged. It smashed through Ethan's defenses like they were made of glass and ignored Riker's illusions entirely. Rel opened his mouth and barked two incomprehensible syllables.
The Grave‑Watcher faltered, its claws gouging the stone as something inside its body fought for control. For one heartbeat, it stopped. Then, with a scream of rage, it broke the command and charged again.
Rel staggered, clutching his throat, his face deathly pale.
Cale saw his opening. He drew the Ogreian Dagger, channeled every drop of his remaining Mauri into it, and threw. The blade vanished into the air—but the beast was too fast. It twisted, the dagger glancing harmlessly off its hide.
The three red eyes locked onto Cale.
"Down!" a voice roared.
Cale hit the dirt. A blade of pure light sheared through the air, slamming into the Grave‑Watcher's side. Corvin dropped from the ledge above, his sword blazing like a miniature sun. "Get out! Now!"
They didn't need to be told twice.
Back at the Academy gates, the team was a mess of blood and bruises. Corvin dismissed them toward the medical wing with a grim nod.
Cale didn't feel the pain in his arm. He only felt the pulse of his gauntlet.
```
Experience: 200/200
Threshold reached. Second seal ready.
```
He stared at the words. The Second Seal. After facing that Grave‑Watcher, he knew his Rank E days were over. He looked at Val, Ethan, Riker, and the silent Rel. They had survived a B‑rank nest.
The tournament was in three days. Cale closed his eyes, feeling the new power thrumming under his skin.
It wasn't a warning anymore. It was a promise of what was to come.