As Elyon walked through the quiet halls of the Academy, his thoughts churned, looping back to the conversation he had just had. Every step echoed softly against the sfloor, a gentle rhythm that mirrored the tension building in his chest.
'If Shila was personally chosen by Count Dark…' the thought struck him again, heavier this time. He couldn't shake it.
''That could only mean one thing. She hadn't come here by chance. She'd been sent.''
''Sent to find out who killed the Count's son.''
Elren's voice echoed in his mind. "It is a possibility," he had said, his tone as cautious as ever.
But Elyon had responded quickly, firmly. "Not a possibility. It probably is."
He moved slowly down the corridor, glancing out of the tall, narrow windows that lined the wall. The sky outside was clear, pale with the late sun, casting a bluish-white glow on the stone. But something was off.
There was no one out there.
The grassy fields and stone paths between the towers were completely empty—no students walking to class, no instructors crossing the grounds. No chatter. No movement.
A strange stillness had taken over the Academy.
Elyon furrowed his brow.''Did third class already start?''
He kept walking, picking up pace slightly, and peered through another window overlooking the training grounds. They too were silent. The wide stretch of open field, usually alive with students practicing formations, was eerily still. Not a single person.
He blinked, as if that might change what he was seeing. But the silence remained.
''Where is everyone? ''he wondered.
The unease was harder to ignore now. The Academy was never this quiet during daytime hours. Not unless something unusual was happening.
He continued walking, the sound of his boots tapping crisply against the stone becoming louder in the absence of other noise. Finally, rounding a corner near the west wing, he spotted two students walking side by side. They were speaking in hushed tones, too softly for him to hear, their heads turned toward each other.
Without hesitation, he raised his voice. "Hey!"
They both stopped and turned around, clearly startled by his sudden call. Their expressions shifted quickly from surprise to recognition.
Elyon walked toward them, keeping his tone even. "Where are all the other students?"
The two exchanged a glance, as if silently deciding who should answer. After a short pause, one of them—a girl with short, dark hair and a yellow sash—spoke.
"Everyone is at the main courtyard. Behind the Academy."
That was all she said. With no further explanation, she turned and continued walking with her companion, their quiet conversation resuming almost instantly. They didn't look back.
Elyon stood in place, watching them disappear around the far end of the corridor. His mind raced.
Why is everyone in the courtyard?
There hadn't been any announcements. No bells. Whatever this was, it wasn't routine.
Guess I'll find out by going there, he decided.
He turned in the direction of the rear courtyard, his footsteps echoing once more through the stillness. The air felt heavier now, like the calm before a storm. Something was waiting for him out there—something he hadn't been prepared for.
But he would face it. Just like always.
And so, Elyon walked on.
The hallways were unnaturally quiet as he moved. Each footstep echoed sharply against the cold stone floor, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings and bare walls. A chill hung in the air, faint but noticeable, as though the very walls had noticed the absence of life and were unsettled by it.
Elyon paused for a moment and glanced around. The torches that usually flickered along the corridor walls burned steadily, their soft light dancing in amber waves across the smooth stone. There was no flicker of motion anywhere. No whispered conversation. No distant laughter from the common rooms. Not even the usual rustle of robes or the faint clatter of students shuffling through their daily routines.
''Has literally everyone gone to the courtyard?'' he wondered, frowning. ''What's going on there?''
He passed hallway after hallway, long corridors that twisted and bent like arteries through the grand structure of the Academy. Every corridor he entered was just as deserted as the last. Even the classrooms—usually alive with discussion or the dry drone of lectures—sat in eerie silence behind closed doors. His footsteps became his only companion, a steady rhythm tapping against his nerves.
Finally, up ahead, he saw them—the large double doors that led outside. Sunlight slanted in through the cracks, bright and warm compared to the dimness of the halls. But there was something else now—faint, distant, and growing louder with every step he took.
A muffled roar.
It was subtle at first, like wind pushing through trees, but then it became clearer. The sound of voices, a crowd, cheering, shouting. It rolled in like thunder held at bay by stone, its power pressing against the thick doors.
Elyon picked up his pace. With a push, he opened the doors and stepped into the light.
And stopped.
A massive stadium loomed before him.
It was unlike anything he had ever seen before—vast, towering, and carved with the elegance of something ancient. The stone was weathered yet majestic, its age only adding to its grandeur. It seemed to rise from the landscape itself, as if it had been grown rather than built. The architecture curved gracefully into the hillside, its colossal arches and detailed carvings speaking of an era long before his own.
Elyon's mouth opened slightly as he stepped forward, his eyes scanning the vastness. The stadium was shaped like a ring, immense and symmetrical. Tiered stone bleachers circled a wide, open arena in the center. Thousands of students filled the seats, their attention fixed on the combat below. Cheers surged from the crowd in waves, rising and falling like the tides.
''How have I never noticed this before?'' Elyon wondered, awe coursing through him.'' This place... it feels older than the Academy itself.''
He moved slowly into the stadium grounds, his eyes wide, his pace unhurried. He could feel the heat of the sun now, its rays warming his skin as he crossed the courtyard toward the base of the stands. All around him, the noise was louder now—raw energy buzzing in the air, carried by the excited voices of hundreds of students.
He found a stairway and began to climb, stone steps curving along the interior wall of the stadium. As he ascended, the arena came into clearer view. The combatants in the center were locked in motion—two students moving with speed and focus, exchanging blows, dodging and weaving, striking with magical energy and skill alike.
Elyon barely noticed his feet carrying him upward. His eyes remained locked on the fight.
By the time he reached the main level, something else caught his attention.
Across the arena, on the far side of the stadium, was a raised platform. Unlike the student seating, this section was cordoned off and elevated, adorned with banners and stone reliefs. Seated there were the headmaster, several of the Academy's instructors, and a number of finely dressed individuals Elyon didn't recognize. Their clothing gleamed with subtle enchantments—silk that shimmered unnaturally, collars stitched with delicate gold thread, rings and brooches bearing family crests.
''Nobles'', Elyon thought, noting the way they carried themselves, the way the crowd occasionally cast glances their way. Judging by how everyone else is acting...
His gaze continued to drift across the crowd until, near the edge of the student section, he spotted a familiar face—Kelson.
Elyon made his way over, weaving through the seated students until he reached him. Kelson sat near the steps, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes focused on the duel in the arena. Elyon nudged his shoulder gently.
Kelson looked up and smiled faintly. "Ah, hey there. I wondered if you'd show up."
Elyon raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have if I hadn't noticed the entire Academy vanish."
Kelson chuckled softly. "Yeah... it has that effect. So, what do you think?"
Elyon took a long breath and looked around again. "So what is this? What's going on?"
Kelson's expression shifted slightly. His smile remained . He leaned back, gesturing toward the arena with a tilt of his head. "This is the Aptitude Evaluation. They use it to assess our abilities—combat skill, control, focus. It helps them rank us and decide who's worth watching."
Elyon turned his eyes back to the field. The fight below had just ended. One of the students stood tall, while the other lay defeated on the ground, groaning. The victorious student gave a short bow toward the stands before walking away.
The crowd roared.
So this is what the Academy really values... Elyon thought, watching the victor disappear behind a gate. Power. Display. Performance.
He turned back to Kelson. "So everyone has to fight in this combat trial just so the Academy can decide who's talented and who isn't?"
"Exactly," Kelson replied. "Your performance here determines your ranking. And rankings matter more than you'd think."
Elyon frowned. "What, like... it determines our class status or something?"
"More than that," Kelson said, finally looking at him. "Rankings decide what kind of opportunities you get. Who trains you. Whether you get special privileges. Which instructors take interest. Whether nobles even acknowledge you."
That hit harder than Elyon expected. He looked back at the arena, taking in the faces of the students around them. All of them were focused. Most were whispering among themselves, some analyzing, some already speculating about the next match.
He slowly sank into the seat beside Kelson, still trying to absorb it all. The atmosphere in the stadium crackled with energy—students on the edge of their seats, eyes wide, voices eager. For some, this was just excitement. But for others, he could see the tension—jaw muscles clenched, hands gripping stone benches, eyes narrowing in concentration.
"So," Elyon asked, "how does this work, exactly?"
Kelson kept his gaze forward. "A student's name is picked at random from a slot system. Two names, two students. Whoever's chosen, they fight. They show what they've got—skill, power, control, everything."
Elyon blinked. "Random? So... commoners can end up fighting nobles?"
Kelson smirked. "Yup. And when that happens... everyone watches a lit."
Of course they do, Elyon thought grimly. Everyone loves an uneven match. Just to see who surprises who.
Down below, the next match had just ended. A roar erupted from the crowd as a student raised his arm in victory, standing tall over his opponent, who lay unconscious at the edge of the ring. A pair of healers quickly rushed in to check the fallen student while the victor calmly walked off, head high.
He's good, Elyon thought, watching the fighter's form. Fast. Controlled. Every movement had purpose.
Then, suddenly, a booming voice echoed across the entire stadium. It wasn't just loud—it was clear, reverberating with magical amplification. The sound seemed to bypass distance and air, arriving in everyone's ears as though whispered directly.
"Ladies and gentlemen," came the commentator's voice—smooth, practiced, commanding. "Prepare yourselves for the next battle!"
The energy shifted instantly.
Students who had been chatting now fell silent. Others straightened in their seats. The mood had changed—no longer simply excited, but expectant. Focused.
Elyon sat up straighter too, instinctively.
There was something about the way the commentator spoke now, as if they all were about to witness something different.
The voice continued:
"Luke versus… Riven Blackthorn!"
Gasps rippled through the stands like a stone dropped into still water. A collective murmur followed—some astonished, some uneasy. A few students stood to get a better view.
Beside Elyon, Kelson's demeanor shifted instantly. His jaw tightened.His eyes locked on the center of the arena.
Elyon turned his gaze forward, at the arena not expecting that luke would fight riven literally after they got into a fight in the halls.
Elyon keeps his gaze awoken ready to see how this will play out.