After lunch, I returned to my room and opened the academy’s dungeon handbook.

  Three hours later, I had learned far more than I wanted to know about environments specifically designed to kill people who entered them voluntarily.

  Light reading.

  After that, I went to the gym.

  Sixty kilograms felt ambitious for a first attempt, but with Ether augmenting my body, it seemed theoretically possible.

  In practice, the barbell felt like lifting a small piece of architecture.

  My muscles protested immediately, trembling under the strain.

  I activated Silent Eclipse for two seconds.

  The effect was subtle but unmistakable. My perception sharpened, my balance stabilized, and the flow of Ether intensified — denser, more controlled, as if my body briefly remembered how to function efficiently.

  Behind me, someone laughed.

  “Only sixty kilos?”

  Public humiliation. A time-honored motivational strategy.

  I ignored the comment and continued.

  Pride weighed nothing.

  The barbell did.

  Four hours later, exhaustion had replaced dignity entirely. My limbs felt heavy, my grip unreliable, and even walking required conscious effort.

  Normally, overtraining on the first day would be considered reckless.

  Here, it seemed routine.

  Mana supported them.

  Ether supported me.

  Back in my room, I showered again and checked my phone.

  [Strength has increased by 0.4]

  [Endurance has increased by 0.2]

  [Agility has increased by 0.2]

  Worth it.

  Another notification appeared almost immediately.

  [Luck has activated.]

  [New Talent Acquired: Calculation Expert]

  Calculation Expert — Perform complex calculations mentally with high precision.

  So Luck manifested as… advanced mathematics.

  Unexpected.

  But not useless.

  Trajectory prediction.

  Timing.

  Optimization.

  All valuable in combat scenarios.

  Assuming I survived long enough to encounter them.

  Acceptable.

  I lay back on the bed, too tired to maintain proper posture.

  Tomorrow was orientation day.

  Or something equally ominous.

  Sleep came quickly.

  I woke at 5:00 a.m.

  The routine formed itself almost automatically.

  Gym for four hours.

  Shower.

  Short recovery nap.

  My body adapted faster than expected, though whether that was Ether assistance or sheer necessity remained unclear.

  Short naps, according to several productivity studies, reduce neural fatigue and improve focus.

  At least that was the justification I repeated to myself while lying motionless on the floor.

  After dressing in the cadet uniform, I headed toward the main hall.

  Orientation Hall

  The assembly hall was enormous.

  Not merely large.

  Monumental.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  It was a circular chamber designed more like an arena than a lecture space. Tiered seating rose in sweeping arcs around a polished stone floor that reflected the soft glow of chandeliers infused with mana light.

  Massive pillars lined the walls, each engraved with the names of past graduates.

  The stone had been worn smooth by time — and, judging by the shine, by people touching the names.

  At the far end stood a grand stage beneath the academy crest:

  A blade piercing a seven-pointed star.

  Thousands of seats.

  All facing forward.

  All waiting.

  Gradually the hall filled with noise — whispers, nervous chatter, the low hum of anticipation from students who understood that this place would determine the rest of their lives.

  Rael dropped into the seat beside me and scanned the chamber with open fascination.

  “Big place, huh?”

  “Understatement.”

  Before he could respond, the noise vanished.

  Not faded.

  Vanished.

  As if someone had flipped a switch.

  An elderly man stood on the stage.

  No entrance.

  No announcement.

  One moment the stage was empty.

  The next he was simply there.

  Tall. Broad-shouldered. Silver hair tied neatly behind his back.

  His posture looked relaxed, but the air around him felt dense — like standing too close to a storm.

  Retired war god turned administrator.

  “Hello, cadets,” he said calmly. “I am Principal Throne Umbra.”

  No microphone.

  He didn’t need one.

  His voice carried effortlessly to every corner of the hall.

  “Congratulations on your admission to Echelon Academy. You are among the most capable young individuals in the world.”

  A pause.

  “But capability is not achievement.”

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

  “From this moment forward, nothing you accomplished before today matters.”

  Good.

  My previous academic glory has officially been downgraded to irrelevant trivia.

  “Yes,” the principal continued. “Many of you will fail. This institution does not produce students.”

  Another pause.

  “It produces heroes.”

  “And heroes are not trained in comfort.”

  So this is less a school and more a selection process.

  Noted.

  He raised one hand slightly.

  “There is one more matter you must understand. Each year, the top ten ranked students form a special unit.”

  A ripple passed through the audience.

  “They function as the Student Council… and the Discipline Committee.”

  Another pause.

  “They represent the academy, enforce regulations, and assist faculty during emergencies.”

  Elite students with authority.

  And permission to ruin your day.

  “Allow me to introduce this year’s Top Ten.”

  Top Ten Introduction

  The stage brightened.

  Ten figures stepped forward.

  Even from a distance their presence carried weight.

  Not theatrical.

  Not exaggerated.

  Simply undeniable.

  Rank 1 — Aric Vayne

  “Rank One: Aric Vayne.”

  Tall, composed, and unfairly handsome.

  Black hair fell naturally across his forehead, framing sharp eyes that surveyed the crowd without hostility or arrogance.

  He looked like someone accustomed to winning without needing to prove it.

  Rael leaned closer.

  “Commoner background. No guild.”

  Of course.

  The classic prodigy archetype.

  I lowered my voice.

  “System… can I check his status?”

  “No.”

  No elaboration.

  No apology.

  Just denial.

  Very cooperative.

  Rank 2 — Varek Valkor

  “Rank Two: Varek Valkor.”

  Broad-shouldered, dark hair slicked back, expression openly dissatisfied — as though second place were an insult rather than an achievement.

  Confidence radiated from him, edged with aggression.

  “Son of Orin Valkor,” Rael whispered. “President of the number one guild.”

  Naturally.

  Varek’s gaze shifted toward Aric.

  Sharp.

  Hostile.

  Yes.

  Rivalry confirmed.

  Rank 3 — Iris Umbra

  “Rank Three: Iris Umbra.”

  She stepped forward calmly, long dark hair falling over pale skin.

  Her expression was calm to the point of detachment.

  Beautiful.

  But distant.

  “Daughter of Armand Umbra,” Rael murmured. “Strongest hero alive.”

  Not intimidating at all.

  “And he governs Umbravale.”

  Of course he does.

  I leaned toward Rael.

  “Related to the principal?”

  “Granddaughter.”

  So Rank Three is literal academy royalty.

  Wonderful.

  Rank 4 — Zane Warry

  Semi-long brown hair.

  Controlled posture.

  Noble without stiffness.

  “Daughter of the third-ranked guild president,” Rael confirmed.

  She stood slightly angled toward Aric.

  Not close.

  Not distant.

  Aligned.

  Whatever their relationship was, it wasn’t casual.

  Rank 5 — Seraphina Vale

  Long blonde hair caught the light like polished gold.

  Graceful.

  Refined.

  Regal.

  The kind of presence that made everyone else feel slightly less significant simply by existing nearby.

  “Princess of Haloport,” Rael whispered urgently. “Also heir to the rank two guild.”

  I tilted my head.

  “So Haloport has a monarchy?”

  “Yeah.”

  Efficient.

  Terrifying.

  Rank 6 — Selene Nightbloom

  Deep burgundy hair.

  Sharp eyes.

  Perfect posture.

  She didn’t radiate warmth.

  Or fragility.

  She radiated control.

  Strategic beauty rather than decorative beauty.

  “Daughter of the fourth-ranked Nightbloom Guild president,” Rael said.

  Another elite heir.

  I studied her briefly.

  Definitely dangerous in a political sense.

  But nothing about her triggered immediate alarm.

  No sense of familiarity.

  No recognition.

  Just another high-ranking noble.

  Her gaze swept across the hall, pausing for the briefest moment near our section before moving on.

  Good.

  Background status preserved.

  Rank 7 — Tyrion Blackthorn

  Tall.

  Lean.

  Black hair threaded with faint silver.

  His expression was calm.

  Cold.

  Not dramatic.

  Just controlled.

  The kind of person who didn’t need to announce danger to embody it.

  Rank 8 & 9 — Nyara and Brynna Solstice

  Nyara stepped forward first.

  Graceful.

  Alert.

  Dark brown hair flowing behind her.

  Brynna followed immediately.

  Identical.

  Same posture.

  Same expression.

  “Combat twins,” Rael whispered.

  Nothing ominous about synchronized fighters.

  Rank 10 — Kade Stratos

  Broad-shouldered.

  Blond hair slightly disordered in a way that suggested deliberate styling.

  His expression carried a faint smile that never reached his eyes.

  Not arrogant.

  Predatory.

  Like he enjoyed the anticipation of violence more than the violence itself.

  Yes.

  This one would absolutely start fights for entertainment.

  Principal Umbra spoke again.

  “These ten cadets represent the highest level of capability in this cohort.”

  “You will respect their authority.”

  “And if you choose to challenge them…”

  A pause.

  “…be prepared for the consequences.”

  Definitely not a normal school.

  Something about the group felt subtly wrong.

  Not obviously wrong.

  Just…

  Off.

  Without fully thinking, I activated Silent Eclipse.

  Only for a moment.

  The world sharpened.

  Ether compressed behind my eyes like pressure building inside glass.

  And then I saw it.

  Not around everyone.

  Only two.

  Tyrion.

  And Kade.

  Their mana signatures were blue like the others.

  But distorted.

  Not brighter.

  Not darker.

  Just… misaligned.

  Like reflections that didn’t quite match their source.

  Around Kade, the aura flickered unevenly — edges fraying like smoke that refused to obey airflow.

  Around Tyrion, the distortion was subtler.

  Compressed inward.

  Almost hollow at the center.

  My vision pulsed in warning.

  I deactivated immediately.

  The hall returned to normal.

  No one else seemed to notice anything unusual.

  Maybe it was Ether strain.

  Or maybe—

  Not everyone here is what they appear to be.

  Great.