Just as the silence started pressing too hard against Lui Xian's ears, the doors at the far end of the hall opened.
And he walked in.
Not just some teacher or generic instructor. No. This man owned the room the moment his boots tapped against the floor. His presence alone dropped the temperature.
He was tall, lean, and built like the silence before a thunderstorm. His hair was short, almost white—not the old-man kind of white, more pure, like snow. Eyes so pale they were almost silver, rimmed with shadows like sleep hadn't been a friend in years.
His long coat trailed behind him, and his steps were measured, like every second was pre-planned. He didn't speak right away, just stood there on the raised dais, watching them all with a cold detachment.
When he did speak, his voice were cold as ice.
"My name is Cael Orin," he said, hands behind his back. "You don't need to remember that."
Silence.
He scanned the room, gaze slicing across them like a scalpel.
"What you do need to remember," he continued, "is why you're here."
There wasn't a twitch among the students.
Cael began pacing slowly, the sharp tap of his boots echoing in the silence.
"Once upon a time," he said, "Awakeneds roamed free. Raw, unstable mana exploding out of children who couldn't control it. Buildings collapsed. Cities burned. People died. And no one could explain why."
There was a pause.
"Parents buried their kids. Governments panicked. The world nearly tore itself apart trying to contain what it didn't understand."
He stopped, letting the words hang there, rotting.
"Then came control."
He lifted a hand and gestured around them.
"This place. The Arcane Academy. Created not to punish, but to protect. Not to cage, but to train. Your abilities—your curses, your 'gifts,' whatever you choose to call them—have the potential to either uplift the world or rip it apart. We chose the former."
"We wiped the slate clean. The world forgot the chaos you Awakeneds caused. The governments helped us bury the truth deep—beneath treaties, under black sites, in the folds of rewritten history."
He tilted his head.
"We gave you a chance to be seen as Heroes."
Cael Orin turned his attention to the massive screen behind him. It flickered, then shifted to a symbol: a stylized pyramid with five glowing tiers. The ranks.
"From the moment you walk through this hall, you are unranked. You're nothing. Blank slates with destructive potential. To earn your place, you'll be grouped in teams of five and tasked with clearing portals. Each successful kill gives you gem drops, which count as points. Fail to collect enough points, or die, and you're disqualified."
A hum rolled through the hall—barely audible, but there.
"You need 50 points to make it out of the probationary zone and qualify for an E-rank. That's the lowest tier, and yet it decides whether you sleep in a dorm or a damn cell."
He smiled, cold and sharp.
"Higher ranks—D, C, B, A, and S—come with privileges. Outside contact. Custom training. Real food. Autonomy. But only the top survive. This isn't school. This is filtration."
Cael continued, his tone never changing.
"Every portal will test you. Each one tailored to probe your limits—your mind, your mana, your morality. And another info: if you lose a teammate in there, their points will be divided among you."
The screen changed again, this time showing names and team numbers.
"You'll be assigned teammates randomly. No, you don't get a choice. You don't know them, they don't know you. Learn fast, or you die fast."
He stepped off the platform, walking down the stairs.
"And for those of you already planning to cheat the system—don't. We're watching. Every moment. Every portal. Every breath."
He stopped at the center of the room, looking around.
"You have until tomorrow morning to prepare. Portals open at dawn. Welcome to Arcane Academy."
Then, without waiting for applause—or even reaction—Cael turned and walked out of the room.
The silence left behind was heavier than before.
Liu Xian stood there, fists clenched by his side, jaw tight.
Fifty points.
"Hi…" A voice called from behind him.
The voice was small, barely audible over the hushed crowd of new recruits filling the marble-floored orientation hall.
Liu Xian didn't react at first. His expression remained blank, that familiar hollow numbness plastered across his pale face.
"Hi!" the voice repeated, a little more insistently now.
Liu Xian blinked slowly, his attention snapping back into the present. He turned around, expecting another stoic looking asshole—but instead, his gaze dropped down to a kid.
A literal kid.
Barely above twelve. If that.
The boy was tiny, even by average standards, and wearing a uniform way too big for him—the sleeves of his academy-issued shirt were folded up twice, and his boots looked like they were threatening to swallow his ankles. A huge grin spread across his round face, completely at odds with the still, dead atmosphere of the hall.
He had a mess of curly dark hair, bright brown eyes that shined bright with excitement, and a datapad clutched tightly to his chest.
"My name is B67," the kid beamed.