The skies above Elara Academy cracked with thunder as a line of students stepped off the glowing transit platform. Their uniforms were crisp. Their eyes filled with the usual mix of awe, nerves, and ambition. Among them walked Elara Moen, her steps silent but sure.
But she wasn't like them.
She wasn't wide-eyed. She wasn't hopeful. She wasn't new.
In fact, she had hoped never to return.
Lightning flickered in the distance as Elara passed the front gates. Her long coat fluttered slightly behind her, and the faint hum of runic energy at her collar buzzed in sync with the school's barrier field. Even now, the magic embedded in the ancient academy walls pulsed with hidden rules, old secrets, and things students weren't meant to understand.
She could feel the eyes on her—students staring, teachers whispering.
"That's her, right? The one who—"
She tuned it out.
They didn't know what she'd done to come back.
Elara paused before the towering arch engraved with the academy's motto: Power Through Knowledge, Balance Through Force. Her fingers brushed against the cold stone. Just for a moment.
Then she walked on.
---
Dean Halvar stood at the top step of the assembly hall. His voice thundered across the courtyard, silencing murmurs and side glances.
"Welcome, Initiates. You stand at the gates of the most elite institution in the Five Realms. Some of you will ascend. Most of you will fail."
Polite laughter.
Elara didn't laugh. She never did.
Dean Halvar continued, "Your schedules will be routed through the wrist nodes by sundown. Dorms are pre-assigned. Rules are strict. Infractions are punished. This year, however, we are... modifying one tradition."
He paused. Smiled.
"I'm proud to announce the reinstatement of Class Zero."
Gasps.
Whispers ignited across the courtyard.
A short girl with pale orange hair leaned toward Elara. "Is that the suicide class?" she whispered, only to receive a pointed look from the boy beside her.
"It's experimental," Elara said flatly.
The orange-haired girl blinked. "Wait—you know about it?"
Elara didn't answer.
Dean Halvar's voice echoed again. "All placements have been determined by your entrance exam and psychological index. No one will appeal. No one will transfer. Class Zero begins tomorrow at sunrise. Report to the eastern tower."
He stepped down. The gathering dispersed like startled crows.
---
Elara's dorm was on the top floor. Private, sparse, and cold.
Just how she needed it.
She dropped her bag, activated the runes on the wall, and waited for the name list to finish loading. Class Zero: 7 students. She read through them in silence, noting their test scores, family backgrounds, records of discipline, and... trauma.
Each one was broken differently.
Perfect.
Then she stopped at one name: Kai Revenhart.
Her chest tensed.
No. Not him.
Not again.
She stood, paced to the window, and stared out at the Academy. Her reflection flickered against the glass, superimposed with distant towers lit by runelight.
Her fingers pressed against the sill. "You should've stayed gone, Kai," she whispered.
---
Meanwhile, on the opposite wing of the dormitory, four students gathered in a narrow hallway.
"I heard Class Zero doesn't use textbooks," said a tall boy with silver cuffs around his wrists. "They use real-world combat. No safety nets."
"You sound excited, Riven," said the girl next to him. She wore a half-burned patch on her collar—the mark of a dropout who'd fought their way back into the academy.
Riven smirked. "I'm just saying, finally a class that doesn't treat us like kids."
"I don't care what they throw at us," muttered a boy slouched against the wall. His eyes were shadowed. His sleeve bore the insignia of a family known for controlling half the southern continent's mining industry.
"You all talk like you volunteered," said the orange-haired girl from earlier. "We didn't choose this."
"No," Riven said. "But someone chose us."
They looked toward the window.
A dark silhouette moved along the far ridge of the tower.
Elara.
"I heard she's dangerous," the girl with the burned patch murmured. "Like, actually dangerous. Top of her class three years ago, vanished after the incident."
"They say she burned an entire sector of the east wing during a duel."
"They say she was supposed to be expelled."
"They say a lot of things."
"I say we wait and see."
---
Back in her room, Elara sat alone at her desk, fingers clasped, the soft light of the rune-lamp throwing long shadows on the wall.
She had fought for this.
Fought against the council, against her former instructors, against her instincts.
Class Zero wasn't just a classroom. It was a battlefield.
And these weren't just students. They were test subjects. Each one is volatile. Each one is gifted. Each one with something to prove.
Her orders were clear: teach them, shape them, test them.
But she had her reason for returning.
There was something unfinished in these halls. Something dangerous. Something that hadn't died with the fire three years ago.
And Kai Revenhart was the key.
She opened the drawer at her desk and pulled out a folded photo. A blurry shot of seven figures standing in a ruined courtyard. Burn marks. Cracked runes. Blood. A girl in the centre, her eyes glowing white.
The past was catching up.
This time, she wouldn't run.
This time, she'd burn it all down first.
---
END OF CHAPTER 1
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