Lyrrise POV
The morning sunlight broke through the horizon, casting golden hues across the land. I tightened my grip on my katana, feeling the weight not only of steel but of my promise to my parents and myself. Today was the day—my first step into Blood Moon Heaven Academy.
My heart thumped with a mix of excitement and dread.
The path to the Academy was lined with tall crimson trees whose leaves glimmered faintly under the morning light. They said these trees grew only near this place, nourished by the same strange energy that the Riftborn left behind. It was unsettling and beautiful all at once, like walking into a painting where danger lurked just beyond the frame.
When I reached the gates, my breath caught.
Two massive obsidian arches rose high above, entwined with glowing silver runes that pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat. At the center, floating above the gate, was the Academy's emblem—a crimson moon split by a silver dagger. It wasn't just a school… it was a fortress, a sanctuary, and a battlefield all rolled into one.
I stepped through and immediately felt it—the air was different. Heavier. Charged. Like the world itself was holding its breath.
The courtyard was unlike anything I had imagined. Towering stone spires jutted out of the ground, engraved with names of fallen assassins—those who had given their lives to push back the Riftborn. Around them, holographic panels displayed their stories, their final battles, and their ranks. I stopped for a second, staring at one name: Eliana Veyra – Rank S Assassin – "She Never Missed."
"Someday, my name will be there too," I whispered to myself.
The main building was breathtaking—five stories tall, built of dark marble and silver glass that reflected the morning sun. Blue energy conduits ran along its walls, pulsing faintly as if the Academy itself was alive. Above it, dozens of hovering drones patrolled, their lenses blinking red. This wasn't just for show; this was a war school.
Inside, the entrance hall stretched endlessly, lined with banners representing each Assassin Division—Stealth, Combat, Support, and Arcane. A massive crystal sat at the center, glowing blood-red. An instructor said it was powered by Riftborn cores, acting as both a power source and a ward to repel minor Riftborn intrusions.
And then I saw them—students.
Some were my age, laughing nervously, others older, already bearing scars and stern expressions that spoke of experience. Every one of them carried weapons—katanas, scythes, crossbows, even strange rifles I had never seen before.
I held my breath as I walked toward the registration desk.
"Name?" The attendant, a tall woman in sleek combat armor, asked without even looking up.
"Lyrrise Marcilles," I replied, trying to sound confident but hearing the slight tremble in my own voice.
Her eyes finally met mine—sharp and calculating. For a moment, I thought she would comment on my red eyes, but instead, she simply nodded. "Dorm Room 3-C. Orientation in one hour. Don't be late. And… welcome to the Blood Moon Heaven Academy."
I bowed slightly and turned, but then froze as a voice behind me called out.
"You there, redhead!"
I stiffened. Did he just—?
A tall boy, probably seventeen or eighteen, approached, his dark cloak fluttering as he moved. He had silver hair and cold blue eyes, his hand resting casually on a long spear strapped to his back.
"You… have Riftborn eyes," he said bluntly, his expression unreadable.
I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "They're just eyes. Not Riftborn."
For a moment, I thought he would press the issue, but instead, he smirked. "Good. Keep it that way. Weak ones don't last long here." With that, he walked away.
Weak? I clenched my fists. We'll see who's weak.
---
By the time orientation began, I found myself standing in a grand training arena the size of a stadium. A massive skylight bathed the area in natural light while floating platforms and weapon racks filled every corner. There were even Riftborn dummies—horrific but realistic models for training.
Then, silence fell.
A man walked in, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a black cloak trimmed in silver. His presence was overwhelming, like gravity itself shifted when he moved. His scarred face and golden eyes were unmistakable.
Edric Valemont.
My breath caught. He wasn't just a legend—he was *the* reason we still had a world.
"Welcome," Edric said, his deep voice echoing across the arena. "You stand here because you've chosen to fight. To bleed. To kill Riftborn… and maybe die doing it. From this day on, you are no longer ordinary people. You are assassins in training. This school will either forge you into weapons… or break you."
His eyes scanned the crowd, and for one terrifying moment, they landed on me. I straightened my posture, gripping my katana tighter.
"This is the Blood Moon Heaven Academy," Edric continued. "Where hope is built… and the weak are left behind. Survive… and you'll earn your place."
The crowd erupted into murmurs, some nervous, some excited. I only smiled. This is it. My journey begins here.
---
As night approached, I sat by my dorm window, staring at the crimson sunset—Dris. My reflection in the glass showed my red eyes glowing faintly under the fading light.
"Watch me, Mom. Dad," I whispered. "I'll change this world."
And for the first time, I felt like I truly believed it.
---
The dorms were buzzing with new students settling in—some unpacking weapons, others chatting about ranks they hoped to achieve. I didn't know anyone here yet, which was fine by me. I wasn't looking for friends. I was here to become strong enough to kick Riftborn teeth in.
But of course, there's always one person who has to make things interesting.
As I stepped out of the dorm hallway, I nearly collided with a tall girl flanked by two followers. She had glossy golden hair, a perfect uniform tailored to look like it came off a runway, and an expression that screamed bow to me or die.
Her eyes ran over me slowly—taking in my black-dyed hair, contact lenses, and simple uniform—before she smirked.
"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping arrogance. "Fresh meat. Did you take a wrong turn? The civilian dorms are that way."
Her two minions snickered, clearly enjoying themselves.
I crossed my arms, not in the mood for whatever royal act she was trying to pull. "And you are?"
She tilted her chin up like she was on stage. "Mathilda Corven. Top recruit from the East Division, perfect combat score, and—" She paused, making sure everyone nearby was watching. "—future Rank S assassin. You should remember that, newbie."
Her friends nodded eagerly, like trained parrots. "Yeah, you should really watch who you bump into."
Normally, people would apologize and step aside. I just smiled sweetly. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realize I was supposed to memorize mediocre names."
Her smile faltered. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," I said, leaning in slightly. "Mathilda… what was it? Corven? Yeah, sorry, I don't exactly take notes on people who introduce themselves like they're auditioning for a bad drama show."
A couple of students in the hallway stifled laughs. Mathilda's cheeks flushed pink as she took a step closer, towering slightly over me.
"You've got a smart mouth," she hissed.
"And you've got… a fan club." I glanced at her two followers. "Tell me, do they clap every time you breathe, or just when you talk?"
The minions went silent, awkwardly glancing at each other.
Mathilda's eyes narrowed. "Listen here, newbie, I run this place. If you think you can just—"
"You run this place?" I interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Wow. And here I thought Edric Valemont was the one in charge. Should I tell him he's been demoted?"
The hallway went dead silent. One of the boys actually snorted trying to hold back a laugh.
Mathilda clenched her fists, stepping so close I could feel the heat of her anger. "You'll regret this."
I gave her the fakest smile I could muster. "Only if I ever start caring about your opinion."
I walked past her before she could fire back, hearing whispers and chuckles ripple behind me.
This was going to be fun.
The sting from Mathilda's little drama had barely settled when I followed the flow of students heading toward the orientation hall. The air buzzed with energy—half excitement, half nerves. Everyone knew this was where the real sorting began, where they decided who would train side by side and who would get left behind.
The orientation hall itself was massive, almost like an indoor stadium, with tiered seating climbing so high I had to crane my neck. A colossal holographic map of the Academy floated at the center, slowly rotating above the stage. Weapons glimmered on display racks around the room—katanas, spears, rifles, even mechanical gauntlets humming with Riftborn energy.
Students clustered in small groups—some already bragging about their combat experience, others whispering nervously. I spotted Mathilda at the far side of the room with her minions, clearly pretending I didn't exist. Good. I had more important things to focus on.
The lights dimmed.
A voice boomed over the hall's speakers.
"Attention, students. Welcome to Blood Moon Heaven Academy—where assassins are forged, not born."
Everyone fell silent as a tall figure appeared on stage. Edric Valemont himself, cloaked in black and silver, his scarred face unreadable but his golden eyes sharp as blades.
"You are here because you chose a path that leads either to greatness… or to death," Edric said, his voice carrying weight in every syllable. "From this moment forward, you will be divided based on your combat specialization. You will be ranked, and your class will depend on your strength, adaptability, and potential. Survive your training, and you will stand as assassins who protect humanity during Dris."
He raised one hand, and the holographic map shifted, displaying four colored symbols:
Red Shield – Vanguard Tanks – Those who take the front line, drawing enemy attention and protecting others.
Blue Dagger – Assassins – Swift killers specializing in speed, stealth, and precision.
Green Eye – Scouts & Trackers – Specialists in detection, reconnaissance, and long-range support.
Black Crescent – Arcane & Support Units – Users of Riftborn-tech hybrid weaponry, gadgets, and healing arts.
"You will be tested today," Edric continued. "Your instincts, your speed, and your will to survive will determine your class. Don't get comfortable with where you land—your rank and role can change at any time based on performance. This is a war school, not a playground."
I couldn't help but smirk. Finally… something real.
Beside Edric, another figure appeared—slimmer, in a lab coat and wearing strange goggles. His voice was sharp and quick as he spoke:
"I am Jorvan Thalric, chief weapons engineer. Each of you will be assigned basic weapons for testing. Later, we will determine if you're fit for specialized Riftborn-tech gear. Do not, under any circumstance, touch any weapon tagged with a black seal—unless you enjoy exploding."
A nervous chuckle ran through the students.
Edric's voice cut in again. "The orientation test begins in one hour. Report to the combat arena. Bring your assigned weapons, and bring your will to fight. Remember this… Dris waits for no one."
The holographic map blinked out, the lights brightening once more.
Immediately, the hall erupted with whispers. Some students looked terrified; others, like Mathilda, looked thrilled, no doubt already imagining themselves topping the charts.
I turned to leave when someone bumped my shoulder. I looked back—it was Mathilda, of course, with her perfect little smirk.
"Try not to choke during the test, redhead," she whispered.
I smiled, sweet but sharp. "Oh, don't worry, goldilocks. I won't choke. I'll save that for when you trip over your ego."
Her smirk faltered. I walked past her, gripping the katana my father gave me. One hour. That's all it would take to prove myself.
One hour later, I stood inside the combat arena again—this time, not as a wide-eyed spectator, but as one of the students about to be judged.
The arena's walls had shifted, rearranging themselves like a living labyrinth. Platforms floated above the floor, holographic obstacles flickered in and out, and a faint hum filled the air from the Riftborn energy cores powering the training systems. The instructors lined the edges of the arena, holding tablets, waiting to record every detail.
Edric stood on the platform overlooking us, arms crossed like a general before battle.
"You will be tested for speed, combat instinct, teamwork potential, and Riftborn threat assessment," he announced. "Fail, and you will be placed in remedial class. Fail twice…" His golden eyes swept over us like blades. "…and you go home."
No one said a word.
A siren blared, and robotic drones descended, handing each student their basic weapon. I already had my father's katana, but this one was duller, heavier, and clearly not made from Riftborn materials. Still, it would work for testing.
"Begin," Edric commanded.
The arena came alive.
From the far wall, Riftborn simulacra—training constructs shaped like their real counterparts—lurched forward. They weren't actual Riftborn, but their movements were modeled after real combat data, which made them unpredictable and vicious.
I sprinted forward, keeping my body low, my katana angled for a defensive slash. The first simulacrum—a wolf-like Riftborn—pounced, its glowing red eyes locking on me. My instincts screamed to roll, so I did, coming up on one knee and swinging upward. The blade sliced through its neck joint, and the construct dissolved into holographic dust.
Not bad.
To my left, I spotted Mathilda fighting too—if you could call it that. She was flourishing her spear like it was a fashion accessory, but to her credit, she actually managed to take down two constructs. Of course, she made sure to yell, "Out of my way!" to anyone who got near her. Classic.
The second phase started—the walls shifted, sealing students into separate combat chambers. A voice boomed overhead:
"Instinct test – survive for three minutes."
My chamber flooded with more simulacra, this time humanoid, moving faster than before. I didn't think; I just moved. Slash, dodge, spin, kick, slash again. My heart pounded, but something strange happened—my vision sharpened, my muscles moved like I'd done this before a thousand times. It felt natural.
A simulacrum lunged from behind. I didn't even look—I thrust my katana backward, impaling it mid-air. When I turned, the instructor at my chamber's window was scribbling furiously on his tablet.
The timer ended with a harsh buzzer. All constructs dissolved, and the walls retracted, returning us to the main arena.
Some students were panting hard, a few had even dropped their weapons in exhaustion. I glanced around—Mathilda was standing with a smug grin like she'd just won an award.
Edric stepped forward. "Preliminary scores will be posted tonight. You will also be temporarily placed into one of four divisions based on your performance. This is not your permanent rank. You must earn your place every day." His gaze swept over us like we were already soldiers, not students. "Dismissed."
As we started leaving, I heard someone behind me mutter, "Who the hell is that girl? She moves like she's been fighting for years."
They were talking about me.
I smirked to myself but didn't look back. Let them wonder.
When I reached the exit, Mathilda blocked my way again, her minions flanking her.
"Enjoy your lucky round, redhead," she hissed. "Tomorrow, we'll see who really belongs here."
I tilted my head, smiling. "Sure, Mathilda. Just try not to trip over your ego again—it's a safety hazard."
Her face turned bright red as I walked past her, already thinking about tomorrow's posted scores. I didn't know where I'd land, but deep down, I knew one thing…
This place was mine now.