The Council Chamber
In a cold, pitch-black room sits a man upon a throne-like chair.
He looks to be in his forties — though appearances deceive. His skin is dark, his eyes a deep brown, and his height unassuming at 5'8". Around him stand five smaller seats, gathered before a round table.
In his hands rests a sealed file stamped with the heading:
"This Year's Nexus Academy Enrollment — 800 Students + 50 Freehold Additions."
He mutters as he flips through the pages.
> "Beyond Valenfort's eastern wall lie the Outlands — the forgotten Freeholds and bandit kingdoms. And now, fifty of them join our ranks."
He leans back, voice dripping with irony.
> "Freeholds… three races among them: Shifters, Dieght, and the Rufan."
He taps his fingers against the file.
> "Shifters — beings that can take any form, strong, near-immortal.
Dieght — kin to elves, masters of spiritual energy and magic, ruthless as winter itself.
Rufan — the unknown ones. Even the Five Houses fear them."
He chuckles darkly.
> "They say the Rufan have a Level 9 King and Elder, two Level 8s, and twenty-five Level 7s. The others only one Level 9 each. Hah!"
He laughs, the sound echoing through the chamber.
> "If power levels told the truth, we'd have new kings every decade. Immortal or not, a Level 9 can still bleed. The Level 4 Elders of the Houses know enough tricks to cripple a Level 6. Ah well… this year's batch will be full of monsters. Let's see who survives."
---
Edmond Hall
The hall roared with chaos.
Hundreds of students packed into the massive chamber, voices clashing like storms. Zerathos slipped in quietly through the double doors, eyes wide. The noise hit him like a wave. He immediately pulled out the noise-cancellation pods Hay had forced him to carry.
> "Guess that idiot was right again," he muttered.
Scanning the rows for an empty seat, his heart sank. Every spot was taken.
Then, right on cue, the doors burst open again — this time with a thunderous crack.
The hall went silent as a seven-foot giant ducked under the frame and stepped in. Fair-skinned, broad-shouldered, his presence alone shook the air.
> "That's Gaudmar! The last survivor of the Giant Clan!" someone gasped.
"Wait—they're real?"
"There goes my graduation chances," another groaned.
Gaudmar grinned wide, showing teeth like marble, and pointed at a seat. The student sitting there scrambled away without a word.
> "Monsters… Hay wasn't kidding," Zerathos thought, eyes darting around. He finally spotted an empty seat in the eighth row beside a boy with white hair and glasses. The boy had a faint scar running across his forehead like an etched symbol. Zerathos sat beside him.
> "Huh, who's that scrawny kid sitting beside a Keeper?" someone whispered.
"A what?"
"You don't know? Keepers — the recorders of history. They record events, relics, bloodlines, everything. They answer to no one. Not even the King."
Zerathos glanced sideways. The white-haired boy looked ordinary — too ordinary. Until he turned with a faint smile.
> "Hi. I'm Vaelorn Vex of the Keepers.
You've got guts sitting next to me. This simple act can cause ripples."
Zerathos scratched his head awkwardly.
> "Well, there wasn't any other seat."
> "Fair enough. You're from the slums, right? Nobody's gonna question it. So… what level are you?"
> "I don't have one."
> "Huh?" Vex blinked, adjusting his glasses. "Check again."
Zerathos tapped his dark crystal watch.
Level: 1
Class: None
> "See?" Zerathos said.
> "Strange…" Vex murmured. "The essence around you feels heavier than that."
Before he could finish, a booming voice shattered the chatter.
> "Silence!"
The air itself trembled. On the stage stood a tall man in white robes — silver hair, ancient eyes, a staff in hand.
> "The Headmaster!" someone shouted.
"A Level 9— a god!"
"He's ancient, but I didn't think that old!"
The murmuring grew until the Headmaster took one slow step forward and laughed.
The laughter wasn't just sound — it was essence.
It crushed the air, shattered focus, and slammed down like gravity itself.
The first four rows screamed as their ears bled. Even the barrier around the hall flickered.
> "He's testing us," Vex muttered. "Typical. He does this every year."
Zerathos looked at him, bewildered.
> "Testing? This feels like dying!"
> "Don't worry," Vex said calmly. "I installed a secondary barrier for us. It won't hit as hard."
> "Installed what—?"
Before he could finish, the pressure doubled.
---
The Pressure
Theodore's POV (Headmaster):
> Let's see what this year's brats can do… though these nobles and Freehold kids are testing my patience.
He smiled faintly and raised the staff.
> Let's turn it up — fifth to twelfth rows, Level 5 force. Let's see who screams first.
---
Back to Zerathos
He didn't scream.
But his body did.
His chair splintered beneath him, throwing him to the ground. Blood spilled from his nose, his ankle twisted at a brutal angle, and a shard of the seat pierced his thigh.
> Shit, shit, shit! This is power? This could kill me in seconds!
He forced his head up. Vex beside him still sat upright, calm — though sweat trickled down his neck.
> "This much force is only for Levels 1 to 4," Vex said faintly. "I just stumbled because I wasn't ready."
Zerathos could tell — he was lying.
The tremor in Vex's hand gave it away.
> Even he's bleeding inside, Zerathos thought grimly, sitting in his own pool of blood.
---
The Aftermath
> "Headmaster, you're killing them!" shouted an instructor.
> "Ah— true." Theodore exhaled, waving his staff as the crushing essence dissolved like mist. Students gasped for air, medics rushing in immediately.
> "You were supposed to give a speech, not a massacre! We've lost two already!"
Theodore waved him off lazily.
> "They should've been stronger. Fine, fine. I'll talk."
He turned to the shaken crowd, his voice booming with controlled grace.
---
Headmaster Theodore's Speech
> "Welcome… to Obsidian Nexus Academy.
You stand in a place where bloodlines mean little and survival means everything.
I do not want loyalty. I want strength — essence forged through pressure.
Some of you will rise. Most of you will fall.
But those who survive... will define the next era."
He smiled.
> "Head Instructor Flint will take it from here."
And in an instant, he vanished.
---
The Veil Trial Announcement
Flint stepped forward — tall, scarred, and bearing the same black crystal watch as the students.
> "I'm Flint, Head Instructor. You've already met death. Now meet your first trial."
He raised his wrist, showing the same data fields they all had.
Essence Rank
Class Affinity
Essence Sync (%)
Aura Stability Level
> "You'll soon understand what these mean. For now, listen well."
A student interrupted nervously, "Wait, now? We just got here—can't we rest?"
Flint's grin was merciless.
> "No rest.
Your first trial begins immediately."
He tapped his staff to the ground. The floor beneath the stage shimmered with black light.
> "The Veil Trial — a simulation within the Essence Veil.
You'll be dropped into an unstable realm.
You'll face phantoms formed from your own fears.
The goal: Survive ten minutes and reach a Veil Beacon."
The hall filled with gasps.
> "Survival rate: seventy-two percent," Flint continued. "Higher than last year. Lucky you."
He turned away, walking toward the exit as the floor glowed brighter.
> "Step forward when your number is called. Group of two."
Zerathos turned to Vex, heart pounding.
> "Guess we're partners?"
> "Guess so," Vex said quietly, eyes glinting behind his lenses.
"Stay close. The Veil doesn't just test strength. It tests memory."
---
End of Chapter 5.