The aftermath of the assassination attempt left the corridors eerily silent. Broken glass, scorched walls, and the faint lingering scent of mana filled the air. Students whispered nervously, glancing over their shoulders. Even the instructors appeared tense, moving more cautiously than usual.
I followed Selene and Renvor down a side corridor, my mind racing. The first wave of attackers had been minor—but it was clear now that the academy didn't merely train students. It filtered, tested, and eliminated threats. And after yesterday's duel and today's ambush, I had become a target.
Selene's crimson eyes scanned the walls. "The upperclass factions are curious now," she murmured. "And curiosity in this place is dangerous."
I frowned. "Upperclass factions?"
"They're the ones pulling the strings behind the scenes," she said. "Instructors, prefects, student leaders—they all belong to different groups. They test, provoke, and even assassinate to measure potential. And they already know who you are."
I clenched my fists. "So there's no hiding anymore?"
"Not from them," she replied, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "But you can still control how much they see."
We turned a corner, and the hallway opened into a massive, dimly lit atrium. The ceilings were high, lined with floating lights, and the marble floors reflected our shadows. At the center stood a figure I hadn't noticed before—a tall, imposing upperclassman, dressed in dark robes lined with silver embroidery. His presence radiated authority and lethal skill, like a storm waiting to strike.
He bowed slightly as we approached. "So you are the one," he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made the air feel heavier. "The one who controlled the duel, survived the trial, and bested your first assassins."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to. My aura, compressed and coiled, reacted instinctively, pulsing slightly. I could feel every movement, every muscle in his body. He was skilled. Extremely skilled.
Selene stepped forward, a faint grin on her lips. "Don't underestimate him," she said. "He's more dangerous than he looks."
The upperclassman studied me, eyes narrowing. "I can see that. But here, looks are deceiving. Let's see if your instincts match your reputation."
Without warning, he drew a blade forged from condensed mana. The air around it shimmered. In the blink of an eye, he moved toward me.
I barely reacted in time, raising a thin veil of mana to deflect the strike. The impact sent a shockwave through the atrium, rattling the floating lights. Selene intervened immediately, intercepting a follow-up strike with a flurry of crimson aura.
Renvor ducked behind a column, muttering, "I knew this school hated us…"
The upperclassman was fast—faster than any student I had faced. Every attack was precise, calculated, and deadly. He wasn't testing me; he was probing me, looking for weaknesses, gauging my reactions.
I let him strike once, then twice, analyzing the rhythm, the spacing, the subtle shifts in his stance. Each attack was like a question, and I had to answer carefully—or pay with injury.
Finally, I moved. Not fast, not powerful—just precise. A controlled pulse of mana redirected his strike, sending him back a few steps. The shockwave cracked the marble beneath his feet.
He paused, eyes narrowing, and then smiled. "Interesting. Most would have panicked."
"I don't panic," I muttered.
"Yet," he said, "you're hiding something."
I swallowed. He could see the hint of power I was suppressing. That much was inevitable. The academy had eyes everywhere. He wasn't just testing me; he was reporting. And the moment he recognized my potential, the factions would react.
Selene's hand pressed briefly against my arm. "Don't let him get in your head," she said softly. "Focus on the now."
I nodded, centering myself. The next few minutes would determine everything.
The upperclassman launched another attack, faster this time, a spinning slash of condensed mana aimed to break my defense completely. I ducked, rolled, and let my veil of mana flare slightly, deflecting part of the strike while guiding the remainder harmlessly into the atrium wall.
"Good," he said. "You adapt quickly. But adaptation alone won't keep you alive."
Renvor peeked out from behind the column. "Uh… what now?"
"Now," Selene said, her grin sharp, "we show him you're not just adapting. You're surviving—and controlling the battlefield."
I inhaled, letting the faint pressure of my aura extend slightly, enough to sense his movements before he acted. The upperclassman struck again, and this time, I countered—not just deflecting, but redirecting his momentum, creating a small opening.
Selene exploited it immediately, striking from the side, forcing him back. He adjusted quickly, spinning to deflect her strike and creating a triangle of tension around me. The three of us moved in a deadly dance, the atrium echoing with the hum of energy, clashing attacks, and the subtle cracks forming in the marble floor.
After a few more exchanges, he stepped back, lowering his blade slightly. "You've potential… dangerous potential. The factions will notice. They will test you again."
I didn't relax. "And what if I don't survive their tests?"
He smiled faintly, almost kindly. "Then you'll be erased. Like so many before you. But survive, and perhaps… you'll change the balance."
He turned and vanished, stepping back into the shadows from which he had come. The corridor fell silent once more, the tension lingering like smoke in the air.
Selene exhaled, brushing a lock of crimson hair from her face. "See? They're already circling. Upperclass factions are curious, and now, the entire academy knows your name."
Renvor groaned. "Great… fame already comes with people trying to kill us."
I nodded, heart still racing. The upperclassman had confirmed what I feared: the academy was a web of factions, tests, and lethal intent. Every movement would be scrutinized, every action judged. And I couldn't hide forever.
Selene's gaze met mine. "You're not alone. But alliances only work if you trust carefully. Everyone else wants to see you fail. Everyone. And some… might want to see you dead."
I clenched my fists. Then I'll survive. And I'll make sure they regret underestimating me.
The atrium doors closed behind us. The academy had shifted—from a school, to a battlefield, to a trap filled with predators. And somewhere in the shadows, the factions were already plotting the next move.
For the first time, I realized the truth: here, power was the only language that mattered. And I would have to speak it fluently.