Chapter 4: The Academy Beckons
The day of departure had arrived. Lahsiv stood at the edge of the village, surrounded by other children who had also been accepted into the Academy. Their parents hovered nearby, offering final words of encouragement. For most, this was the start of a great journey, a chance to rise in the ranks of society and bring honor to their families. To Lahsiv, it was nothing more than a stepping stone—one that would allow him to gather power faster.
As the group waited for the Academy’s transport to arrive, Lahsiv observed the other children. Some were from noble families, dressed in fine clothes and carrying themselves with an air of superiority. Others, like himself, came from more modest homes, but he could already see the difference between them. The children from wealthier families had the spark of arrogance in their eyes, the belief that their bloodline would carry them through the trials ahead.
‘Fools,’ Lahsiv thought, his gaze cold and calculating. ‘They have no idea what real power is.’
He had no interest in making friends or forming alliances, not yet. The Academy was a battlefield, and he intended to win by himself. These children—his so-called peers—would soon understand the vast difference between them and him. They were still playing by the rules of this world. He wasn’t.
Suddenly, a sharp gust of wind swept through the area, followed by the appearance of a large, floating carriage drawn by two massive, winged beasts. The creatures looked like something out of a nightmare—large, muscular bodies covered in dark scales, with piercing red eyes and massive wings that beat rhythmically against the air. The carriage itself was sleek and black, adorned with glowing runes that shimmered faintly in the sunlight.
The children gasped in awe as the beasts descended. Even Lahsiv had to admit that the sight was impressive, though his admiration was brief. He could sense the power radiating from the creatures—strong, but not invincible.
A tall man stepped out of the carriage. He wore the dark blue uniform of the Academy’s instructors, with an insignia on his chest that marked him as a Lord rank in the Mandala system. His presence alone was enough to send a ripple of excitement through the group of children. His aura was powerful, and the way he held himself spoke of someone who was used to commanding respect.
“My name is Instructor Kaelor,” the man said, his voice booming as he addressed the group. “Welcome to your first step toward becoming warriors of Valarion. From this day forward, your lives will be dedicated to the mastery of Light Karma. The weak will fall, and the strong will rise. If you are fortunate enough to survive the trials ahead, you will leave the Academy as true warriors. If not… well, we don’t speak of those who fail.”
A hush fell over the children. Lahsiv watched them carefully, noting the mixture of excitement, fear, and determination on their faces.
Instructor Kaelor’s eyes swept over the group, lingering for a moment on Lahsiv before moving on. Lahsiv met the instructor’s gaze without flinching, his expression unreadable. He knew the man had noticed something about him, but he didn’t care. Whatever Kaelor saw, it was irrelevant. Lahsiv had already decided that no one, not even an instructor, would be an obstacle in his path.
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“Board the carriage,” Kaelor commanded.
The children rushed forward, eager to begin their journey. Lahsiv followed at a slower pace, his eyes still observing. He could feel the hum of anticipation in the air, the eagerness of these young minds to prove themselves. But Lahsiv knew better. They would soon find out that the Academy was not a place for dreams and honor—it was a place where only the ruthless survived.
The ride to the Academy was uneventful. Most of the children sat in silence, too overwhelmed by the reality of what lay ahead to speak. Lahsiv sat near the back, his arms crossed, lost in thought. The system remained quiet, but he could feel it lurking beneath the surface, ready to offer guidance when the time came.
After several hours of travel, the carriage finally descended toward a vast mountain range. As they approached, the peak of the largest mountain came into view, and perched atop it was the Academy—a sprawling fortress of stone and metal, with towers that pierced the clouds. The walls were lined with massive runes that glowed faintly, their light pulsing with the rhythm of the mountain itself. Surrounding the fortress was a dense forest, filled with creatures and beasts that roamed freely. This was no ordinary school; it was a place built for war.
The carriage landed smoothly in the courtyard, and Instructor Kaelor stepped out first, gesturing for the children to follow. As Lahsiv disembarked, he felt a surge of energy in the air, a potent mixture of Light Karma and something else—something darker, more primal. His senses sharpened.
‘So, the Academy isn’t as pure as they claim,’ he thought. ‘There’s dark energy here too.’
The children were herded into the main hall, where a crowd of instructors and higher-ranking students waited. The hall itself was grand, its walls adorned with ancient weapons and artifacts, each humming with the latent power of those who had wielded them in the past. At the front stood the Academy’s Headmaster, an imposing figure with a long beard and a deep scar running across his face. His eyes gleamed with a mix of wisdom and cruelty.
“Welcome,” the Headmaster began, his voice smooth but commanding. “You stand at the beginning of a path that many have walked before you. But make no mistake—few will reach the end. The Academy is not a place of comfort. It is where the weak are torn apart, and the strong emerge as conquerors. You are here because you have potential, but potential alone means nothing.”
His gaze settled on the group, sharp and calculating. “You will be divided into classes according to your aptitude, and from there, you will compete. Every month, you will be ranked. Those at the bottom will face… consequences. Those at the top will be rewarded. Remember this: the Academy is a place of survival. The strong rise, and the weak are left behind.”
Lahsiv’s lips curled into a subtle smile. This was exactly the kind of environment he thrived in—a place where power was everything, and where weakness was crushed. He glanced at the children around him, already imagining how easily they would fall before him once the trials began.
The Headmaster continued, “For now, you will be given your first test. It will determine your rank and your placement in the Academy.”
A door at the far end of the hall opened, and a group of instructors led the children outside, to a vast training ground. The ground was marked with intricate patterns of runes, each designed to test different aspects of a person’s power—strength, agility, defense, and most importantly, the ability to channel Light Karma.
“Step forward when your name is called,” an instructor announced, reading from a list. One by one, the children were tested. Some performed well, displaying impressive control over their Light Karma. Others faltered, struggling to channel even the most basic energy into their bodies. Those who failed were met with cold stares from the instructors.
Finally, Lahsiv’s name was called.
He stepped forward, feeling the eyes of the other students on him. His body was calm, his mind focused. The system hummed quietly in the background, waiting.
“Channel your Light Karma,” the instructor ordered.
Lahsiv raised his hand, focusing on the energy inside him. He felt the familiar warmth of Light Karma flowing through his veins. With a flick of his wrist, he released a burst of energy, sending it through the runes on the ground. The runes glowed brightly, their light surging up into the air, marking him as one of the stronger contenders.
The instructors nodded in approval, but Lahsiv wasn’t done. He could sense the Dark Karma beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed, but he held it back—for now.
‘Let them think I’m just another student,’ he thought. ‘The real power will come later.’
As the test concluded, Lahsiv was placed near the top of the rankings, though not at the very summit. For now, that was fine. It would only serve to lull the others into a false sense of superiority. They would think him strong, but not unbeatable. But soon, very soon, they would see the full extent of his abilities.
The Academy was a place for monsters—and Lahsiv intended to be the worst one of them all.