Isaac settled himself on a nearby tree stump, focused and unfazed by the stillness of the surrounding forest. His gaze sharpened as he transformed his index finger into a draconic blackened claw, its edge gleaming like obsidian. Without hesitation, he sliced his wrist, letting his blood spill into the air. Instead of falling, it hung in midair, then drifted purposefully, shaping itself into an arrow. The arrow spun slightly, orienting itself westward, and Isaac allowed a rare smile to break through his otherwise stoic expression.
“Perfect. My blood link worked,” he murmured, watching the crimson pointer hover in place. “Karma’s not far. Once we regroup, this whole exam will be ours.”
Elsewhere in the dense forest, Karma stood alone, surrounded by nine other students. They eyed him warily, sizing him up, as he casually reached into his pocket, pulling out a small vial. Inside, a droplet of Isaac’s blood shivered, drawn by an invisible pull, twitching as if yearning to rejoin its source.
The leader of the group, a tall boy with a scarred eyebrow and a confident smirk, took a step forward. “Hey, masked guy, we’re forming an alliance. Power in numbers and all that. Join us, and we’ll make sure we’re all in the final ten. What do you say?”
Karma tilted his head, his eyes narrowing beneath his mask as he considered the proposal. Then, with a shrug, he gave a half-hearted laugh. “Sorry, but I’ve already got a partner. And he’s a bit possessive.”
The leader’s expression darkened. “Then it’s too bad for you. We can’t leave loose ends.” He signaled his group, and they began closing in.
Karma let out a low, almost playful chuckle. “Guess it’s time to bring out the big guns.” He raised his hand, whispering with a hint of relish, “Awaken, high-class fire spirit, Salamander.”
Instantly, a torrent of purple flames erupted around him, spiraling outward with an almost sentient fury. In mere seconds, the students surrounding him were engulfed, their screams cut short as the flames teleported them back to the auditorium. As the fire dissipated, a small creature appeared, floating lazily on top of Karma’s head. It looked like a miniature dragon, with ruby-red scales, tiny black horns, and wings too small to lift it. The creature, Salamander, gave a soft purr, settling comfortably on his head.
“Welcome back, Sally,” Karma grinned, reaching up to scratch under the creature’s tiny chin. “With you around, this whole exam’s a walk in the park. Can’t see any of these amateurs standing a chance against a high-class spirit like you.”
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing an intricate tattoo on his forearm. The tattoo was a series of concentric circles, four lines branching out in a cross pattern, with a single, piercing eye at the center, a symbol that glowed faintly as he stroked Salamander’s scales.
“Awaken, low-class fire spirits, Embers! Scout the forest, and if you find anyone…” Karma paused with a wicked grin. “Explode on sight,” he commanded, snapping his fingers. Instantly, dozens of tiny fireballs flared to life around him, each one wearing a comical, wide-eyed grin that glowed with mischievous energy. They bobbed through the air, flickering and crackling as they dispersed in all directions, their happy faces at odds with their destructive orders.
Meanwhile, deeper in the forest, Isaac prowled through the dense foliage, tracking any potential targets with ruthless intent. Soon, he stumbled upon an unusual sight—a boy asleep beneath the shade of a tree. He looked entirely out of place in this brutal arena. His messy green hair lay sprawled over his face, and he was bundled up in a black hoodie, worn over pajama pants, with slippers on his feet. In his arms, he clutched a small white kitten plush, nestled securely under a blanket.
Isaac narrowed his eyes, forming a thin blade from his blood and positioning it above the sleeping boy. He thrust the weapon downward—only to have it ricochet off an invisible barrier with a resounding clang. The protective shield shimmered faintly in the sunlight before fading back into invisibility.
“What the…? How strong is this barrier?” Isaac muttered, taken aback. His gaze hardened as he sized up the boy. Something about this lazy stranger was off.
The boy stirred, his purple eyes opening sleepily as he yawned. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, barely awake. “I’m trying to sleep here. Not really interested in fighting or anything, so… could you move along?”
Isaac looked at him incredulously. “You do realize this is a battle royale, right? People are out here fighting for their lives, and you’re… napping?”
The boy stretched, rolling his neck as he lazily shifted his plush to the side. “Yeah, but I’m the strongest one here,” he said casually, his voice barely above a murmur. “Why should I worry?”
Isaac blinked in surprise. There was an eerie calmness about this kid, like someone who had absolute confidence in his strength. “You’re… an odd person,” he admitted, lowering his weapon, intrigued despite himself. “What’s your name, anyway?”
The boy mumbled as his eyelids began to droop again. “It’s… Kel,” he muttered, sounding as though he were moments away from drifting off. “My dad… works here… as the…”
And just like that, Kel’s eyes closed, and he was back asleep, leaving Isaac standing there with a bewildered look on his face.
Isaac continued sprinting through the dense forest, his eyes sharp, his focus narrowed as he traced his path toward Karma. The shadows of the trees danced across his face as he leaped over roots and ducked under branches, each step swift and sure. Suddenly, his foot landed in a shallow puddle, splashing water in all directions.
A few steps later, the puddle began to ripple, reforming as it took on a shimmering, purplish hue. The water rose, shifting and coalescing until a torso emerged, followed by long, flowing hair made of liquid. The upper half of a young woman appeared, her blank face softening into an almost petulant expression as she surveyed her surroundings.
“Ugh, how rude! Just because my disguise was flawless doesn’t mean he had to step on me,” she grumbled, a pout forming on her smooth, featureless face. With a sigh, she melted back down, rippling back into the shape of a placid puddle, hidden once more.
Isaac ran onward, oblivious to the hidden watcher, until he spotted someone ahead. His pace slowed as he saw a figure standing beneath the soft shafts of light filtering through the canopy. A girl with light blue hair cascading down her back, her white draconic horns elegant and sweeping upward, unlike the fierce, rugged horns of the Fafnir family. A delicate rose was tucked into one of her horns, its crimson petals a stark contrast against her pale hair. She wore a flowing crimson dress that billowed lightly in the breeze, and as her golden draconic eyes fell upon him, a look of shock and recognition crossed her face. A single tear traced down her cheek, glistening in the faint light.
Isaac froze, his breath catching as he stared back, recognition flooding over him. He hadn’t seen her in so many years, but there was no mistaking who she was. “Lyra?” His voice shook, unsteady, the usual edge softened by the tremor of old memories.
The girl’s eyes widened as she looked back at him, her hands trembling as they clasped together in front of her. “It… it is. I can’t believe it’s really you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
“N-no… it’s not me. I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong person,” Isaac muttered, looking away, his voice hollow and forced.
Lyra’s face crumpled, her golden eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You said my name. You have the same demonic eye… don’t lie to me. I know it’s you,” she insisted, her voice breaking, her fists clenching at her sides as if to hold herself together.
“I… I don’t know who you’re looking for. This demonic eye just awakened within me. Whoever its previous owner was… he’s dead,” Isaac replied, forcing himself to keep his tone flat, distant. But his hand trembled as he clenched his fist, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.
“Isaac, why are you doing this?” she cried, her voice cracking with the desperation of old memories she had clung to for years. “Our families… they were planning for us to be engaged. I know you better than anyone else. Please don’t push me away. I know it’s you, no matter how much you deny it.”
Isaac’s heart hammered in his chest as he forced himself to look anywhere but at her. Fear surged through him, a fear not of Lyra, but of the parts of himself he had left behind, the pieces of the boy she once knew that had been buried, shredded, and abandoned in the wake of that day. He couldn’t let her see what he had become, what he had let himself become for the sake of revenge.
“I’m not him.” His voice was sharper now, a harsh edge in his tone as he conjured a blade of blood from his wrist, its dark, shimmering surface a contrast to the light in her eyes. “You’re just my enemy, so get out of my way.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Lyra’s eyes blazed with hurt, her face crumpling, but her expression soon hardened, the sadness there morphing into fiery determination. She took a step forward, tears streaming down her cheeks, her fists glowing with the faintest traces of energy. “Fine, Isaac. If that’s how it is… I’ll beat some sense into you until you remember who you really are, you stubborn jerk.”
Without another word, Lyra raised her hands, summoning the energy coursing through her veins. “Ability—Heavenly Rain!”
A rumbling crack tore through the sky as a bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens, its blinding flash searing across Isaac’s vision. He barely sidestepped in time, feeling the static charge surge past him, close enough to make his skin prickle. The impact left a smoking crater where he’d been standing just seconds before.
Isaac clenched his teeth, steeling himself as he met her tear-streaked gaze. For a moment, he felt his resolve falter, but he tightened his grip on his blade. If she wanted to face him, to make him acknowledge the boy he’d left behind, he would have to push her away—no matter how much it hurt.
The air between Isaac and Lyra was charged, thick with emotions left unsaid, with memories hanging like a haze over the battlefield. Lyra’s golden eyes were wet with determination, her hands sparking with energy as she prepared herself for the fight. Isaac felt his heart twist; he didn’t want this, didn’t want to clash with someone who had once been part of his past—someone he was supposed to protect. But there was no choice now. She was forcing him to confront everything he’d tried to leave behind.
“Last chance,” she called out, her voice wavering but resolute. “If you won’t acknowledge me, then I’ll make you remember with every hit.”
Isaac met her gaze, steadying himself. “I’m sorry… but I can’t. That person you knew… he’s gone.”
Without further warning, Lyra surged forward, her form a blur as she unleashed a flurry of strikes. Isaac barely managed to parry her blows, their clashing energies resonating with the crackle of thunder in the air. Lyra’s fists glowed with raw power, each punch carrying her desperate emotions. She wanted to break through his defenses, not just physically but emotionally, trying to reach him in a way that words couldn’t.
“You think you can just throw everything away?” she shouted, her voice breaking as she intensified her assault. “What about the promises we made? Our families, our dreams? Do those mean nothing to you now?”
Isaac dodged, weaving through her relentless attacks, but each strike brought her words closer to his heart, chipping away at the walls he had built around himself. “I had no choice,” he replied, his voice strained as he conjured another blade of blood, its edge glinting with his resolve. “I lost everything, Lyra, everything was taken from me.”
“Then why didn’t you come to me?” She spun in a graceful arc, her hand glowing as she aimed a palm strike at his chest. “Why did you let me believe you were dead? Why can't you tell me the truth now?”
The blow connected, sending Isaac stumbling back as he struggled to stay on his feet. Her hit had knocked the air out of him, but it was her words that struck deeper. He wanted to answer her, to tell her how helpless he had felt, how revenge had swallowed every other part of him whole. But there was no way to say that without sounding like a monster.
“Because it was easier than facing you!” he finally admitted, his voice raw as he swung his blade toward her, meeting her blow with equal force. The impact sent them both reeling, but neither backed down. “I’m not the person you remember. I’m not even a person anymore—I’m just… a monster.”
Lyra’s face crumpled, but her stance didn’t falter. She stepped forward, her fists crackling with a renewed ferocity. “You’re wrong, Isaac. You might be angry, hurt, or even broken, but you’re still you. And you don’t have to do this alone.”
With that, she gathered a surge of energy, raising her hands to the sky as another bolt of lightning tore down from the heavens, illuminating the battlefield with blinding light. Isaac barely managed to throw up a shield of blood, the intense energy cracking it as he felt the heat singe his skin. But he wouldn’t stop. Not now.
He steadied himself, breathing hard, the weight of his decision sinking in as he charged forward. The demonic eye in his face glowed with a fierce light as he parried her strikes, his movements growing faster and more calculated. Despite his cold resolve, each blow felt like a betrayal to the person he once was, to the person she still saw in him.
Finally, in a last desperate move, he broke through her defenses, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close, his other hand poised with the blade of blood hovering near her heart.
Lyra’s breath hitched, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, her cheeks streaked with tears. “Go ahead,” she whispered, her voice choked. “If you’ve really lost yourself… then prove it. But I don’t believe it. I don’t believe you’re gone.”
Isaac’s hand shook as he stared at her, his blade trembling as he struggled to hold his resolve. At that moment, he felt the weight of all his pain and regret, the isolation he had imposed on himself. She was willing to risk her life just to reach him, to save him from the darkness he had embraced.
He dropped the blade, his breath unsteady as he let go of her wrist. “I… I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for everything, for not being the person you needed me to be. For letting you believe I was dead.”
Lyra collapsed to her knees, her shoulders shaking as she wiped away the tears that had streamed down her face. Isaac watched her, feeling the hollow ache in his chest as he turned away, trying to keep himself from shattering.
“Maybe… maybe one day, I can be that person again. But right now…” He swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have to be someone else. I have to finish what I started.”
With that, he stepped back, leaving her kneeling in the clearing, her sobs echoing softly as he vanished into the forest.
As Isaac tore through the forest, his thoughts were a tangled mess of anger, regret, and pain. Lyra’s tear-streaked face haunted him, her voice echoing in his mind, “Isaac, why are you doing this?” He tried to shake off the memory, tried to bury it under the fury that had driven him this far, but it clung to him, gnawing at his resolve. He couldn’t let himself feel, not now.
The first student that crossed his path barely had time to raise their guard before Isaac’s blood blade slashed through their defenses, sending them stumbling backward as they were teleported back to the auditorium. Isaac didn’t even look back, his movements sharp and mechanical, a dullness settling over his gaze as he continued forward. He moved like a storm, cutting down anyone who dared cross him, his steps relentless and silent as he carved a path through the forest.
Another opponent appeared, a tall girl with a blade glowing with energy. She lunged at him, her expression fierce, but Isaac sidestepped effortlessly, his demonic eye gleaming as he read her every movement. With a quick swipe of his clawed hand, he disarmed her, sending her sword flying. Before she could recover, he struck a precise blow, and she too vanished in a flash of light, teleported back to safety.
“Why are you all so insistent on getting in my way?” he muttered, a hint of frustration breaking through his monotone. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white as he tried to keep his composure.
Each opponent fell faster than the last, none able to withstand his merciless onslaught. Isaac’s face remained expressionless, but with each strike, his mind grew darker, his inner turmoil bleeding into his every move. To anyone watching, he seemed like a shadow gliding through the forest, leaving only defeat in his wake.
Yet, as he took down another student, a boy who tried to summon a defensive barrier but crumpled under Isaac’s sheer force, Isaac’s gaze flickered. He saw flashes of himself in their frightened faces, memories of his own struggles, his own helplessness, memories he tried so hard to bury. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away, but they clawed at him, relentlessly.
As he felled his tenth opponent, he finally stopped, breathing heavily as he looked down at his bloodstained hands, his blood staining his hands, his chest heaving with a mix of exhaustion and guilt. His vision blurred as he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
“Damn it… What am I even doing?” He couldn’t shake the image of Lyra’s tearful face, her pleading voice. The weight of it pressed on him, choking him with guilt.
He took a shaky breath, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” For a moment, his hardened exterior cracked, a single tear slipping down his cheek as he struggled to hold himself together.
Isaac looked around, the forest suddenly feeling darker, and colder. He felt as if he was sinking into a void, his heart heavy with everything he’d tried to push away. Taking one last look at the path of destruction he’d left behind, he steeled himself, forcing the mask back on as he pushed forward.
But no matter how many he defeated, he couldn’t escape the truth gnawing at him from within. And as he moved deeper into the forest, one thought repeated in his mind, haunting him like a curse, “Isaac, why are you doing this?”
In the dense heart of the forest lay a massive stone castle, its shadow stretching ominously over the surrounding trees, as if daring anyone to approach. The walls were ancient, covered in thick vines, and etched with strange runes that seemed to pulse with a faint, dark glow. A lone student, desperately seeking a place to hide from the chaos of the exam, slipped inside, believing he’d found sanctuary.
“This place should be empty. No one will think to search here,” he whispered to himself, relief easing his tense posture as he moved deeper into the castle.
He wandered into a grand, echoing hall that led to a throne room, his footsteps growing hesitant as he noticed the eerie silence. There, at the center of the room, sat a solitary figure—a knight clad in armor as black as night. The figure’s presence radiated a menacing aura that filled the hall, swallowing the light and casting long, jagged shadows. The knight’s helmet was sharp and imposing, with twisted ram horns curving from its sides, adding a monstrous touch. His right arm was fused with a massive spear, the deadly weapon gleaming faintly under the dim light.
The boy’s heart skipped a beat as he realized the gravity of his mistake. This was no ordinary knight—this was the Sentinel.
“How… unfortunate,” the Sentinel drawled, his voice resonating with an unsettling calm. “Not even ten percent of the students have been eliminated, and yet here you are… awakening me.”
The boy stumbled back, a wave of panic seizing him. He spun around, making a desperate attempt to flee. But before he could even cross the threshold, a spear of dark energy erupted from the ground, piercing through him. He vanished in an instant, and teleported back to the auditorium, his scream lingering in the castle like a ghostly echo.
The Sentinel slowly rose from his throne, his spear arm glinting as he stretched, as though waking from a long slumber. With a low, almost hungry chuckle, he murmured to himself, “Let the hunt begin.”