The Sentinel stepped out of the shadowed castle, his heavy black armor catching the dim glint of the sun. His helmet, with its twisted ram horns, angled upward as if relishing the coming descent into night. A dark amusement played in his eyes, barely visible through the narrow slits in his helm.

With a low, rumbling voice, he murmured words that twisted the surrounding air, words ancient and fierce, dripping with ominous power. “Soul Expansion,” he declared, his voice reverberating with each syllable. “Night of the Hunt.”

As he spoke, his presence ignited an invisible yet palpable wave of energy. It expanded outwards from him, rolling across the ground, through trees, past rivers, touching every inch of the forest. The vibrant greens dulled to gray and blue, and colors leeched into an endless twilight, as if the Sentinel had bent reality itself. A sickle-shaped moon appeared, frozen high above, bathing the entire area in a dim silver glow. The day collapsed into the night, casting long shadows, and yet there was no warmth, only a chilling, silent stillness.

The announcement rang through the forest, cutting through the students' hearts like a blade, “The Sentinel has been released early. Good luck.”

The oppressive wave of fear rippled through the forest as the Sentinel’s laughter echoed. Students clung to shadows, struggling to calm their breaths and steady their hands. The silver crescent moon, casting a dim, otherworldly glow, seemed to mock their predicament, as the very ground beneath them felt cursed. Trees stretched taller, and darker, and rocks jutted out in twisted, unnatural shapes, each one potentially hiding the ever-looming figure of the Sentinel.

“With this, I know the location of every one of you,” Professor Willow’s voice boomed across the forest, chilling the air as he declared his advantage. “I am Castletown’s guard dog. I am Professor Willow. Run… or be hunted. Above all else, be afraid.”

Meanwhile, in the faculty meeting room, a group of professors observed the exam unfold on a glowing, ethereal screen. Leonardo Jupiter, the academy’s renowned combat instructor, watched with tense focus. His jet-black hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, his crimson eyes taking in every detail with a steely gaze. Known for his unyielding discipline and fierce skill, he was a man of unwavering composure. His tailored black suit and gloves completed the look of a true warrior, and his stoic aura was legendary. His gaze remained sharp, noting each move of Professor Willow, a mix of admiration and wariness in his expression.

“Sir, are you sure letting him take on the role of the Sentinel this year was wise?” Professor Jupiter asked, voice low but edged with concern. “He’s undeniably powerful, but his… unpredictability is concerning.”

Fraser Haas leaned back in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips. Unlike Jupiter, Fraser radiated an unpredictable, wild energy. With his flowing blonde hair and delicate features, he was often mistaken for a woman, but his chilling blue eyes suggested a soul that had peered into the depths of darkness. A former bounty hunter with countless tales to his name, he wore a luxurious fur coat, his rifle always by his side like an extension of his very being.

“Oh, come on, Leo,” Fraser chuckled, his voice full of mischief. “You’re just upset it isn’t you out there. Admit it, it’d be fun to hunt those little brats.”

Jupiter shot him a glare. “This is a trial, not a slaughter. Willow’s power should not be unleashed lightly.”

Fraser waved Jupiter’s concern away with a grin. “He’s the guard dog, and he knows his place. He’s got them scared, which is exactly what we want. The real world isn’t going to coddle them.”

Jupiter’s crimson eyes narrowed, his voice tinged with lingering wariness. “I just don’t want another disaster like last year, with that psycho Warren. Honestly, I still can’t believe a single student managed to eliminate every other exam taker simultaneously.”

A lazy but familiar voice drifted into the room, cutting through the tension. “Are you all talking about me? Gossip isn’t exactly becoming behavior… especially when it’s about the student council.”

Warren Necrom strode in, his presence immediately commanding attention. He wasn’t merely the student council president, he was the student council. On his second day at the academy, he had nonchalantly walked into the council office, challenging and defeating every single member. He claimed all their positions, a feat reflected in the numerous armbands on his sleeve, each symbolizing a different council role. His blond hair was an unruly mess, his deep red eyes underscored by dark circles, a testament to his rumored caffeine obsession. He wore black glasses low on his nose, and from his back sprouted a set of angelic wings. Above his head floated a shimmering halo, a surreal contrast to his otherwise irreverent demeanor.

“Those positions weren’t handed to me, you know,” Warren smirked, tilting his glasses up. “And as for my exam… it’s hardly my fault that none of them could dodge a simple attack. I seem to recall you managed it just fine, Professor Jupiter.”

Jupiter folded his arms, unimpressed. “I wouldn’t exactly call what you did an attack. More like a one-sided slaughter. Go back to your coffee, you addict.”

Warren rolled his eyes, grinning. “I am still a student here, Professor. No need to be so harsh. Besides, I’m three cups deep today and not really craving more.” He yawned, stretching his wings out lazily before they folded back behind him. “Anyway, I hear there’s some actual talent this time around. Is anyone worth my attention? My class is full of… underwhelming and boring people.”

At the far end of the room, Professor Ashe remained with his back turned, his focus riveted on the floating screen where the chaotic exam played out in real time. Without glancing back, he spoke, his tone carrying a note of intrigue. “We’ve got some interesting candidates. Descendants of primordial beasts, a future king, even a demigod among them.”

Warren’s grin widened, his interest piqued. “Oh? Maybe this year won’t be as dull as I thought.” He leaned closer to the screen, eyes alight with a dark curiosity as he watched the students navigate the Sentinel’s deadly game.

Professor Willow stood atop a ledge, his dark armor gleaming under the silver crescent moonlight as he reviewed the magical map revealing the location of each student in the forest. His eyes narrowed in curiosity when he noticed an unusual cluster—nearly ten percent of the students gathered in a tight formation, as though banding together.

“Hm, an alliance? Not a bad plan,” Willow chuckled to himself, his voice echoing menacingly in the quiet forest. “Perhaps I’ll pay them a visit next.”

Deep within the shadowed woods, a lone student sat on the damp ground, breathing heavily as he took a moment’s reprieve. Just as he closed his eyes to steady himself, he felt an icy chill wash over him. Looking up, he found two figures looming above.

The first was a young man, his crimson eyes sharp and gleaming with excitement. His black hair was immaculately groomed, and his attire spoke of royalty—a regal tunic and cloak draped over his shoulders with an air of authority that bordered on intimidation. His ears were long and pointed, hinting at some otherworldly ancestry, and a single fang gleamed as he smiled.

Beside him stood a woman with an otherworldly grace and a disinterested gaze. Her long, curly purple hair was adorned with pink flowers, and her skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow. She wore a flowing black dress and held a sheathed katana with an air of quiet, deadly elegance.

“My lord, do you wish to offer salvation to this one as well?” the woman asked, her tone as apathetic as her gaze.

The young man turned to her with a slight smirk. “That depends. He may be unworthy,” he replied before addressing the student. “Tell me, would you like salvation?”

The student looked up in bewilderment, fear edging into his eyes. “W-who are you? Why are you doing this?”

The young man’s eyes lit with a mixture of amusement and command. “I am Shadar Eclipse, future king of the continent of Helheim. That name alone should inspire trust,” he said, extending his hand in an invitation. “I seek to gather those who would serve the Shadow King. Pledge yourself to me, and I will protect you within my shadow. Accept this, and you will know salvation.”

The name “Helheim” sent a jolt of recognition through the student. Helheim—the only continent that refused submission to the Emperor, yet managed to maintain a tenuous peace with him. Once fractured and warring, it had been united by Shadar’s forces in recent years, with a temporary lord ruling until Shadar could come of age to claim his throne.

The student hesitated, then bowed his head. “Please… I don’t want to fail. I’ll do anything!”

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Shadar’s gaze softened for a brief moment, though the pride in his stance did not waver. “Your loyalty is accepted.” With a flick of his wrist, shadows unfurled around the student, swallowing him whole. In a heartbeat, he vanished, hidden within the depths of Shadar’s companion’s shadow, joining the dozens of others who had sought sanctuary in this unusual alliance.

Once the shadows settled, the woman, Alice, looked at Shadar with a hint of reservation. “Sir, are you certain this plan is wise?” she asked quietly, her fingers brushing against the hilt of her katana.

Shadar’s gaze turned resolute, his eyes glowing with determination. “Of course. I am confident we can face the Sentinel, and save every last one of these students. A king must never forsake his subjects,” he replied, echoing the advice of a great man who had once counseled him. His voice was laced with a calm, iron-clad resolve. “And I will not, no matter what it takes.”

Alice watched him for a moment, then nodded, her expression shifting to one of quiet loyalty as she stepped in line beside him. “Then, we shall prepare for the hunt.”

As Prof. Willow ran through the forest, he heard an interesting scream. Students were yelling that the sentinel had arrived, even when he hadn't made his way there yet. Out of curiosity, he decided to check it out, before checking out the large cluster.

In the clearing, students scrambled in every direction, only to find themselves cornered by what they thought was the true Sentinel. A towering suit of armor, ominous and imposing, stood in their path. It held a massive, double-bladed axe, which it swung with terrifying precision. One by one, panicked students were cut down by the faux Sentinel’s blade, vanishing in bursts of light as they were teleported back to the auditorium.

Moments later, the real Sentinel, Professor Willow, emerged from the shadows, his black armor glinting in the dim silver moonlight. He surveyed the scene with an amused smirk as he watched the armored giant slash at the scattering students.

“Well, well,” Willow chuckled, folding his spear arm across his chest. “Pretending to be me to frighten your classmates, huh? Clever trick. Maybe they’ll even let you join the academy for creativity… though I’m not sure about strength.”

The massive suit of armor turned its blank gaze toward Willow and, without hesitation, lifted its axe high, swinging it down with the weight of a collapsing mountain. Willow, unimpressed, blocked the attack with ease, his spear-arm rotating like a drill as he deflected the blow, causing the surrounding earth to shudder. Then, with calculated precision, Willow drove his spinning spear straight into the armor’s chest, piercing through with brutal efficiency.

The armored figure staggered, its axe slipping from its grip as it crashed to the ground, creating a thunderous echo that reverberated through the clearing. Willow climbed onto the fallen giant, peering inside its helm with mild curiosity. “That was disappointing,” he muttered, his voice edged with mockery.

Suddenly, a spear shot out from within the armor, whizzing past Willow’s face, narrowly missing him. Willow’s eyes widened for a moment, surprised, before his gaze hardened. From the wreckage, a man dragged himself out of the armor’s chest cavity, his appearance twisted and fierce. His skin was an unnatural shade of blue, stitched in patches, giving him the look of a living patchwork doll. His visible eye, a vivid crimson, glared at Willow with a savage intensity, while the rest of his face was partially concealed under a battered, makeshift helmet that resembled both a mask and an eye patch.

With a low growl, the man summoned a massive battleaxe from thin air, gripping it with both hands as he straightened, his breath labored but his stance unwavering.

Willow chuckled, a mocking grin spreading beneath his helm. “So, you’re the mastermind behind that massive suit of armor? Gotta say, didn’t expect such a clever tactic from someone who’s… well, kind of short,” he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension.

Kenji bristled, his eye narrowing. “I'm not that short! And for your information, my abilities are more complex than you’d think. The first one's called Enchantment, I can enhance and control any weapon at will, even a hunk of metal like that armor. And I’m so amazing, I’ve even got a second ability, Forgery. I can replicate any object I’ve seen before.” He lifted his chin, pride gleaming in his eyes as he glared at Willow. “So show some respect and apologize for underestimating me!”

Willow stifled a laugh, shaking his head with exaggerated pity. “Aww, look at you, all puffed up. I know you’re a zombie, but do you have to act so brain-dead?” He folded his arms, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Who goes around broadcasting their abilities to the enemy? Talk about giving away your trump card. For someone with a decent strategy, you sure don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.”

Kenji’s face twisted in irritation, but Willow continued, undeterred, his voice turning sharp. “So tell me, did someone else think this up for you, or did you finally put those brain cells to use?”

Kenji’s grip on his recreated axe tightened, his knuckles blanching despite his undead flesh. “Laugh all you want, but I’m more than just a walking corpse. I’ll show you exactly what I can do!” He lunged forward, bringing the heavy axe down with fierce momentum, each strike carrying the weight of his indignation. Willow sidestepped effortlessly, his expression still annoyingly amused, almost bored.

“Oh, are we finally starting?” Willow sneered, parrying another blow with his spear-arm, the grinding sound of metal against metal filling the clearing. “Let me show you what real strength looks like.”

Kenji clenched his jaw, frustration flashing in his single crimson eye. “I’ve taken down tougher opponents than you, Willow,” he spat, raising his axe once more. “I’ll make you regret every word.”

With a roar, he swung his massive recreated axe in a powerful arc. Willow sidestepped smoothly, the blade whistling past him by mere inches, carving into the ground with a force that sent debris flying. Willow tilted his head, a lazy grin on his face. “You call that an attack? I’m starting to feel bad for you.”

Kenji snarled, channeling his energy through the axe. With his Enchantment ability, the weapon pulsed, doubling in size as black shadows wrapped around it like crackling tendrils. He swung again, faster this time, aiming to catch Willow off guard.

But Willow’s spear-arm twisted with blinding speed, intercepting Kenji’s strike with a screech of metal. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, the Sentinel's spear absorbing the shock of Kenji's blow with ease. He grinned through the grinding clash of metal, his voice dripping with mockery. “Is that all you’ve got, corpse-boy?”

Kenji’s face contorted with rage as he spun to attack again, this time swinging from below to surprise him. But Willow leaped back, his movements quick and fluid, watching as the enchanted axe cleaved through empty air. “Don’t you get it?” Willow taunted, landing effortlessly on his feet. “Your little bag of tricks won’t help you here.”

Kenji refused to let up. He concentrated, pulling his hand back to summon another weapon—a second, smaller axe forged from memory, materializing instantly in his left hand. With newfound ferocity, he lunged forward, attacking with a relentless series of strikes, one blade following the other in rapid succession. Willow’s spear spun in response, deflecting each blow with practiced ease. The Sentinel's taunts had faded; now, he focused entirely on Kenji's every move, a sharp glint of interest flashing behind his helmet’s visor.

“You’re stubborn,” Willow muttered, a flicker of approval slipping into his voice as he deflected another powerful swing. “But this just means you’ll fall that much harder.”

Kenji’s eye burned with determination as he switched tactics. Abandoning brute force, he struck low, aiming to take out Willow’s knees. Willow narrowly dodged, surprised by the shift in style. But before he could retaliate, Kenji had already moved, darting to the side and aiming a new strike at Willow's midsection.

Willow spun, his spear-arm flashing upward just in time to parry the attack. “Not bad,” he admitted, almost begrudgingly, his voice losing some of its earlier mockery. “But I hope you’re not tiring yourself out.”

Kenji forced a smirk, despite his growing exhaustion. “Worry about yourself, Sentinel.”

With renewed energy, Kenji’s axe arced down, slashing toward Willow’s shoulder. Willow met it with a fierce counter, their weapons clashing with a thunderous impact that echoed through the forest clearing. Neither combatant backed down, their expressions intense, as the fierce struggle escalated.

With a swift slash, Willow shattered both of Kenji's weapons, the remnants clattering to the forest floor like fallen leaves. Kenji stumbled back, his breath quickening as he prepared for Willow's inevitable charge.

The Sentinel surged forward, his heavy armor creaking ominously as he swung his weapon for a killing blow. But in a split second, Kenji executed a desperate maneuver. He threw a special gunpowder into Willow's eyes, a dazzling flash ignited upon impact, filling the air with acrid smoke and a bright explosion that momentarily blinded the Sentinel. Taking advantage of the chaos, Kenji summoned a makeshift cannon, its dark silhouette rising from the ground as he encased himself in a protective shell. With a tremendous roar, he ignited the cannon, propelling himself backward through the trees, narrowly escaping Willow’s wrath.

As he soared away, Kenji couldn’t resist the urge to taunt the Sentinel, flipping him off mid-flight, a smirk breaking across his face despite the dire circumstances.

“I’ll get that brat later,” Willow laughed, his voice echoing menacingly as he regained his composure, the heat of the battle still lingering in the air.

In the clearing where Kenji landed, he was met with an unexpected sight, Karma stood there, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity as he assessed the weakened Kenji.

“My spirits told me that you were fighting the Sentinel. Is that true?” Karma asked, his voice steady and reassuring.

“Yes, it is. I couldn't beat him, so I ran away,” Kenji admitted, the weight of defeat hanging heavily on his shoulders.

“Do you want another shot? I’ve been asked to gather useful people to hunt him down, and you look like you’d make a good tank,” Karma proposed, his eyes glinting with determination.

“Fine, let’s be allies,” Kenji agreed, gratitude and resolve mingling in his heart as Karma reached out to help him stand.

“Here, drink this. It will heal you,” Karma said, producing a vial filled with a shimmering red liquid, the sight of it promising revitalization.

Without hesitation, Kenji took the vial and drank it down. Warmth flooded through him as the healing properties coursed through his veins, knitting together his wounds and rejuvenating his spirit. He felt stronger, and more focused, as the pain dissipated.

“Now let’s go find my friend,” Karma laughed, a confident grin spreading across his face.