A night where the moon shone the brightest, casting an eerie glow over the charred remains of a once-thriving village. Smoke curled into the sky, mingling with the stench of blood and death. Bodies lay twisted and broken, their silent screams forever etched into the ruins. The ground was soaked in crimson, a grotesque reflection of the massacre that had unfolded.
In the heart of this devastation stood a child—motionless, a knife clutched in his trembling hand, its blade slick with blood. His wide, hollow eyes gazed at the sky, where the moon shone cold and indifferent. Tears welled up, hot against his cheeks, but inside, there was nothing. Just a void. A silence so heavy it threatened to consume him—
Until a voice shattered it.
“Ric!”
His breath hitched. The sound was distant yet desperate. He turned toward it, vision blurred by tears. A man sprinted toward him, his form barely discernible. He looked older—perhaps in his forties—but his face was unreadable through the haze of grief. “Ric!”
The voice cracked, raw with urgency. The sound wavered, growing distant, slipping away like sand through fingers.
“Ric…”
Fading.
“Ric…”
Echoing. Dying.
“Ri…”
Everything disappeared into darkness.
Ric jolted awake, gasping, his body drenched in cold sweat. His hands trembled as he clutched the sheets beneath him. His heart pounded against his ribs, but the only thing around him now was silence.
Just a dream.
But it didn’t feel like one.
Ric’s breath came in short gasps as his eyes darted around the room. His gaze landed on a water bottle resting on the desk beside his bed. Exhaling a deep, shuddering breath, he grabbed it and took a long drink, letting the cool liquid steady his thoughts.
As his pulse slowed, he took in his surroundings. The room was far better than the dorms he remembered—one bed, a desk, a private washroom, and polished wooden floors. Everything about it exuded the refinement of a noble’s quarters. A flicker of suspicion crossed his mind, but as he pieced together the previous night’s events, he slowly relaxed.
His head throbbed as memories resurfaced.
"Last night… I thought the academy was under attack by demonic forces." He winced, pressing his fingers to his temples. "But it was a test—illusion magic to gauge our loyalty to humanity." His brows furrowed. "Then what happened after that?"
A sharp pain stabbed through his skull, forcing him to sit back down. Clutching his head, he groaned.
"Wait… I attacked the student council members." The memory struck him like a bolt of lightning. "That face… I saw them before—with Sir Reinhardt during the obstacle exam. And that mist—" His breath hitched. "That wasn’t part of my class abilities… was it?"
The pain intensified the more he tried to recall. His vision blurred.
“This is too much—Ugh!”
Instinctively, he grabbed the bottle and splashed water over his face, the shock helping to ground him. Taking a steadying breath, he forced himself to focus.
"In conclusion… that mysterious power took control of me, and I ended up attacking the student council." His fists clenched. "Dang it! They're definitely going to call me in to answer for it. It might cost me marks; my whole plan will be ruined if that happens."
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
As Ric sat lost in his thoughts, a sharp knock echoed through the room. He stood, water still dripping from his hair, and opened the door.
"Yes?" he asked curtly.
Standing there was a girl with chestnut-brown hair and matching eyes, clad in the pristine white uniform of the student council. The moment her gaze met Ric’s, her breath hitched. The light glinted off the droplets on his face, making his wet hair and sharp features gleam like cut crystal.
“So… handsome,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
Ric raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Her face flushed crimson. "U-uh, pardon me!" she stammered, fumbling for composure. “S-Sir Reinhardt has requested your presence. Please, follow me.”
Ric gave a nonchalant shrug. “I figured. Let’s go.”
As they walked through the academy’s halls, Ric noticed an unusual stillness. The corridors, which should’ve been bustling with students after the recent exams, were eerily quiet.
"Hey," he said, glancing around. "The exam was just yesterday. Why’s it so empty?"
The girl hesitated before answering. “Actually… it’s been three days since the exams ended. The results were announced already.”
Ric stopped dead in his tracks. “What?! I was asleep for three days?”
"Y-yes," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “After the exams, many students required treatment from the healers to recover from trauma. Some… couldn’t cope mentally and had to be put into a healing-induced sleep. The next day, the rankings were announced, and the students were moved into their respective classes.”
Ric absorbed this in silence, then asked, “Hmm… What’s my ranking?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But since you’re in an S Class dorm, you must be in the top tier!”
“S Class?”
“Oh, that’s right, you wouldn’t know. The academy sorts students into different classes based on their rankings. In ascending order: Class D, Class C, Class B, Class A, and then S Class. Above that is the Elite Class, but freshmen aren’t allowed there.”
“Hmm… how did you know I would wake up today? You weren’t checking up on me, were you?”
“Uh… umm, well, I was.” The girl got flustered. “B-but I didn’t enter your room or anything! I just came every day and knocked on your door and left.”
Ric smirked and teased her. “Reaally~? I wonder.”
“I am saying I didn’t! Why won’t you believe me?!” she yelled out.
Ric further teased her. “You don’t have proof, do you?”
She grew more flustered and confused. “Uhmm… well—I don’t, but I really didn’t do it!”
Seeing her state, Ric laughed and exclaimed, “You are like a kid!”
She puffed with anger. “Listen here, Mister Noble! No matter what, I am your senior! This is not your house! Your parents and family might laugh and condone it, but this is Kyrus Academy! Behave yourself—”
Ric cut her off. “They probably would if they were alive,” he said quietly, his words laced with sadness.
Her anger faded upon hearing this. “W-wait, you’re not a noble?”
“No, I am an orphan,” Ric replied bluntly.
“W-what, I-I am sorry! I shouldn’t have said that! I got swept up in anger and blurted it out! Don’t take it to heart—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Let’s go,” Ric replied, and they continued on to reach Reinhardt's office.
She knocked on the door and received permission to enter. “I brought him, sir.”
Reinhardt looked at Ric and ordered her to leave. “You may leave.”
She glanced at Ric and exclaimed before leaving, “My name is Isabelle Crownbell. It was nice meeting you.”
Ric nodded in response. “Same here.”
As the doors thudded shut behind him, Ric stood before Reinhardt, whose piercing gaze felt like it could strip away one's very soul. With a sharp snap of his fingers, Reinhardt's aura erupted—a suffocating, invisible force that surged through the room like a tidal wave. Shadows crept along the walls, flickering as if alive, and the air grew thick, heavy with an oppressive weight. It wasn’t just a barrier; it was a cage woven from sheer dominance, silencing even the faintest whispers of resistance. Ric's breath hitched, his pulse pounding in his ears, as if the room itself had turned against him.
Ric's mind spiraled with confusion and dread as the room seemed to shrink around him. The air thickened, every breath scraping his throat like shards of glass. His chest tightened, a crushing weight pressing down, suffocating him from the inside out. Panic clawed at his ribs, his heart thundering like a war drum, frantic and desperate. "What... what is this?!" he gasped, his voice a fragile whisper lost in the oppressive silence. His vision swam, shadows bleeding into one another until the world became a distorted blur, teetering on the edge of collapse.
In that moment, Reinhardt stepped forward and asked,
“How many people have you killed?”
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