Third Person POV
The Ranking Battle had concluded, leaving the air thick with residual energy and unspoken tension. Now came the ceremonial aftermath—the moment when the Academy would formalize its new hierarchy and cement the power structure that would define first-year dynamics for months to come.
"All students report to the Main Hall immediately." The announcement echoed through communication arrays throughout the Colosseum, cutting through excited chatter like a blade.
The Main Hall was a monument to architectural ambition—the same grand venue that had hosted the entrance ceremony. Vaulted ceilings reached toward the heavens, adorned with enchanted murals depicting legendary battles and fallen heroes. The acoustics were perfect, engineered through both mundane architecture and subtle magic so that even a whisper from the stage could reach the furthest seats with crystal clarity. It was a space designed to inspire awe and remind students of the weight of history pressing down upon them.
Students filed in with organized chaos—excited conversations overlapping, speculation about what would happen next, social clusters reforming around those who'd proven themselves in combat. The top ten finalists drew particular attention, students parting to let them pass with reactions ranging from genuine respect to barely concealed envy to calculating assessment of potential alliances or threats.
Riyan walked among them, his mask now discarded, his face fully revealed to thousands of witnesses. The reactions were gratifyingly diverse—shock from those who'd known him by reputation, admiration from those who'd only seen his skill, calculation from the politically minded who were already reassessing what his transformation meant for their own ambitions.
*Let them stare,* he thought, allowing himself a small internal smirk. *Let them wonder how the dog-licker became the dragon. Fear and respect are just two sides of the same coin, and I'll accept payment in either currency.*
Fera Starlight caught his eye from across the hall—her violet-streaked white hair unmistakable even in the crowd. Their eyes met briefly, and he saw something complex flicker across her face. Not the contempt she'd once shown him, but something more nuanced. Reassessment, perhaps. The first stirrings of respect for someone she'd written off as beneath her notice.
*Progress,* he noted mentally. *Small, but measurable.*
As the last students found their seats, the stage came alive with arrivals that commanded immediate attention.
Lev Aven appeared first—Vice-Principal and a woman whose reputation for strictness was matched only by her reputation for fairness. At 347 years old, her angelic heritage was evident in the otherworldly quality of her beauty, though time and experience had added steel to features that might otherwise have seemed too delicate. Her white hair fell in elegant waves past her shoulders, and her golden eyes swept the assembled students with the penetrating gaze of someone who'd guided countless generations and could read potential, threat, and weakness with equal facility.
Next came Teras Aven, her husband and the Main Instructor for Physical and Martial Arts. His build spoke of decades mastering combat—not the showy muscles of an aesthete, but the dense, functional power of someone who'd survived real battlefields. His curly dark blond hair framed a face marked by experience, and his black eyes held the flat, assessing quality of a predator evaluating prey. The transformation talent that had earned him the title "Beast Warrior" wasn't visible now, but everyone knew it lurked beneath the surface, ready to emerge when needed.
May Aero followed with the fluid grace that marked all master warriors. The Spear Saintess moved like water given human form—every step economical, every gesture precise. At 239 years old, her vampire heritage kept her looking perhaps thirty at most, with dark red hair that cascaded past her shoulders and red eyes that held hints of both mischief and merciless judgment. The spear strapped to her back seemed less like a weapon and more like an extension of her body, a promise of violence to anyone foolish enough to challenge her authority.
Then came Jas Starlight, and the atmosphere shifted noticeably. Fera's mother, the Main Instructor for Magic and Mana, seemed to shimmer into existence rather than simply walk onto the stage—a neat demonstration of her spirit magic mastery. Her violet hair and violet eyes marked her half-spirit heritage clearly, and there was something ethereal about her that made her seem almost otherworldly despite her relatively young fifty-eight years. Beautiful, certainly, but in the manner of something wild and dangerous pretending to be civilized.
Finally, Gray Aero took his position as Vice-Main Instructor for Weapon Training and Aura. The Sword Saint at fifty-six carried himself with the weathered confidence of someone who'd survived battles that had killed better fighters. His white hair and green eyes held wisdom earned through pain, and the casual way he rested his hand on his sword's hilt suggested drawing it was as natural as breathing.
The assembled instructors represented a concentration of power rarely seen outside of wartime councils. Three SS-rank individuals, two S-ranks, and collective centuries of combat experience. A reminder that Reyas Academy wasn't just an educational institution—it was a fortress commanded by legends.
Lev stepped forward, her voice carrying effortlessly through the perfect acoustics without magical amplification—though Riyan suspected subtle enhancement anyway.
"Students," she began, warmth layered over absolute authority in a tone that suggested she could shift from kind mentor to merciless judge in a heartbeat. "Congratulations to all of you for passing the entrance examination of Reyas Academy. Your presence here represents not just personal achievement, but potential to shape the future of our world."
She paused, letting that sink in, her golden eyes sweeping across the assembled crowd.
"Now, I will announce the top ten students from the Ranking Battle. These individuals have proven themselves worthy of special recognition and the privileges that accompany elevated status within our institution."
The hall fell silent, anticipation thick enough to choke on.
"Rank 10: Iris Aero."
Polite applause filled the hall as the youngest daughter of Gray and May made her way to the stage. Her reddish-white hair and red eyes marked her vampire heritage clearly, though at E+ rank and only eighteen years old, she had far to go before matching her legendary sister. Her expression remained carefully neutral, but Riyan noticed the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze flickered toward where Raya—the Student Council President and future Sword Saintess—would be watching from the upper gallery.
*Being ranked tenth when your sister is the Academy's strongest student must create interesting pressures,* Riyan mused. *Useful information to remember.*
"Rank 9: Jessica Aven."
The daughter of the Vice-Principal walked with measured grace, her blindfold covering the Unique Soul's Eyes that would one day earn her the title of Holy Saintess. Her blondish-white hair marked her half-angel heritage, and despite her youth, there was something already ethereal about her bearing. At D- rank, she had immense room for growth—which made sense for someone bearing the "Daughter of Destiny" designation, even if only a minor one.
"Rank 8: Fera Starlight."
His former obsession—or rather, the original Riyan's former obsession—walked onto the stage with the poise expected of Rex and Jas Starlight's daughter. Her white hair with violet strands caught the light beautifully, and her violet eyes remained distant, carefully controlled. But when they briefly found him in the crowd again, something flickered there. Curiosity mixed with reluctant respect.
*The first cracks in the ice,* Riyan noted with satisfaction. *Soon enough, the cold contempt will thaw entirely. Whether it becomes something useful or just another complication remains to be seen.*
"Rank 7: Livia Descartes."
His twin sister practically bounced onto the stage, her earlier disappointment at losing to Raven apparently forgotten in the excitement of being recognized. Her black hair and blue eyes—identical to their mother's—marked her Asura heritage clearly. At C+ rank, she was respectable for her age, especially with her S-rank Ice affinity.
But it was the way she looked at him that sent a chill down his spine despite the warmth of her smile. That possessive pride, that obsessive devotion that the system had marked as "Deep Obsession."
*That's going to be a problem,* he thought grimly. *A problem I'll need to manage very, very carefully.*
"Rank 6: Yanel Gates."
The dark elf moved with natural grace, his dark indigo hair and matching eyes striking against his darker complexion. At D- rank but bearing S-rank Close Combat talent and the "Son of Destiny" designation, he represented the kind of underdog story that destiny loved to cultivate.
*Another protagonist-adjacent character to monitor,* Riyan catalogued mentally. *Useful or dangerous depending on how he develops.*
"Rank 5: Ava Mairis."
His cousin, his god-sister, his rival. The Asura Princess walked onto the stage with regal bearing that would have made their grandfather proud. Her pure Asura bloodline showed in every elegant movement, every proud tilt of her head. At C+ rank with S+ Fire affinity, she was a powerhouse in the making.
When her black eyes met his scarlet ones, competitive fire blazed bright—a promise that their battle wasn't over, merely postponed.
*Good,* he thought with genuine appreciation. *I need rivals who'll push me to improve. Enemies I can respect are more valuable than allies I have to carry.*
"Rank 4: Noha Kai."
The battle maniac grinned widely as she took her place, practically vibrating with barely contained energy. At D- rank but bearing S-rank Martial Prodigy talent and "Daughter of Destiny" status, she represented raw potential waiting to explode. Her brown hair and eyes were unremarkable, but the way she moved spoke of someone who lived for combat.
*Dangerous,* Riyan assessed. *Not to me specifically, but to everyone. That level of combat obsession makes people unpredictable.*
"Rank 3: Alex Karots."
The protagonist. The Main Son of Destiny. The orphan who would rise above all others through determination, hidden talents, and the universe's thumb firmly on the scale in his favor.
Currently ranked third behind two "villains."
Alex walked onto the stage with carefully controlled humility, but Riyan could see the disappointment lurking beneath. At C rank with S+ Water and S- Holy affinities, he was objectively impressive. For anyone else, third place would be a triumph.
But for someone who'd been promised greatness by fate itself? For someone whose master was the legendary thousand-year-old Dryad Claire Rees? Third place had to taste like ash.
*Excellent,* Riyan thought with dark satisfaction. *Let him feel what it's like when destiny doesn't hand him everything. Let him understand that being the "chosen one" doesn't mean automatic victory.*
"Rank 2: Raven Zeus."
His childhood friend. The Princess of Reyas. The girl whose obsession with him bordered on—or perhaps had crossed into—genuinely concerning territory.
Raven moved with fluid grace that belied the violence she was capable of. Her greyish-white hair and golden eyes marked her demon heritage clearly, a constant reminder of why she'd been targeted by Nexus all those years ago. At C+ rank with S Thunder affinity, she was formidable.
But it was the way she looked at him as she took her place on stage that made his instincts scream warnings. That intensity, that possessive devotion that had been forged in blood and trauma in a dark forest when they were both too young to process what they'd done.
"Yan," she mouthed silently, using the nickname she'd given him that terrible night.
*That obsession is going to complicate everything,* he realized. *But it's also leverage. A weapon I can use if I'm careful. If I'm not careful, it becomes a noose around both our necks.*
Finally, Lev's voice rang out with dramatic flair: "And Rank 1... Riyan Descartes!"
The hall exploded into applause that was equal parts genuine admiration, political calculation, and shocked disbelief. He'd done it. Claimed first place. Shattered the narrative that should have seen Alex triumph.
Riyan walked onto the stage with confidence that was only partially performance. At B- rank with SS+ Darkness affinity and S+ Fire affinity, bearing talents that included SS-rank Spear Saint and Unique-rank Reader's Eye and Dual Energy User, he'd earned this position through genuine skill rather than just plot manipulation.
*This is just the beginning,* he thought as he took his place at the center of the assembled top ten. *First place among first-years is good, but it's not enough. Not nearly enough.*
Once all ten had assembled, Lev continued: "Iris, Jessica, Fera, Livia, Yanel, Ava, Noha, and Alex Karots—you have all been awarded the status of Exceptional Students. This grants you priority access to training facilities, increased resource allocations, and the authority to challenge those ranked above you for their positions."
The crowd applauded again, though with less intensity. Exceptional Student status was impressive, but everyone knew the real prizes went to the top two.
"And Raven Zeus and Riyan Descartes," Lev's voice carried weight that made the hall fall silent again, "you have both been awarded the title of Elite Students and will serve as representatives of all first-year students. This grants you access to restricted areas of the Academy, personal mentorship from senior instructors, and seats on the Student Advisory Council."
More applause, this time tinged with envy from those who'd fallen just short.
Then Lev turned to Riyan specifically, and her expression shifted to something that might have been amusement. She leaned in, her voice dropping just low enough that only those on stage could hear:
"Hey, brat. You're up to give a speech. Try not to pee your pants like you did when you were a child."
Riyan's face heated with embarrassment even as his mind immediately corrected: *That was the original Riyan, not me. But the body's muscle memory is apparently stored with the humiliation intact.*
*I'll remember this teasing, Aunt Lev,* he thought darkly. *But first, let's give these idiots a speech they'll never forget.*
He stepped forward to the center of the stage, channeling mana into his voice—not for amplification, which the hall's acoustics handled, but for subtle enhancement that would make every word carry weight and authority beyond his years.
His scarlet eyes swept across the assembled students, his expression settling into something between confidence and challenge. The silence was absolute, every eye fixed on him with rapt attention.
"Welcome, fellow students," he began, his voice carrying perfectly, "to the hallowed halls of Reyas Academy. I am Riyan Descartes, and I stand before you today not merely as your top-ranked first-year, but as living proof that transformation is possible."
He paused, letting that settle, noting how some students shifted uncomfortably—those who remembered the "dog-licker" reputation, who were still trying to reconcile that pathetic figure with the one standing before them now.
"Many of you know my reputation. Or rather, you know the reputation of who I used to be." His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "The simp. The fool. The embarrassment who degraded himself for scraps of attention from someone who wanted nothing to do with him."
Fera's face flushed slightly at the oblique reference, but Riyan didn't look at her directly.
"That person was weak. Pathetic. Unworthy of the bloodlines he carried or the family name he bore." His voice hardened. "So I killed him."
The blunt statement sent shock rippling through the crowd.
"Not literally, of course. But I destroyed everything he was—the weakness, the desperation, the degrading need for validation from people who would never respect him. I tore it all down and built something new from the ashes."
He gestured to himself. "This is the result. Not perfection—I have far to go before I can claim that. But transformation earned through blood, sweat, and the absolute refusal to accept mediocrity."
His gaze swept the crowd again, harder now. "You may look at me and wonder: how? How did someone so pathetic become this? The answer is simple and terrible: I chose pain over comfort. Growth over stagnation. Excellence over adequacy."
"While others were sleeping, I was training. While others were content with their natural talents, I was forcing myself past limits that should have broken me. While others were making excuses, I was making progress."
His voice rose, filling the hall with electric energy. "But I don't stand before you today to boast of my achievements. I stand here to issue a challenge."
He pointed at the assembled students, his gesture encompassing all of them. "I challenge each and every one of you to reject mediocrity. To push past your limits. To sacrifice comfort and complacency on the altar of excellence. Because that is the only path to genuine strength."
"I know many of you feel intimidated by my presence." His smile turned sharp. "I know you look at my rank, my abilities, the gap between where I stand and where you stand, and you feel inadequate. Good. Use that feeling. Let it drive you forward."
"But understand this—" His voice dropped to something quieter but somehow more intense. "It's not the gap that matters. It's your willingness to close it. Natural talent is a starting point, nothing more. What matters is effort. What matters is dedication. What matters is the burning refusal to accept being second-best."
He raised his arms as if embracing the entire hall. "So I ask you: what drives you? Is it the desire to prove yourself? To earn respect? To surpass those who've looked down on you?" His eyes found Alex for just a moment. "Or is it something deeper? The burning ambition to reach the absolute peak? To stand at the summit and look down on everything beneath you?"
"Whatever your motivation, I urge you to fan those flames. Let them consume you. Let them drive you forward even when every muscle screams for rest, even when every rational thought says you've done enough."
His eyes blazed with intensity that seemed almost inhuman. "Because I am not just a student. I am the standard against which you will be measured. I am the benchmark of first-year excellence. And I will not rest, will not relent, until I have pushed each and every one of you to reach your full potential."
The hall was utterly silent, mesmerized.
"Some of you will become my rivals—those who push me to improve just as I push you. I welcome that. I need that." His smile turned genuinely fierce. "Some of you will become my allies—those who understand that true strength comes from lifting each other even as we compete. I value that."
"And some of you—" His voice turned cold enough to frost the air. "Some of you will become obstacles. Stepping stones on my path upward. I will not apologize for that. This is the path I've chosen, and I will walk it to its end regardless of who stands in my way."
He let that hang in the air for a moment, then his expression softened slightly. "But know this: whether you become rival, ally, or obstacle, I will treat you with the respect your effort deserves. I will acknowledge your strength. I will honor your determination."
"So let us embark on this journey together." His voice rang with conviction that was only partially manufactured. "Let us push each other to heights we never imagined possible. Let us show the world what this generation is capable of."
He paused one final time, his scarlet eyes sweeping across every face in the hall.
"I am Riyan Descartes. I will be your rival, your friend, your goal, and your final obstacle. And I promise you this—" His smile turned absolutely predatory. "I will never stop climbing. If you want to catch me, you'd better start running now."
The silence held for one perfect heartbeat.
Then the hall erupted.
Applause thundered through the space, students on their feet, some cheering, others simply stunned. Even the instructors were nodding approval—Lev with satisfaction, Teras with respect, May with predatory interest, Jas with analytical assessment, Gray with the appreciation of one warrior for another's spirit.
But Riyan's attention was on specific reactions.
Fera looked torn between reluctant admiration and something that might have been the first stirrings of genuine interest.
Livia's eyes shone with worshipful devotion that made his skin crawl even as he maintained his confident smile.
Ava's expression blazed with competitive fire that promised their rivalry would burn hot for years to come.
Raven watched him with obsessive intensity, her lips forming his nickname silently: "Yan."
And Alex...
Alex's face showed emotions warring behind careful control—determination, frustration, something that might have been respect despite himself, and underneath it all, the first genuine understanding that his journey to the top wouldn't be the effortless ascent destiny had promised.
Perfect, Riyan thought with dark satisfaction. Let him feel it. Let them all feel it. I've thrown down the gauntlet, and now they have to decide—will they rise to meet it, or will they break trying?
As the applause continued, as students began chanting his name, as the political and social dynamics of first-year shifted permanently in the wake of his words, Riyan allowed himself one genuine smile.
The game had truly begun.
And he intended to win.
Author's Note:
This chapter establishes Riyan's public persona and sets the tone for how he'll interact with the broader Academy population. The speech was designed to be inspiring and challenging while also serving his agenda of disrupting the protagonist's narrative.
Reader Discussion: How do you think different characters will respond to this speech?
Will it motivate allies or create more enemies?
Did Riyan strike the right balance between confidence and arrogance?
Which character's reaction interested you most?
Next Chapter Preview: "Hotel Hijack [Part 1]" - The peace of Academy life is about to be shattered by an incident that will test everyone's limits and reveal more about Riyan's past life.
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