The monster collapsed with a final, shuddering breath.
Silence did not return to the arena—screams, roars, and the clang of steel still echoed across the kill zone—but around Caelum, a strange pocket of calm formed, as if even the air hesitated.
The boy's body—his body now—swayed slightly from blood loss and shock. His breath came unevenly, and every muscle trembled from exertion. Sweat trickled down his jawline.
Weakness.
He disliked it instantly.
This shell… it's barely functional.
His gaze drifted across the arena. Other candidates were still running, still dying. Some fought bravely; others simply begged the monsters to stop. One girl attempted to form an arcane shield but lost focus and was torn apart before the spell completed.
Pathetic.
The instructors watched with no expression.
Above them, nobles in elevated seats leaned forward with interest, pointing out heirs they favored and children they despised.
Caelum rolled his shoulders once, feeling the fractures in his new soul settle like mismatched puzzle pieces.
Focus. Assess the environment. Learn the rules.
His eyes locked on the stone pillar again—the countdown etched in glowing sigils.
Thirty-six seconds remaining.
He could simply wait.
But waiting was not winning.
Movement flickered at the edge of his vision.
A second beast wasn't approaching—it was already mid-leap, claws extended, jaws open wide. Its spine bent unnaturally, legs kicking against nothing as it soared directly toward him.
Most candidates would not even see it coming.
Caelum did.
He stepped forward—not back—and angled his body just enough that the creature passed by him instead of onto him. Its claws grazed his shoulder, shredding cloth, drawing thin lines of blood.
He didn't flinch.
A twist of the wrist. A downward carve. The broken blade sank into the beast's exposed flank as it flew past, ripping open muscle and sinew.
The monster crashed into the dirt, screeching, digging deep furrows as it tried to stop its skid.
Caelum watched it struggling, not out of pity, but calculation.
This body's reach is short. Strength insufficient. Adjust tactics accordingly.
The beast spun around to lunge again—
Then suddenly stopped.
Its gaze fixed on Caelum's face, pupils contracting. A low growl rose from its throat, but there was something else underneath.
Fear.
For an animal mutated into a killing machine… it was rare.
It can sense it, Caelum realized.
Good.
He walked toward the beast slowly.
The creature backed up, whining now, trembling, its front legs splaying weakly.
He gave it no mercy. Mercy was rarely efficient.
A single precise stroke separated its voice from its breath.
Blood splattered across Caelum's uniform, steaming as it hit the ground.
Two monsters down.
Still thirty seconds remained.
A voice boomed across the arena, magically amplified:
"Candidate thirty-eight—multiple confirmed kills."
Caelum ignored it.
But every noble, every instructor, every student watching him turned to look.
Not because his kills were impressive.
They weren't.
They were too clean. Too efficient. Too controlled for someone who had supposedly been moments from death.
Whispers started.
"Wasn't that one dead?"
"No… I saw it. His heart stopped."
"Is his Sigil awakening mid-exam?"
"Impossible."
"No, I read that Veylor kid's file—he awakened a trash-tier Sigil."
Caelum let the noise wash over him.
Good. Let them talk. The more confident people feel in their assumptions, the easier they are to break.
He finally had a moment to examine the body properly.
He pressed two fingers to his chest. The heartbeat beneath was uneven, but functional. His ribs hurt where they had cracked earlier. His lungs burned with every breath.
But none of it mattered.
The Proto-Sigil pulsed faintly inside him like a knot of threads tying themselves into shape.
Unstable.
Hungry.
Alive.
When he closed his eyes for half a second, he saw faint lines—threads—stretching from beast corpses to the air, to the stone, to himself.
Like cracks in glass.
If he focused too long, the world distorted at the edges, as if trying to correct itself.
Interesting.
His soul wasn't simply inside the body.
It was stapled to it.
Held together by thread that didn't belong to this world.
He opened his eyes.
The world straightened.
The clock ticked.
Twenty-two seconds remaining.
A shrill cry pierced the air.
A girl sprinted past him, her arm torn and hanging loosely. A boy followed her, dragging a spear and trying not to trip over his own fear.
Behind them, a hulking beast, larger than any Caelum had killed so far, lumbered forward—each step sending vibrations through the stone.
He watched it lumber after them.
They weren't going to make it.
He could help.
He could also stand still.
Neither mattered to him.
And yet—
He moved.
Not out of kindness.
Not out of morality.
But because in a world where knowledge was power, saving someone created debt.
And debt was leverage.
Caelum stepped into the creature's path, raising the broken blade.
The girl screamed, "What are you doing?! Run!"
He didn't answer.
The beast slammed its claws down. Caelum dodged by centimeters, feeling the shockwave through his knees. The blade clanged uselessly against its bone plating.
Too thick.
He rolled away as its jaw snapped shut where his head had been.
The beast charged again.
Caelum ducked low—
Not to dodge.
To grab a shard of broken stone from the ground.
He flung it upward.
The shard struck the beast's left eye.
It roared in pain, reeling.
Caelum moved instantly. He grabbed the girl's unwounded arm and yanked her back toward safety.
"Go," he said quietly.
The boy hesitated. "You'll die—"
"No," Caelum murmured, already stepping past him. "I won't."
Not here.
Not now.
The beast recovered, bleeding from its ruined eye, and bellowed with renewed rage.
Caelum exhaled once.
This body is frail. Injured. Slow.
He raised the blade.
But the mind using it is not.
The beast lunged.
He stepped in.
Time seemed to slow—not truly, but in the way it always had for him when combat became calculation.
Angles.
Weight.
Momentum.
Blind spot.
Leverage.
He slid beneath the beast's forelimb, letting its own weight carry it forward.
The broken blade punctured the soft tissue beneath its jaw, driving upward with all the force he could muster.
The monster convulsed violently.
Then fell.
Its corpse hit the ground with a boom.
Silence again—real this time.
The girl stared at him, trembling.
"You… you saved us…"
Caelum wiped blood from his cheek.
He offered her a faint, harmless smile.
"It was nothing."
Internally:
You owe me your life now. I will collect when it's convenient.
The countdown sigils glowed.
00:00
A horn sounded.
A voice boomed:
"Entrance exam complete! All surviving candidates remain where you are!"
The monsters froze mid-motion, restrained by sigil chains summoned from the ground.
Dozens of students lay dead.
A few dozen more lay bleeding.
Less than a third still stood.
Caelum Veylor stood among them—quiet, bloodstained, and unreadable.
As instructors descended into the arena, one figure paused upon seeing him.
Tall. Sharp. Armor dark as obsidian.
Kael Dravos, the famed combat instructor.
He narrowed his eyes.
"…You. Boy. State your name."
Caelum lowered his gaze modestly.
"Caelum Veylor, Instructor."
A murmur rippled through the remaining students.
"Veylor? The disgrace?"
"Didn't they say he had the weakest Sigil?"
"How did he survive three beasts alone?!"
Kael Dravos stepped closer until he towered over Caelum.
"Your file says you awakened a Slate-tier Support Sigil," he said. "Yet what I saw today was not 'support.'"
Caelum kept his voice soft.
"I was… lucky, sir."
Kael's gaze sharpened.
Caelum's smile deepened by one degree.
Believe it. Please. Underestimate me.
Kael grunted and turned away.
"Luck runs out, boy."
Caelum watched him leave.
Not mine.
As healers arrived and the dead were counted, a faint tremor rippled through the ground.
Only Caelum felt it.
A whisper.
Not sound.
Not thought.
Not emotion.
A thread pulling gently at the edge of his soul.
From beneath the arena.
From deep below the Academy.
Something ancient.
Something wrong.
Something awake.
Caelum's eyes narrowed slightly.
This world… is going to be interesting.