The Grand Hall of Astraea Academy was vast enough to swallow sound itself.
Tiered marble platforms rose in a perfect circle around the Blood Awakening Altar, an ancient construct carved from starstone and inlaid with runes so old their meaning had been lost to history. Above it, floating crystals shed pale white light, illuminating hundreds of young men and women—each one a bearer of lineage, ambition, and pride.
Kael Draythorn stood among them, hands at his sides, posture relaxed.
Inside, he was anything but.
Too many eyes.
The air itself felt heavy, saturated with clashing auras. Kael could sense them even through the seals on his dragon core—sharp vampiric hunger, refined elven mana, the dull but stubborn presence of human bloodlines, and here and there, the faint heat of dragonkin flames.
Each aura was loud. Crude.
Kael instinctively suppressed his breathing, slowing his heartbeat to a near-crawl.
At the altar's edge, an elderly mage stepped forward, his robes embroidered with the sigil of the Academy Council.
"Today," the mage announced, voice amplified by magic, "you will awaken—or confirm—the bloodline that defines your path. This ceremony does not judge strength. It reveals potential."
That last word made several students straighten.
One by one, names were called.
A boy stepped forward. The altar flared blue.
"Water Aspect Human Bloodline. Mid-tier."
Applause followed.
A girl with silver hair entered next. Crimson light erupted as shadows coiled around her feet.
"Vampire Bloodline. Noble-class."
This time, the applause was louder—mixed with envy and fear.
Kael watched silently as the ceremony continued.
Elves summoned vines and wind. Beastkin manifested claws and tails. Dragonkin ignited the air itself, producing flames that made the hall tremble. Every awakening was met with cheers, gasps, or whispers.
Power was celebrated here.
Weakness was remembered.
Eventually, the mage glanced down at his list.
"…Kael Draythorn."
The name echoed.
A few heads turned. Most didn't care.
Kael stepped onto the altar.
The stone was cold beneath his boots.
The runes activated instantly, lines of light crawling up the pillars as the crystal above the altar descended. It hovered before him, its surface clear and expectant.
"Place your hand on the core," the mage instructed.
Kael complied.
The moment his skin touched the crystal—
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Inside Kael, the sealed dragon core stirred.
A pressure surged outward, ancient and vast, like a king shifting in his sleep. The runes etched into his bones flared, chains of suppression tightening violently.
Stay down, Kael commanded inwardly.
The crystal responded.
Not with light.
But with silence.
The glow dimmed. The runes flickered. For a heartbeat, nothing happened at all.
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
"Did it malfunction?" "No reaction?" "Is he a null-blood?"
Then, abruptly, the crystal shuddered.
A sharp, glass-like screech cut through the hall as hairline fractures spiderwebbed across its surface. Several students recoiled. The mage's eyes widened in alarm.
Before anyone could react further, the cracks sealed themselves, the crystal forcefully stabilizing as if an unseen will had crushed something dangerous back into place.
The light returned—weak, controlled, artificial.
The mage cleared his throat, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he read the result forced onto his display.
"…Human classification confirmed. No awakened aspect."
Silence.
Then whispers—this time sharp and mocking.
"A failure." "He got in with no bloodline?" "Pathetic."
Kael withdrew his hand and stepped back.
He bowed politely, expression calm, shoulders relaxed.
Inside him, something ancient laughed—low, amused, and utterly unconcerned.
They applauded fireflies and thought themselves wise.
Kael returned to his place among the students, ignoring the glances thrown his way—some dismissive, some curious, a few strangely unsettled.
High above the hall, unseen by the students, several observation mirrors trembled faintly.
In one of them, an old man with dragonkin horns frowned deeply.
"…That crystal nearly broke," he muttered.
Beside him, a vampire councilor narrowed her eyes, lips curling into a thin smile.
"Interesting," she said. "Very interesting."
Below, Kael Draythorn stood quietly among the so-called elites of the world.
And not a single one of them realized—
The most dangerous being in the room
had just passed as nothing at all. 🐉