The gates of Eclipse Ascension Academy loomed like the jaws of a colossal beast.
Carved from obsidian-black stone and reinforced with glowing mana inscriptions, they towered over the incoming students with deliberate intimidation. Every symbol etched into the surface radiated authority—an unspoken reminder that this place existed to shape weapons for the world, not nurture children.
Cael Ardyn stood at the edge of the crowd, hands tucked calmly into the sleeves of his plain clothes.
Most students arrived in finely tailored uniforms, escorted by guards, retainers, or family elders. Aura pressure rippled through the air as heirs flaunted their bloodlines unconsciously, staking invisible claims before they had even stepped inside.
Cael felt it all.
And dismissed it.
Crude intimidation, he thought. In my era, such pressure would not even qualify as a greeting.
A tall boy in white-and-gold robes laughed loudly nearby, his aura flaring with deliberate arrogance. The space around him bent subtly under the weight of his presence.
"Did you feel that?" the boy said to his companions. "Outer district trash nearly collapsed just from standing here."
Laughter followed.
Cael didn't look at them.
Not because he was afraid—but because acknowledging insects gave them importance.
The academy gates groaned open.
Mana surged outward in a controlled wave, sweeping across the gathered students. Those with weak constitutions stumbled. Some fell outright. A few vomited from the pressure.
Cael adjusted his breathing, letting the mana wash over him while quietly anchoring his blood circulation. The suppression pressed down immediately, but he had anticipated it. He bent with it, absorbed the force, and remained standing.
An instructor's voice echoed across the courtyard.
"Welcome to Eclipse Ascension Academy. From this moment onward, your past—family, wealth, status—means nothing."
Several noble heirs smirked openly.
The instructor continued coldly, "Only strength matters here. Those without it will be discarded."
Cael's lips twitched.
At least this world is honest.
Students were divided by ranking and escorted into separate halls. Cael was sent with the lowest tier—Bronze Initiates. The hall assigned to them was older, less polished, and clearly neglected compared to the gleaming towers visible in the distance.
Inside, dozens of students gathered nervously.
Whispers spread.
"Did you see the aura pressure from the Valerius heir?"
"They say Gold-ranked students can kill monsters solo."
"I heard Bronze students die during training every year…"
Cael leaned against a pillar, eyes half-lidded.
Training deaths.
Acceptable losses.
Yes. This academy would do nicely.
The door slammed open.
A group of senior students entered, their academy uniforms marked with silver insignias. At their center walked a broad-shouldered young man with sharp features and predatory eyes.
His aura rolled through the room unchecked.
Students recoiled instinctively.
The man smiled.
"I'm Kars Valerius," he announced. "Silver-ranked. Assigned mentor for Bronze trash."
Several students flinched at the word.
Kars' gaze swept the room lazily—until it stopped on Cael.
Not because Cael radiated power.
But because he didn't react.
No fear. No tension. No submission.
Just calm.
Kars' smile thinned.
"You," he said, pointing. "Step forward."
Cael obeyed.
Not out of respect—but curiosity.
"Yes?" he asked.
A murmur rippled through the hall at his composure.
Kars circled him slowly, aura pressing harder with each step. "You didn't bow."
Cael met his eyes. "You didn't earn one."
Silence slammed down like a blade.
Kars laughed—but it was sharp, humorless. "You outer district rats really don't know your place."
He raised his hand.
Aura condensed violently, forming an invisible grip around Cael's chest. Students screamed as Cael was lifted off the ground, feet dangling helplessly.
Bones creaked.
Lungs burned.
The pressure was brutal for a Bronze initiate.
Cael felt the body's limits approaching rapidly.
Too soon, he thought calmly. But unavoidable.
Kars leaned closer. "I'll teach you your place before the instructors arrive."
Cael coughed once.
Blood splattered onto the stone floor.
The moment the crimson hit the ground—
The world slowed.
Cael's perception sharpened to a terrifying clarity. The drop of blood pulsed faintly, resonating with his will, trembling like a starving beast recognizing its master.
The suppression roared.
Pain lanced through his skull.
But he smiled.
Inside his body, blood shifted.
Not outward.
Inward.
He redirected every ounce of agony into focus, forcing the blood to circulate along paths long forgotten, compressing it, refining it—awakening it.
The drop on the floor twitched.
Then vanished.
Kars' eyes widened.
The aura grip shattered violently.
Cael dropped to the ground, landing on his feet.
Before anyone could react, Cael moved.
He closed the distance in a single step—not with speed, but inevitability. His hand shot forward, two fingers pressed lightly against Kars' chest.
Kars scoffed. "You think that—"
He stopped.
His heart stuttered.
Once.
Twice.
Cael whispered, so softly only Kars could hear, "Your blood is loud."
Panic exploded in Kars' eyes.
He tried to pull back.
Too late.
Cael pulled.
Not physically.
Internally.
Kars screamed as blood vessels ruptured from the inside, crimson bursting from his nose, ears, and mouth. His aura collapsed instantly, scattering like smoke.
Students shrieked.
Cael released his grip.
Kars crumpled to the floor, convulsing violently, eyes rolling back as blood pooled beneath him.
Dead.
The silence was absolute.
Cael staggered back suddenly, clutching his head as if struck by delayed backlash. He fell to one knee, blood pouring freely from his nose now, staining his hands.
The suppression retaliated savagely.
Every vein felt like it was being torn apart.
He screamed—convincingly.
Instructors burst into the hall seconds later, mana flaring aggressively.
"What happened?!"
"Who attacked?!"
Students pointed in hysterical confusion.
"He—he collapsed!"
"There was too much aura pressure!"
"No, the Bronze kid—he—"
Cael looked up weakly, eyes unfocused, shaking violently. "H-He tried to crush me," he whispered hoarsely. "I—I don't know… something broke…"
An examiner knelt beside Kars, checking his pulse.
His face paled.
"Heart rupture," he muttered. "Internal."
Shock rippled through the instructors.
"That's impossible for a Bronze initiate."
Their gazes slowly turned to Cael.
The elderly examiner from the Awakening Ceremony stepped forward, eyes piercing.
"Remove him," the old man said calmly. "Medical wing. Now."
As Cael was carried away, he met the old examiner's gaze.
For the briefest instant—
The old man felt it.
A chill.
Like standing before an executioner who had not yet decided whether to swing the blade.
Far above the academy, clouds churned violently.
Far deeper than that, in the abyss where demons whispered and ancient kings waited, something laughed softly.
The first drop had been spilled.
And blood never forgot the way home.