Shortly after they had settled back in their rooms and just gotten themselves comfortable, Siera came to collect them along with all the other entry level students. She then briskly turned around and without a word motioned for them to follow her before marching back down the hall.
The echoes of Siera's footsteps guided Jorel and Ryen through the dark corridors of Raven House, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the cold stone walls. They followed her in silence, their minds still reeling from the events of the day. The gravity of their situation was sinking in, the realization that surviving the entrance exam was only the beginning.
"Where are we going?" Ryen asked quietly, breaking the silence.
"To the Grand Hall," Siera replied, her voice as emotionless as ever. "The headmaster will address all new students in an assembly. It's tradition—a rite of passage for everyone who enters these halls. Pay attention to every word. What you learn today will determine whether you survive the trials ahead."
Jorel exchanged a glance with Ryen. There was an unspoken understanding between them; they knew they were about to hear something that would set the tone for their entire experience at E&R University.
As they turned a corner, the corridor widened, and the oppressive walls gave way to a vast, open space. They stepped into the Grand Hall, and Jorel's breath caught in his throat. The room was immense, with towering pillars that seemed to reach up to the heavens. The ceiling was high and vaulted, adorned with dark chandeliers that cast a dim, foreboding light over the assembled students.
Banners hung from the walls, each one representing a different house: the raven of intelligence, the falcon of speed, and the eagle of strength. The symbolism was clear—each house valued a different aspect of power, and Jorel knew that this diversity would shape his journey in ways he couldn't yet comprehend.
The hall was filled with rows of students, some seated, others standing in small clusters. The older students, sitting near the front, wore expressions of confidence, some even of boredom, as if they had seen this all before. The younger recruits, including Jorel and Ryen, were clearly more anxious, their eyes wide as they took in the intimidating surroundings.
Jorel's attention was drawn to a girl standing quietly among the Raven House recruits. Her fiery red hair stood out starkly against the dark uniforms, but it was the bruises on her arms and face that caught Jorel's eye. Despite the visible signs of injury, she stood tall, her expression unreadable, her eyes focused straight ahead. She didn't engage with the whispers around her, maintaining a silence that seemed almost defiant.
Ryen nudged Jorel slightly. "That must be her," he whispered. "The girl we heard about."
Jorel nodded, his curiosity piqued even further. He wanted to know more about her—how she had ended up in Raven House, and what had led to the bruises that marred her skin. But before he could dwell on it, a hush fell over the hall as the massive doors at the front swung open.
Jorgan Allen, the headmaster of E&R University, entered the hall, followed by the deans of each level. He was a tall, imposing figure, his presence alone enough to command respect. His eyes were sharp, his expression stern, as he surveyed the gathered students. Behind him were the twin deans, Geo and Boro Trioge, who specialized in spiritual pain, their identical features adding an eerie symmetry to the scene.
The headmaster approached the podium at the front of the hall, and the room fell into complete silence. When he spoke, his voice was deep and resonant, carrying easily across the vast space.
"Welcome to E&R University," he began, his tone formal and authoritative. "You stand here today because you have survived the first of many trials. But understand this: what you have faced so far is nothing compared to what lies ahead."
Jorel felt the weight of those words settle over him like a heavy cloak. He knew that this school was no ordinary place, but hearing it from the headmaster himself made the reality even more daunting.
"This institution was founded over a century ago," Jorgan continued, "to train the most powerful warriors our nation has ever known. Pain is our legacy, our weapon, and our power. Those of you who can master it will find greatness. Those who cannot will be discarded."
He paused, letting the gravity of his statement sink in before continuing. "Your education here will be rigorous, and it will be unforgiving. You will be pushed to your limits, both physically and mentally. But if you succeed, you will leave here as one of the elite—a protector of our nation, and a master of pain magic."
Jorgan gestured to the deans standing behind him. "You will be guided by the faculty, each of whom is an expert in their field. They will instruct you in the various disciplines of pain magic, and they will evaluate your progress at every turn."
He began to outline the structure of their education, starting with the classes they would be expected to take.
"Pain Tolerance," he said, his voice cutting through the silence, "is the foundation of everything you will learn here. Without the ability to endure and master pain, all other skills are meaningless. In this class, you will face the raw power of pain in its purest form. You will learn to control it, to channel it, and to use it to your advantage."
Jorel felt a chill run down his spine at the headmaster's words. He had already experienced the brutal nature of pain in the entrance exam, but it was clear that the trials ahead would be even more intense.
"Combat Training," Jorgan continued, "will teach you how to apply your pain-based powers in battle. You will learn to fight with weapons, with your bare hands, and with your mind. Strategy and strength will be your allies, but only if you have the discipline to master them."
He moved on to describe the other classes. "Advanced Studies will focus on your specific pain type—whether it be Physical, Emotional, or Spiritual. These classes will delve into the deeper aspects of your abilities, teaching you how to refine and amplify your powers."
Finally, he spoke of the General Education classes. "While pain magic is our primary focus, you will also be required to study history, philosophy, and strategy. These subjects are essential for any warrior who wishes to truly understand the world they are protecting."
Jorel absorbed every word, his mind racing as he tried to process the enormity of what was being laid out before him. The expectations were staggering, and he knew that any misstep could be disastrous.
Jorgan's tone grew more intense as he addressed the culture of the school. "Edgar and Rodger University is a place of competition. Here, you will learn that only the strongest survive. Alliances may be necessary, but in the end, your strength must come from within. Honor is everything in this place, and it is earned through your actions. You will be judged by your peers and by your instructors, and there is no room for weakness."
The headmaster then spoke of the school's events and competitions, each one more brutal than the last.
"The Coliseum," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "is where disputes are settled, and where reputations are made. Any student can issue a challenge, and these battles are fought with no holds barred. Winning a battle in the Coliseum will earn you respect and credibility. Losing, however, will set you back in ways you cannot afford."
Jorel had heard of the Coliseum, but hearing it described by the headmaster made it clear that it was more than just a place for training—it was a battleground where survival meant everything.
"The Carnivorous Games," Jorgan continued, "are an annual event for middle-level students. You will fight in a grand tournament to determine your ranking. The bottom 25% will be expelled from this school, deemed unworthy to continue."
The room seemed to grow colder as he spoke, the weight of his words pressing down on the new students like a vise. Jorel could feel the tension building, the understanding that failure here was not just a setback—it was a death sentence.
"The House Cup," the headmaster went on, "is a competition between the three houses, where students from all levels compete in various challenges. Points are earned through academic excellence, combat prowess, and creativity in utilizing your powers. The winning house gains privileges that will give them an edge in the coming year."
Jorgan paused before delivering the final blow. "And the High-Level Tournament is a deadly event held at the end of the year. High-level students will fight in a series of battles, and while the initial rounds are lethal, the final rounds are for glory. Only the strongest, the most determined, will graduate from this school. This is the ultimate test of your abilities, and the consequences of failure are final."
A heavy silence fell over the room as the headmaster's words settled in. Jorel felt his pulse quicken, the enormity of what lay ahead almost overwhelming. But he knew that there was no turning back now. He had chosen this path, and he would have to see it through, no matter the cost.
Jorgan Allen's gaze swept over the students one last time, his expression hard and unforgiving. "This is not a place for the weak. Those who cannot keep up will be left behind. Remember, pain is your teacher, your ally, and your weapon. Master it, or it will master you."
With that, the headmaster stepped back, and the assembly was dismissed. The students filed out of the hall, the silence heavy and oppressive as they made their way back to their respective houses.
As Jorel and Ryen followed Siera back to Raven House, the weight of the headmaster's words hung over them like a dark cloud. The challenges ahead were more daunting than they had imagined, and the stakes were higher than they could have ever anticipated.
As they walked, Jorel couldn't help but steal glances at the girl with red hair. She walked alone, her posture rigid, her face set in a mask of determination. She didn't look at anyone, didn't acknowledge the whispers that followed her. Jorel wondered what had brought her to this place, what had led to the bruises that marred her skin. But he knew better than to ask. For now, she was just another mystery in a place filled with them.
When they finally reached their dormitory, Jorel and Ryen collapsed onto their beds, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with them. The events of the assembly replayed in Jorel's mind, the headmaster's words echoing in his thoughts.
He had survived the entrance exam, but that was only the first step. The real trials were just beginning, and Jorel knew that he would need every ounce of strength, every shred of determination, to survive what lay ahead.
As he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts returned once more to the girl with the bruises. He couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was going on. But for now, he could only wonder, and wait for the trials that awaited him in the days to come.