The academy grounds buzzed with an energy so electric, it felt like even the air had decided to join in on the excitement. Everywhere I looked, students were either fine-tuning their gear, reviewing hastily scrawled notes, or theorizing in panicked whispers about the horrors we were about to face.
The Combat Exam wasn't just an exam. It was the exam—the kind that separated the elites from the try-hards and set the academy's social food chain in stone for the semester. Reputations were on the line. More importantly, the scouts were here.
As I joined the stream of students heading toward the central teleportation hall, I caught snippets of nervous chatter.
"Did you hear? They're using terrain magic this year—whole biomes!"
"Forget that, what about the wyverns? Someone said they're releasing wyverns into the jungle!"
"Wyverns? Pfft, I heard they've got ogres in the ruins zone. My cousin failed last year because of one."
The teleportation hall loomed ahead, its grandeur amplified by the academy's decision to deck it out like we were stepping into a battlefield. Banners displaying class rankings hung from the vaulted ceilings, swaying slightly in the air currents. The massive archways were lined with instructors shouting orders and ushering students onto glowing platforms.
"Register your gear! Any unregistered artifacts will result in immediate disqualification!" one instructor barked, his voice cutting through the noise.
Above it all, a colossal crystal screen hovered in midair, its runes shifting as it counted down the minutes.
Combat Exam Begins in 12 Minutes.
I nudged Claire, who was busy tightening the straps on her gauntlets. "Feels like the academy's really leaning into the whole dramatic apocalypse aesthetic, doesn't it?"
She smirked, glancing at the rows of spectators gathered behind enchanted barriers. "You mean the scouts?"
It was impossible not to notice them. Dressed in their Order uniforms, they carried an aura of unshakable confidence, their eyes sharp and calculating as they scanned the crowd. Rumors said they could pick out potential recruits just by watching how a student carried themselves. Great. No pressure.
"Think they're betting on which of us gets eaten first?" I joked.
Claire grinned. "Bet they're hoping it's someone from F Rank. Less paperwork."
Her expression turned serious as she leaned in closer. "I think I saw someone from Red Phoenix out there."
"The spellblade Order?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She nodded, her voice lowering. "And Silver Horizon. This is big, Lucius. Bigger than last year. They're not just looking for talent—they're looking for leaders."
"Right, because nothing says 'leader' like fighting for your life in a magical death match," I quipped.
Before she could fire back, a familiar voice rang out behind us.
"Hey, you two!"
We turned to see Dorian Azel jogging toward us, his usual calm demeanor carrying a subtle edge of excitement. He wasn't shouting to the crowd—this was just Dorian being Dorian, rallying his friends like he was born for it.
"Got all your gear ready?" he asked, his brown hair tousled in a way that somehow looked effortless.
Claire nodded, flashing her gauntlet. "All set. You?"
Dorian grinned. "Would I be me if I wasn't?"
"Technically, you'd still be you, just poorly equipped and probably a little dead," I said.
Dorian laughed, clapping me on the shoulder. "Spoken like someone ready to win."
"Spoken like someone ready to survive," I corrected. "Let's not pretend we're not walking into a giant deathtrap."
He shrugged, his grin never faltering. "Deathtrap or not, it's our chance to shine. Hopefully, we can all do our best and make it to the top together."
"Right," Claire said, smirking. "Because nothing screams 'teamwork' like battling each other for points."
Dorian held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying—good luck, okay? To both of you. No matter what happens in there."
The sincerity in his voice softened the usual banter. Claire nodded, and even I couldn't resist a small smile.
"Good luck, Dorian," I said. "Try not to hog all the hero moments."
As he jogged back toward his platform, Claire leaned in. "I don't get how he does it. Always so… so Dorian."
"Main character energy," I said, shrugging.
Her laughter was cut short by a sudden surge of noise. The countdown on the crystal screen hit 5 Minutes, and the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. Students were filing onto their platforms now, their faces a mix of determination and sheer panic.
Before Claire could lob another teasing remark, the instructors' voices rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the buzz of the teleportation hall. "Everyone to your platforms! Prepare for teleportation! Last call for gear registration!"
The tension in the air ratcheted up several notches as students scrambled into place. The glowing platforms thrummed with raw magical energy, casting an ethereal light that painted everyone in shifting hues of blue and gold.
Claire and I exchanged a quick look, the kind that said, Let's not die out there.
"See you on the other side," I said with a smirk as we separated.
She gave me a quick thumbs-up. "Don't embarrass yourself, star of the S Rank Class."
Stepping onto my platform, I felt the runes beneath my boots come to life, pulsating with the distinct hum of teleportation magic. It was like standing on the edge of a lightning storm, the air charged with potential. Around me, one by one, students vanished in flashes of light—each burst carrying someone to an unknown part of the arena.
"See you on the other side!" Claire called, her voice echoing faintly as she dissolved into shimmering particles of magic.
For a moment, I was alone. The platform beneath me vibrated, a low, steady rhythm that synced with the pounding in my chest.
And then the world twisted.
Colors blurred and folded in on themselves, and for an instant, it felt like I was being unraveled and pieced back together at the same time. A fleeting weightlessness gripped me, leaving my stomach somewhere several feet behind.
When the sensation passed, the world reassembled itself.
I blinked, adjusting to my new surroundings. The change was startling.
The arena wasn't just some magically fabricated space—it was a world unto itself. I stood in the heart of a dense jungle, the canopy above a patchwork of sunlight and shadows that danced across the forest floor. The air was thick with humidity, wrapping around me like an oppressive blanket. Every breath tasted faintly of moss and damp earth.
Around me, the underbrush rustled with unseen movement. The distant cries of monsters echoed in the distance, a haunting melody of growls, screeches, and the occasional unsettling roar. A faint breeze carried the sharp, metallic tang of magic, crackling faintly in the atmosphere.
The jungle felt alive.
I glanced up, squinting through the gaps in the foliage to spot the shimmering barrier high above. It was nearly invisible, a faint iridescent dome that encapsulated this massive arena. Beyond it, I imagined the academy's crystal screen was broadcasting the action to spectators and scouts alike. Great—an entire audience just waiting to dissect my every move.
Shifting my focus back to my immediate surroundings, I tightened my grip on my sword. Its hilt was cool and familiar in my hand, the runes along the blade's length flickering faintly in the dim light. A comforting reminder that I wasn't walking into this unarmed.
The jungle wasn't silent—it was alive with a cacophony of sounds. Leaves rustled as creatures darted through the underbrush. Somewhere in the distance, water trickled, the sound soothing but also a potential deathtrap. Water meant visibility, which meant ambushes.
I crouched slightly, brushing my fingers against the damp earth. It was firm but soft enough to leave tracks—my tracks if I wasn't careful. The jungle wasn't just a battlefield; it was a chessboard, and every step I took would leave clues for someone to follow.
A branch snapped somewhere behind me.
I froze, every nerve on high alert. Slowly, I turned my head, scanning the dense greenery. Nothing moved, but the oppressive silence that followed the noise was louder than any roar. My eyes narrowed. It was either a student already on the hunt or a monster curious about its new prey.
"Alright," I murmured, my voice barely more than a whisper. A smirk tugged at my lips, sharp and full of anticipation. "Let the games begin."
A flicker of movement caught my attention to the left—a shadow darting between the trees. It was fast, almost unnaturally so. I shifted my weight, preparing to move, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
Not a monster then, I thought. Monsters didn't usually play coy. This was another student, likely someone scoping out the competition before making their move.
The arena wasn't just vast—it was overwhelming. The scale of it was dizzying, and it was impossible to know where anyone else was unless you stumbled upon them or they found you first. For now, I was alone, but that wouldn't last.
I moved carefully, keeping my steps light and avoiding the more obvious paths. The jungle's uneven terrain was dotted with tangled roots and hidden pitfalls—perfect for someone like me who didn't mind playing dirty if it came to that.
The faint sound of rushing water grew louder as I approached what looked like a small river cutting through the foliage. The shimmering surface was almost too peaceful, which made it all the more suspicious.
Crouching behind a cluster of ferns, I surveyed the area. No signs of movement. Yet.
I exhaled slowly, my smirk widening. This wasn't just about survival—it was about strategy, adaptability, and a bit of flair.
"Alright," I muttered, tightening my grip on my sword. "Time to show them why I'm genius."
And with that, I stepped into the jungle, ready to make my mark.