The bell rang out, shrill and heavy in the cold morning air. A small crowd of students milled around, some wearing their nervousness in awkward glances and fidgeting hands, others shrouding their unease in bravado and forced laughter. The Academy was a fortress, both in architecture and reputation. It was known to break anyone who dared enter unprepared — and few ever left unscathed.
Through the crowd, a young man walked with an air of indifference. Tall, sharp-eyed, and unnervingly calm, he radiated a presence that seemed to command the space around him. The whispers started almost immediately.
"Isn't that Sora Hayashi? The rumored genius who got a perfect score on the entrance exam…"
"They say he passed without even looking at the prep materials. Just walked in and aced everything."
Sora heard them. He heard everything, dissected everything, and, most of all, planned everything. His mind was a maze of strategy, always weighing options, predicting actions, calculating weaknesses. No one was worth his attention here. Not yet.
In the grand entrance hall, a large digital screen flashed a message to all new students: "Proceed to the orientation chamber." Sora allowed himself a smirk. Orientation chambers were places for breaking down, for manipulating, for subtly enforcing rules disguised as encouragement. This was the Academy's first test, and they likely expected some fear, some hesitation. Sora was prepared to give them something else.
Inside the orientation room, dozens of seats faced a single platform. A woman with steely eyes and a face sculpted by cold authority addressed them, welcoming them to a world of "rigor, achievement, and growth." Her voice was honeyed, but Sora detected the undertones of control, power, and subtle threat.
"Some of you," she said, pausing for effect, "will not make it to the end of your first year. This institution is only for the best."
The students shifted uncomfortably. Sora didn't move. His gaze was fixed on her, studying the precise curve of her lips as she spoke, the slight tension in her posture. She wasn't as confident as she appeared. And she wasn't used to being observed so closely.
After orientation, the students were led to a vast courtyard where the first official test was explained. They were to navigate a labyrinth, solve the puzzles within, and reach the end. Simple, except the labyrinth was a complex trap that would toy with their minds, exploit their fears, and force them to reveal weaknesses.
For most, this test would seem an impossible feat of endurance and intellect. For Sora, it was a playground. He had read every maze-building theory, studied psychological manipulation, and understood how to anticipate traps meant for those who thought with panic.
As the gates opened, Sora hung back, watching his classmates rush in. His mind raced ahead, not with panic but with precision. By observing how they fell into traps and struggled, he was gaining insight — insight that the Academy itself likely hadn't accounted for.
Within the labyrinth, he encountered challenges that would baffle most students. Puzzles that seemed to twist logic, physical barriers that relied on intimidation rather than skill. But Sora's cruel smile only widened as he navigated each with ruthless efficiency, ignoring cries for help from struggling classmates, and exploiting every opportunity to get ahead.
By the time he reached the final chamber, he was alone. His clothes were pristine, his demeanor unbroken. As he exited the labyrinth, the instructors watched with barely hidden shock. Only one whispered, "Who… is he?"
Sora looked up at the massive Academy building, as if gazing at his true opponent, and smirked. "This place doesn't know what's coming."