The atmosphere in the academy's central viewing hall was tense with excitement. Professors, students, and faculty members had gathered to witness the start of the annual club competition, an event that always stirred the academy into a fervor. The viewing hall itself was a technological marvel—rows of seats facing an immense wall of monitors, each displaying a different angle of the event's progress. The screens were linked to a series of drones and magical scrying devices that provided live footage of the students competing in the wildlands.
The survival event had only just begun, and already the screens were filled with scenes of clubs venturing into the dense forests, rivers, and mountains of the simulation. Clubs moved strategically, some cautiously and others more confidently, making their way deeper into the wildlands. The event was not just a test of survival, but of strategy and adaptability, and the spectators were eager to see who would rise to the top.
"Look at The Iron Blades already securing high ground," a student in the front row commented, nodding toward a screen where a club made up of some of the academy's finest swordfighters could be seen establishing their camp on a hill.
"They'll have a good view of anyone approaching, but they might be too isolated if things go wrong," another student muttered.
A professor, seated near the back, pointed toward another screen where a club called The Arcane Consortium was busy setting up magical wards and traps. "They're wasting time," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They'll be vulnerable in combat."
The screen shifted to another club, The Crimson Griffons, who were known for their speed and agility. They had already started exploring the territory, moving swiftly through the woods. Their strategy seemed to be based on covering as much ground as possible, scouting out resources and possible threats.
"Reckless," one of the senior professors observed. "They're spreading themselves too thin."
The headmaster, seated in the center of the room, nodded in agreement but remained silent, his eyes scanning the monitors with practiced calm. His gaze occasionally flicked to the screen showing The Society of ACA, Caelan's group. The headmaster had high hopes for them, especially since they had managed to convince Elder Selwyn Malkorin to become their advisor—a feat in itself.
Just as this thought passed through the headmaster's mind, the large doors to the viewing hall opened with a soft creak, and a tall, regal figure entered the room. The man moved with an air of quiet authority, his robes flowing behind him as he approached the viewing area.
The spectators shifted in their seats, murmuring to one another as they recognized him. It was a rare sight to see Professor Selwyn Malkorin in these events, much less so early in the competition. Known as Elder Selwyn despite his youthful appearance, he was one of the academy's most enigmatic figures. Though he looked no older than thirty, his status as an "Elder" was not a title given lightly. He was a genius—an intellectual prodigy who had not only mastered multiple disciplines of magic and science but had also established himself as a researcher of the ancient world.
Selwyn Malkorin's reputation was one of brilliance, tempered with a sense of aloofness. He seldom engaged in the social affairs of the academy, and even his teaching was selective. Many wondered why someone of his status and abilities would bother with something as "trivial" as a student competition. Yet here he was, for the first time, watching from the viewing hall.
A few of the professors greeted him with respectful nods, though they were just as curious as the students. Selwyn's sharp eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on the headmaster, who gave him a knowing glance.
"Elder Selwyn," the headmaster said, acknowledging him with a slight bow of his head. "It's rare to see you here. I assume your presence is due to your recent appointment as an advisor?"
Selwyn's gaze drifted back to the screens; his expression unreadable. "Indeed," he replied, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority. "I recently accepted the position as advisor to a new club. The Society for the Study of Ancient Civilizations and Artifacts."
The headmaster raised an eyebrow. "Ah, yes. Caelan Althar's group. A promising one. They've made quite the impression in their first year."
Selwyn said nothing for a moment, his eyes fixed on the screen showing Caelan's group moving cautiously through the wildlands. "They are... interesting," he finally said, though it was hard to tell what he truly thought.
The other professors exchanged curious glances. Why would someone like Selwyn, who had turned down countless prestigious offers in the past, agree to mentor a group of first-year students?
One of the younger professors, emboldened by Selwyn's rare presence, dared to ask, "If I may, Elder Selwyn... why this particular club? You've never shown much interest in the competition before."
Selwyn's gaze remained on the screen, where Caelan's group had just crossed a river and were setting up their temporary camp. "Let's just say," he replied smoothly, "they have potential. And sometimes... potential is worth nurturing."
The cryptic response did little to quell the curiosity of those present, but no one pressed him further. Instead, they turned their attention back to the screens, eager to see how the first day of the competition would unfold.
Day 1 of the Survival Challenge
The wildlands simulation was a vast, untamed wilderness filled with unpredictable dangers. As soon as the gates had opened, the competing clubs had spread out, each team eager to find a strategic advantage.
Caelan, Dorian, Seraphine, Elena, Aldric, and Lysandra had moved quickly, following their plan to head toward the eastern mountains. The terrain there would be difficult, but it provided natural defenses and plenty of resources for survival. The group had decided early on that securing a safe location was more important than rushing to confront other clubs.
Caelan led the way, his eyes constantly scanning the environment for potential threats. His instincts as a prince and future ruler gave him a natural sense of leadership, though he was careful not to overstep or command the others. Dorian followed closely behind, his mind working through possible strategies. He was the tactical backbone of the group, always thinking two steps ahead.
Behind them, Seraphine and Aldric walked side by side, both of them on high alert. Seraphine's hand hovered near the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. She was confident in her abilities but knew that this challenge wasn't just about combat. Survival required a different kind of strength—one that went beyond swordplay.
Aldric, was calm and focused. His training had prepared him for events like this, but he knew they would need to work as a unit if they were going to succeed. His eyes occasionally drifted toward Lysandra, who was walking slightly behind the group, her portable console strapped to her wrist as she controlled the scouting drones.
Lysandra's drones floated silently above the treetops, their cameras feeding data back to her wrist console. She was the group's technological expert, and her ability to adapt ancient and modern technology gave them a significant advantage. As they moved deeper into the wildlands, her drones mapped out the terrain, identifying potential resources and areas of danger.
Elena, brought up the rear. She had spent the last few weeks studying survival techniques, and though she wasn't as physically imposing as the others, her knowledge of herbalism and nature could prove vital. She carefully observed the plants and terrain as they walked, mentally cataloging which resources might be useful later.
By mid-morning, they had reached the edge of the mountains. The forest here was dense, the trees towering above them and casting long shadows on the ground. A nearby stream provided fresh water, and there were plenty of rocks and fallen branches that could be used to build a shelter.
"We should set up camp here," Dorian said, scanning the area. "It's defensible, and we'll have access to water."
Caelan nodded in agreement. "Agreed. Lysandra, can your drones scout the surrounding area? We need to know if any other clubs are nearby."
Lysandra tapped a few buttons on her console, sending two of the drones to sweep the perimeter. "I'll keep them on a loop around the camp," she said. "We'll know if anyone's approaching."
As they began setting up their camp, the cameras hidden within the wildland's simulation transmitted the footage back to the academy's viewing hall, where the spectators watched with bated breath. On one of the larger screens, Caelan's group could be seen moving efficiently, their teamwork already evident.
"They're doing well," one of the professors commented, clearly impressed. "They're staying focused on survival, not rushing into confrontations like some of the other clubs."
Selwyn, who had been watching silently from the back of the room, narrowed his eyes as the camera zoomed in on Caelan. The young prince was directing the group with calm authority, his every movement measured and purposeful.
"They'll encounter challenges soon enough," Selwyn muttered under his breath, his mind already considering the possibilities. But there was something else that held his attention—something more than just the competition itself. What was it about this group that intrigued him? Was it their unique blend of skills? Or was it something deeper, something connected to the ancient civilizations they sought to study?
As the first day of the competition progressed, Selwyn leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the screen. He didn't have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear: this group was different. And whatever potential they held, he was determined to see it through to the end.