Keal stared at the intricate patterns on the floor of the training hall, trying to shut out the noise of the sparring students around him. His sharp eyes, gleaming yellow in the dim light, flicked occasionally to their movements, calculating every swing, every footstep, every breath. But he wasn't paying attention to their technique. No. It was their mistakes he was interested in. The small, imperceptible shifts they made—those would tell him everything he needed to know about them.
A sword strike came crashing down in front of him, and the sharp clang reverberated in his skull. One of the students, clearly a freshman, attempted a clean cut—but the angle was off. He had telegraphed the strike long before the blade came down. His opponent easily parried it, the momentum sending the first student stumbling backward. The others laughed, thinking it a minor failure, something that could be brushed off.
"They won't last long."
Keal's thoughts were cold and methodical, as always. He wasn't like them. He wasn't here because of his training or his family's wealth. He wasn't here because of some lucky break. Keal was here because he was willing to do anything. His mind was sharper than steel, and his focus was unparalleled. His eyes never wavered as he studied the scene before him, mentally analyzing every moment.
His hand instinctively clenched the edge of his shirt, the fabric rough against his palm. The academy's walls were lined with rows of banners and prestigious marks of those who had once stood here. But none of that mattered to Keal. What mattered was ranking.
Here, the hierarchy wasn't just a matter of pride—it was a matter of survival. At the academy, strength, magic, and combat prowess were the only things that earned respect. The strong got the best offers from guilds, the best teachers, the best resources. The weak, the unworthy? They were discarded, forgotten.
And Keal had no intention of being forgotten.
The academy had told him he was entering as a Class Five student—near the lowest rung of the entire first-year cohort. He didn't belong there. He knew it. But the academy wasn't kind to those who tried to leapfrog ahead, to those who hadn't spent their lives training for the entrance exams. It was a system of merit, and at the moment, his merit didn't shine brightly enough.
"But that will change," Keal thought, his lips curling slightly at the corners. "It's only a matter of time."
He wasn't a warrior by instinct. He wasn't a mage by bloodline. He didn't have the natural talent of the others. His mother's illness, his father's abandonment, had ensured that. He had to fight for everything. He had to work twice as hard, study twice as much, push himself beyond his limits—just to be recognized as someone worthy of respect.
And that wasn't a burden. No, it was his weapon.
Keal glanced up as one of the instructors—an older man with a harsh face and a constant scowl—stared at him from across the room. It was only for a second, but Keal noticed. The instructor knew Keal's rank. He saw the potential in the quiet, calculating boy. There were a few like him in the academy, students who seemed almost invisible, blending into the shadows until they struck. It wasn't strength that made them dangerous. It was intelligence. It was manipulation. It was waiting for the right moment.
Keal didn't need to rise to the top quickly. He didn't need to make a splash in the beginning. He just needed to make sure that when he did move, it would be the right move.
The instructor's sharp whistle snapped Keal out of his thoughts. His head snapped up, his posture straightening.
"Your first test is about to begin," the instructor said, his voice carrying an authoritative edge that silenced the room. "Prepare yourself."
Keal's heart didn't race, but the familiar surge of focus bloomed within him. A test. Another exam. Another chance to prove his worth.
The students scrambled to their positions, some fidgeting nervously, others puffing out their chests in false confidence. Keal was already calm, his mind running through the possibilities. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword, the simple weapon feeling comfortable in his grip.
There were no surprises. Keal didn't believe in surprises. He had already analyzed his surroundings, the weaknesses of his classmates, and the instructor's patterns.
"This test is just a formality," he mused silently. "What matters is the ranking that will follow."
The test was simple: defeat the waves of monsters that would emerge, one after another. It was a physical test, designed to assess not just strength, but endurance, strategy, and composure under pressure. For most students, it would be just another obstacle to overcome. But for Keal, it was a puzzle—one he had already figured out.
The gates in the center of the arena began to crack open, the heavy metallic doors slowly grinding against the stone. The first wave of monsters—low-ranking, easy to deal with—emerged with a growl. Orcs, Goblins, and the like, all eager for blood.
Keal didn't move at first. His eyes narrowed as he observed the monsters. He didn't need to act rashly. The other students would take care of the small fry. He would let them tire themselves out, let them waste energy. When the time came, he would strike.
Hours passed as the waves came and went. Keal stood still, observing, making mental notes. By the time the final wave arrived, he knew what needed to be done. The other students were exhausted, their mana reserves nearly depleted. The last group of monsters, a massive ogre followed by a pack of smaller trolls, emerged from the gate.
"Perfect," Keal thought.
With a fluid motion, he unsheathed his sword and stepped into the fray. His movements were precise, calculated, and devastating. He didn't waste energy. He didn't rush. Every strike, every step, was part of his plan. When the ogre raised its massive club to smash him, Keal didn't dodge. He didn't have to. He parried, his sword meeting the weapon with a sharp clang before swiftly disarming it with a calculated twist of his wrist.
The other students watched, their eyes wide with shock as Keal dispatched the monsters with chilling efficiency. When the final beast fell, Keal stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving only slightly.
The instructor's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary. Keal ignored it. He was just one step closer to the top.
The arena was slowly filling with students as the monsters disappeared, their bodies evaporating into thin air. Keal stood alone in the center of it, unscathed, his expression as blank as ever. His eyes flickered briefly toward the instructor, but he didn't wait for praise, nor did he need it. The recognition he desired would come in time. It always did.
The other students were slowly beginning to murmur, the initial awe of his efficiency beginning to fade into low whispers.
"Did you see how he took down that ogre?" One student remarked, eyes wide. "He didn't even flinch."
"He's a freak," another muttered, the words dripping with disdain. "How did he even...?"
Keal didn't care about their chatter. Their opinions were irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was the upcoming rankings—the only thing that mattered was power.
Later that day, after the tests had ended and the students were given time to rest, Keal found himself sitting at one of the less crowded tables in the cafeteria. It was a large room filled with a cacophony of voices, some talking about the test, others gossiping, some already plotting their next moves. The walls were covered with banners of different houses—each representing a group of students with similar backgrounds or abilities.
Keal sat in silence, his mind far from the noise. He knew where he stood. Class Five. The weakest. The ones most likely to be forgotten. But he wasn't going to remain there. He would rise, with or without help. He didn't need friends. He didn't need allies. But he was smart enough to recognize when there was an opportunity to make use of others.
A loud voice cut through his thoughts. "Yo, Keal!"
Keal glanced up, his expression neutral, as a tall, lanky figure appeared in front of him. It was Lucien, a student from his class who had been observing him during the test. He had an almost unholy gleam in his eyes, one that screamed mischief and manipulation. Lucien was known around the academy for his sarcastic wit and sharp tongue. He was a self-proclaimed "strategist," though many of his methods were questionable at best.
Lucien had been watching Keal closely, and there was a certain familiarity to the way he approached Keal, as if he were expecting something.
"That was some impressive shit you pulled out there," Lucien continued, leaning against the table with a grin. "Most of these idiots think you're just some quiet freak, but you've got potential, man. Ever think about teaming up with people like me?"
Keal raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to Lucien. He didn't speak immediately, analyzing Lucien's offer with cold precision. There was something about Lucien—something underneath the bravado—that suggested the boy wasn't just being friendly. He was making a play, testing the waters.
"Why would I team up with you?" Keal asked, his voice as calm as ever. He didn't care for false alliances, especially with someone like Lucien.
Lucien's grin didn't falter. He shrugged, unfazed. "Because, Keal, you're smart. You know the score. You can manipulate people. I can manipulate people. Together, we can make things happen. These idiots around here, they don't even know what's coming. I've been in this game long enough to know how to rise. And trust me, the last thing you want to do is try to go it alone in a place like this."
Keal narrowed his eyes slightly, considering the offer. Lucien had a point. The academy was brutal, and while Keal didn't need anyone to succeed, alliances could be useful, especially with someone like Lucien, who had experience in navigating the murky waters of politics within the academy. But there was one thing that bothered Keal.
"And why me?" Keal asked. "You could team up with anyone."
Lucien's grin widened. "Because I can tell you're not one of those idiots who plays by the rules. You think long-term, not short-term. You see things others miss. And trust me, I know how to use people like you. You have brains; I have connections. Together, we can climb the ranks faster than anyone."
Keal paused, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his plate. He didn't respond immediately, and Lucien, sensing Keal's hesitation, continued.
"I don't need you to be my friend, Keal. I need you to think." Lucien leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's be real. The moment the next ranking drops, you'll be at the bottom of the pile, right? But you won't stay there for long. I can make sure of that. Just think about it."
Keal considered Lucien's words. He wasn't one to rely on others, but he understood the value of knowledge. Lucien was offering something rare in this academy—a partnership based on mutual gain. It could be useful. For now, at least.
"I'll think about it," Keal said flatly, his eyes unreadable. "But don't expect me to follow blindly."
Lucien smirked, seemingly satisfied with the response. "That's the Keal I've heard about. Always thinking, always plotting. Fine. No strings attached for now. But when you're ready to rise above the trash, let me know. I can help you get there."
As Lucien walked off, Keal turned his attention back to his meal, his mind racing. He had already analyzed the situation. Lucien was no different from anyone else here—he was looking out for his own interests. But that didn't mean he wasn't useful.
Keal didn't trust Lucien. But he would use him. Just like Lucien would use him. It was how the academy worked, after all. Trust no one, but learn from everyone.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the room. A chair tipped over, followed by a string of curses. Keal's gaze snapped to the scene, his eyes locking onto the second person involved in his burgeoning plans.
Dorian, a stocky but rugged-looking student, had just knocked a student to the ground after a small altercation over food. He was grinning, clearly enjoying the confrontation. Dorian was the type of guy who had brute strength but lacked the finesse that Keal prided himself on. However, what Dorian lacked in subtlety, he made up for in sheer tenacity and loyalty.
Keal knew Dorian well enough to understand that the rough-around-the-edges student could be useful as a bodyguard of sorts. He would need strength and muscle in his climb through the ranks, and Dorian's raw power was undeniable.
The students around the fight backed off, murmuring amongst themselves. Dorian was an enigma at the academy—hard to read, yet strong and reliable when it counted. Keal watched for a moment longer, then turned his gaze to Lucien, who had returned to his table, his eyes flashing with curiosity. He was waiting for Keal's next move.
Keal allowed a slight smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. The pieces were starting to fall into place. Lucien for strategy. Dorian for muscle. And Keal? He would control it all.