Morning came with a cold breeze and chiming bells echoing through the academy grounds.
Vincent adjusted his coat collar as he stepped out of Dorm A-01. The sky above was painted in blue and gold, the Ardent Academy banners swaying high on towers. Students were pouring into the central plaza, each guided by glowing signs directing them toward their first lectures.
His destination was different.
A thin strip of paper glowed inside his blazer pocket:
> Elite Class Induction: Main Auditorium, 9:00 AM. Instructor: Isabel Stroud.
Vincent smirked faintly. Of course, it would be her.
He entered the vast main building. The marble halls gleamed under chandeliers, while students in various uniforms murmured around digital boards, searching for their assigned lecture halls.
Most never even glanced at the side hallway leading to the Elite Wing.
Vincent walked down that path alone.
Until—
"Vincent!" Clara's voice called from behind, hurried and breathless. She jogged up beside him, her wild hair half-tamed today, though her energy remained untamed as ever.
"Don't walk so fast! You think being top-ranked means you can disappear into secret doors without me?"
He paused at the archway labeled Elite Class – Authorized Only.
"You got in too?" he asked.
Clara grinned. "A-Rank might not get me my own dorm, but it sure got me in the room."
Together, they stepped into the lecture hall.
It was massive. Yet instead of hundreds of seats like the others, this one only had ten.
Luxurious chairs spaced far apart, with individual control panels, reinforced desks, and shielded walls—clearly built for students who might erupt into chaos at any moment.
A few students were already seated. Vincent recognized Arlen, the other SSS-rank. The boy sat with his arms crossed, a blade resting casually at his side.
Then, the lights dimmed.
A shimmer pulsed at the front of the class.
And in the next blink, Isabel Stroud appeared—without fanfare, without footsteps. Just sudden presence. Her purple eyes scanned the students with calm sharpness, her long coat fluttering though there was no wind.
"Welcome," she said, voice cool as moonlight. "To the ones who made the cut."
No introduction. No list of rules. Just quiet power.
She walked to the center slowly, her gaze briefly locking with Vincent's, a flicker of amusement in her smile.
"You are the strongest bloodlines of this year," she continued. "But strength without mastery is noise. Here, we separate weapons… from children playing with them."
She raised one elegant finger.
"Ardent's Elite Class trains heirs, rulers, and monsters. This is not a place to survive—it's a place to rise. Or fall harder than ever."
She turned toward the board behind her, where ten names lit up:
Top 10 Elite Class Students:
1. Vincent Valenciari – SSS Rank – Dorm A-01
2. Arlen D'Argento – SS+ Rank – Dorm A-02
3. Ezra Cain – S Rank – Dorm A-04
4. Yulia Drex – S Rank – Dorm A-06
5. Kai Solborne – A+ Rank – Dorm B-01
6. Nina Vex – A Rank – Dorm B-03
7. Clara Moretti – A Rank – Dorm B-05
8. Ryker Jian – A Rank – Dorm B-07
9. Tessa Elwright – A Rank – Dorm B-09
10. Noel Stroud – A Rank – Dorm B-10
Whispers broke out. Clara's eyes widened. "There's only ten of us?"
Vincent said nothing.
Isabel waved her hand. "Each of you will be tested. Again. Not by machines. Not by simulations. But by each other."
Her lips curved slightly.
"You'll fight, fail, or dominate. And I'll be watching."
Vincent leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded. He knew this part of the story. Isabel didn't coddle geniuses. She sharpened them until they either glittered like diamonds—or shattered.
He welcomed the blade.
Isabel's gaze swept across the ten seated students, lingering on a few with unspoken intent.
"Tomorrow," she said, "your first evaluation begins. One-on-one combat trials. You'll be matched not by your rank—but by your potential conflict. The pairings will not be fair. Because the world isn't."
Some students shifted in their seats. Others—like Arlen and Vincent—remained still as statues.
Isabel's voice softened, almost conspiratorial.
"And if you're wondering what happens to those who fail to meet the Elite standard…" She glanced toward the side panel. A digital screen flickered to life, showing a list labeled Reserve Candidates.
Twelve names. Waiting. Watching.
"Your seat isn't permanent."
A silent tension gripped the room. Clara leaned toward Vincent and whispered, "This class is literally blood-soaked chess."
Vincent's lips curved slightly. "And Isabel's the queen."
Isabel turned sharply, almost as if she heard him. "Dismissed. For now."
As the students began to file out of the room, Clara gave Vincent a look. "So… think she's gonna pair us first? Or are we both getting thrown at Arlen?"
"Doesn't matter who," Vincent said quietly. "I'll put them down either way."
Clara smirked. "Spoken like a Valenciari."
Vincent didn't answer. He didn't need to.
---
TO BE CONTINUED...