The loud chime of a massive iron bell echoed across the auditorium, rattling the bones of every student present. The sound forced its way into their heads, and in that instant, blades froze midair, fists stopped inches from their targets, and all fighting ceased.
"One hour has already passed," the mechanical voice announced, booming with authority and no trace of compassion. "Let the survivors stop fighting and leave the auditorium immediately."
The iron-bound doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, groaning as though reluctant to allow anyone out. One by one, the battered and bloodstained survivors staggered toward the light. The floor was slick with crimson, the walls painted with streaks of panic, and the silence left behind was heavier than the chaos.
Outside, standing like judges awaiting a verdict, were the Dean, Derek, Kelvin, and several other teachers. Their expressions ranged from cold indifference to hidden satisfaction.
Kelvin's breath caught when he saw Alex and Raphael walking out unscathed. His chest eased with relief, though his eyes lingered on the stains of blood that weren't their own. Derek, however, allowed a smirk to curl at the edge of his lips.
The Dean adjusted his glasses, his gaze sweeping across the pitiful line of survivors.
"One… two… three… four… five." His voice was sharp, calculating. "Are these the only surviving first-years?"
No one answered. The students kept their eyes on the ground, unwilling to speak, unwilling to relive what just happened. Their silence spoke louder than words.
"I see…" the Dean muttered, his tone unreadable. He turned to the next group, counting again. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven second-years remain. Out of twenty?" His brows twitched upward, feigning surprise—or perhaps genuine irritation. "How is this possible?"
His voice lashed out suddenly. "Klein!"
The boy stepped forward. His dark hair was slick with blood, though none of it seemed to be his own. His sharp, predatory eyes burned with arrogance as he bowed slightly. He had been the first to kill in the auditorium, and it was clear he thrived in bloodshed.
"Explain," the Dean demanded.
"The rest weren't strong enough to survive," Klein answered flatly, his voice carrying no remorse.
The Dean's glasses gleamed under the moonlight. "Is that so?"
"Yes," Klein replied firmly.
For a moment, silence. Then—
"Go and wait for your punishment," the Dean snapped.
Klein bowed once more. But before turning, his eyes darted toward Alex—sharp, calculating, as though committing him to memory. Then he left, his presence lingering even after his back disappeared into the shadows.
"The rest of you, leave," the Dean barked at the surviving second-years. They bowed quickly, retreating like whipped dogs.
Turning back to the first-years, his expression shifted. Cold authority gave way to a faint smile, though it never reached his eyes.
"Congratulations to you all. You have passed the life test and proven yourselves worthy of Nightfall Academy. To have capable students such as you is a privilege for this institution. From this moment on, we will train you until you are ready to leave. Classes take place three times a week. Attendance is absolute. Fail, and punishment will find you. On your days without classes, you will train on your own. Only weekends are free for rest. Do not waste them."
His tone was final, and no one dared to argue. "That will be all for now. Derek, escort them to their dorms."
Derek stepped forward with his usual half-smile. "This way."
The survivors followed him through the quiet grounds, the moonlight casting long shadows of broken, trembling students. Derek eventually brought them to another section of the academy, where several dormitory buildings loomed.
"This will be your residence," Derek explained. "Each of you will have your own room. Your school supplies will arrive later today. Until then, you may rest or explore—quietly."
"Sir, do we have one room to ourselves?" a girl asked timidly.
"Yes. All students have individual rooms," Derek confirmed.
Her eyes brightened for a moment, as though that sliver of privacy was enough to ease the nightmares. "Thank you, sir."
"Any more questions?" Derek asked, but the silence was deafening. No one had the will to ask anything further. "Good. Then I'll take my leave." He walked away, his boots crunching against gravel, the echo fading with him.
One by one, the first-years hurried into the dorms. Only Alex and Raphael lingered, blood still drying on their skin.
Kelvin approached them immediately, worry etching every line of his face. Without asking, he began checking them for wounds.
"Kelvin, what are you doing?" Alex muttered, trying to wave him off.
"Making sure you're alright," Kelvin said firmly, ignoring the protests. His eyes searched them frantically, and only when he was satisfied they were whole did he finally exhale. "Thank God… you're both fine."
"Of course we are," Alex said casually, though his voice carried a quiet weight. "You don't have to worry about us. We'll adapt."
Kelvin shook his head. "I must worry about you. If I don't, who else will?"
"No one, no one," Alex replied quickly, a faint grin tugging at his lips to diffuse the tension.
"Exactly. So let me do my job."
Kelvin paused, his expression darkening. His hand fell to his chin as if tugged by a thought he didn't want to entertain.
"What is it?" Alex asked, noticing the frown.
"I find too many things strange here," Kelvin admitted quietly. "But… I'm not sure yet. Maybe I'm just overthinking."
"Don't," Alex said, his tone more serious this time. "Nothing's going to happen to us. I'll take care of Raphael and myself. Just look after yourself."
Kelvin hesitated, then forced a smile. "Perhaps I am thinking too much. Very well… I'll sort myself out. But remember—if you need anything, come to me. Promise?"
"Promise," Alex said.
Kelvin left, his footsteps heavy. Alex watched him go, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. "He's really like a big brother," he muttered softly. Then he turned to Raphael. "Come on. Let's check out the rooms."
Inside the dorm, there were nine rooms in total: five assigned to students, four bathrooms. By the time Alex and Raphael arrived, the others had already claimed their spaces. Only two remained. They each took one and stepped inside to examine their new "homes."
---
Meanwhile, in the Dean's office, the atmosphere was entirely different.
The Dean sat at his desk, glasses glinting under the lamplight. Derek lounged nearby, while Klein stood tall in front of them.
"Before your punishment," the Dean said slowly, "tell me exactly what happened inside that hall. Everything." His gaze was sharp, almost piercing through Klein's skin.
But Klein didn't flinch. His lips curled faintly. "Sir… I cannot tell you."
The Dean blinked. "What?"
"There is no specific reason," Klein continued. His voice carried a cold certainty. "I simply cannot reveal anything that happens behind the auditorium doors. It is against the rules of this academy."
For a rare moment, the Dean was silent, then leaned back in his chair, his hand curling into a fist. "Leave."
Klein bowed stiffly, then left without another word.
The Dean's face twisted into a scowl. "Idiot!"
Derek chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Why so worked up? You set the rules yourself, remember?"
The Dean groaned, spinning his chair so his back faced Derek. "He's hiding something. I know it."
"Maybe," Derek mused. "Or maybe the boy just enjoys tormenting you with obedience to your own rules."
The Dean didn't respond, his jaw tightening. His mind was elsewhere, circling back to one thing—and one student.
Finally, he stood abruptly. His voice was low, nearly a growl. "Fine. If they won't tell me… I'll just go directly."