Trial Complete
Status: Passed
Final Rank: Mid Tier – Qualified
Level Up: 0 → 1
Trait Bonus Activated – Adaptive Soul: +1 to All Stats
Status System Unlocked.
Thalos blinked as the glyph faded from his vision. No lights, no fanfare, just a quiet confirmation that he had survived.
That he was in.
The Academy had accepted him.
The mist from the trial still clung to his boots as he walked the long stone corridor back into Duskhaven proper. His legs ached, his fingers were blistered, and his blood core hummed low with fatigue but inside, something fierce and quiet burned bright.
He'd done it.
A menu appeared before him clean, efficient, glowing with that signature runic flare:
Thalos Valen
Race: Human (Lineage: Vampire)
Level: 1
Attributes:
Strength: 6 → 7
Agility: 7 → 8
Vitality: 6 → 7
Intelligence: 9 → 10
Free Stat Points: 5
He didn't hesitate.
+1 Strength. +1 Agility. +3 Intelligence.
Confirmed.
A subtle pulse rippled through his body, like a bowstring finally settling after tension. No sudden surge, just everything clicking one notch tighter. Every stat felt like it meant something now. Each +1 a step away from mediocrity.
And with the leveling, the interface expanded. He now had access to his status screen, mana flow chart, and curriculum panel.
He had one week to rest.
And to choose the path that would shape the next phase of his life.
Back home, the Valen household received him like a returning soldier, equal parts celebration and discipline.
His mother didn't waste time with speeches. She just pulled him into a tight hug, checked his limbs, asked three questions in rapid-fire succession about injuries and mana drain, then shoved a bowl of thick, steaming stew into his hands.
His younger siblings immediately peppered him with questions.
"Did you cut off someone's arm?" his brother Halden asked, eyes shining.
"No arms were lost," Thalos said with a half-smile. "Only maybe some pride."
"Did you use vampire magic?" Lissa gasped. "Like, blood spikes or bat wings?"
"Nothing that flashy," he chuckled. "More like... stay quiet and don't die magic."
Kirelle leaned forward on her elbows. "Did it hurt when you got stabbed? Did you cry?"
"I didn't get stabbed."
"So no crying?"
"Just sweating."
"That's boring."
Later that evening, after everyone had calmed down and the stew had settled, Thalos sat with his parents in the side room, the training quarters turned informal war council.
His father crossed his arms, leaning against the wall beside a rack of old spears. "One week before the real work starts. Time to choose what kind of bloodwalker you're going to be."
His mother laid a soft-glowing parchment on the table in front of him. Crimson glyphs pulsed on its surface.
Curriculum Path – Academy Year One
Choose 5 Core Classes + 5 Utility/Knowledge Classes.
Thalos scanned the long list of options. Some were obvious. Others unexpected.
He read them aloud slowly, thinking as he went.
Core Classes:
– Martial Arts: Blade & Body – Essential for physical combat, body movement, and basic weapons.
– Magical Studies: Spellweaving Basics – Learning to shape mana threads into spells.
– Spellblade Foundation – Hybrid training to fuse magic and swordsmanship. His chosen path.
– Cursecraft & Debilitation – Dark magic with high strategic potential.
– Shadowstalk and Tracking – Movement, terrain evasion, and stealth engagement.
His father grunted in approval. "That's a warrior's mindset with a predator's edge."
His mother tapped the list again. "You need more than edge. Pick the brain food next."
Thalos shifted to the utility and knowledge-based classes.
Utility / Knowledge Classes:
– Biome Survival & Terrain Reading – To navigate the field, adapt to environment, and survive off the land.
– Resource Identification & Extraction – Learn to locate magical ores, herbs, and hidden nodes.
– Alchemical Principles – For brewing, enhancement, poisoncraft, and support items.
– Magical Beast Ecology – Creatures, mutations, habits. Better to know what can kill you.
– Historical Bloodline Lore – Learn how powers evolved and who wields them across the multiverse.
"Alchemy's a smart pick," his mother said. "You'll have a fallback income. And options."
"Plus, imagine if I could make stuff that boosts my gear or blood flow," Thalos added. "I don't need raw strength. I need tools."
Relin, standing at the back wall sharpening a dagger, smirked. "You always were the crafty one."
Thalos chuckled. "Just playing the long game."
That night, as the house quieted, Thalos found himself on the courtyard balcony with Kirelle and Lissa.
The younger girls sat cross-legged on a blanket, nibbling bloodfruit slices and whispering questions.
"Is the Academy scary?" Lissa asked, clutching her stuffed wyvern.
"Only a little," Thalos replied. "But it's also exciting."
"Will you learn to fly?" Kirelle asked hopefully.
Thalos blinked. "Not right away. That's... probably later. Or a different class."
"Can you ride a nightmare horse?"
"I don't think that's in the syllabus."
They both giggled.
Kirelle leaned in closer. "Promise you'll tell us when you get your first magic sword?"
"Promise."
Lissa beamed. "And don't forget us when you're super famous and strong and... and glowing with vampire power!"
"I'll only glow on weekends," Thalos said solemnly. "And I'll take you both flying when I do."
More giggles. Then quiet.
And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Thalos breathed deep and let the tension drain from his shoulders.
...
The gates of the Duskhaven Academy opened at dawn, silent and massive, carved from obsidian laced with threads of silver runes. No fanfare. No horns. Just the quiet grinding of stone and the hum of protective glyphs activating.
Thalos stood among a sea of recruits, each marked by the black badge of initiation. Some wore confident smirks. Others whispered with siblings or friends. A few stood alone, silent, armored, eyes distant.
He stood somewhere in the middle: alert, quiet, pulse steady.
Duskhaven Academy wasn't just a school. It was a proving ground. And now, it was his proving ground.
A tall woman with sharp eyes and a blood-red uniform stepped forward. Her voice rang clear without any enchantment.
"I am Instructor Valestra. Your class overseer. Welcome, initiates, to the first day of the rest of your lives."
Her gaze swept across the crowd like a blade. "You passed the first threshold. You stood in the fog and did not falter. That is not a badge of pride. It is an invitation to suffer."
Several students flinched.
Thalos didn't.
Valestra continued. "You will study, bleed, fail, and rise. And if you survive, you may just earn the right to carve your name into this world."
With a wave of her hand, the gates groaned open.
"Enter."
The Academy's inner grounds stretched wider than Thalos imagined, multiple towers spiraled skyward, bridges of runestone and bone arcing between them. Crimson-tinted trees shaded central plazas. Sparring fields crackled with restrained enchantments.
Floating stone plaques guided students to their assigned halls.
Initiate Dormitory – Sector E
Spellblade Track – Tower of Duskhorn, Wing C
Orientation Hall: Arena Redspire
Thalos followed the stream of other initiates toward the Redspire, a circular tower built from red glass that shimmered faintly in the morning gloom. The interior smelled of aged parchment and warm stone. Dozens of students filled the arena, most gathering in small clusters. A few already sparred in marked rings.
"Look at this place..." Thalos muttered.
A boy next to him, lean, hawk-eyed, with a long staff on his back nodded. "Makes the city feel small, doesn't it?"
"I'm Thalos," he offered.
"Fenric. Resource Track and Elemental Binding. Spellblade, too."
They exchanged a quick handshake.
Then a bell tolled, low, ancient, vibrating in their bones.
Instructors descended from the upper platform, ten of them, each cloaked in different colors and radiating presence. They lined up without words. Then, as one, raised their hands.
The air split.
Each instructor unleashed a brief, silent display of their specialty, blades that shimmered with runes, spheres of compressed blood mana, phantoms stepping from shadows, curses dancing like fireflies.
"Show-offs," Fenric whispered, grinning.
Thalos couldn't help but smile. But inwardly, he was tense.
This was the level they expected him to reach.
Maybe surpass.
After the demonstration, the instructors introduced themselves briefly, with little fanfare.
Valestra handled combat integration.
Master Tolmira oversaw blood core cultivation.
Instructor Varn specialized in battlefield strategy and terrain manipulation.
Then came the breakdown of tracks.
Each student's schedule glyph glowed before them, syncing to their chosen courses.
Thalos Valen – Year One Initiate Schedule
Core Classes:
– Martial Arts: Blade & Body (Instructor Valestra)
– Spellweaving Basics (Instructor Tolmira)
– Spellblade Foundation (Instructor Varn)
– Cursecraft & Debilitation (Instructor Merin)
– Shadowstalk and Tracking (Instructor Kelith)
Utility Classes:
– Biome Survival & Terrain Reading
– Resource Identification & Extraction
– Alchemical Principles
– Magical Beast Ecology
– Historical Bloodline Lore
"Full load," Fenric muttered beside him, reading over his shoulder. "You planning to sleep at all?"
"Was thinking of quitting sleep altogether," Thalos deadpanned. "Very inefficient."
"Respect."
They laughed quietly before Valestra's voice cut through the room.
"Those of you who have chosen the Spellblade Foundation will report to Tower Duskhorn tomorrow morning at the seventh bell. Your other classes will rotate based on aptitude and availability. Schedules are dynamic. Keep up or fall behind."
No hand-holding.
No guiding arm.
This was not a school for children.
This was a forge.
And they were here to burn.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of logistical chaos, dorm assignments, mana imprint checks, supply allotments, and finally a short tour of the grounds.
Thalos received a standard issue initiate uniform: reinforced darkcloth, enchanted with basic mana absorption and blood resistance. Functional, if not impressive.
His personal room was small, stone walls, a narrow bed, a single window overlooking a moss-covered courtyard. A desk sat under a rune lamp. A simple wardrobe held spare gear.
There was something oddly comforting about its sparseness.
Nothing to distract.
Nothing to hide behind.
Thalos dropped his satchel on the bed, stretched, and opened the small crystal vial containing his academy badge, a dark iron sigil inlaid with a crescent fang.
He pinned it to his chest.
And exhaled.
No turning back now.
As the moon began its rise over Duskhaven's false sky, Thalos stepped out onto the high balconies that wrapped the towers. Other initiates gathered nearby, some talking, some quiet.
Fenric stood beside him once more.
"Think we'll survive?" he asked casually.
"Think we'll matter?" Thalos replied.
Fenric smiled. "Not yet. But maybe."
They watched the blood-moon rise in silence.
Tomorrow, training would begin.