The applause from the Wyvern Alpha takedown had barely faded before the air inside the Astralis prep halls shifted.
All eyes turned toward the new arrival.
He stood at the edge of the training platform, coat flickering with dark runes, hands behind his back, gaze like carved obsidian. His name had just been announced on the crystal roster.
Laziel Ebonshade. Transfer from Duskspire Academy, a notoriously isolated noble institution located near the sealed borders of the Black Marshes.
Rumors followed him like shadows.
Ruthless. Arcane prodigy. Ranked first in his year. Blessed by some lost night deity.
And now?
He was in Class Zero.
Hades studied him for three seconds, then yawned dramatically.
"I give him five days before he starts copying my hairstyle."
Kaela elbowed him. "Hades."
"What? He's got the stare. That's always the first sign."
Laziel stepped forward, expression unreadable.
"You're Hades Draker," he said simply.
"You say that like it's a rumor. I'm not hard to find. Just follow the light and fan noise."
"I'm your rival."
Hades blinked. "Oh. Is that official, or are you just cosplaying insecurity?"
Laziel narrowed his eyes. "I'm not here to make friends."
"Perfect," Hades replied, clapping once. "Because I'm not here to lose."
[System Notification]
Transfer Protocol Detected
Student Profile: Laziel Ebonshade
Threat Level: Evaluated — Contained
User Status: Confirmed Protagonist
P_REX Comment: He's trying too hard.
That evening, Hades sat alone in his room, gazing at the city lights beneath Astralis. His Seraphim core pulsed gently in his chest—familiar, warm, powerful.
But it was changing.
Ever since the wyvern encounter, he could hear things—not voices, exactly, but pulses, fragments, like memory echoes trapped inside light.
"P_REX," he said aloud, "is it time?"
[System Response]
Seraphim Memory Chamber Access: Available
Warning: Entry requires concentration.
Note: Time will dilate internally.
Would you like to engage?
[Yes.]
The world fell silent.
His vision blurred—then cleared into a world of shifting fractal architecture. Lines of glowing light formed walls, halls, bridges suspended in empty white.
This was the Seraphim Chamber—the heart of his core.
And it wasn't empty.
Floating in the center, suspended in memory stasis, were snapshots—moments stored as living echoes.
One image: A battlefield of knights and beastkin clashing under red lightning.
Another: A silver dragon kneeling before a Draker emblem.
Another: An elf queen speaking to an ancient version of the P_REX interface, its voice far more... human.
Hades approached slowly.
Each memory shimmered.
Each one whispered the same truth:
The Draker bloodline didn't just build, fight, or invent.
They bound the world's foundations.
Through mana. Through legacy. Through Seraphim itself.
Outside, in the real world, diplomats and species envoys were arriving at Astralis for the Crown Accord Delegation—a long-postponed summit bringing together human nobles, elven tribes, dwarven guildmasters, and beastkin sovereigns.
This wasn't school politics anymore.
This was continental unity.
Or division.
The next day, Astralis was transformed. Floating banners of the Silverwood Elves, Moltrenhammer Dwarves, and Northveil Beastkin fluttered near the bridge halls.
Every student was ordered to wear formal mage attire and observe diplomatic protocol.
Hades arrived in his usual silver-trimmed coat, cleaned and pressed, Seraphim crest glowing faintly at his collarbone.
"Formal mode activated," he said, stepping through the main hall.
Kaela caught up to him. "Are you going to behave?"
He grinned. "Define 'behave.'"
"Not start an interspecies war."
"Eh. We'll see."
At the central forum, species leaders gave opening speeches.
The dwarven Forge Speaker pounded his warhammer mid-sentence.
The elven High Seer offered an enchanted vision of peace.
The beastkin Warchief growled through his translator crystal.
And then, in the middle of it all…
A crystal projection activated—displaying Hades Draker's wyvern takedown.
The image slowed at his leap, his seal strike, the moment the beast collapsed.
Some delegates gasped.
Others whispered.
The dwarves just nodded, impressed.
And one elven envoy—a young, highblood archer—smiled.
"He's the Draker heir," she said. "They really did revive the line."
Laziel, standing at the edge of the forum, narrowed his eyes.
"Everything revolves around him."
"It does," someone said behind him. "Because he's the axis."
Laziel turned.
It was the Headmaster.
And his face wasn't smiling.
It was expectant.
That night, after the forum ended, Class Zero was summoned to an emergency meeting.
Instructor Veylan stood by a display orb. Projected inside it was a sealed cave system—ancient, unstable, loaded with residual mana.
"Tomorrow, you will escort several diplomatic envoys through a relic site," he said. "It's a test of diplomacy, survival, and command."
Kaela frowned. "That's… not normal."
"It's not. But Astralis trusts you."
Then Veylan turned to Hades.
"And they trust him."
Hades raised one brow. "Flattered. But I don't do babysitting."
"You do now."
Later that night, back in his room, Seraphim pulsed again.
This time with purpose.
New memory shards had unlocked.
A vision of an elven city burning under black flame.
A dwarven seal reacting to Seraphim resonance.
A beastkin elder speaking the words: "The one who bears the heart of light and machine shall decide the world's balance."
Hades stood in the dark, wind curling around him through the open window.
He didn't ask for this.
But he never ran from it.
He was Draker.
He was the system's chosen.
And soon, the world would find out what it meant when the protagonist isn't humble.