Elias watched with a still gaze as Auren Velmar stepped toward the altar.
The golden boy's expression was calm, almost lazy. He didn't tremble. Didn't glance at the crowd. His movements were smooth, practised—as if he already knew what was coming.
Just like before.
Auren picked up the ceremonial dagger and sliced his palm without hesitation. The blood dripped onto the Orb of Origin.
A soft hiss echoed through the hall.
Then silence.
He stood there, chest still, face unreadable. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth curled upward—not in joy, but in smug satisfaction.
A faculty member near the altar peered at a glowing rune to the side of the orb. Then turned to the crowd.
"S-Rank," she announced clearly.
Gasps erupted.
Even students who had remained silent until now began whispering furiously, and the noise swelled across the chamber like rising waves.
An S-Rank.
So early in the ceremony.
Elias remembered the same reaction five years ago. He also remembered what that rank had hidden beneath the surface. Auren's path had looked golden from afar, but the bloodshed he left behind had been anything but glorious.
"Silence!" a faculty member boomed from the dais. "Compose yourselves!"
The murmurs slowly died down. Auren walked back to his seat with the same smirk on his lips, every eye following him.
More names were called.
Some faces Elias recognised. Students he'd once trained or fought beside. Some he had to bury himself. Others were strangers, blurred by the haze of years.
A couple more C-Ranks emerged. Even one more B-Rank. One student cried quietly upon receiving an E, their shoulders trembling as they returned to their seat.
Then—
"Elias Veilhart." One of the faculty members called out.
His heart gave a single thump.
It was time.
Elias stood without hesitation.
He could feel dozens of eyes on him, but he paid them no mind.
Step by step, he walked down the aisle. The hall felt heavier with every pace. As if the altar itself could sense something different about him.
He reached the dais, approached the table, and looked down at the dagger.
Same silver edge. Same weight in the handle. He could still remember the sting of using that very same dagger.
He gripped it tightly and dragged the blade across his palm in one clean stroke. Blood welled up immediately, sharp and hot. He let it drip onto the orb without a second thought.
And—
[ Awakening... ]
[ ... ]
[ ... ]
[ ... ]
Elias's eyes narrowed as the pause stretched a beat too long.
"Was it this long the last time…?"
Just as doubt began to take root, a new text appeared before him.
[ ... ]
[ ... ]
[ Class: Bloodweaver ]
[ Rank: F ]
[ New Path Unlocked. ]
[ Awakening Complete! ]
Elias stiffened.
"...What?"
The words rang in his mind like thunder.
"Bloodweaver? What the hell is that?"
He'd never seen a class like this. No one had.
But before he could make any sense of it all, a voice rang through the hall—snapping him away from his thoughts.
"F-Rank," the faculty member declared.
Disappointment rippled through the crowd.
He heard it in the murmurs, saw it in the glances. The looks of pity filled the hall.
The first and only F-Rank of the ceremony.
Elias didn't react. His face stayed still. If anything, the voices sounded distant, muffled under the weight of what had just happened.
He turned and walked back to his seat.
He could still feel the sting in his hand as he sat—but it was nothing compared to the tension twisting inside his chest.
Bloodweaver.
First, he was given a second chance at life.
Now, a Class he had never even heard of.
He glanced down at his palm, now wrapped in the thin cloth a faculty member had handed him. The bleeding had mostly stopped… yet something stirred beneath his skin, faint and unsettling.
Last time, his Healer class, despite being just F-Rank, had already begun to activate its passive healing ability. The wound had closed within seconds.
But this time was different.
The wound remained.
His brows furrowed.
Then, with a steady breath, he leaned back in his seat and whispered:
"Status."