The arena fell into a suffocating silence. Every whisper, every shuffle of feet was drowned as a single figure descended slowly onto the stage.
Richard Draven.
The name alone made the air feel heavier. The strongest human alive. The headmaster of Astralis Academy. The ruler of the city.
His appearance, at first glance, was unremarkable jet-black hair, sharp black eyes, a clean yet rugged face, and a body carved with power like it had been forged by battle itself. Yet what made hearts tremble wasn't his build, but the sheer aura that pressed down on everyone, a weight so overwhelming it bent the flow of mana around him.
He wore simple black trousers and a matching shirt, yet it was the crimson-lined obsidian robe draped across his shoulders that amplified his presence, a garment that seemed to bleed power into the air. Against the light, the deep red threads glimmered faintly like veins of fire, making him seem more like a sovereign than an educator.
When he finally spoke, his voice echoed across the arena like a decree from the heavens:
"I welcome all of you who have gathered here today, young ones aspiring to enter Astralis Academy."
The audience held its breath. Normally, it was the vice principal who conducted the entrance examinations. For the Headmaster himself to appear? That was unheard of. Questions rippled across the crowd, confusion and shock spreading like wildfire yet none dared voice them aloud.
Richard raised a hand, silencing even the faintest murmur.
"This year," he declared, "the entrance exam will be… different."
A hush of anticipation fell over the examinees.
"For the first phase, you will be divided into groups of fifty. Each group will battle upon the platform until only ten remain standing. Strength, skill, and resolve will decide your place. No exceptions. No mercy. Survive, and you may proceed."
The words were delivered calmly, almost casually, yet they slammed into the hearts of the candidates like hammer blows.
Richard's gaze swept across them all, and for a moment, his black eyes lingered on one figure crimson-eyed Azriel Stark. The faintest flicker of intrigue crossed his face before vanishing into the void of his expression.
"You have ten minutes. Your assigned platform number has been sent to your watches. Report there."
And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, Richard Draven vanished.
The silence that followed was deafening.
The crowd erupted. Fear, confusion, and excitement rippled like a storm through the sea of examinees. Some trembled, eyes wide at the thought of fighting dozens at once. Others clenched their fists, battle hungry and eager. A few simply froze, unable to process the scale of what was to come.
Azriel Stark, however, remained still. His crimson eyes watched the empty space where Richard had stood, not the crowd. He remembered the faint smile the headmaster had given him before vanishing. It was not the smile that stayed with him but his presence.
Why is he here? Azriel thought. Isn't he supposed to be at the frontlines?
His gaze flicked upward, toward the tower where the VIPs sat. The vice principal was there, watching silently. If even he was here, then who commanded the battlefield outside these walls? Questions stacked in his mind, but one thought made him pause.
Another change.
First the headmaster's presence. Now the exam itself. And soon, more would follow.
For a moment, Azriel allowed himself the faintest smile.
This story was shifting. The pieces no longer aligned as they once had.
And when the dust settles it would not be the hero who stood victorious.
This time… it would be the villain.