The silence left in Scarlet Eveningstar's wake lingered like a curse. No one dared speak, no one dared breathe too loudly.
Then movement broke the stillness.
Figures stepped out from the sides of the hall, older students, easy to recognize by the insignia stitched onto their uniforms. Two golden stars glinted against each of their chests, polished and sharp, a quiet badge of status that marked them as second-years. Survivors. Proof that they had already endured the same crucible everyone here was about to enter.
Their steps were steady, practiced, not a hint of hesitation in their posture. Confidence radiated from them, the kind born not from arrogance, but from survival. They had killed, bled, and clawed their way to remain at Ironwill Academy. And they wore that truth like armor.
Each carried a lacquered wooden tray filled with glowing silver bands, faint runes etched across the surface. The moment the first tray came into view, the whispers began.
"What are those?""Some kind of artifact?""Wait… are those the mana bands?"
The second-years ignored the murmurs, fanning out through the crowd. One by one, they began handing the silver bands to the first-years.
Zane turned his band over in his hand. It was cold, heavier than it looked, the runes shifting faintly as if alive.
A second-year, tall and broad-shouldered, stopped in front of their row. His voice was clipped, businesslike, but carried the weight of someone who had already been here once before.
"These are your mana bands," he said. "Put them on now."
Around them, the glow of runes flared faintly as thousands of students slipped the silver rings onto their wrists. The moment Zane fastened his, a faint pulse ran up his arm, his skin prickling as if the band had just marked him.
The second year continued. "They will record your points, monitor your mana reserves, and track your physical condition. If you're about to die, the band will teleport you out of the trial."
A few relieved sighs rippled through the crowd, cut short by the student's next words.
"But don't be stupid enough to think that makes you safe. The teleportation isn't instant. If your body is ripped apart faster than it can pull you back…" He shrugged, as though discussing the weather. "…then it won't matter. Dead is dead."
That silenced even the whispers.
Another second year, a girl with sharp silver eyes and hair tied in a soldier's braid stepped forward beside him. "Your bands also prevent cheating. They will track whether you've killed the monsters yourselves. If you try to trick the system, if you steal points, if you attempt to tamper with the artifact…" Her gaze swept over the rows with icy disdain. "…you'll be expelled. If you're lucky."
Zane felt the weight of the band on his wrist, heavier than steel. It wasn't just a tool. It was a shackle. A contract.
The girl's lips twisted in the faintest ghost of a smile. "Think of it this way, if you survive, this little piece of silver is proof that you weren't weak. That you belonged."
The second year moved on, distributing bands row by row. The hall was filled with the faint hum of runes awakening, each band flaring once as it bound itself to its wearer.
Adrian flexed his wrist, grimacing. "Comforting, isn't it?" he muttered, the sarcasm not quite masking the edge in his voice.
Lyra's eyes stayed fixed on the band, her expression unreadable. "No safety nets," she said softly. "Just the illusion of one."
Zane didn't answer. The band seemed to pulse faintly against his skin, almost like it was alive, like it knew more about him than he wanted anyone else to see.
Somewhere above them, Scarlet Eveningstar's presence still lingered like a shadow across the hall.
The crucible had already begun.
The world snapped.
One heartbeat, he was shoulder to shoulder with Lyra and Adrian in the orientation hall, the weight of the mana band still fresh on his wrist. The next. Silence.
No crowd. No walls. No ceiling.
Just forest.
Zane staggered forward, catching himself against the trunk of a tree that loomed impossibly tall, its bark gnarled and dark, as though it had been growing here since before history had words.
The air hit him like a wall. It was thick, almost syrupy, every breath dragging dense mana into his lungs. Too much. The kind of pressure that made his chest tighten, like the forest itself was trying to suffocate him.
The dim light pressed in. Not night, not day, something in between.
A twilight that never shifted, filtered through a canopy so dense that the sky was little more than a rumor. Wisps of mist curled low to the ground, clinging to his boots, threading around roots that jutted like skeletal fingers, pale and slick.
It was too quiet. No birds. No insects. Just the faint hum of mana in the air, buzzing like a hive inside his skull.
Then it came.
Low. Guttural. A growl that slithered through the underbrush, deep enough to vibrate in his chest.
Zane froze.
Another joined it, farther away. Then another, closer, left this time.
Not echoes. Not tricks. He was being surrounded.
His hand drifted instinctively toward his blades, only to clench on empty air. Civilian clothes. No steel at his hip. His chest tightened. This wasn't a battlefield, but the forest didn't care.
He swallowed hard, scanning the undergrowth. The mist shifted strangely, shapes half-formed and gone when he blinked. Were they shadows? Or were they eyes?
Zane forced himself to breathe. In through his nose, out through his mouth. He needed clarity, not panic.
His wrist burned faintly, the mana band pulsing like a heartbeat. He looked down. The runes had shifted, recording something. His presence. His location. Maybe even how many monsters were drawing closer.
He tore his gaze away from the band and back into the trees.
The forest felt wrong. Not just because of the mana, though that was suffocating enough. No, it was the silence between the growls, the sense that every trunk, every branch was leaning toward him, listening.
He thought of Lyra and Adrian. Were they close? Did the forest separate them on purpose? Or was this trial designed to scatter them like seeds, test them alone before they could regroup?
Zane tightened his jaw. If the dungeon had taught him anything, it was that this place, academy or not, wasn't about fairness.
The growl came again, closer this time. A heavy exhale rattled through the mist, carrying the coppery stench of blood.
Something was out there. Waiting. Watching.
Zane straightened slowly, forcing his hands to unclench. His heart pounded against his ribs, but his breathing stayed even. He couldn't afford fear, not here.
He whispered to himself, almost soundless.
"Let it come."