The air in the lecture hall was serious with the smell of old parchment, sweat, and the underlying scent of fear.
It was a suffocating atmosphere that most of the thirty children in the room had grown used to.
To fail here wasn't just a matter of bad grades or a scolding from a parent; in the House of Bloodrune, failure was execution.
Ran Bloodrune sat in the third row, his small, six-year-old legs dangling slightly off the edge of the oversized wooden chair.
To anyone looking at him, he appeared to be the model student. Straight back, his blood red eyes fixed on the blackboard, hands folded neatly.
Internally, he was bored out of his mind.
"The Abyssal Serpent has three primary nerve clusters located behind the secondary dorsal fin," the instructor droned on, tapping a long wooden pointer against a detailed anatomical drawing.
"If you strike with insufficient mana saturation, the scales will simply absorb the impact, and the serpent will swallow you whole before you can scream. Remember that precision is life. Ignorance is a corpse."
Ran watched a fly buzz around the instructor's head.
The schedule was a special kind of hell designed by a sadist. Eight hours of continuous academic study, followed by ten hours of physical and combat drills.
That left six hours for sleep, assuming you didn't have to spend your rest period eating, going bathroom or tending to the bruises left by the trainers.
It was an eighteen-hour grind designed to break the children.
Most of the kids in this room are legitimate. But the family wasn't lenient even to the legitimate children.
Their eyes were sunken, their skin pale. They lived in constant terror of executions of those who fell to the bottom of the rankings.
While Ran shared their feelings, he has learned to remain calm in such situations. For now, he has one objective; it was the Bloodrune Sword Technique.
It was the family's crown jewel. But the House was an autocracy. Only legitimate children were allowed to learn it.
Some handful of bastards were given the opportunity to learn it in the past. But it was extremely rare.
For a bastard like Ran, the path was blocked by a wall of this tradition.
I need that technique, Ran mused, ignoring the teacher's lecture.
If I can't get Somes' permission, there is no way to learn it. But how can I convince him?
At the front of the room, Instructor Harlen paused, his gaze lingering on Ran.
Harlen was a hard man, a veteran with a prosthetic arm and a scarred face. Anyone would be intimidated by such man.
Inwardly, however, he was having a moment of professional pride.
Most of these brats are vibrating with anxiety, but he's calm. He's reached the elite class in record time. He probably knows this anatomy as well. Is he visualizing the kill right now? As expected of a genius.
On the other side of the room, two sets of eyes were burning holes into the back of Ran's head.
The bell gave a sharp, metallic ring that signaled the end of the class. The students filed out in a silent, disciplined line.
Ran walked down the long, shadowed hallway toward the training yards. His mind was still on the Patriarch, Somes Bloodrune.
He'd considered approaching the man directly, but the idea felt suicidal. Somes didn't show "favorability" even to his own children let alone a bastard like him.
"Hey, shit-stain."
Ran stopped. He didn't even have to turn around to know who it was.
The hallway was empty except for him and the two shadows approaching from behind.
Vael and Kael stepped into his line of sight. The "Golden Twins" of his generation.
They were tall for six-year-olds, dressed in crisp black suits with the Bloodrune crest embedded in the chest area.
Their eyes were blood red and they both carried wooden swords strapped to their hips.
"I'm talking to you, bastard," Kael said, his voice dripping with the kind of unearned arrogance only a high-born brat could manage.
"You've been in our class for three days and you haven't bowed once. You think because the instructors like your pretty notes that you're one of us?"
Ran looked at them, his expression blank. To him, they were just noisy toddlers playing dress-up.
These brats were the toppers of the elite class. Well, atleast until Ran was transferred here three days ago due to his excellent results.
"I'm busy, Kael. Move."
"Busy doing what? Dreaming about being a real Bloodrune?" Vael mocked, stepping closer.
"You should know that you are just a bastard."
Kael didn't wait for a reply. He stepped forward and shoved Ran with both hands.
Because Ran was currently in the body of a sixty-pound child, the force sent him stumbling back, his shoulder hitting the stone wall with a dull thud.
Before Ran could steady himself, Kael's fist connected with his cheek.
The punch was surprisingly heavy. These kids were trained from birth, and their bodies were already being augmented by basic mana circulation.
Ran felt the sting, the copper taste of blood filling his mouth. He fell to the floor.
"Look at him," Vael laughed, looking down. "The 'Genius Ran' is just a punching bag."
Kael didn't stop. He hopped on top of Ran, raining down a barrage of punches.
Left, right, left.
"You think you are like us, huh? You're nothing! You're a fucking servant with a name you don't deserve!"
Ran took the hits. He tucked his chin, protecting his throat, and let the pain wash over him.
But this kid was not stopping. So Ran finally retaliated in annoyance.
He was tired of these "children" acting like they were gods of a playground built on corpses.
Ran's hand shot up, catching Kael's wrist mid-swing. The grip was like an iron.
Kael froze, his eyes widening. "Let go—"
Ran looked up. For the first time, the "blank" expression was gone. In its place, a menacing smile curved his cheeks.
"You're right. I'm not like you."
Ran infused his fist with a concentrated burst of mana, and drove his knuckles straight into Kael's jaw.
Crack.
The jawbone was dislocated. Kael was lifted off Ran and sent sprawling across the stone floor, his mouth a ruined mess of blood and teeth.
He couldn't even scream from pain. He just let out a wet, gurgling sound before going limp.
Vael's face went pale. "K-Kael?"
Ran stood up slowly, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. He turned his gaze toward Vael.
"Your turn, spoiled brat."
Vael reached for his sword, his hands shaking. "I'll kill you! If you touch me... t-they'll flay you alive for-"
Ran didn't let him finish. He closed the distance and buried his fist into Vael's abdomen.
"Ignorant idiot! You think family will give a shit if you died? Don't assume you are special just because you are a high-born."
Vael dropped to his knees instantly, all the air driven from his lungs.
He clutched his stomach, his eyes bulging as he tried to breath.
Ran stood over him, looking down with cold, clinical eyes.
Ran grabbed Vael by the hair, forcing his head up. On the floor nearby, Kael was starting to regain consciousness, clutching his broken face and sobbing through the blood.
"Listen closely, there are no teachers here. No guards. Just me and you two."
A terrifying aura began to bleed out of Ran as he put his boot on Kael's face, pressing him down into the cold stone.
"Now, let's play a game. I will let one of you leave this hallway. Who wants to live?"
Ran asked with a terrifying grin across his face.
"Decide now."
Despair began to swallow the twins as they began to cry uncontrollably.
"P-please, spare... me...," Kael wheezed through his broken jaw, the words barely audible.
"No! Spare me! He's the one who hit you first! It was his idea! Spare me!"
Ran watched the "Golden Twins," the prodigy of this generation, turn on each other in just a few words with a look of disappointment.
The two boys looked at each other. A new, invisible barrier had formed between them, one made of spite and the realization that their lives were worth more than their sibling's.
Ran retracted his mana, the crushing pressure vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
He stepped back, looking at the two broken children on the floor. Kael was a mess of blood; Vael was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering.
"You're both pathetic," Ran said, his voice back to its normal, quiet tone.
Ran turned his back on them and walked away, his footsteps echoing rhythmically. There was no way he would kill children.
He just wanted to teach them a lesson they would never forget.
Though deep down, it regretted going too far. In the end, they were just children after all.
"Clean yourselves up. Remember, there won't be next time."
* * * * * * * * *
At the far end of the estate, in an office, a man sat behind a desk.
Somes Bloodrune, the Patriarch, was engrossed in paperwork of state affairs.
The wooden doors to his office creaked open. Old Jim the butler, hurried inside. He looked uncharacteristically rattled.
Somes didn't look up from his ledger.
"What happened?"
"Apparently, there was a conflict between three young masters my lord."
"Hmm... so who died?"
"No one, my Lord," Jim replied, bowing low.
Somes paused, his quill hovering over the parchment.
"A conflict happened with all of them making it out alive?"
"It was a dispute between Young Master Vael and Young Master Kael with Young Master Ran."
Somes' eyes flickered when he heard Ran's name. The name had been popping up in the instructor's reports more and more lately.
Seemed like the kid was doing pretty well in his academics.
"And?"
"The young masters Vael and Kael are currently in the infirmary. Kael's jawbone was dislocated. It will require high-level restoration magic to fix. Vael has severe internal bruising and is in a state of psychological shock."
Somes finally put down his quill. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlacing.
"The twins are twelve months older and have been training with the elite tutors since they could walk. Ran is six. And you're telling me he took on both of them?"
"Yes, my Lord. And from the reports of the cleaning staff who found them... it appears that young master spared them."
A small smile crept across Somes' face.
The Patriarch stood up, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the office.
"Bring him to me. I want to see him."
"At once, my Lord," Jim said, bowing again before retreating.