Upon leaving the hall, Blaze moved through the corridors in a daze, again the halls just seemed to blur past him, he avoided every other student who was just as horrified as he was, this orientation had set the tone for the next four years.
As he walked in silence, covered in blood that wasn't his, the weight of the morning still pressing against his ribs, he couldn't help but wonder.
Had they planned that? to release the Monster? knowing students, innocent children would die?
But those thoughts weren't important at the moment, first he needed to recollect himself, and get clean, orientation hadn't ended when the monster was dragged away. It followed him, stitched into every echoing step and wary glance. Every raised voice made him jump, every little sound rang in his ears the same way the monster's claws did.
And just for a moment, Blaze wondered,
"Am i really cut out to be a monster hunter?"
His attention soon refocused, as he noticed first-year students clustered together as they walked, voices low but urgent now, the silence cracked just enough to let fear seep through.
They were talking about it.
The first group of people he had seen talking about anything here.
Not loudly—not yet. But whispers passed from mouth to mouth like a silent threat. Fragments drifted through the halls. "Did you see the claws?" "Someone died." "It looked at me too." Blaze didn't have to force himself to listen anymore time. The conversations found his ears on their own, and for the first time since the hall, his chest loosened slightly. He wasn't the only one still shaking.
Outside his first classroom, the tension finally broke. Someone laughed, sharp—brittle, and said, "That wasn't in the handbook." A few others snorted, relief bleeding into hysteria.
Blaze turned toward the sound, finally adding quietly, "I thought it was a test at first." Heads nodded. A tall, girl with a no-nonsense straightforwardness to her, wearing an eyepatch and a distinctive slash scar under her right eye swore under her breath, and another student started to say something about the runes flaring—
"Enough."
The word cut through the hallway like a slammed door.
An instructor stood in the classroom doorway, gaze sweeping over them, expression flat and unreadable. "Orientation incidents are not a topic for discussion," he said evenly. "Speculation creates panic, and panic gets students killed. Inside. Now."
The murmurs died instantly. Whatever openness had sparked vanished just as fast, students filing past the instructor without another word. Blaze caught a few lingering looks—shared frustration, shared fear—but no one dared speak again.
The instructor then looked to Blaze.
"What's that look for boy, never felt blood before?" his voice cold, authoritative.
"N-No sir…" Blaze murmured, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.
The Instructor then gestured to the classroom; he wasn't even going to let Blaze wash the fresh blood off him.
"Well? go inside and take a seat then, boy."
Blaze didn't have to be told twice, a split second later he was at a window seat at the far back left of the classroom.
Introduction to Beast Theory did little to help. The instructor lectured on classifications and behavioral patterns, chalk scratching neat diagrams of teeth and talons across the slate. The irony wasn't lost on anyone. Blaze could feel it in the room—the stiffness, the way students flinched when claws were mentioned, the way questions died halfway to raised hands. When someone finally asked whether what happened earlier qualified as "controlled exposure," the instructor paused just long enough to make the silence uncomfortable.
"Next topic," he said, and moved on.
Combat Fundamentals was worse. Practice weapons were distributed without comment, metal and wood heavy in trembling hands. The instructor barked orders, correcting stances, forcing movement, refusing to acknowledge the fear bleeding through every motion. Blaze's grip slipped more than once. Each time, he saw the monster's eye again, unblinking and patient.
By the end of the day, exhaustion dulled everything. As Blaze left the training hall, he noticed a dark stain half-scrubbed from the stone floor, the water around it tinged faintly red. Proof that what they'd seen wasn't a shared delusion—just something they weren't allowed to name.
Students were willing to talk.
The academy simply wouldn't let them.
Blaze practically dragged himself upstairs toward the male dormitories. Every step felt heavier than the last, his legs ached, it felt as if the stone stairs themselves were pressing against him. He was exhausted—every fiber in his muscles screamed at him, begging for rest. All he wanted was to simply collapse into his bed and drift off into oblivion, where the memory of claws and screams couldn't follow.
He stopped at the door, thoughts of slumber washing away from him as he focused, hand still hovering over the handle.
He froze. It all hit him at once. Voices. Laughter. Low murmurs.
The realisation finally came over him.
This was a shared dormitory.
He shrugged it off, too exhausted and desperate for rest to care, and opened the door. Instantly, every head in the room snapped toward him.
"Was beginning to think the new roommate would never show up." said a boy with long black hair, leaning lazily up against the wall beside his bed, dark eyes sparkling with amusement.
Blaze blinked, taken aback, and muttered out a stiff, "Uh… yeah. Still learning where everything is."
The room was modest but cramped, four beds lined against the walls. A boy with a scar running across his cheek smirked up at him. "Oh so you're a first-year then. Rough day, huh?" he chuckled, gesturing to the dried blood on his face and shirt.
Blaze hesitated, he was sure that they knew about the incident from earlier, after all rumours spread like wildfire in places like this, and the fact he was covered in blood that wasn't his didn't help to hide it.
The black-haired boy grinned. "You don't have to say anything. We all saw it. Hell, some of us are still talking about it." He shrugged.
A small spark of relief flickered in Blaze's
chest. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was scared the floor would swallow him whole.
"You'll get used to it," declared the scarred boy with absolute certainty, tossing a small bundle of practice cloth onto the nearest bed.
The black-haired boy snorted in agreement.
"This school's not all bad."
Blaze allowed himself the tiniest smirk, though his shoulders remained tense.
"You got a name? Or should we just call you newbie?" asked the scarred boy, a hint of a smirk creeping onto his face.
Blaze hesitated, then revealed his name.
"Blaze Aureate."
The black-haired boy let out a low whistle before speaking,
"Damn, you some rich kid?"
The scarred boy nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, i gotta say—that name reeks of nobility."
Blaze felt a spark of confidence for the first time since he'd left his village. He'd never really thought about how his name sounded.
"I guess it's a pretty name, but im just a boy from Ashfall Village," he said, yawning at the same time. "Mind telling me yours?"
The black-haired boy responded first.
"I'm Akira Kojiro."
The scarred boy spoke shortly after.
"The name's Kai Fox."
Then suddenly, a quiet, soft voice spoke up from the corner of the room.
"…Tatsuya Tanaka…"
Blaze startled immediately. He'd noticed there was four beds, but hadn't noticed the other boy sitting in the corner, silently observing the entire time.
"S-Since when were you here?!"
he spluttered.
"This entire time."
Tatsuya declared casually, sitting unnaturally still.
"Uh…"
Blaze couldn't think of anything to respond with, refusing to address the creepy boy who seemed to be watching too closely.
"So when do i get to learn magic, i seen the instructors spellcasting."
he asked, attempting to redirect the conversation.
the room went silent, Akira and Kai shared a glance while Tatsuya seemingly vanished into the shadowy corner, nobody responded as if magic was some inside-joke Blaze wasn't allowed in on.
"What?" he asked, "Did i say something wrong?"
"Classified."
Tatsuya's eerily calm voice rung out once again, he didn't elaborate, and that was enough to deter Blaze.
"Alright, then." he muttered, before grabbing some spare towels that were left on his bed, and heading to the bathroom to shower.
he undressed, then stepped into the hot shower, water running over his body, washing away the evidence of the day.
"If that was the first day, how much worse will it get?" he wondered.
After his shower, he slipped on a soft robe and went to his straight to bed without saying another word to his dormmates.
He reclined into his bed, exhaustion finally pulling him under.
He had survived the day.
He just didn't know what surviving Beastfall Academy was going to cost him.