The air in Classroom 001 remained thick with the residual heat of competing auras, a silent war of nerves that Ash was technically winning by simply refusing to participate.
While the other ten students sat like coiled springs, measuring the threat he posed, Ash was lost in a labyrinth of his own making.
His mind was a frantic loop of tactical concerns. Manipulation. She's an Adler. She has the real thing.
If I use my power, she'll know. I need a plan.
He was so absorbed in his internal crisis that he barely registered the shift in the room until Colonel Karl Vandir's voice cut through the tension like a serrated blade.
"Since the pleasantries are out of the way," Karl began, his voice dripping with dry irony
"We shall move to the logistical reality of your existence here. Housing will be strictly segregated: all males will share a communal living space, and the females will do the same."
A hand shot up from the middle rows. It belonged to a young man with sharp, restless energy, standing about 1.78 meters with messy black hair and striking blue eyes.
"Mr. Kairos Voltari," Karl acknowledged.
Kairos, Ash noted, finally forcing himself to pay attention to the names he had ignored while spiraling about Isolde and Kael.
"Sir, I have a question regarding the arrangement,"
Kairos said, his tone curious rather than defiant.
"I'm not objecting, just... why the communal setup? I assumed private quarters were standard for Openers of our caliber."
Ash let out a silent, weary sigh. Is he serious?
This is a military outpost, not a luxury resort. Karl's eyes narrowed, two chips of ice focusing on Kairos.
"Because these are the regulations. Do you have a problem with that, Voltari? This is a military sector, not your family's estate. You are here to become a unit, not a collection of pampered icons. You do not go where you want, and you certainly do not do what you want."
"Understood, sir," Kairos replied quickly, sinking back into his seat.
Karl scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the stoic Riven and the frowning Isolde.
"Rest assured, your living expenses are covered by the Academy. Three meals a day are provided at no cost. If you desire delicacies beyond the standard rations, you will pay for them from your own pockets. Furthermore..."
His voice dropped into a lower, more ominous register.
"You will spend the next two months in intensive theoretical and practical training. After that, you will be deployed to the active front lines. Real battlefield experience. Real death."
He paused, letting the word hang in the air.
"If you die out there, the Academy will not take responsibility. These two months are your only chance to learn how to keep your head on your shoulders. Fail here, and you're just expensive fertilizer."
Harsh, Ash thought.
But efficient. He looked around the room. Surprisingly, the threat of death didn't seem to dampen the spirits of the others.
Most of them wore expressions of quiet confidence, or perhaps, dangerous arrogance.
They had been the "best" for so long that the concept of their own mortality seemed like a distant myth.
"Your schedule is as follows,"
Karl continued, tapping a command onto his podium.
"Wake up at 05:00. Lectures and training begin at 07:00 and conclude at 11:30. You will have a midday break until 13:00, followed by further instruction until 16:00. From 16:00 to 18:30, you are permitted personal time. However, at 18:30, the entire class must assemble for mandatory study and review until 20:40."
A collective, unspoken 'What?' rippled through the minds of the students.
It was a suffocating routine.
"At 20:45, a final daily report is required. Preparation for sleep begins at 21:00, and lights out is at 21:30 sharp. This applies from Monday to Saturday. Sunday is your only day of rest. You will each be issued a pillow and a blanket, as your quarters contain only a single bed frame per person. A word of warning: do not lose these items. The replacement fee for a lost blanket is five hundred thousand Credits."
The room went deathly silent.
Ash felt a twitch in his eyebrow. Five hundred thousand? That's my entire stipend for a piece of cloth?
Bang!
A hand slammed against a desk. Below Ash, a young man stood up with the explosive grace of a predator.
He had long, wild hair reaching down his back and amber eyes that glowed with a lupine intensity.
At 1.83 meters, he exuded a raw, untamed aura.
Karl didn't flinch. "You have an opinion, Fenrir Morvain?"
"I have an objection!" Fenrir growled, his voice a literal snarl.
"These rules... this is a prison! I didn't become a Chosen to live in a cage! I thrive on freedom, not a clock!"
Karl closed his eyes for a brief second. Suddenly, the air in the room curdled.
An Ascendant-level pressure descended specifically upon Fenrir, slamming him down into his seat.
The young man's teeth gritted, his bones creaking as he fought to stay upright, refusing to be pinned to the floor.
"I will say this once," Karl said, his voice cold enough to freeze blood.
"This school teaches you to be a soldier. Soldiers follow orders. Soldiers follow schedules. If you cannot master yourself, you will never master the Door. While you are within these walls, my word is the law. Understood?"
The pressure evaporated.
Fenrir gasped for air, his wild eyes burning with resentment but silenced by the sheer gap in power.
"Those are the basics," Karl said, turning back to the group.
"Detailed regulations have been sent to your Chronographs. One last task: you must elect a Class Leader. This person will be responsible for the squad's coordination and conduct. I don't care how you do it, but I want a name by Sunday."
He paused as he reached the door, as if remembering a minor detail. "Or, you can let the upcoming competition decide for you.
In five days, we hold the 'Hunters' trials in the artificial forest. The rules will be sent to you shortly.
For the rest of the week, there are no formal classes. Use the time to learn the rules, find your quarters, and prepare for the hunt. Dismissed."
Karl walked out, his heavy boots echoing in the hall until silence reclaimed the room.
Ash let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
'Finally, I just need to find my bed and—'
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Isolde Victoria von Adler walked toward the podium.
She turned to face the room, her golden hair shimmering under the artificial lights, her cobalt eyes sweeping over them with the authority of a queen.
"I have something to say," she announced, her voice calm but commanding.
"I will be taking the position of Class Leader. The rest of you should forfeit your claims during the 'Hunters' trials. I have been groomed for command since I could walk. I have the experience, the lineage, and the tactical mind to lead this squad."
Kael von di Vance stood up immediately.
"With all due respect, Lady Isolde, the Vance family has led knights for generations. My experience is no less than yours. I believe a leader should ensure the welfare of every member with honor and equity. I swear on my name to lead us justly."
"Hah! Don't make me laugh!"
A new voice joined the fray. It was a young man sitting below Riven, featuring white-and-blue hair and eyes like polished platinum.
Soren, a boy of about 1.8 meters with a lithe, athletic build, leaned back in his chair.
"That role belongs to me. Think of the perks! As leader, I can delegate the boring tasks to you lot and spend my time on what actually matters. Besides, I'm much more fun than a noble or a knight."
"Heh... this title sounds important," Fenrir added, having recovered his strength. A dark, jagged grin spread across his face.
"I think I'd like to be the alpha of this pack. It would be... interesting... to see you all follow me."
The four of them locked eyes, a four-way clash of egos that threatened to ignite the room again. The others, including Riven and Ash, remained silent—either uninterested or simply watching the sparks fly.
Ash looked at the budding civil war and felt a headache forming.
'Troublesome, completely troublesome.'
He stood up, the scrape of his chair drawing every eye in the room. He didn't look at the contenders. He didn't care about their vied-for throne.
He just wanted to leave.
"Where are you going, Ashfei?" Isolde asked, her eyes narrowing.
"To find my dormitory," Ash replied without stopping.
"I've wasted enough time listening to this. Whether you lead or they lead, it doesn't change the fact that I have a bed to find."
He reached the door, his silhouette a sharp black shadow against the obsidian walls. Isolde's jaw tightened, but she didn't stop him.
"Wait, Ashfei! Let me go with you!" Kairos called out, jumping up from his seat.
"We're roommates anyway, might as well learn the way together!"
Ash was surprised by the sudden approach, but his face remained a mask.
He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Kairos grinned and fell in step beside him.
As the two of them exited, the tension in the room broke, and the other students began to filter out one by one, each carrying the weight of their own ambitions into the first night of the Obsidian Labyrinth.