The next morning, at an hour when even the sun refused to grace the horizon, the silence of the tower was shattered.
Reng! Reng!—Reng! Reng!—Reng! Reng!
A piercing, metallic alarm blared through the energy veins of the spires, acting as a relentless wake-up call for every student in the academy. In the male dormitory of Class 001, Ash's eyes snapped open at the very first chime.
His internal clock, tuned to the hyper-vigilance of the Ash Area, didn't allow for the luxury of a slow awakening.
He sat up and scanned the room. Kael, Leo, and Fenrir were already stirring, their movements disciplined and sharp.
However, on the other side of the room, Kairos and Soren remained buried under their blankets, emitting muffled groans of protest.
"Uhm... five more minutes..."
"Turn that thing off... I'm dreaming of a steak..."
Kael stood by his bed, already fully dressed, looking down at the two sleepers with a mixture of pity and warning.
"You two need to get up immediately. Fold your blankets and arrange your pillows. Colonel Karl will be here for inspection shortly. If the 'Standard of Order' isn't met, the penalty won't be pleasant."
The mention of Karl's name acted like an electric shock. Kairos practically levitated out of his bed, frantically smoothing out his sheets, while Soren sat up with a sluggish, aristocratic disdain, slowly beginning his task.
Ash had already finished. His bed was a masterclass in geometric perfection—the blanket a sharp-edged block, the pillow centered to the millimeter.
Thirty minutes later, the heavy door hissed open.
Colonel Karl stepped into the room, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the morning light.
The six boys stood at attention beside their beds, backs straight as iron bars. Karl moved through the room in silence, his ice-cold gaze raking over every fold of fabric and every inch of the floor.
He stopped at the foot of the row, then gave a curt, approving nod.
"Impressive. I expected to be handing out manual labor assignments this morning, but it seems you lot possess a modicum of self-discipline. Keep it up."
Without another word, he spun on his heel and headed for the girls' dormitory across the hall.
As the door closed, a collective exhale swept through the room as the boys slumped from their rigid postures.
"I really thought I was dead meat," Kairos panted, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Thanks for the wake-up call, Kael."
"We're classmates," Kael replied simply.
"Your failure is our failure."
Ash checked his Chronograph.
"It's 05:40. We have twenty minutes to wash before breakfast at 06:00. Let's move."
They gathered their personal kits from the digital storage within their watches—everything from toothbrushes to razors—and utilized the communal bathroom.
Across the hall, Karl eventually exited the girls' room; judging by the lack of shouting, they had survived his scrutiny as well.
...
Breakfast at 06:00 was a repeat of the previous night's social gauntlet.
The whispers continued, but the members of Class 001 seemed more fortified.
They ate in a tight circle, ignoring the jeers of the larger classes.
According to the schedule Karl had transmitted, the window from 06:20 to 06:50 was dedicated to "Communal Maintenance."
Specifically, they were responsible for cleaning the lounge and the observation balcony Ash had discovered the night before.
The eleven students gathered in the lounge, armed with vacuum drones and cleaning cloths.
"This is absurd," Kairos grumbled, pushing a high-tech vacuum across the carpet.
"We're supposedly the future of humanity, and here we are dusting bookshelves."
"It's about humility and order," Kael noted, scrubbing the wooden table.
"And remember, Karl will check this room too. No using Core abilities—the hidden cameras will flag any use of supernatural power for mundane chores. Use your hands, not your mana."
Ash was focused on the balcony, wiping down the glass railings with methodical strokes.
The work didn't bother him; in the Ash Area, he had cleaned far worse things for far less reward.
As he finished his section, he paused to count the group.
One, two... nine, ten.
He narrowed his eyes. Someone is missing.
'Fenrir.'
Ash glanced toward the dormitory door. Given Fenrir's wild nature and his blatant distaste for the "prison-like" rules, it wasn't hard to guess where the wolf-boy had gone.
Ash sighed and headed back to the dorm.
He found Fenrir exactly where he expected: sprawled out on his bed, snoring softly.
The wolf-boy had decided that manual labor was beneath his predatory dignity.
Creeeak—
The door opened, and Ash's footsteps echoed against the floor. Fenrir's ears twitched. He sat up instantly, baring his teeth as he prepared to ward off whoever was bothering him.
But when he saw the gray, hollow eyes of Ash, the snarl died in his throat.
Again, that inexplicable pressure returned. Looking into Ash's face wasn't like looking at a person; it was like staring into a lightless abyss.
Fenrir felt his skin prickle with an instinctive dread. 'Why... why does this nobody make me feel like I'm the prey?'
"You should come back and finish your tasks," Ash said, his voice a monotone echo.
"If the room is dirty, the entire class gets penalized."
Fenrir bristled, trying to reclaim his pride.
"And why should I care? I'm not a maid. I'm a hunter. If they want to punish me, let them. What are you going to do about it, ghost?"
Ash didn't move. He didn't raise his voice or show a hint of anger. He simply stood there, staring directly into Fenrir's amber eyes.
Because of his Void Core, Ash's gaze carried a natural, soul-chilling weight—a vacuum that seemed to suck the warmth out of the room.
Internally, Ash was actually panicking.
'He's not budging. I'm terrible at convincing people. Should I call Kael? No, that would make it worse. Maybe if I just keep looking at him, he'll get bored?'
To Fenrir, however, that silent stare was a terrifying challenge. The silence stretched until the tension was unbearable.
"Arghhh! Fine! Stop looking at me with those damn eyes! I'll go!" Fenrir yelled, leaping off his bed and bolling past Ash as if he were escaping a predator.
Ash stood in the middle of the room, blinking in confusion.
'That... was easier than I thought.'
...
By 07:00, the lounge was spotless. Karl arrived on schedule, inspecting the corners for dust. He gave a small, almost invisible nod of approval.
"You've learned the first lesson: a soldier's environment is a reflection of their mind. Now, listen closely. Since formal lectures don't begin until next week, we will focus on the 'Hunters' trial, which commences in four days."
The room went silent.
"The trial takes place in the Simulation Sphere—a massive environment of artificial forests and mountains designed five centuries ago. Each year, we populate it with monsters. Nothing exceeds the Predator rank. Most targets will range from Semi-Spawn to Spawn, with a few Semi-Predators acting as regional bosses."
Karl's eyes swept the room.
"Your task is simple: Hunt. Each kill is worth points based on rank. But here is the catch: this is an evaluation. If your performance doesn't match the requirements of Class 001, you will be demoted to a lower class immediately."
A murmur of shock rippled through the group.
"Furthermore," Karl continued, "if you have no stomach for blood, you may opt for the Theoretical Examination. You will be tested on history, core mechanics, and monster biology in a locked computer lab. You can register for either on your watches now."
Ash was surprised. The academy was offering a path for both the warriors and the scholars.
"You will be provided with standard-issue weapons. For the next four days, the training hall has been partitioned into eleven private zones. Use them. Train. Prepare. The schedule for meals and inspections remains the same."
Karl paused, his gaze landing on the four people who had argued about leadership.
"One more thing. The student with the highest score in the 'Hunters' trial will be named the Class Leader of 001. Prove you are worthy of the title, or keep your mouths shut."
As Karl departed, the atmosphere in the room ignited. The somber mood of the morning was replaced by a sharp, competitive fire.
The "Hunters" trial wasn't just a test—it was a battle for the crown.