The following three days passed in a suffocating silence, a heavy veil draped over the halls of Aegis Academy.
Within the training chambers, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and exertion as students refined their lethal crafts for the impending trial.
Those destined for the theoretical exams had effectively vanished, sequestering themselves in their quarters like monks, emerging only for meals and mandatory assemblies.
It wasn't just Class 001; a grim solemnity had infected the entire freshman year.
Every student moved with a frantic gravity, desperate to wring every drop of potential from their bodies before the clock ran out.
On the final morning before the trial, Master Karl gathered the class.
He stood before them like a pillar of cold granite, his presence alone dampening the morning light.
"Tomorrow at 07:00, the entire 1000th Class will assemble at the Simulation Hall,"
Karl's voice rang out, devoid of warmth.
"I will personally escort the 'Hunters' candidates at 06:30. Those taking the theoretical path will be directed to their designated sectors simultaneously."
He tapped his wrist.
"Detailed protocols have been uploaded to your watches. Review them. Do not expect me to hold your hands."
With that, he vanished into the corridors.
Ash watched him leave, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. Was Karl even a teacher? In the past week, the man had acted more like a prison warden than an instructor, offering no guidance, no encouragement, and certainly no techniques.
He simply pointed at the target and waited for the weak to fall.
'Not just the students,' Ash thought, his eyes narrowing.
'Even the staff are hiding something under those cold uniforms.'
Later that afternoon, Ash stood in his simulated forest, facing a fresh wooden dummy. He took a steadying breath, feeling the rhythmic thrum of the Core of the Void in his chest.
He activated [Eyes of the Void], focusing his intent until the world bled into shadow and that singular, pulsing crimson dot ignited on the dummy's chest.
Thwack!
The spear moved in a blur, driven by a surge of desperate precision.
The wood groaned as the spearhead sank deep into the "heart" of the target. Ash exhaled sharply, pulling the weapon back and immediately cutting off his vision to preserve his optics from the searing pain.
'Three seconds to identify and strike from a five-meter distance,' he calculated. 'Better. Much better.'
Over the last seventy-two hours, Ash had become intimately acquainted with his new senses. Among the "Chosen" in Class 001, he was objectively the most disadvantaged.
He had been an Opener for less than a week, and hailing from the desolate ash areas meant he lacked the formal martial education his peers had received since childhood.
He had chosen the spear not out of mastery, but utility. It offered reach, defense, and a simplicity that his amateur hands could grasp.
To a true master, his stance was likely laughable, but Ash wasn't looking for grace; he was looking for a kill.
However, the most significant discovery was the hidden depth of [Adaptation].
He had kept the skill active during every waking hour of training. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his body had begun to respond.
His muscles felt denser, his lung capacity more efficient, and his stamina more resilient. Even the agonizing aftermath of the Void eyes had become slightly more tolerable. It was a slow-burn evolution.
Given enough time, Ash knew he could become a monster.
But time was a luxury he no longer possessed.
Wiping sweat from his brow, Ash checked his watch to review the final regulations for the trial. As he scrolled through the text, his heart skipped a beat, then plummeted into his stomach.
[Hunter Trial Regulations:
1.Scoring: Points are awarded only to the individual who delivers the killing blow. (Semi-Spawn: 10 pts | Spawn: 500 pts | Semi-Predator: 2000 pts)
2.Leaderboard: Real-time updates visible to all participants.
3.The Sieve: Death within the simulation is final. Participants who die in the space will suffer actual biological death in the real world. Their names will be grayed out, and all points forfeited.
4.Equipment: One weapon of choice. No external devices. Standard rations provided.
5.Time Dilation: 7 days in-simulation equals 1 day in real-time.
6.PvP Combat: Engagement between students is permitted. The victor claims all points accumulated by the defeated.
7.Re-classification: Based on the total score, reassign each person to different classes according to their score levels (applicable to both theoretical exam takers and others).
+ Class 001: minimum requirement of 4000 points.
+ Classes 002-100: minimum requirement of 1500 points.
+ Classes 101-250: minimum requirement of 700 points.
+ Classes 251-400: minimum requirement of 100 points.
8.Finality: In the event of death, the Academy will provide standard compensation to the participant's family. ]
Ash stared at the screen, his fingers trembling slightly.
The "Simulation" wasn't a playground; it was a meat grinder.
The requirement for Class 001—4000 points—meant each of them had to kill at least two Semi-Predators, creatures that usually required a full squad of veteran Hunters to take down.
'They want us to kill each other,' he realized, a cold chill crawling up his spine.
By allowing the victor to steal all points, the Academy wasn't testing their hunting skills; they were testing their willingness to become predators among their own kind.
It was a Battle Royale disguised as an exam. And the death toll... why was it kept secret? Why did enrollment increase every year despite the lethal risks?
'Manipulation. The information is being scrubbed,' Ash mused darkly.
'Aegis isn't a school. It's a foundry for weapons.'
He stepped out of the training room, needing to gauge the reactions of the others. In the common lounge, the tension was thick enough to taste.
The eleven students of Class 001 were gathered around the central monitor, the harsh glow of the regulations reflecting in their eyes.
Isolde stood up, her silver hair shimmering like a blade under the fluorescent lights. Her voice was steady, yet laced with a chilling pragmatism.
"You've all read the update," she said, her gaze sweeping across the room.
"This is the final exit. If you aren't prepared to die, leave now. Do not blame the world when your blood stains the simulation floor."
Fenrir let out a sharp, derisive snort.
"You think a few warnings about death are going to scare me, princess? I've lived with death in my shadow since I could walk. I'll be the one at the top of that leaderboard, staring down at the rest of you."
Soren leaned back, a lazy but dangerous smile on his face.
"Indeed. A little risk makes the game worth playing."
The others remained silent, but their stillness spoke of a grim, unwavering resolve. No one moved toward the door.
Isolde's eyes turned cold.
"If your minds are made up, then don't expect mercy. From tomorrow, we are no longer classmates. We are competitors."
As the group dispersed to their rooms for a final night of restless sleep, Ash walked between Kael and Fenrir.
He could feel their gazes—six different sets of eyes, each marking him as a target. Fenrir's challenge, Riven's ambition, Isolde's suspicion, Soren's curiosity, and Kael's scrutinizing judgment.
Ash sighed, the weight of his "bad luck" pressing down on his shoulders.
'A Battle Royale where everyone wants a piece of me,' he thought, closing his door and leaning against it.
The hunt was coming.