The morning sun hung low over the Genesis Zenith Academy, casting long, sharp shadows across the central plaza. Hundreds of first-year students had gathered, creating a sea of black and grey uniforms. The air was thick with the smell of polished leather, gun oil, and the sharp, metallic tang of Aether-infused steel.
Jin stood near a massive stone pillar, his back straight and his expression unreadable. He had the Silver Tier falchion strapped to his back, the heavy weight of the blade a comforting pressure against his spine. Beside him, Luna stood with her hands tucked into her sleeves, though her fingers remained inches away from the hilt of her new chain-sickle. They were part of Section A, a group of fifty students who had survived the most brutal brackets of the sparring tournament. Sections B and C were gathered in similar clusters across the dirt expanse, each led by their own instructors.
The nervous chatter of the teenagers was a constant, buzzing drone. Some were bragging about their new weapons; others were pale, their hands shaking as they checked their supply pouches for the tenth time.
The noise vanished instantly as the heavy oak doors of the main hall swung open.
Three figures walked out onto the raised stone dais. Instructor Boras led the way, his usual jovial belly-laugh nowhere to be found. Beside him was the mountain of muscle known as Instructor Thorne, and a third woman, Instructor Lily, who held a long wooden staff topped with a glowing blue crystal.
Boras stepped to the edge of the platform. He didn't use a megaphone, but when he spoke, his voice was reinforced by the crushing density of a Divinity Realm Level 9 core. The sound vibrated in the students' chests.
"Listen up, freshmen," Boras shouted, his eyes scanning the crowd like a predator. "The three months of playing soldier in the dirt are over. Today, you leave this planet. You are being deployed to the Jungle Moon of Xylos-4. This is an elimination test. Your survival is your own responsibility, but your success will be measured by a single, cold metric: Merit Points."
He raised a thick, calloused hand, holding up a small, rectangular bronze badge.
"Every Aether beast you kill on Xylos-4 has a documented value. We have categorized the local fauna based on their biological threat levels. For every Foundation Level 1 beast you slay, you earn exactly one point. A Level 2 beast earns you two. A Level 5 beast earns five. The math is simple, and the ledger does not lie."
Boras leaned forward, his shadow looming over the front row of Section A.
"You have exactly seven days—one planetary week—to hunt. At the end of that week, we will tally your points. Any student who returns with less than ten points will be stripped of your Academy insignia and expelled immediately. We do not waste Imperial resources on those who cannot secure their own territory. If you cannot kill ten weak beasts in a week, you are not a cultivator. You are livestock."
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the plaza. Ten points sounded small, but many of the students in Sections B and C were only at Foundation Level 5 or 6. For them, hunting ten beasts in a wild, untamed jungle was a death sentence.
Boras straightened his back, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at the battered faces of his students.
"Always remember this saying, as you begin your lives as true hunters," Boras said, his voice dropping to a low, resonant rumble. "A person starts moving a mountain by moving small stones first. Do not go looking for the apex predators on your first hour. Do not let your ego get you disemboweled. Stack your stones. Build your score. Survive."
He stepped back and gestured toward the woman with the staff. "Instructor Lily will explain the rules of the engagement."
Lily stepped forward. She was thin, her movements precise and bird-like. She tapped her staff against the stone dais, and a ripple of blue light washed over the students.
"Rule one," Lily said, her voice like a cold blade. "You are there to hunt beasts. You are not there to hunt each other. If we catch any student sabotaging another, stealing Aether cores from a fellow hunter, or engaging in lethal combat with a classmate, you will be executed on the spot. Faculty observers will be stationed in the high canopy and in low-orbit drones. We see everything."
She waved her hand, and several Academy assistants began moving through the ranks, handing out small, glowing blue wooden tiles to every student.
"These are your Forfeit Runes," Lily explained, holding one up for all to see. "Life is the most valuable asset. If you find yourself cornered by a beast you cannot defeat, or if you suffer an injury that will lead to your death, crush this tile. A faculty extraction team will descend and pull you to the safety of the orbital carrier immediately."
She paused, her sharp eyes narrowing as she looked at a few students who looked relieved.
"But listen well. The moment that tile is crushed, your exam is over. If you forfeit before you have secured your ten Merit Points, you are eliminated from the Academy. You will be safe, but you will be a failure, and you will be sent back to your home province in disgrace. There are no second chances."
She tucked her staff under her arm.
"All of you have your rations. You have your weapons. You have your instructions. The Imperial carrier ships are fueled and waiting at the spaceport. Form your lines and move out. The hunt begins the moment your boots hit the dirt."
The plaza erupted into motion. Students began to sprint toward the docking bays, the sound of hundreds of boots pounding the ground like a drum.
Jin didn't run. He adjusted the strap of his spatial pouch, feeling the weight of the runes and the dry rations inside. He looked at Luna, who was pale but standing her ground.
"Ten points is the minimum," Jin muttered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "But the top-tier rewards start at a hundred. We aren't here to move small stones, Luna. We are here to take the mountain."
Luna took a deep breath, her silver hair shimmering in the morning light. She nodded once, her grip tightening on the hilt of her chain-sickle. "I'm ready."
They turned and walked toward the massive, silver-hulled transport ships. The horizon was filled with the roar of engines, ready to carry them into the cold, dark void. The era of the classroom was dead. The era of the predator had begun.