[POV: Lyrius Ryder]
The glow of the holographic screen flickered in the room.
The voice of a news anchor—
> "The Academy Entrance Exam of the Year will begin in just one week.<
A banner scrolled across the screen, flashing the nas of this year's notable contenders.
> "For the first ti in Academy history, an unprecedented number of prodigies will be taking the exam. These are nas destined for greatness—"
The screen shifted, displaying portraits of the elite.
> "Vynesaa El'Leather, the princess of the Elven Kingdom."
"Oliver Atticus, the third prince of the Human Empire."
"Seraphina Veyra, the second princess of the rmaid Kingdom."
"Darian Vael, heir of the Dragon Clan.<
The anchor continued, but Lyrius Ryder had stopped listening.
His gaze was frozen on one na.
Oliver Atticus.
His fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm.
"Oliver Atticus."
His mother's child.
His half-brother.
A slow exhale escaped him, filled with quiet intensity.
I'll be the one to defeat you.
Knock-Knock
A sharp knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.
"Lyrius, have you packed your things yet?"
The voice was unmistakable. Calenthir Reyes.
Lyrius turned, his brown eyes catching the faint glow of the screen as it flickered off.
He opened the door to see Calenthir leaning against the fra, arms crossed.
"You're late." Lyrius muttered.
Calenthir smirked, stepping inside. "Most students have already left for the Neutral Continent. I ca to check on you." He paused, then added, "And you, Caspian, and I are traveling together. My mother agreed."
Lyrius's expression darkened slightly at the ntion of "your mother."
"...Right."
He turned away, grabbing his packed belongings.
The screen, still faintly glowing in standby mode, crackled as the news anchor's voice continued in the background.
> "The entrance exam's top scorers will be personally awarded by King Thoroldir Atticus and Queen Vitaliana Atticus."
Lyrius froze mid-step.
Vitaliana.
His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, breath slowing.
'Mother... that bitch.'
A heavy silence filled the room.
Calenthir didn't comnt, but his gaze flickered toward Lyrius, studying the shift in his deanor.
Lyrius let out a quiet breath and slung the bag over his shoulder.
"Let's go, Cal."
______
[POV: Caspian]
The Academy Entrance Exam—the grandest selection process for the strongest young talents across all races.
Each year, over one million participants step onto the battlefield.
This isn't a simple test of skill—it's a warzone.
Exam Structure is —
The battlefield is divided into four massive zones, each with its own treacherous landscapes.
Survival isn't guaranteed. The longer one lasts, the better their final ranking.
The exam isn't just about combat; it's a brutal display of strategy, endurance, and psychological warfare.
Every noble house, royal faction, and elite warrior enters with their own agenda, forming alliances, betraying comrades, and hunting rivals to secure their place at the top.
The Stakes
The world watches.
Every second of the exam is broadcasted across the continents, generating massive revenue for the academies and noble families through sponsorships and gambling rings.
For the common people, it's entertainnt.
For the participants, it's a life-changing opportunity. A single mistake, a wrong step, a mont of hesitation—could an elimination.
The Elimination System
Defeat = Elimination.
Upon 'death,' participants feel real pain before being forcibly teleported out.
As ti passes, the battlefield shrinks, forcing survivors into closer encounters—ensuring that no one can hide forever.
Scoring System
Victory isn't solely determined by survival. Points dictate one's final rank.
Placent Points: The longer one survives, the higher the ranking.
1st Place – 250 Points
2nd Place – 220 Points
3rd Place – 190 Points
(And so on, decreasing increntally.)
Kill Points:
Eliminating a participant – 3 Points
Assisting in an elimination – 1 Point
This system forces a balance between aggression and caution. Play too safe, and you won't earn enough points.
Be too reckless, and you might get eliminated early, despite a strong performance.
The exam is further complicated by the randomized teleportation system.
Noble factions and clans may enter as teams, but teleportation ensures that allies may start miles apart in different zone.
The first phase of the exam revolves around finding teammates, securing safe zones, and eliminating weaker opponents before the battlefield begins to shrink.
In the end, only those who can adapt—who can think beyond raw power—will claim the top spots.
________
[POV: Fianna Redmond]
The flas danced around Fianna's fingertips, flickering with an untad intensity.
Controlling this fire was harder than she expected.
No matter how many hours she trained, no matter how much she mastered it, sothing always felt slightly off—like it wasn't hers to command entirely.
"Fianna."
Her mother's voice cut through her concentration.
Lady Rosalind stood at the doorway, arms crossed, eyes filled with the quiet authority of a noblewoman who was used to getting what she wanted.
"Yes, Mother?" Fianna responded, extinguishing the flas with a flick of her wrist.
"You're leaving in an hour. At least rest for a bit before your journey."
"I will."
Her mother studied her for a mont before stepping further inside.
"You know we are aligned with Galvia Duchy's school this year," she said. "Their students lack strong talent, which is why you are leading them. This is an opportunity for our house to display its strength. Make us proud."
The weight of expectation was nothing new.
It had pressed down on her shoulders for as long as she could rember.
The sa noble duties, the sa obsession with prestige and status.
Always about the Redmond na, always about proving herself as their 'perfect' daughter.
Fianna forced a smile. "Of course, Mother."
Rosalind nodded in approval before leaving the room.
As soon as the door shut, Fianna let out a slow breath, her hands clenching into fists.
*Make us proud.*
As if she was nothing more than a tool for the family's ambition.
She wasn't their pawn.
And yet, here she was, marching toward yet another battle to uphold their reputation.
She leaned against the window, staring at the sky darkening with the coming evening.
There was sothing unsettling in her chest—a tightness, an unshakable weight.
It had been there for a while now, an instinctive pull she couldn't explain.
Sothing was coming.
Or maybe... 'soone.'
Her fingers grazed the glass as a na surfaced in her mind, unbidden.
'Caspian.'
Her heart clenched at the thought.
It had been years.
And yet, even now, his presence still haunted her like an echo that refused to fade.
Why?
Why couldn't she let go?
Why was he still in her thoughts?
Fianna closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a steadying breath.
'If he was alive… wouldn't he have called ? Just once?'
He had promised—'I will never forget you.'
Liar.
Her nails dug into her palm.
'If you're alive, Caspian, then I hate you.'
For leaving. For disappearing. For making her question everything.
But deep down, beneath the anger, beneath the ache of abandonnt, a dangerous whisper curled through her thoughts.
'If you are alive… I will make sure you never leave again.'
Reviews
All reviews (0)