Chosen Disciples

The two had talked for so long that night had already fallen. Eden was relieved that his roommate was at least somewhat normal—he had heard horror stories about terrible ones. The only thing that wore on him was just how much Nyxen talked. Hours had passed, yet he was still going, his energy seemingly boundless.

Eden couldn't really blame him, though. Nyxen had spent his entire life in the woods with almost no social interaction. To him, this must feel like stepping into an entirely new world. It made sense that he was so excited.

He didn't mind, not really. Eden hadn't had many friends growing up either. While other kids were out playing, he had spent his days recovering from the loss of his mother, stuck between grief and the crushing expectations placed on him. But even he had his limits. After a while, he found himself silently praying for some kind of distraction—anything to save him.

As if on cue, both their phones buzzed with a notification. A message from Raella Saint appeared on the screen, instructing them to meet with her and the others in thirty minutes. An address was attached.

Eden nearly sighed in relief. Silently thanking her, he finally found an escape from the endless conversation.

The two walked together toward their destination, but this time, Nyxen had fallen unusually quiet. He seemed completely absorbed by the massive architecture around them, his eyes darting between the towering buildings with something close to awe.

Eventually, they arrived at a structure that stood out from the rest. Eden wasn't exactly sure what its purpose was, but there was something different about it—something that set it apart from the uniform, sleek design of the surrounding city.

Nyxen Solis

Towering skyscrapers stretched toward the sky, their glass surfaces reflecting the golden glow of the city lights. Intricate patterns wove through the infrastructure, each building a masterpiece of craftsmanship and precision. The streets pulsed with life, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of the wilderness. Everything—from the massive archways to the seamless fusion of technology and design—felt almost surreal, as if he had stepped into an entirely different world. Having spent most of his life surrounded by nothing but endless trees and untamed nature, the sheer scale of it all left him breathless.

Once inside the building, they made their way down the hallway until they reached room 201. A golden nameplate on the door gleamed under the artificial lighting: Raella Saint.

It made sense—this must be her office. A thrill of excitement shot through Nyxen. He wasn't sure why they had been called here, but he had a good guess. They were finally going to meet the others—Raella Saint's chosen disciples.

His roommate, Eden, followed silently behind him, allowing him to take the lead. Just before entering, Nyxen instinctively turned to check if Eden was ready. Of course, there was no reaction. Eden couldn't see him.

Turning back to the door, Nyxen exhaled, wondering how long it would take before he fully adjusted to Eden's blindness. Yet, another thought struck him—a far more puzzling one. How had Eden managed to follow him so effortlessly? He had been so caught up in admiring the campus that he had completely forgotten to check on Eden, yet somehow, his roommate had kept pace without missing a single step.

Nyxen did a quick double take, glancing at Eden once more. There was no hesitation in his posture, no sign of struggle. He filed the thought away for later. He would just ask him about it when the time was right.

Pushing the door open, they stepped into a large office.

The space exuded an air of authority and refinement. Elegant furnishings adorned the room, from the polished mahogany desk to the towering bookshelves lined with pristine volumes. The scent of aged paper and something faintly floral lingered in the air.

Seated at her desk was Raella Saint.

Her bright red hair cascaded in soft waves, a striking contrast to the golden brilliance of her eyes. Everything about her—from the sharp poise of her posture to the effortless grace with which she carried herself—radiated strength. She was stunning.

Nyxen had to force himself to look away before she caught onto his staring.

Clearing his throat, he gestured for Eden to step forward as they both entered the room.

"Welcome to my office," Raella said, her voice carrying a smooth confidence as it echoed slightly in the spacious room. She leaned back in her chair, golden eyes flicking between the two of them. "You're a bit early. The others will arrive shortly."

Nyxen took a moment to take in the office—lavish and undeniably extravagant. Gilded shelves lined the walls, filled with books bound in fine leather, their spines embossed with shimmering gold lettering. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, ambient glow, refracting light off the polished marble floors. Ornate artifacts, some encrusted with jewels, were displayed in glass cases, each exuding an air of wealth and prestige. The sheer opulence of it all made it clear—Raella Saint had a taste for the finer things in life.

Yet, even with the grandeur surrounding her, it was the woman herself who truly commanded attention. She had an effortless presence, her bright red hair a striking contrast to her piercing gaze.

As they waited, Nyxen found himself only half-paying attention to the passing time. What truly caught his interest was the conversation between Eden and Raella.

"You knew," Eden said, his tone calm but firm, a slight edge of irritation beneath the surface. "You didn't tell me I was one of your chosen disciples."

Raella chuckled, a low, knowing laugh that made it clear she had expected this reaction. Resting her chin on her hand, she tilted her head slightly, mischief dancing in her golden eyes. "Ah, but I did tell you that you'd figure it out soon enough, didn't I?" Her smile widened, equal parts teasing and amused.

Nyxen blinked. He hadn't seen Eden react so openly before—not quite anger, but certainly more emotion than the composed demeanor he had displayed so far. There was something oddly familiar in the exchange, like this wasn't the first time they had spoken like this. He could only guess at their history, but it was clear that Raella knew exactly how to get under Eden's skin.

Before he could dwell on it further, the door opened again. The rest of the chosen disciples had arrived.

Looking around, Nyxen took in the sight of the others—each one an unmistakable product of their lineage. Unlike himself and Eden, whose strength came from personal struggle, these three exuded something more. It wasn't just raw power—it was refinement, presence, an air of nobility that made it clear they were raised to lead.

'The air of nobility, huh? And here I thought it was just a saying.'

The first to catch his eye was the tall guy, towering over him at an intimidating 6'4, making Nyxen's 5'10 frame feel almost small in comparison. His dark skin stood out against the deep black of his academy uniform, the fabric fitting him so precisely it was clear he had it custom-tailored. Unlike the standard attire, he had chosen to add a golden sash across his chest—a personal touch that not only set him apart but also hinted at the pride he carried in his heritage. His hair—thick, jet black dreads—had been freshly retwisted, the longest strands reaching his jawline. Here and there, golden beads gleamed between them, catching the light whenever he moved. But it was his eyes that stood out the most—one a deep, dark brown, the other a burning amber. They gave off an eerie contrast, only adding to his already commanding presence. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of detached indifference and something more volatile, like a fire restrained but ready to ignite at any moment. Everything about him radiated "stay away."

Beside him sat a young woman, her posture relaxed yet confident. Her dark hair carried a tint of deep blue, something that only became apparent when the light hit it just right. Her eyes were a striking shade of light green, lively and observant, scanning the room with open curiosity rather than the cold calculation of her peers. Unlike the others, she wasn't putting on a front of superiority—her smile was warm, friendly, almost inviting. Though her build was slim, the defined tone of her arms and legs spoke of rigorous training. Despite her pleasant demeanor, Nyxen could tell—this was someone not to be underestimated.

Then there was her.

Even before her name formed in his mind, he already knew who she was. Ceris Sinclair.

A name whispered in awe and reverence across the city. A once-in-a-century genius, someone who had already left a mark far beyond what anyone their age should be capable of. He had spent his entire life training, sharpening himself for survival, yet even with all his effort, he was ranked below her. Just by looking at her, he understood why.

She was… different.

Her hair, a shade of icy blue so pale it was almost white, cascaded smoothly down her back. Her eyes carried the same frozen hue—cold, unreadable, yet hauntingly beautiful. Unlike the others, she didn't engage in small talk or acknowledge the room's energy. Instead, she sat by the window, gazing outside as if completely uninterested in their presence. There was no arrogance in her posture, no overt display of power—just an innate, effortless dominance. She didn't need to do anything to assert herself. Her mere existence did that for her.

For a moment, Nyxen found himself unable to look away.

'So this is the one they call the strongest…'

The room settled into an uneasy quiet, the air thick with tension. Then, finally, Raella Saint spoke, her voice smooth and unwavering.

"Good. You're all finally here." She clasped her hands behind her back, a smirk playing at her lips as she surveyed the room. "Let's not waste time."

She let the moment stretch, her gaze sweeping over them, assessing. "Welcome, everyone," she continued. "It's nice to finally see you all in the same place."

As I'm sure you're already aware, I have chosen you five as my disciples. Out of this year's class, I saw the greatest potential in you, and I intend to bring out every ounce of it. That is both an honor and a responsibility. I expect nothing less than your best.

We're meeting today to go over a few important matters and introduce ourselves. Tomorrow marks the start of the semester. At 8:00 AM, you will attend the introductory speeches in the main auditorium. I'm sure you already knew that, but as my chosen disciples, your experience will be different. Toward the end, you will be introduced alongside the other nine classes and their chosen ones. There is not much else to it I just wanted to make sure you were aware of this beforehand."

"Now," she continued, "there is something else you must be aware of—something that sets the academies apart and makes them as dangerous as they are revered. The freshman year final exam."

A ripple of tension passed through the group. Some of them had likely heard whispers about it, but the way she framed it left no room for doubt—it was serious.

"Some of you may already know, others may not. The reason these academies are infamous isn't just because of their rigorous training, but because of their final exams. To finish the year, you will enter a mana gate. But not just any gate—a special one, different from the rest."

She studied their faces, noting the flicker of recognition in some and the creeping uncertainty in others.

"Since some of you may not fully understand, I will explain. Mana Gates are portals that lead to enclosed trials. If not cleared in time, they break, unleashing their contents into our world. In approximately every 50 gates, one is different. We call these 'special' gates. Unlike the others, once they are cleared, they present a trial. Those who can overcome it will ascend to a higher awakened grade. This is the primary means of growth for Awakened."

Her gaze darkened. "It is possible to ascend naturally, through relentless training and extreme conditions, but this method is more simple and much faster.

Within these trials, you and anyone accompanying you will be transported to a different reality—each time a unique, unpredictable environment that you must survive and clear. You will not be given guidance. You will not be given second chances. Fail, and you may never return."

The tension in the room thickened, the weight of her words pressing down on the students. She let them sit with it for a moment before continuing.

"The reason I am telling you all this now is because, in order to enter these gates, students must form groups of five—cohorts, as we call them. Normally, students choose their own groups. However, as my chosen disciples, that choice has been made for you."

She paused deliberately.

"The people around you will be your allies. You will depend on them with your life. Therefore..."

Her gaze sharpened, voice hardening with unmistakable authority.

"You must get along."

"We will be meeting regularly—three times a week, early in the morning before class. During these sessions, we will conduct specialized training, not only to refine your abilities but to ensure you learn how to function as a unit. Understood?" After saying that she looked around to each of her students.

Eden remained calm, unfazed, as if he had already expected this. His expression betrayed nothing.

Nyxen, however, looked pale, his usual confidence momentarily shaken. But he was quick to recover, straightening his posture. She had expected nothing less from someone of his level.

Beside him, the green-eyed girl simply nodded, her face set with quiet determination. No hesitation. A promising sign.

Then there was Ceris.

Aloof as ever, she merely stared at the instructor with a neutral expression, her eyes betraying nothing—not concern, not curiosity, not even amusement. It was as if the weight of everything just spoken had simply failed to reach her.

And finally, Idris.

She had expected something out of him—given his personality, it was only a matter of time before he spoke his mind. And sure enough, his frustration boiled over.

"This is bullshit."

His voice cut through the tense silence, his tone sharp with defiance. He stood, arms crossed, glaring at their instructor with an open challenge. "Who are you to decide who I work with? And why would I ever stake my life on someone else? I'm the strongest there is—there's no need for anyone else to protect me."

A bold claim. The others turned their attention to him, some curious, others wary.

The instructor regarded him with a measured gaze, unfazed. If anything, there was a hint of amusement in her expression, as though she had been waiting for this exact moment.

"I figured there might be some who disagreed," she said evenly. "So let's start your lessons early, shall we? Follow me."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode toward the exit, her movements controlled, deliberate. The rest of the group hesitated for a second before trailing after her, some exchanging glances, but none daring to question her decision.

They stepped outside into the crisp evening air, emerging onto a vast training field behind the building. The space was open, stretching out into the distance, bathed in the faint glow of mana-infused lanterns lining the perimeter. The ground was firm, the scent of disturbed earth lingering in the air from previous training sessions.

The instructor turned to face them.

"Today's lesson is simple," she announced. "If any of you can touch me, you win."

A pause. Her gaze flickered toward Idris.

"Idris, if you dislike the circumstances, then all you have to do is graze me—just once. Even that will be enough. If you succeed, I will personally allow you to leave this group. No consequences, no second-guessing."

Idris scoffed, cracking his knuckles. "Hah. You better not go back on your word after I beat you."

His confidence was almost tangible, pouring off him in waves. His stance, his smirk—everything about him screamed certainty, as though the outcome had already been decided in his favor.

Nyxen, standing off to the side, narrowed his eyes. What exactly did Idris possess that made him so sure of himself? A Grade 1 Awakened against a Grade 6—one of the strongest humans in existence. Either he was a fool, or he knew something the rest of them didn't.

The air held still, stretched thin like a drawn bowstring.

Then—Idris lunged.

A blur of motion, a sharp burst of energy as he propelled forward, his foot digging into the dirt for momentum. His stance was practiced, movements precise—years of training compressed into instinct. No hesitation, no doubt.

He aimed straight for her, he was both fast and direct.

And yet—

Something felt off.

The moment his fist neared striking distance, the world seemed to shift—And that was the start of the first lesson.