Academy High

And then, just as suddenly as it had started—

It stopped.

The bus stabilized, moving smoothly through what now felt like normal space.

Panting, groaning, and soft whimpers filled the air.

Rockson was still gripping Elius' arm, his knuckles white.

Elius glanced at him. "…You good?"

Rockson shakily released his grip. "I… I will be. I think."

Around them, students were slowly recovering.

A few had thrown up in their seats. 

Others were whispering prayers to whatever gods they believed in. 

One girl was holding onto her seatbelt, refusing to let go, while a boy behind her was hugging himself and muttering something about wanting to go home.

A deep breath.

Then, the inevitable question:

"What the hell just happened!?"

All eyes turned toward the driver, who was still grinning, completely unfazed by the near-death experience they had just gone through.

He adjusted his hat, leaned back in his seat, and with a smug grin, said—

"Welcome to the Dungeon Express."

Before anyone could process what he meant, something outside the bus caught their attention.

A massive shadow loomed over them, stretching far into the distance.

Elius turned to the window—and his eyes widened.

It was a monstrosity beyond comprehension.

A colossal creature stood in the middle of a ruined cityscape, its grotesque body covered in thousands upon thousands of eyes—each one of them glowing with an eerie, pulsating light.

The sheer magnitude of the creature was staggering.

It wasn't just big—it was wrong, its form constantly shifting, as if reality itself was struggling to comprehend its existence.

And fighting it?

Dozens of superheroes.

Flashes of power illuminated the battlefield.

One hero, clad in a sleek white bodysuit, soared through the air, launching blazing energy beams from his hands.

Another, a woman with six mechanical arms, clashed with the monster's writhing tendrils, slashing at them with razor-sharp blades.

From the ground, a hero with a massive war hammer swung with earth-shattering force, sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield.

Explosions.

Shockwaves.

The very fabric of reality trembled as the battle raged on.

Rockson, still pale, whispered, "…Where the hell are we?"

The driver chuckled. "Good question, kid. You see, we ain't in normal New York anymore."

He gestured toward the shifting sky, where cracks in reality still flickered like lightning.

"We're inside a completed Dimensional Rift. A Dungeon."

A murmur of confusion spread through the students.

The driver smirked. "Lemme break it down for you lot. About a decade ago, a massive rift opened up right in the middle of New York. Thousands of gates emerged from it, unleashing chaos and devastation across the entire city. For two years, the best superheroes—seventy Class A heroes, and even two Class S legends—fought tooth and nail to clear it."

He tapped the dashboard. "And they did. Eventually. But unlike other dungeons, this one... never closed."

The students fell silent.

Elius narrowed his eyes.

The driver continued. "Over time, the government decided that instead of trying to close it, they'd use it. So, they reinforced the edges, built facilities inside, and turned it into… this."

He grinned.

"Welcome to the world's most dangerous superhero training ground."

The students stared in horror.

The driver laughed. "Guess I should say it properly now."

He turned around in his seat, tipping his cap.

"Welcome to Academy High! The Academy of America's Superheroes!"

And with that, the bus finally rolled to a stop.

The moment Elius stepped down from the bus, his boots clicking against the smooth obsidian-like pavement of the Academy High's plaza, he could feel a shift in atmosphere. 

This wasn't a school. 

It was a battlefield wrapped in ceremony. 

Students were scattered in groups, all dressed in varying civilian outfits—some of them flashy, others tactical. 

At a glance, they already exuded power, confidence, lineage, and pedigree. 

Children of superheroes. 

Descendants of the superhumans.

He barely had time to adjust to the view when Rockson stepped beside him with his backpack slung over one shoulder, still munching on a leftover chicken wing. But the peace lasted only seconds.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a cold, snide voice slithered through the air. "Rockson the mascot made it past the invitation phase?"

The voice belonged to a tall boy with crimson-tipped silver hair, sharp wolfish features, and eyes like molten gold. 

Standing beside him was a lankier teen with a scar running across his cheek, his arms folded tightly as he snickered. 

Both wore dark coats marked with an insignia shaped like a crescent moon biting into a sun—a faction mark among elite heroic bloodlines.

"Oh, and who's this?" the scarred teen added, jerking his chin toward Elius. "Another bonus recruit from the slums?"

Laughter rang from a few students nearby. Some didn't laugh but turned to watch, their eyes gleaming with interest.

It seems trouble was about to ensue. 

Rockson stiffened, lowering the chicken bone. "Back off, Blake," he muttered. "We're all here to be heroes. You tarnish your parents' name acting like schoolyard bullies."

Blake sneered, lips curling. "Don't throw morals at me when you're clearly a joke. Your old man's the infamous Sidekick Crusher, right? He got benched after failing to save a kid during a rift collapse."

Rockson clenched his fists, eyes dimming.

Elius narrowed his eyes, but he remained silent. This is not his business to meddle with. 

The mockery continued—digging into Rockson's heritage, mocking his mom, tossing subtle jabs at Elius's clothes, his plain boots, and how he didn't have any visible power signature.

"And you," Blake turned fully toward Elius now, taking a threatening step forward, "you've been quiet. What's the matter? Scared? Do you even have powers?"

Finally, Elius looked at them, face calm. But something stirred deep within. 

Soon, something twisted in his gut, and then, without even thinking, his lip curled into a smirk.

"You two..." Elius said quietly. "You smell... disgusting. Like wet dogs who rolled around in their own piss."

The words slipped out like venom, unfiltered, unrestrained. And almost immediately, a chime echoed inside his mind.

Ding! 

Cultivation World Instinct Triggered!

A translucent blue screen appeared before his eyes—visible only to him.

System Notification:

In the Immortal Cultivation world, all those who stepped on the path of immortality other than fellow humans and demonic beasts are viewed with inherent disgust. 

Due to ancient war pacts and bloodline purification rituals, cultivators possess a subconscious aversion toward humanoid beasts, especially beastkin and cursed bloodlines.

This is why humanoid beast races are rare in the cultivation realm—when they appear, major sects issue immediate extermination orders.

Host has shown appropriate disdain. 

Trait: [Innate Cultivator's Arrogance] has been awakened.

Elius blinked, stunned. What the hell? So that's why I said it?

Suddenly, a problem arose in his head.

So… I'm basically hardwired to disrespect anything non-human unless they've cultivated like me? That's insane. Am I going to insult everyone? 

On the other hand, Blake's smile dropped like a stone. His eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Rocksone was stunned speechless. 

Even the scarred teen beside him went rigid.

"You little—"

A low rumble echoed. 

Blake's bones cracked grotesquely as his back arched, and black fur exploded from his arms. 

His fingers twisted into claws, eyes glowing a savage yellow. His mouth widened into a snarling muzzle as his transformation completed.

The other teen followed, transforming as well—his limbs extending, ears growing pointed, fangs dripping saliva. 

The two of them let out guttural growls that made the crowd instinctively step back.

Shocked gasps erupted. A few students drew back, whispering, "Werewolves…? What the hell?"

"They're actually transforming? Isn't that illegal in orientation?"

"Dude, that other guy is so dead."

Rockson stepped forward, arms out defensively. "Blake, stop! It's orientation day, what are you doing?!"

But Blake's golden eyes burned with rage, his voice growling through his sharp teeth. "He insulted my blood. My entire pack. That's not something I let go."

Elius didn't move.

The werewolves looked at him with hate, claws twitching, their fur bristling with tension, and yet he stood firm, arms crossed, unfazed. 

His golden hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, and his eyes remained half-lidded, as if bored.

The crowd was silent now, like spectators before a coliseum match.

And then, Elius spoke—his voice low, firm, carrying a dangerous weight.

"Go on. Attack me," he said with a sharp smile. "If you dare."

The air turned razor-thin.

Rockson's eyes widened. "Elius, what are you—"

But he didn't finish.

A flicker of qi rippled through the air, almost invisible, like heat distortion. 

Elius hadn't summoned his sword, not yet. But there was something in his tone, in the unnatural calm of his body posture, that sent a chill crawling down the spines of every student around.

Even the two werewolves paused, their feral eyes narrowing.

For a split second, Blake hesitated. 

Something in Elius didn't feel normal. 

He'd insulted him. 

He'd stared down a transformed werewolf without flinching. 

Who was this guy?

Behind the crowd, whispers started again.

"Did he just taunt transformed werewolves?"

"What's his power?"

"Why is he so calm?"

Elius didn't break eye contact. His mind, though, was racing. If they attack me, I'll call the sword. I can react within a tenth of a second… unless they're faster. But I doubt they've refined any spiritual roots yet.

The werewolf boys growled, snarling at him—but now their fury was mingled with a faint trace of caution.

Then, a voice boomed from the Academy High's elevated gates.

"That's enough."

A figure descended from above—floating down gracefully, dressed in a long blue coat adorned with platinum trim. 

His eyes gleamed behind circular spectacles, and he radiated the kind of aura only true professionals could exude.

"Anyone caught violating combat rules before registration will be immediately sent home," he said firmly. "I'll be keeping an eye on you three."

With a dismissive gesture, he vanished in a shimmer of light.

The tension snapped. 

The werewolves retreated a step, snarling under their breath. 

Blake threw one final glare at Elius before turning away, his claws retracting.

"This isn't over," he growled.

Elius didn't respond. He turned to Rockson instead, patting his shoulder. "Let's go. We've got an Academy to conquer."

As they walked away, the crowd slowly dispersed, whispering and glancing at the blond boy who didn't back down, whose presence felt like a storm wrapped in silence.

And far above them, watching from a hidden hologram feed, instructors recorded the event with piqued interest.

"Who's that student?"

"Elius. No registered heroic parent on file. Odd."

"Mark him for further evaluation," a woman in red said, eyes narrowing. "Those who didn't have an invitation and applied needed to be put in trial first." 

…

Far away, Radiant Man was watching with his arms crossed confidently and laughed, "It seems that the Solarion's bloodline was really strong inside my son, as it gave him our arrogance as Solarion race too. Could it be the reason why I couldn't sense his bloodline awakening because his blood is purer than mine?"

He looked at the center of the Academy High and said, "I will know soon and I think it's time to take over and kill that bearded fella."

Soon, he would fly off.