The Black Forest Festival

The sun cast long golden rays over the academy, illuminating the ancient stone halls where students gathered for the Black Forest Festival, the most important event of the year.

Sonya sat in her usual seat, her fingers lightly tapping against the wooden desk as her mind raced. Twenty-five days had passed—twenty-five days of careful preparation, forging alliances, and expanding her empire. The launch of her beauty product had been a tremendous success, with noblewomen and commoners alike clamoring to get their hands on it. The Ravenclaws' monopoly on luxury goods was finally being challenged.

But none of that mattered today.

Today, she would kill Austin Ravenclaw.

Across the classroom, Selen sat with an eerie calmness, her silver eyes betraying nothing of her plans. Sonya knew she wasn't the only one who sought Ravenclaw's demise. There were others. Some were silent schemers like herself; others, like Selen, were eager for blood.

And then he walked in.

Austin Ravenclaw strode into the classroom with the confidence of a man who owned the world. His presence was impossible to ignore. Every movement, every glance, carried weight. He wasn't just a noble—he was a force of nature.

He stopped in front of the class, his hands resting casually in his pockets. "Today marks the beginning of the Black Forest Festival." His voice was deep, steady, commanding. "For the next four days, the festival will take place in the outer regions of the Black Forest."

Murmurs filled the room. Some students were excited, others nervous. The Black Forest wasn't just any hunting ground—it was a place of legend.

Austin continued, his gaze sweeping across the room. "For those of you who have sponsors, masters, or loved ones, this is your chance to prove your worth. You will hunt a spirit beast and present it to them as a gift. Those without a recipient may keep their prey for themselves."

He paused, his sharp eyes locking onto Sonya.

"This is a festival of strength, of honor, and survival. It is not merely a test of skill but a reminder of why this academy exists—to forge warriors, rulers, and legends."

Sonya didn't blink. She met his gaze with equal intensity, her fingers tightening into fists beneath the table.

A festival of survival.

He would not survive.

Austin continued, explaining the historical significance of the event. "The Black Forest Festival was established over a century ago, after the first great war with the Abyssals. The Black Forest was once a battleground, a place where blood soaked the earth and spirits of the fallen lingered. The festival is held every year to honor those who perished, to remind us that strength is the only currency that matters in this world."

A noble from the front row raised his hand. "Is it true that the strongest spirit beasts emerge only during the festival?"

Austin smirked. "Indeed. The festival coincides with the Awakening Cycle of the Black Forest. During this time, the beasts are at their peak strength, their power resonating with the land. It is said that the deeper one ventures, the greater the reward."

Selen spoke up, her voice laced with amusement. "And the greater the risk of death."

Austin chuckled. "Precisely. The weak do not return from the Black Forest. Only the strong emerge victorious."

Sonya kept her expression neutral, but inside, she was calculating. She knew where she would strike. She knew when. She just needed to ensure that nothing went wrong.

The festival was the perfect opportunity.

No one would question a death in the Black Forest.

As the students gathered at the edge of the Black Forest, tension hung thick in the air. The towering trees loomed over them like silent sentinels, their dark leaves rustling ominously in the wind. The deeper the forest stretched, the more it seemed to swallow all light, creating an eerie atmosphere of unease.

Austin Ravenclaw stood before them, his arms crossed as he watched their faces—some determined, some nervous, others masking their fear behind false bravado.

"Adiós," he said with a smirk, his voice carrying a teasing lilt.

With that, the festival had begun.

The students moved forward hesitantly at first, some sticking close to their friends, while others darted ahead with reckless confidence. The forest greeted them with an unnatural stillness, the kind that felt like it was watching, waiting.

Sonya tightened her grip on the hilt of her concealed dagger. Her heartbeat was steady, her mind focused. This is it. For years, she had trained. She had honed herself into a weapon, endured pain, humiliation, and endless hardship to get stronger. All of it led to this moment. Austin Ravenclaw will die by my hands.

Not far from her, Selen moved with purpose, her golden eyes glinting under the speckled light that barely broke through the thick canopy. Her fingers brushed over the dagger at her side. He will pay for what he did, she thought, the memory of the past burning in her mind like an unhealed wound.

The students were now fully engulfed by the forest. The further they went, the more the air grew heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth, moss, and the distant stench of something... rotting.

A sharp scream rang out from deep within the woods.

The students froze.

Then came the rustling—something fast-moving between the trees. Shadows shifted, a blur of movement barely visible between the trunks.

A beast?

No.

Multiple.

The ground trembled slightly under the weight of whatever was coming. The weak were about to be culled.

Austin had warned them.

This was not a game. This was survival

As the students stood frozen, listening to the sounds of something massive moving in the undergrowth, Austin stretched lazily. His golden eyes flickered with amusement.

"Well then, teachers," he said casually, as though they were about to take a pleasant stroll instead of unleashing chaos upon the students.

Several instructors emerged from the shadows, some already grinning in anticipation. Some held weapons, others crackled with mana. These were the academy's most feared and experienced warriors, mages, and strategists. They had one job during this festival—to make survival hell for the students.

Austin smiled. "Shall we?"

A chorus of nods followed. And then—

They vanished.

Not a single leaf stirred where they had stood. The forest swallowed them whole.

Now, the students were truly alone.

Student Perspective

Panic set in almost immediately.

A few of the weaker students clutched their weapons tightly, eyes darting around for a sign of the approaching danger. Others, like the more seasoned warriors and mages, adjusted their stances, waiting.

"It's just a test," one student muttered. "They wouldn't let us die... right?"

Another scoffed. "You're an idiot if you think that. People have died in this festival before."

A girl with twin daggers took a step forward. "Then we move. We don't wait for whatever's out there to come to us."

A group of them hesitated, then nodded. The students began to scatter, each choosing their paths through the dense thickets, some forming small alliances, others choosing to go alone.

A sickening crunch echoed through the trees.

A boy screamed.

They turned to see the trees parting—something dragging a student into the darkness. His screams cut off instantly.

The festival had begun.

Sonya didn't move with the others. While they stumbled forward in panic, she stayed back, her fingers gripping the hidden dagger beneath her sleeve.

Her eyes trailed to the spot where Austin had stood just moments ago. He was already gone, vanishing into the depths of the forest along with the instructors. He's watching, she thought. Waiting.

But that was fine.

Because she was watching, too.

She had spent years preparing for this moment, sharpening herself into something more than just a noble princess. She had endured Austin's brutal training, survived against impossible odds. She wasn't the same helpless girl who had been forced into this world of politics and war.

She was a hunter now.

And tonight, Austin Ravenclaw would become her prey.

Her lips curled into a small smile as she melted into the shadows.

Selen ran.

Not because she was afraid, but because she knew standing still was stupid. Unlike the others, she understood the game being played. The festival wasn't about strength. It was about survival.

Austin Ravenclaw had designed it to break them, to weed out the weak, to push even the strongest to their limits.

And she would not break.

Her golden eyes glowed faintly as she navigated through the darkened forest, the sounds of beasts and breaking branches echoing all around her.

She had one goal.

Austin.

He had taken everything from her. Her family, her dignity, her pride. She had smiled, bowed, and played the obedient student, but she had been waiting for this chance.

For revenge.

She clenched her fists.

This time, she would not hesitate.

This time, he would pay.

The Black Forest Festival had begun.

And by the time it was over—

The ground would be soaked in blood.

The forest was alive with movement. Twigs snapped under unseen feet. Shadows flickered in the dim light as the thick canopy above swallowed any trace of the sun. Sonya moved carefully, her breathing steady, her heartbeat slow.

Then—

A sound.

Thump.

A heavy footstep.

Not human.

Something big.

Her grip on the dagger tightened as she crouched behind a thick tree, her sharp eyes scanning the area. A rustling in the bushes. A deep, guttural growl.

And then—it stepped into view.

A High Wyvern.

Its scales were a mix of deep crimson and black, like bloodstained obsidian. Muscles rippled beneath its hide as its golden eyes swept the forest floor, searching. Steam escaped from its nostrils, curling into the cold night air.

Sonya's breath caught in her throat.

This wasn't just any wyvern.

It was a trained one.

A war beast.

A creature she had studied, learned about, feared—all under the teachings of the very man she despised.

Austin.

A bitter laugh almost escaped her lips. Of course, he had prepared beasts like these for the festival. This was just another one of his cruel lessons. Another way to break those who thought they were strong.

She exhaled slowly.

She had two options.

She could fight.

Or she could run.

But there was a third choice—a reckless, suicidal one.

I could tame it.

The thought came unbidden, but she didn't dismiss it immediately. It was insane, but it was also possible. She had been forced to train under Austin's merciless teachings for years. He had made her learn how to command war beasts, to understand them, to anticipate their movements.

He had done it to teach her how to kill them.

But what if she used that knowledge for something else?

The wyvern growled lowly, sniffing the air. It knew she was here.

She slowly reached into her belt, fingers brushing against a small vial of mana-infused essence. A lure. Something beasts like these craved.

Her hands moved instinctively.

She uncorked the vial.

A sharp, intoxicating scent filled the air. The wyvern's eyes snapped toward her, pupils narrowing into slits.

It was interesting.

Sonya moved.

With careful, deliberate steps, she emerged from her hiding place. She made herself visible. She did not raise her weapon. She did not run.

She met the wyvern's gaze.

And then—

She whispered.

A command. A phrase in the ancient tongue that Austin had drilled into her head over and over until she had memorized every syllable.

The wyvern stilled.

For a moment, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath.

Then—

It lowered its head.

A sign of submission.

Sonya felt her pulse roaring in her ears.

She had done it.

She had tamed a beast of war.

And in doing so—

She had stolen one of Austin's weapons.

A wicked grin spread across her lips.

"Let's see how you handle this, master."

She climbed onto the wyvern's back.

And then—

She took to the skies.

Deep in the shadows of the Black Forest, away from the roaring beasts and the ambitious students, figures cloaked in black moved like wraiths. Their presence was unnatural, their mere existence a violation of the balance that governed this land.

They belonged to the Cult of Somara—a sect devoted to chaos, destruction, and the undoing of the natural order. They had infiltrated the festival under the guise of mere observers, but their true purpose was far more sinister.

They were waiting for permission.

A group of them gathered in a secluded clearing, where a girl with pale silver hair stood at the center, her crimson eyes reflecting the dim moonlight. She was Selene, the chosen heir of Somara, the one who would usher in the era of chaos.

And she was making them wait.

One of the cloaked figures, a young woman with sharp, irritated eyes, spoke first.

"How long must we wait, Selene?"Herr's voice was filled with impatience, bordering on desperation. "The festival has begun, the teachers are distracted, and the students are scattered. This is the perfect moment to strike. Why delay?"

Selene did not answer immediately.

She stood still, gazing at the sky, her fingers curling and uncurling as if deep in thought.

Another cultist stepped forward, his voice dripping with frustration.

"The abyssals are already making their moves in the shadows. The Third Prince has given his silent blessing. Even the hunters of Nemesis are stirring from their slumber. If we hesitate any longer, we may lose our chance to act!"

Selene closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

"The hunt must reach its peak before we move," she finally said, her voice calm, controlled, yet carrying an undeniable weight. "If we attack too soon, the teachers will intervene before the chaos spreads."

Another cultist scoffed.

"So we sit here like rats while the Ravenclaw bastard and his lackeys thrive? We have waited too long, Selene! Our time is now!"

Selene's eyes flickered.

And then, in a blur of motion, she moved.

A sharp crack rang through the night.

The cultist who had spoken suddenly collapsed, clutching his throat, gasping for air. His body twitched as he struggled, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.

Selene stood over him, her delicate fingers gripping his windpipe.

Her expression did not change.

"You will wait," she said softly, her voice dangerously smooth. "You will listen."

The cultist's body convulsed as the pressure on his throat increased.

"Because if you disobey me again," Selene whispered, leaning close, "you will not live long enough to see the chaos you so desperately crave."

She released him, and he crumpled to the ground, wheezing, his hands still clawing at his throat as he desperately sucked in air.

The other cultists fell silent.

The air was thick with unspoken tension.

Then, a voice—one far more composed than the others—spoke from the shadows.

"You are more ruthless than usual tonight, Selene."

A man stepped forward from the darkness, his presence carrying an air of authority. He was tall, his black cloak embroidered with silver markings of an ancient, forgotten language.

His name was Velkan—one of the highest-ranking members of the cult, second only to the High Priest himself.

Selene turned to him, unfazed.

"The impatience of the weak annoys me," she said simply.

Velkan chuckled, shaking his head.

"They are eager, that is all. We have waited in the shadows for too long, Selene. We have watched Ravenclaw consolidate its power. We have watched the Imperial family play their foolish games. We have watched you… waiting for you to take your rightful place."

Selene exhaled, tilting her head as if considering something.

"I will act soon," she said. "When the forest is drowning in blood, when the students are too desperate to think, when the teachers are too occupied to intervene—then we will strike."

Velkan smiled.

"Good," he said. "Because our Master grows impatient as well."

Selene stiffened at that.

The Master.

A being that even she did not fully understand. A force that whispered in the void, promising a world that burned, a world remade in its twisted image.

Selene clenched her fists.

"Tell our people to prepare," she ordered. "The moment I give the signal, we unleash hell."

The cultists bowed, murmuring their agreement before fading back into the shadows.

Selene remained standing in the clearing, her crimson eyes gazing into the abyss of the night sky.

She had once been just another student at the academy.

Now, she would be its executioner.

She would burn it all.

As the first day of the Black Forest Festival came to an end, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. The setting sun bathed the treetops in an eerie crimson glow, casting long shadows across the uneven forest floor.

The students, exhausted from a day of relentless hunting, tracking, and fighting, had finally begun to set up their temporary camps.

Some huddled together in small groups, seeking the safety of numbers. Others, too proud or too paranoid to trust anyone, chose to go alone, their eyes constantly scanning the darkness for threats unseen.

But what many of them failed to realize was that the real trial had yet to begin.

The forest at night was a different beast entirely.

And so were the teachers.

The Campsites: A False Sense of Security

Fires flickered in small, controlled blazes as students set up makeshift shelters.

Some were well-trained, building sturdy tents using materials from the environment, securing them high in the trees or reinforcing them against potential attacks.

Others, however, were sloppy, barely throwing together a few branches and leaves before collapsing onto the ground in exhaustion.

They would regret it.

Among them, Sonya sat quietly, sharpening a dagger against a whetstone, her eyes fixed on the edge of her blade. The flickering fire reflected in her golden irises, but her mind was not on survival.

It was about murder.

Her hands remained steady, despite the rage burning in her chest.

Austin Ravenclaw.

Her teacher. Her tormentor. Her greatest challenge.

And soon, if her plans succeeded—

Her first kill.

Meanwhile, not far from her, Selen perched in the shadows, eyes scanning the clearing, her body perfectly still.

Unlike the others, she wasn't concerned about the monsters in the forest.

She was concerned about the monsters walking among them.

Her mission was clear—wait for the signal. Kill the target. Let chaos consume the festival.

She knew that her fellow cultists lurked in the depths of the forest, waiting for her command.

And once she gave it…

Hell would be unleashed.

The Teachers: Executioners in Disguise

A little further away, in the upper branches of an ancient ironbark tree, Austin Ravenclaw leaned casually against the trunk, watching the scattered campsites with an amused expression.

He wasn't alone.

Beside him, several other academy teachers stood, their faces calm but their eyes sharp, like predators surveying their prey.

One of them, a scarred woman with silver hair, smirked.

"They look so comfortable," she mused, adjusting the twin daggers at her waist. "It's almost adorable how they think they've made it through the worst of it."

Another, a tall, broad-shouldered man, chuckled. "Let them rest. It makes it more fun when we tear it all away."

Austin merely smiled.

The students had no idea what was coming.

For the teachers, this was the best part of the festival.

The culling.

The festival wasn't just about hunting spirit beasts. It was also about weeding out the weak.

And what better way to do that than to become the very nightmares the students feared?

With a snap of his fingers, Austin signaled to his fellow teachers.

"Shall we begin?"

The Night of the Hunt: Terror Descends

It started slowly.

A rustling in the bushes.

A twig snapping where no creature should have been.

The students, exhausted but still alert, immediately stiffened. Some gripped their weapons. Others cautiously peered into the darkness.

Then, the first scream ripped through the night.

A boy, barely sixteen, was dragged into the darkness—not by a monster, but by one of the teachers.

His cries were cut short.

Silence followed.

Then, another.

And another.

All across the Black Forest, the students were being hunted.

Not by the beasts they had spent the day tracking and avoiding.

But by their instructors.

The weak were eliminated mercilessly.

The careless were taught the hardest lesson of their lives.

And those who had grown too comfortable—who had let down their guard, believing the night would pass without consequence—were broken.

For those who survived, there were only two choices:

Run. Or fight.

Sonya: A Test of Strength

Sonya barely had time to react before a shadow moved behind her, fast as a serpent.

Instinct kicked in.

She rolled forward, dodging the downward slash of a blade that buried itself in the earth where she had been sitting just moments before.

She twisted, dagger in hand, only to come face-to-face with a smirking instructor.

"Good reflexes," he said, lazily twirling his sword. "You might survive the night."

Sonya's grip tightened.

She wasn't about to die here. Not before she killed Austin Ravenclaw.

Selen: The Shadow Watches

From the darkness, Selen watched the chaos unfold, her heart steady, unshaken.

Her fellow students were panicking, running blindly into the night, some falling victim to the teachers, others running into the true horrors of the Black Forest.

But she did not move.

She simply waited.

Because soon…

The real bloodshed would begin.

The Cult of Somara was watching.

And their signal was coming.

The students thought this was just a festival.

They had no idea what was coming.

Not yet.