Ch.24: The entrance exams–II

"Wh–what the hell was that?" one student stammered, eyes wide with disbelief. They weren't alone. All across the dueling grounds, jaws hung open and whispers buzzed like flies. What they'd just witnessed didn't feel like a first-year duel—it felt like a warning shot from someone far beyond their level. The cold aura, the overwhelming power, the utter humiliation of a noble heir... and from someone they'd been mocking not even five minutes ago.

Even the faculty and high-ranking observers above sat stunned in their seats. The reports had mentioned that Nyx Vaelthorn was growing abnormally fast. But this? This was something else entirely. What they didn't realize was—they had only seen the surface. Just a drop in the storm beneath.

Nyx, having walked off the stage without a word, sat down at a nearby table. Alone. Calm. Cold. Students instinctively gave him space, avoiding eye contact like he was a live blade. The same voices that had jeered him minutes earlier now remained hushed—shaken by how quickly the tide had turned.

Eventually, Samantha stepped forward. Cautiously. She took the seat beside him, trying to read his face. But it was unreadable. She stayed quiet for a while, unsure how to begin.

"...Where were you?" she finally asked, her voice soft but unsure, like she already feared the answer.

"Just needed some time alone," Nyx replied. Still not looking at her.

"Did you get it?" she asked again, gently leaning forward to catch his gaze.

"...Probably."

"I see..." she murmured, settling back. The silence between them returned—but this time, it felt like a strange kind of understanding was forming in it.

"Samantha," Nyx said suddenly. His voice wasn't sharp, but there was weight in it. "It's not like I want to hide things from you. Or play some dramatic brooding mystery act. But... what's going on with me? I don't think I could explain it even if I tried." He gave her a crooked smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "So, I'm sorry. For being... like this."

"You don't have to apologize," she replied, smiling back, warm and steady. "I'll wait. Just... tell me when you're ready."

Nyx nodded faintly. He was about to speak again when the announcer's voice rang out like a sudden gust—calling her name.

Samantha stood up with a half-laugh. "Looks like it's my turn. Wish me luck."

She vanished into the ring. Her opponent—a mage—barely had time to react before Samantha melted into the background. One heartbeat later, she reappeared behind him and struck. A clean knockout.

The matches continued. No more upsets, no more terrifying anomalies like Nyx. But the cream still rose to the top—several students displayed raw skill and powerful combat instincts. Bit by bit, the top sixteen were chosen. The best of the batch. The ones who would carry the name of Apex Class.

And finally... it came time for the last round. The final clash. The one that would decide who stood above the rest.

---

"The moment we've all been waiting for is finally here," the announcer declared, voice crackling with energy. "The duels between the chosen sixteen—the elites who'll shape the future of this kingdom—are about to begin. And among them, only one will rise to the top."

Cheers erupted across the dueling grounds.

"So—let's begin!" the announcer shouted, pausing for effect. "Our first match: Prince Leon Ironhart, heir to the throne himself... versus Reina Mistwood, daughter of the Gold Merchant Guild's master!"

A wave of intrigue buzzed through the crowd.

From opposite ends of the platform, two figures emerged from their reserved seating areas. Leon walked with the composed grace of a born ruler. Back straight, sword at his side, his gaze swept across the arena like he owned the damn place—which, technically, one day he just might. When the crowd roared at his entrance, he merely raised a hand and gestured for silence. The cheers died quickly. Authority hung off him like a cloak.

On the other side, Reina approached with a far humbler air. Clutching her staff, she looked around nervously, her steps hesitant. Despite being the only daughter of the richest man in the kingdom, she didn't act the part. No grandeur. No arrogance. Just quiet focus and eyes that watched everything.

"Are both contestants ready?" the announcer asked. They nodded. "Then—begin!"

Leon drew his sword in one fluid motion and charged, no hesitation. Reina reacted quickly—throwing up a defensive ward and lobbing a few water spheres in response. They shimmered mid-air, unusually dense. Leon smirked. With a flick of his sword, he slashed through the first orb—and frowned. The blade began to sizzle.

'Corrosion,' he thought, backing off instantly. Smart. Fast. Lethal—if you didn't notice quick enough.

He circled, eyes narrowing, watching Reina as she silently prepared another spell. He moved again—quick, sudden, low to the ground—and closed the distance.

"Nice moves," Leon muttered under his breath, eyes gleaming. "Subtle. Hidden. But you've got shit luck—you ran into me today."

Without warning, he drew a dagger from his side and blurred forward. Too fast. Reina gasped as he reappeared beside her, blade pressed to her throat.

"I—I admit defeat!" she cried, freezing in place.

The duel ended instantly. The crowd burst into applause, some of it stunned, most of it dazzled by the prince's clinical takedown.

But back at the sidelines, Nyx was smirking. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest.

"Nine times," he murmured.

"Hm?" Samantha glanced sideways. "What's that?"

"She had nine chances to kill him," Nyx said, eyes still on the ring. "She held back every time."

Samantha blinked. Her expression shifted—but only for a second. Then she composed herself, lips tugging into a tight, knowing smile. So Reina wasn't so timid after all.

---

"Now that was a display," someone in the crowd whispered, awe still hanging thick in the air. "An absolute power show from the prince himself. Just goes to show how deep the royal bloodline runs—monsters, even in the youngest of them."

The echoes of Leon's victory still rippled when the announcer spoke again.

"Next up—the first son of Duke Lancaster... Theo Lancaster! And facing him—Nyx Vaelthorn, representing the Mercenary Guild. Step onto the stage!"

As Nyx stood, the crowd held its breath. No boos. No mockery. No laughter this time. Just silence. Heavy, expectant, almost reverent. He walked into the ring, calm as ever. His steps made no sound, but they still seemed to thunder in everyone's chest.

Theo joined him shortly after, unsheathing his sword with a respectful nod.

"I couldn't really see your swordsmanship in your previous match, Sir Nyx," Theo said, his voice composed and sincere. "I hope this duel lets me witness it properly."

Nyx blinked, then gave the faintest of smiles. According to the rumors, Theo Lancaster was supposed to be a haughty brat—a duke's son drunk on pride and privilege. But the young man standing in front of him… wasn't that.

"Seems like Sir Theo is also different from what the world whispers," Nyx replied, drawing his blade. "I look forward to learning from each other."

The announcer raised a hand. "Begin!"

Steel clashed immediately. They lunged, blades striking with sharp precision. Sparks flew from the collision, echoing through the enchanted arena. Theo's stance was solid, practiced—but Nyx noticed the hesitation, the slight delay in reaction.

"You've got a good stance," Nyx commented mid-swing, blade sliding along Theo's. "But you're holding back. That's not even half your strength, Theo."

Theo grunted but didn't argue. Instead, he adjusted. Subtle shifts in his footing, his breathing, his guard. He took Nyx's words like instruction—not insult. And it showed. His defense improved rapidly, enough that they began exchanging even blows. The duel became a rhythm—slash, parry, pivot, breathe.

Then Nyx upped the tempo. His pressure increased—no flourish, just raw precision. Each swing came heavier, faster. Theo faltered, forced to retreat with a panting breath, sweat glistening on his brow.

"May I ask, Sir Nyx?" Theo said between breaths. "You fight like someone who never learned sword techniques... yet your fundamentals are flawless. As if you've already mastered everything there is to learn. How's that possible?"

Nyx remained expressionless. "Shall we finish this?"

Theo blinked at the non-answer, then nodded. "Of course."

He lunged.

And in that heartbeat—Nyx vanished. A blur of motion, a gust of wind behind Theo's shoulder—

Thwack! The flat side of Nyx's blade smacked across Theo's back, launching him clean out of the ring before he even realized what had happened.

A long silence followed.

Then: "Winner—Nyx Vaelthorn!" the announcer declared, almost stunned himself.

Shock rippled through the crowd. The duke's heir—defeated. Cleanly. Efficiently.

Up on the observation platform, murmurs broke out.

"...That kid's got something dangerous tucked under his sleeve," the Headmaster said, stroking his beard with a thoughtful hum.

Beside him, a woman sat still, her eyes narrowed, fixated on Nyx. Ava Lunacraft—Disciplinary In-Charge of the Academy. She leaned forward, fingers steepled under her chin.

'A swordsman... and a mage?' she thought, eyes gleaming with interest. 'Now that's... interesting.'

Back down in the arena, Nyx calmly walked off the ring and returned to his seat, completely unbothered—as if the entire duel had been just a warm-up stretch.

---

"You should really limit yourself during these showoffs," Samantha muttered as Nyx returned from the ring.

Nyx simply nodded, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint smile. "You're up next. Do your best."

Samantha didn't reply. She turned, walking away from their side of the stands with that usual calm demeanor. But the moment she stepped out of their group's line of sight—her expression changed. Cold, focused, and calculated.

"Next up—we have Luna Veilswil, personal apprentice of the Witch of the Veil. And facing her—Samantha of the Mercenary Guild!"

Two figures entered the ring—opposites in every sense. One draped in robes, runes glowing at her fingertips. The other, walking in with nothing but blades strapped to her sides and a glint in her eyes. A mage versus an assassin. Natural enemies.

Luna raised her hand, mana humming as her staff lit up with layered enchantments. Samantha reached for her daggers, tightening her grip as if they were just extensions of her arms.

"Begin!"

Samantha vanished instantly. Gone from view in a blink.

But Luna didn't panic—she smirked. 'Heh. Same old trick every match.' She snapped her fingers mid-air, casting a complex detection spell. A fog spread across the ring—thick, enchanted, tuned to alert her at the slightest disruption. Anything that moved would echo back to her in pulses.

Only... nothing came.

Luna frowned, eyes narrowing.

Nyx, watching from his seat, smiled faintly. 'She's finally using her cards right.'

Still invisible, Samantha didn't strike. She waited. Merged herself with the fog, her new skill—Camouflage—letting her become one with the battlefield. Not invisible. Undetectable.

Then, with surgical precision—

Thud. Luna dropped like a marionette with cut strings, her consciousness severed before she even realized she'd been struck. The dagger's flat side pressed against the back of her neck.

"Match concluded! Samantha wins!"

The crowd gasped. Even the instructors above leaned forward. This wasn't a fluke. It wasn't luck. This was strategy—sheer, practiced lethality held just barely within the bounds of the rules.

For the first time, the academy realized—

The Mercenary Guild wasn't just full of brutes.

They were producing monsters.

One after another, Mercenary Guild students were pushing through. Ruby's match was brutal and precise—deadly, if not for her restraint. She won hers clean. But Valon… his skills weren't built for mercy. Every strike in his arsenal was designed to maim or kill, and holding back made him clumsy. He lost—barely.

Soon, the dust settled. Only four remained—

Leon Ironhart. Luke Lancaster. Nyx Vaelthorn. Samantha.

Two prodigies from the noble elite—and two wildcards who had stomped their way through expectations and straight into the kingdom's spotlight.

The tension was electric.

But before the duels for the finals could even begin…

Nyx and Samantha both stepped down. Forfeited.

The crowd erupted in disbelief.

"Are they serious?!" "Cowards!" "They got scared! Afraid to face real geniuses!"

Mockery returned. The same voices that had been gasping a moment ago now jeered at the silent retreat.

But the two didn't respond. Didn't defend themselves. They just returned to their seats, unmoved.

Back in the ring, Leon and Luke clashed like titans. Steel met spell. Wits met will. The audience couldn't take their eyes off the match.

But in the end, the prince stood victorious. Leon Ironhart—Top Student of the First Years.

A few moments later, the Headmaster descended from his seat, his robe fluttering as he landed in front of the crowd.

"Students," he announced, "Academy classes will officially begin in one week. On the day of orientation, the victor will receive his reward from the Academy's vault… and all first-years will be divided into their respective classes—including the Apex Class."

With that, the event was concluded.

Students dispersed in groups—chattering, gossiping, reevaluating everything they thought they knew.

But on the arena floor… sixteen students remained seated.

The chosen. The elite.

And among them sat Nyx Vaelthorn, silent as always.

But this time, nobody dared look down on him.