Chapter 11: Year Zero

Vanta sprinted, his tiny legs pumping furiously, sandals slapping against the polished stone tiles of the courtyard. Dust flared with each frantic step as he raced toward the looming silhouette at the gates. His father stood there—tall, imposing, clad in silver-dappled armor that shimmered in the bleeding light of dawn.

Vanta hurled himself forward, wrapping his arms around the man's leg with all the strength his small body could muster, burying his face in the cold metal, clinging as if to time itself.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered, the tremor in his voice barely hiding the sob that followed. Tears spilled hot and fast, carving trails through his dust-smeared cheeks.

His father leaned down, scooping him into a tight embrace. The scent of leather, sweat, and lavender oil curled around Vanta—warm, protective, achingly familiar.

"Come on, little rascal," his father murmured, pressing his forehead to Vanta's. "Have you forgotten who your father is? We'll be back soon, if things go well."

"No, you have to stay," Vanta protested, his small hands bunching into the fabric of the man's cloak.

His father smiled, soft and solemn. Then, without another word, he gently pried Vanta's arms loose and handed him to a waiting maid.

"Dad—Dad!!!"

The gates groaned closed, sealing the world—and Vanta—behind them.

---

Ten Years Later

What is a mistake? A lapse in judgment? A misstep born from ignorance? But when someone makes a choice, fully aware of the consequences—can that truly be called a mistake? Or is it something else entirely? Something darker?

Ting-Ting-Ting.

The alarm's chime dragged Vanta from the abyss of sleep.

He groaned and sat up, blinking against the haze of early light bleeding through slanted blinds. His fingers reached instinctively for the letter resting on his table.

Congratulations. You have been accepted into Blueblood Academy...

He read it again, lips parting slightly in disbelief. No matter how many times he looked at it, it didn't feel real. He folded it carefully and slid it into the side pocket of his worn leather satchel. Then came the journal—battered, thick with messy ink, thoughts, sketches—his mind spilled across parchment.

"I'm leaving," he said aloud to the still, empty room.

Only silence replied.

He stepped outside. The sun was already high, and the air sat heavy and stifling. Heat clung to his skin, but the sweat trailing down his spine had little to do with the temperature. It was nerves. The trembling anticipation of stepping into a new world.

He reached the train station just in time. The train hissed like a waking beast as the doors closed behind him. The interior was cool, sterile, whisper-quiet.

The ride was uneventful. Time passed. Scenery blurred. He stared at the window but didn't see it.

'What will Blueblood be like? What will I become?'

He clenched his fists. If the truth about his clan's death wasn't in the academy, he'd find strength—and carve the truth from the world himself.

An hour later, the train pulled into Ravenfall's grand station. The city loomed, majestic and suffocating.

The academy's gate was his next sight—a sprawling arch with gold-tipped lettering:

WELCOME TO BLUEBLOOD ACADEMY: WHERE IMAGINATION MEETS REALITY.

The campus burst into view, a living painting. Towers of blue and white stabbed skyward like blades. Fountains danced under sculpted archways. Lush gardens spilled with violet and crimson blossoms.

People were everywhere—nobles in embroidered cloaks, scholars in minimalist robes, peasants with wide eyes and trembling steps. Laughter rang out. Bags clattered. Families hugged and wept and waved.

Vanta pulled up his hood. His black hair vanished into the shadows, leaving only the faint glow of golden eyes peeking from beneath.

He walked quietly, his footsteps nearly lost beneath the tide of activity. Every building looked identical. Every direction was a new maze.

Eventually, he stopped near a marble archway.

"I'm definitely lost, aren't I? What an interesting first day," he muttered.

"Still as clueless as ever," came a voice behind him.

Vanta turned. Raymond Turquoise stood there, grinning ear to ear. His turquoise hair shimmered in the sunlight, falling over his mischievous eyes. He was a head taller than Vanta now—lean muscle and lazy charm.

Vanta's lips twitched. "I know, right? This place is a damn labyrinth."

"Yeah, yeah," Raymond laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on. I know the way. You'd probably end up in the kitchen thinking it's a library."

They walked together. The path wound past bronze statues and cascading waterfalls. Raymond kept talking.

"So, I heard each dorm is charmed. Like, your room matches your color or something. Sounds expensive. You think they've got demon butlers?"

Vanta snorted. "Doubt it. But if I wake up with a goat-man offering tea, I'll let you know."

"Still the same guy, I see," Raymond said. "But hey... you really made it. Blueblood, huh?"

Vanta looked ahead, eyes shadowed beneath his hood. "Yeah. Somehow."

"Somehow, my ass. You worked for this. Don't sell yourself short."

They reached the great hall. Marble columns flanked a wide-open archway. As they stepped inside, Vanta paused. Just beside the entrance, a girl stood alone, face tilted toward the sky, gazing at the sun as if it whispered secrets only she could hear.

Her lips moved silently. Her eyes didn't blink.

'What a weirdo' Vanta thought—but something about her still pulled at him.

The inside of the hall was cavernous. White stone pillars held up a ceiling too high to see clearly. Students filled rows of stone benches. Their conversations echoed like birds in a forest.

Vanta and Raymond sat near the middle.

"Place feels like a crypt," Raymond said, eyeing the stone walls. "If a skeleton pops out, I'm running."

"You'd leave me behind?"

"Absolutely."

They laughed quietly. The noise around them slowly died.

A trio stepped onto the podium. At their center stood a girl with sharp features and a commanding gaze. Her hair was a polished brown bob. Her robe shimmered in layered silks, the academy badge glittering over her chest. There were three golden ropes decorating her robe.

"Welcome to Blueblood Academy. My name is Shasha Brown."

Her voice rang through the chamber like steel against glass.

"Unfortunately, the principal is away. So we—the student council—will oversee your orientation."

Murmurs stirred the air

" The students council? That's weird"

"She's so pretty"

" I'll be the president of the students council someday"

Then she raised her hand, a gesture to curb the murmurs.

"Before we begin, there will be a short examination. It's mandatory to participate."

A louder stir now. Whispers and confusion. No one had mentioned this to them.b

"The main objective is to acquire the Xue Sense," she continued but was Interrupted.

A student stood. "That's impossible! Xue Sense takes years to learn! How do you expect to learn it in just a day."

A wave of pressure exploded from Shasha. The room turned still. Cold as ice and suffocating.

"If you would let me finish," she said. Her aura shimmered—brown, sharp, and unyielding. "You're correct. Normally, yes. But we've developed a condensed training method. A test of potential. We call it—Year Zero."

She smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

"Good luck."

Light erupted from the floor. It flowed like the waves of the sea and washed over ever student present. The feeling was calming.

Then silence.