Chapter Ten: School?

There were four major academic institutions in the world of Origin.

Well.. five, if you counted the one that didn't seem to act like a normal academy.

They were;

Seol Arcana Institute, located in Europe.

The Crimson Hall, also in Europe.

E-499, the mysterious research facility in Antarctica.

Forgeheart Academy, in the bustling lands of Asia.

And Beastcaller Academy, deep within the wilds of Africa.

Each academy catered to a distinct path; magic, might, craft, research, or beast mastery.

Seol Arcana Institute was home to all who followed the path of the arcane. Anyone whose powers centered around magic, be it elemental, spatial, or other mystic affinities, was sent there to refine their craft. Even now, that very institution was where Alicia, his childhood friend, was enrolled.

"I wonder how she's doing…"

Volk leaned back in the creaking carriage, staring out at the shifting horizon.

His master, Astaroth, had remained behind.

"We part ways for now," he'd said, "Focus on growing stronger. And we would meet again."

And so Volk had obeyed, now traveling alone toward The Crimson Hall - the academy for those who walked the path of raw physical might.

The students of Crimson Hall didn't use magic like mages.

Instead, they relied on mana tech, magical equipment forged with alchemical steel and arcane circuitry. Weapons, armor, and tools enhanced with mana.

But even that wasn't their true source of strength.

Warriors developed Ki, the life force within all beings, condensed, refined, and crystallized into a core. Ki users had overwhelming physical power, surpassing human limits through sheer inner mastery.

In a real battle between a warrior and a mage, the victor wasn't always the one with greater firepower. No it was the one with more battle experience.

And then, far to the south…

There was E-499, the enigmatic Research facility.

Though it was technically classified as an academy, it felt more like a high-security lab. It housed reclusive scholars, researchers, and especially alchemists, the brilliant minds pushing the limits of what magic and science could create.

Forgeheart Academy, true to its name, was the heartland of crafters, non-combatants who devoted themselves to building, shaping, and forging tools, weapons, and wonders.

And finally…

The Beastcaller Academy. The wildest of the five.

Beastcallers made contracts with magical beasts. The stronger the beast, the stronger the master. Skills, stats, senses, all shared between the two. In a way, beastcallers walked a path that straddled both the magical and the physical. Necromancers would've belonged here too… if not for one issue: they used corrupted mana.

Thinking about it all made Volk's mind buzz.

If I play my cards right, I might find valuable allies from each academy…

The carriage jolted suddenly as the driver picked up a few more students headed to Crimson Hall. Volk spared them a glance. A few looked strong, most didn't. Either way, he didn't care.

What really mattered was the entrance exam. And failure wasn't an option.

"Alicia… wonder how she'll react when she sees me again. I've changed a lot."

Volk turned to the window again, watching the landscape fly by.

Life really is strange, huh?

Nobody chooses to be born. We're just… dumped into this world, told to play by the rules that the people before us made. Forced into systems we didn't build. Shackled by expectations and obligations.

But that's fate, isn't it?

And for the weak, fate is absolute.

Finally, they arrived.

The tall iron gates of Crimson Hall loomed like the jaws of a beast, hungry for challengers. Students stepped down from the carriage, paying the driver and gathering their things.

Volk stepped out last, his eyes burning with quiet ambition.

Time to show the world what I've become.

No longer that discarded failure. No longer the weakling from before.

He was something more, he had changed and it was now time to prove it.

As he approached the gathering point, a surge of excitement built in his chest. Around him, hundreds of other applicants were forming small groups, nervous murmurs passing between them.

But Volk just remained where he was and grinned with unwavering pride.

After all, he now belonged to the bloodline of the Primal Fiend.

He would pass. That much was certain.

Scanning the crowd, he found a couple of people who would pose a challenge to him. They too noticed his gaze and nodded in approval before doing their own thing. One candidate in particular, a boy with blonde colored hair, and a bright smile. The complete definition of charisma was observing him too.

An old man stepped onto the podium ahead. His scarred armor glinted under the sun. This was Sir Gilbert, Head of the Academy. His voice boomed with the authority of someone who'd seen a lot of blood and death of comrade and enemies alike.

"Welcome, candidates," he began.

"I see some promising faces this year, more than we've had in a long while."

His eyes swept over the crowd.

"Today, you'll undergo a series of tests designed to assess your aptitude, talent, and combat sense. All of you are children blessed by the gods, the chosen ones. But being blessed doesn't make you invincible. A single mistake can lead to your untimely end in the wilderness and on the front lines."

He paused for a few minutes.

"We're selecting the top 500 out of all of you. The rest will be sent home."

"But don't be discouraged. You can always return next year. The ones who succeed are not those who avoid failure, they're the ones who refuse to stay down. And that is the difference between the Strong and the Weak."

A few students swallowed nervously.

Sir Gilbert raised a hand.

"The exam has three stages."

Stage One; The Weeding.

The grand staircase before the academy held 100 steps. Normally just for show, but today, like in every other entrance exams, they pulsed with an ancient enchantment.

The higher you climbed, the stronger the pressure on your body. A crushing weight that would make every movement feel like hell. Those who failed to reach the fiftieth step were immediately disqualified.

Magic, Ki, Mana tech, anything was fair game. If you couldn't handle pressure, you didn't belong here.

Stage Two: The Hunt.

Using a teleportation platform, candidates would be warped to the wilderness outside the academy. Their task?

To hunt beasts and Collect mana cores while surviving for five hours.

Points were awarded based on both the quality and quantity of beast cores collected.

Stage Three: The Battle Royale.

A massive arena, twice the size of a city, surrounded by an enchanted barrier. As time passed, the barrier would shrink, forcing candidates closer and closer together in the center and thus preventing camping.

If the barrier touched you: disqualification.

If you defeated someone: you would be awarded all their accumulated points, plus 50 extra.

Killing was forbidden. Control over one's strength was mandatory.

With over 10,000 students were present,

This exam was going to be absolute chaos.

"So this is why Master sent me here…" Volk thought, stretching out his limbs, cracking his neck.

A wide grin split his face. His sharp canines glinted in the light.

"Let's get this party started."