A sudden buzz of energy crackled through the marble floor—then silence swept across the crowd.
The mana lights lining the hall dimmed again.
Then came the voice.
Loud. Clear. Sharp enough to cut the tension.
"Attention, aspiring hunters."
Every student froze.
Footsteps echoed—measured and heavy—as Dean Garos stepped onto the platform at the front of the Central Hall.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His uniform was different from the instructors'. Sleek black with silver seams and a chestplate made of mana-tempered leather. His white beard was neat, his eyes sharp as steel—and just as cold. No cloak. No dramatic entrance. He didn't need one.
He walked to the podium slowly, gaze sweeping over the students. The silence was absolute.
Lucian felt it immediately.
Pressure.
Not from his aura. But from the weight of someone who had stood at the peak of many mountains—and buried them all.
Garos's lips parted again, voice low but commanding.
"You stand here today, not because of luck. Not because of mercy. But because you were chosen."
His eyes locked on a boy in the front row who shifted nervously.
"Whether it was bloodline… talent… or sheer stubborn will, something inside you awakened. That spark is why you're here."
He gestured to the hall.
"To some of you, this place may look like a school."
His eyes narrowed.
"It is not."
A pulse of mana rippled through the dome.
"This is a forge. One that will hammer your bones, sharpen your instincts, and test every limit you thought you had."
He began to walk along the edge of the platform, voice echoing louder now.
"You think this is about grades? About medals? No."
"This is about survival."
The large screen above him came to life—showing images from across the continent.
Footage of Hunters battling mutated beasts the size of buildings. Armored titans marching through ruined cities. Dungeons tearing through landscapes. Gate collapses wiping out entire squads.
Gasps filled the hall.
Garos didn't pause.
"You are now part of the Hunter System—this nation's last and only shield against the monsters and the chaos beyond the gate."
He turned toward the screen again.
"Power isn't just useful anymore. It's currency. It's law. And soon, it'll be your breath."
He paused. Then said, quieter:
"Some of you will not make it to graduation."
Lucian didn't blink.
Evelyn beside him said nothing either.
Garos let the words sink in before continuing.
"But for those who do—your names will become something more than titles."
He stepped back to the center of the platform.
"You are Ashvale's newest generation."
"You will rise. Or you will fall."
The screen blinked off.
Mana lights returned to full glow.
And then—he changed tone. Just slightly.
More procedural now. But no less firm.
"Now… class assignment."
The tension shifted. Students began murmuring. Some straightened up. Some braced.
Garos gestured with two fingers.
A long rectangular board of glowing light appeared behind him—filled with names, colors, ranks, and strange symbols.
"As of this moment, your journey officially begins."
"You have all been assessed, scanned, and classified based on your awakened abilities and potential."
He began reading off categories.
"Combat-Oriented Awakeners will be placed under Red Section: Offensive Path. This includes elemental manipulators, weapon-type users, physical augmentation types, and energy projectors."
"Support-Type Awakeners—such as healers, barriers, summoners, and enhancement specialists—are under Green Section: Tactical Path."
"Stealth, scouting, mobility, and sensory types go to Blue Section: Shadow Path."
"Reality manipulators, spacetime users, conceptual types, and anomalous gifts will be monitored separately."
At that moment, the mana board glowed again.
Rows of names began sorting themselves automatically into categories. Students glanced up, searching for theirs.
Garos didn't pause.
"Ranks will also determine your internal standing. Those with stronger combat stats, rare skills, or inherited traits will be placed in higher sub-groups."
Then he tapped the board.
One name blinked.
"Lucian Black."
Eyes turned.
Then another.
"Evelyn Merrin."
A few students whispered now.
And three more names blinked in gold—two girls, one boy.
Garos nodded once.
"You five… stay behind."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. Evelyn folded her arms, already expecting this.
The rest of the hall began to stir as names and sections were officially announced.
Garos finished his sorting, then turned back to the hall.
"Find your section leaders. Your dorm keys will be issued immediately. Orientation continues in two hours. Your first evaluation is tomorrow. Attendance is not optional."
He stepped down from the platform.
But before leaving, he turned back to the five standing still.
"Lucian. Evelyn. Silas. Reia. Vyn."
His voice dropped just slightly.
"You five are placed under the special class due to the uniqueness of your abilities," Dean Garos said, voice firm but measured.
He looked each of them in the eye—Lucian, Evelyn, Silas, Reia, and finally Vyn.
Lucian kept still. His hands were in his pockets, but his eyes were sharp—watching.
In his past life, there was no one else.
No special class. No one else awakened anything close to what he had. Just him. Alone. Carved by pressure and silence.
But now…
Now Evelyn wasn't the only one standing beside him with a rare gift. There were three others. Three wild cards.
Lucian's gaze shifted sideways to the tall boy at the far end—Silas.
Built like a war beast. Arms like iron rods. A smirk glued to his face like he was already picturing their next battle. He leaned back slightly, chest puffed out like he wanted the whole room to know he wasn't afraid of anything.
"Definitely brawn over brain," Lucian thought, watching him grin through Garos's words.
Then there was the girl beside him—Reia.
Same red hair, same eyes. His sister, clearly. But she was the opposite. Calm, focused, no wasted movement. Her hands were behind her back, posture perfect. Sharp eyes that scanned everything—Lucian could tell she did the thinking for both of them.
Reia noticed his glance. She nodded once—not friendly, not cold. Just… noting his presence.
Then Lucian looked at the last one.
Vyn Thorn.
She stood a little apart from the rest. Slender. Quiet. Dressed in all black like the shadows were a comfort to her. Hair like ash, eyes like smoke. She didn't look up when Garos spoke. She didn't speak at all.
Lucian watched her carefully.
Vyn Thorn… Thorn.
That name triggered something.
Garrick's cousin.
Garos stepped down from the small platform in front of them.
"You five won't follow the normal curriculum. No colored sections. No pre-made paths. You'll train under Path Zero—crafted for exceptions like you. Because the world won't treat you like students."
He looked at Lucian directly.
"It'll treat you like threats."
Lucian didn't react.
Garos turned to walk away. But before leaving the room, he stopped just long enough to throw one final line over his shoulder:
"You were given power the others weren't. So don't waste it."
Then he was gone.
The door shut behind him with a slow, echoing click.
Silence followed.
Until Silas broke it with a lazy laugh.
"Well, guess we're all freaks, huh?"
Reia rolled her eyes. "Please don't talk."
Lucian exhaled through his nose. Not a laugh. Not quite annoyance either.
Vyn still said nothing. Her gaze was on the wall, like she wasn't fully here.
Evelyn turned slightly, looking at Lucian.
"I assume you're just as surprised as I am."
Lucian finally spoke, low and casual.
"Yeah."
Then, eyes still on Vyn, he added—
"…Things are different this time."