Morning mist still clung to the archways of the Academy as students filed into the Lecture Hall of Histories. It was shaped like a crescent bowl, wide and steep, with hovering lanterns of bloodflame drifting lazily through the air. Old maps and sigils shimmered along the curved ceiling... some glowing faintly, others scratched out entirely.
Nclai sat in the back row. Alone, as usual.
He didn't need a closer view. He remembered most of what was worth remembering.
"Today," Professor Vhalen began, sweeping into the chamber in a swirl of gray and red robes, "we study the origins of division, why the world bleeds where it does."
A quiet murmur passed through the students. The young hybrids and half-nobles leaned forward, intrigued. The rest sat back with no interest. But Nclai was looking on.
At a gesture of the professor a glowing globe lifted up over the central platform.
A map.
Not a modern one.
This was before the Blood Convergence.
"The continent of Orivareth once knew balance," Vhalen said. "Before lineage wars. Before sovereign seals. Before the Curse of the Pale Sun."
Names flickered across the hovering map. Vraenhold. Selencis. The Oath Bastion. Crimson Vaults. Grave Expanse.
"Then there was the First Fracturing" he went on. "When true-blood clans had direct each other. And when Sovereigns fell to silence."
Other students were fidgeting in their seats.
"Those who inherited true sovereignty," Vhalen added, voice sharper now, "were either devoured, sealed, or erased from record."
No one looked at Nclai. But some of them were thinking it.
He remained still. Even as the crimson line drawn between factions pulsed over the map. Even when Vhalen's gaze hovered in his direction.
......
The lesson ended. Names scrolled across a floating panel at the front of the hall.
MANDATORY COMBAT ASSESSMENT. FOR UNRANKED INITIATES.
Beneath it, a list.
Lyra hissed beside him.
"You're on that."
He already saw it. Azrael, Nclai. Designated Duel: Group Three. Time: Immediately.
"You didn't sign up for this," she added.
"Didn't need to."
......
The dueling rings had been drawn again across the outer field, circles of silver-dust lines reinforced by bloodwoven sigils. Above, instructors watched from stone terraces.
Students gathered fast. Combat meant status.
Nclai stepped into Ring Three.
His opponent was already there, Kane Noir, a tall half-blood with fire-colored eyes and too much confidence. The kind who grew up praised for average talent.
He sneered. "You. Thought they sent us to test skill, not ghosts."
Nclai said nothing.
Kane drew his blade. Thin and curved, with bloodsteel threads glimmering across its edge.
"Don't blink," Kane grinned. "Wouldn't want to miss your last moment standing."
......
[Crimson Sovereign Protocol: Stable]
[Sync Ratio: 2.6%]
[Passive Trait: Blood Sensitivity Lv.1]
Mastery: 2.3%
Effect Radius: 4.1 meters
......
Kane moved first. Fast. But loud.
His blood pulsed like a trumpet. Nclai could hear the surge before he swung.
Nclai sidestepped.
Not rushed. Not panicked.
Kane's blade cut air.
Cheers erupted around them.
Kaen growled and slashed again, flame dancing across his blade.
Again, Nclai dodged.
This time, closer. Close enough to feel the heat, but never touched.
Blood Sensitivity flared. His vision blurred for a moment. Not from pain... from clarity.
He saw Kaen's foot twist before it happened. Saw the overdrawn mana in his muscles. Saw the weak point in his stance.
He moved.
One step forward.
One palm raised.
A strike. Barely a tap against Kane's ribs.
But blood pulsed wrong.
Kane choked. Dropped his blade. Fell to his knees.
The crowd fell silent.
......
On the terrace above, Instructor Sor Enmarch narrowed his eyes.
"No spellcasting. No mana output. No weapon. What was that?"
An assistant beside him whispered, "We don't know. He's still listed under Observation Tier."
"Move him."
......
A quiet ping sounded in Nclai's mind.
......
[Status Updated]
[Observation Tier: Revised → Pending Reclassification]
......
He turned and walked from the ring.
Behind him, Kane was still wheezing, confused.
Lyra met him near the stairs.
"That wasn't a win," she said softly. "That was a warning."
Nclai didn't answer.
But in the depths of his system, something began to wake.
Not a skill.
Not yet.
Just a presence.
Remembering blood.
......