I fastened the clasp of my pendant, its cool metal resting lightly against my skin. The black lace of my dress clung to my frame, intricate yet subtle, a quiet nod to elegance. My hair, tied neatly behind me, had waves curling at the ends, cascading over my shoulders in soft, effortless motion. I glanced at my reflection one last time—composed, refined, and unbothered. That was the image I always presented, the one I had long since perfected.
I brought my fingers closer to my throat, no scar, wound or inflammation left from the wound I’d sustained from fighting the wraithwood.
It did take a while for me to fully recover from all of my injuries—whilst, father nagging me to take whatever physical exam which came to mind, therapy or potion he had found for my faster recovery.
It was a tough period of time to pass, with father, Baek-Hyun and Jihoon on my head all day long, but, in the end, I knew it was their care and concern for me.
I finally turned, taking a breath as I grabbed hold of the artifact father had given me a few weeks back. The sapphire gem dangled down as I clasped the lock and it came done over my wrist.
Aside from being a useful artifact, and a strong one at that, it could simply be worn as an accessory for formal events.
Then came a knock at my door, breaking the silence.
“Jiyoung, let’s go,” Amelia’s voice called from outside.
I grabbed my gloves and stepped out, meeting Amelia’s expectant gaze. She was dressed in a deep red ensemble, tailored to complement her sharp, confident presence. Her auburn hair framed her face elegantly—grown longer since a few months ago—, and her piercing eyes assessed me with a smirk.
“You clean up well,” she remarked, titling her head slightly in good humour.
“Obviously,” I replied dryly, adjusting the lace at my wrist.
We walked together through the dormitory, passing through the hallway, then loft and finally leaving through the main entrance.
After a short walk, we finally entered the grandeur hall’s entrance which stretched with a beautiful garden, dim lighting casting long shadows as our heels clicked against the polished marble floor.
The academy hall where the banquet of the joint exam was held wasn’t too from the Ashura building, so it didn’t take long for us to reach.
Outside, the evening sky stretched in hues of deep navy, stars beginning to flicker into existence. The cool air carried the faint scent of the gardens as we approached the grand doors of the gathering hall after a small jog away now.
Once inside, I could almost tangible feel the hall buzz with tension. Third-years from Lock, Eisenkrieg, and Apex Noctis stood in clusters, exchanging measured glances and forced pleasantries. The annual joint examination between our academies was more than just a test—it was a contest, a game of dominance where alliances were forged, and rivalries turned either bitter or bloomed into something better.
The two academies were similar to lock, they were prestigious in their own remark, the hunters they nurtured were exceptional and talented.
The hall was big and wide enough to accommodate thousands of students inside at once, and I could clearly see the number of heads that bobbed up and down, from left to right.
My looked the hall, from professors to students, and then, my gaze immediately landed on the representatives of Eisenkrieg. Even without introductions, I knew exactly who stood at the forefront.
Leonhardt Krauser. First rank of Eisenkrieg Academy. A towering figure, dressed in a formal black suit with a distinct military precision. His blond hair was neatly combed back, and his blue eyes held a sharpness honed through discipline. His presence was heavy, his posture rigid with trained perfection.
He looked like a commander standing between the cusp of war and a peace treaty. His posture was calm, so much so, that I almost thought for a moment that the smiling facade on his face was genuine.
Beside him, Masaru Takeda. Second rank. His dark eyes scanned the room like a strategist assessing a battlefield—standing close to Leonhardt. His posture seemed rigid, as if he was surrounded by enemies, reading to engage in combat if the need be. His every movement was deliberate, calculated, as if he were already planning his next steps.
Without having a need to turn, my eyes followed another boy from the same school.
He was Viktor Mikhailov. Third rank. A brute of a man, exuding sheer physical prowess. His build was massive, his stance unwavering, like an immovable wall daring challengers to try their luck.
As far as I remembered, he was said to rival even Leonhardt in raw strength, but his ultimate strength lied in his defences, which made him one of the most difficult opponents currently present in this hall.
The others I recognized, but they didn’t pose trouble.
Then from the Apex Noctis, the top three stood just as distinct.
Connor Hayes. First rank. The American sharpshooter whose eyes held the cold focus of someone who had rarely missed a shot. His presence was relaxed, but there was an undeniable weight to it, the kind that came from confidence earned through skill.
I didn’t know much about him, his background was protected and I could only find something about him, that he liked to kill time by playing shooting games, his best hobby was collecting arrows heads from old ages sold in auctions.
Then, there was Seo Jinhyuk. Second rank. A shadow in human form, his very existence blending into the background effortlessly. His gaze flickered toward me once before shifting away, unimpressed or uninterested—it was hard to tell.
He held a wine glass in his face, his hair was wavy, it made it like he had a mop for hair. There were bags under his eyes, but the quiet deadliness in his eyes was undeniable even from this distance as he placed throughout the hall.
The third rank was a girl, Mei Lanfang, a Chinese student from one of the oldest Chinese clans still present in the world, alongside the Han, Lao and Tang clan. Her aura was composed, her presence calculated. A martial artist, an elemental specialist in body reinforcement and hand-to-hand combat. Someone who was every proficient in her style of fighting.
Then a thought came to me; who would win a fight, if Han Shu-hui and Mei Lanfang were to fight?
The thought itself was based out of my curiosity for both being martial artists, but the point arose, that I’d seen Gan Shu-hui fight, also having fought beside him, so I knew his combat style well. But, I wasn’t so sure about Mei Lanfang.
I scrutinized the girl in secrecy, keeping my gaze unsteady to not give her any wrong.
I let my gaze drift, disinterested, until I sensed someone approaching.
Leonhardt Krauser.
“Park Jiyoung,” he greeted, his voice smooth, tinged with the formality expected of someone from his background. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”
He turned to Amelia, giving her a proper greeting as well.
I inclined my head slightly, indulging him. “Likewise.”
“I’ve heard much about Lock Academy’s first rank,” he continued, his tone polite yet probing. “It’s impressive to maintain such a position, given your competition. Only an year ago did Aogiri Ryuta held this station, yet it was taken from him in a matter of months. I now believe it, that when they said that Lock has competition like no one else.”
I merely tilted my head. “Is that so?”
A flicker of hesitation crossed his face before he pressed on. “May I ask—what is your current rank?”
“First,” I answered plainly. He had expected that I would divulge on such important information.
He blinked. The awkwardness of his question settled between us. He had hoped for a different answer, something he could use to gauge where he stood in comparison. Instead, he stepped back, embarrassed at his own misstep.
After a pause, he shifted the conversation. “Are you nervous about the exam tomorrow?”
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
“I ask because I’d love to see you perform,” he elaborated. “They say you rose to the first position in Lock right after the end of your first year. I’ve heard a lot about you.” His expression remained unreadable as he added, “Not just for being a member of the Park family. Or Park Yujin’s daughter.”
I felt Amelia’s gaze sharpen beside me.
Leonhardt’s tone shifted—subtly wry, a calculated shift. “What I’m referring to is the dungeon gate that appeared in Japan a year and a half ago.”
The air around us turned heavier. My posture remained the same, but my guard rose instinctively. Amelia beside me tensed considerly.
The dungeon break back then was still a hard topic for some of us to openly talk about. Because, we all had lost something that day. Perhaps, a part of us that made us ignorant of the world outside, which made us more aware of the horrors outside the binds and protection of the academy.
“I hope you prepare yourself, Park Jiyoung,” he said smoothly. “Because I expect a lot from you as the first rank of the school I wanted to enter.”
I held his gaze, unblinking, before replying.
“We’ll see,” I said simply.
I watched as Leonhardt walked away, his words lingering in my mind like an aftertaste I couldn’t shake. His tone had shifted at the end—subtle, but intentional. He had brought up Japan, that dungeon gate, as if testing the waters, seeing how I would react.
A year and a half ago.
I exhaled slowly, pushing the thought aside before it could take root. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Instead, I turned my gaze toward the approaching figures of Ryuya and Han Shu-hui.
Ryuya looked exactly how I expected—exhausted, shoulders slightly slumped, his lips set in a tight, awkward line. It was the expression of someone who had been forced to endure prolonged social interaction against his will. His dark midnight blue hair was slightly tousled, and the way his gaze darted around the hall made it clear he wanted nothing more than to leave.
Beside him, Han stood like an immovable pillar—calm, collected, unbothered. His once long navy-blue hair was cut short to his shoulders, complementing the sharp lines of his face. His jawline was carved like stone, his crimson eyes scanning the room with an unreadable gaze. He looked as if nothing in this hall was worth his attention.
Ryuya let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, this is nerve-wracking,” he muttered, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “I mean, socializing is fine and all, but all I see are students at each other’s throats, trying to back up their odds for tomorrow.” He frowned, his discomfort clear. “I don’t understand why we’re even holding this gathering when we’ll be enemies by sunrise.”
Amelia scoffed beside me. “It’s for us to gauge the enemy, you idiot,” she said, rolling her eyes. “To assess what they can do just by reading them.”
Ryuya gave her a deadpan look. “Right. Because that’s so easy when half the people here are just standing around flexing their egos.”
“You sound as if you’re any different,” I said dryly.
Before Ryuya could respond, Han finally spoke, his voice deep and even. “She’s not wrong.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Ryuya shot him a betrayed look. “Et tu, Han?”
Han merely glanced at him before shifting his gaze back to the crowd. “There’s value in this gathering. But most of them are wasting it on meaningless posturing.”
I followed his line of sight, my eyes landing on small clusters of students murmuring amongst themselves, eyes sharp with calculation. Every conversation held an undercurrent of competition, a silent battle of presence and intimidation.
It was only natural. After all, this wasn’t just an exam. It was a stage. A war.
A moment later, movement at the front of the hall caught my attention.
Headmaster Samuel Owens had stepped onto the podium, a glass of champagne in hand, his presence effortlessly drawing the room’s attention. The murmurs died down as the students turned toward him, anticipation settling in the air.
Headmaster’s beard remained groomed, but his hair looked longer, the streaks of silver more prominent in them, as his aged eyes scanned the hall for a second before they settled.
He lifted his glass slightly. “Welcome, everyone.” His voice was smooth, carrying easily over the crowd. “I hope you’re enjoying your time at Lock Academy so far.”
“It is our honour to hold this years joint exam, here at Lock academy.” He said, calmly, a soft gentlemanly smile pulled at his lips.
His words were polite, but his gaze was sharp, knowing. None of us were here to enjoy ourselves. And he knew best, because he held a bigger part in this exam each year than any of the other academies.
“As you all know, this gathering marks the beginning of the annual joint examination for third-years. Over the next week, you will be testing yourselves not just against monsters, but against each other. You’ll be forced to adapt, to strategize, to rely on your skills and instincts in ways you may not have before.”
His gaze swept across the room, lingering on some students longer than others. “However, I want you to think of this as more than just an exam.”
The room remained silent. Trepidation palpable in the hall, students
“As hunters, your first duty is to learn how to protect yourselves before you can protect others. Too many young talents believe that strength alone is enough, that power is what defines success. But let me be clear—power without control, without understanding, is nothing more than destruction waiting to happen. It’s merely a sword stuck to it’s sheath if you don’t know the ‘what’.”
The room remained silent. Trepidation palpable in the hall, students held their breath, listening to each word Headmaster said.
“As hunters, your first duty is to learn how to protect yourselves before you can protect others. Too many young talents believe that strength alone is enough, that power is what defines success. But let me be clear—power without control, without understanding, is nothing more than a sword stuck inside its sheath.”
His words hung heavy in the air.
“I hope this exam proves me right—that all of you here have what it takes to become the next powerhouses of this world.”
There was a brief pause before he continued, we saw another man walking to the podium, Professor Adam, he was draped in a dark wood suit which highly complimented his brunette hair and his obsidian eyes. Professor Adam looked at Headmaster once and then turned to us.
“Then, I’ll leave this part to Adam.” His tone shifting slightly as he moved on to the logistics.
Professor coughed dryly as he spoke. “Now, let’s discuss the structure of the exam. Each of you will be assigned to a team of ten, with students from all three academies mixed together. Three teams will be formed in total of the students. Once your teams are assigned, you will enter the dungeon gate at the same time as per the rules. You all have been selected randomly, and each team will have ten members, three close range fighters, three mages, two scouts, one emitter and finally a mid ranger who can do both close and long range fighting.”
Murmurs broke out among the students. A joint team setup. That meant cooperation—forced cooperation—with those who would otherwise be our competition.
Adam smiled slightly at the reactions. “This is not just a test of your individual skill, but of your ability to adapt. To survive. Keep that in mind. Because, this is no joke, the professors will be on standby, but they won’t interfere unless someone’s life is on the line. This test is cruel to those who take it easy, but keep in mind, you will be on your own in a
His gaze flickered where Headmaster Samuel stood, his presence looming even in silence. Adam gave him a small nod before turning back to us.
“Tomorrow, your real test begins.” A short pause, he walked forward and took a wine glass from a server close by. He raised his glass high and added. “But for tonight, I trust you all enjoy yourselves in an adequate manner.”
He shot a smile at the crowd and I could clearly see some of the women present blush, soft murmurs, in the tense environment that washed over everyone like a wet cloth.
***
Adam Griffin
The wine was deep, almost burgundy, catching the chandelier’s golden glow like a captured ember. I swirled it gently in the glass, brought it to my lips, and tasted.
‘Elderfall Merlot. Vintage 421.’
Structured, dry, with the faintest trace of ashwood in the finish. My father would’ve approved. He used to blind test me for fun at every meal with bottles older than some empires—taught me that refinement wasn’t a luxury, but a weapon sharpened in silence.
That habit stuck, even after the silence settled over our dinners.
Around me, the crowd of professors from Lock Academy and the other two academies were huddled together in warm circles, speaking in that gentle tone that made every word feel dipped in honey and edged with steel. Laughter flitted through the group, the kind that didn’t reach the eyes.
“…and I told him, if he planned to use summoning in a field exam, he’d better summon some common sense first!” someone said. The laughter rose again.
They turned to me, like I was the rare animal finally reacting in the exhibit
“Professor Griffin,” began a senior mage with the heavy velvet trim of East Winden’s research wing. She raised her glass slightly. “You’ve been quiet. What do you think of the upcoming joint exam? You always have an eye for the promising ones. Think your students will make a mark?”
I took another sip, all eyes on me now. I let the pause breathe.
“It is a crucial time for the students to show their talent, hard work, and potential,” I said evenly. “I could only make speculations, but in the end, all the results would lay bare once they compete.”
A few heads nodded. One or two offered murmurs of agreement. But the attention didn’t ease—it lingered, like incense too thick in the air.
“Oh, always the humble type,” said Marienne, her tone a practiced mix of amusement and something else. She stepped a little closer, her hand grazing her glass stem with theatrical elegance. “You’re not fooling anyone, Adam. The board still talks about your entrance exam like it happened last semester. And that duel with Magnus? Art. I wonder…” Her voice dropped ever so slightly. “Have you lost your edge, or are you just waiting for the right audience?”
I offered her a small smile, polite but unreadable.
“Some things are best left unseen until the moment matters.”
Soft laughter again. A few chuckles. A pat on the shoulder. Another professor added something about how I was probably born with a sword in one hand and a thesis in the other.
Talks about my father brewed, being proud of having such a prodigy in the family.
It was the usual—familiar praise gilded in subtle envy. Most of them didn’t know whether to respect me or resent me. I preferred it that way.
Since a young age, I’d been compared to my father in more ways than I could think of, and when I started showing my talent after awakening, both in academics and fighting, the people around me, tried to curry as much favour as they could to get on good terms with the Griffin family.
Just looking at them smile like idiots made me think how desperate they could be. But it couldn’t be ignored how my father’s presence influenced many aspects of the hunter society.
Then, out of nowhere came the pivot. The kind that never arrived loudly, only with the softness of a whispered blade.
“It’s such a shame how your brother passed away so early,” someone said, tone too light to be genuine. “He was a Griffin heir, wasn’t he? A talent like his elder brother, perhaps. But alas…a gem lost along the way.”
The wine turned bitter for a moment on my tongue. My grip didn’t change. My smile didn’t falter. I didn’t give him the reaction or uncertainty he wanted to see.
I nodded slowly. “He was,” I replied. Nothing more.
Perhaps, I’d come to accept the fact that Ryan was gone. But, just the thought of him ignited the burrow in my heart like it was just that faithful, yet miserable day.
I still couldn’t remember what my mother had gone through because of that. I may have lost my brother...but she lost her son.
I don’t flinch. Don’t let my brow crease. Just nodded gently and responded with some harmless platitude about loss and time.
The topic changed like a blizzard turning into a mild breeze, veering off to research grants and council politics—subjects demanding information about the current hunter society and how the world union was making changing for the coming years. But I was no longer listening. Not really. The air felt thicker. Or maybe that was just me.
I took another sip, but I didn’t taste the wine this time. I could feel eyes drifting toward me again, the way wind shifted through a forest—not all at once, but inevitable.
I excused myself from the group—no apologies, just a smooth, effortless step away from the circle. No one stopped me. No one needed to.
I drifted from the light of the chandelier, my thoughts catching on the memory like thorns. Eyes followed, as they always did. Some curious. Some calculating.
And then I heard a voice.
“Well, well. Look at you. Standing tall like you own the damned floor.”
I turned, slowly, already acknowledging the voice that had called out to me.
Headmaster Samuel stood with a glass of something far too cheap in his hand and a smirk that hadn’t changed in twenty years. His hair had thinned, his back straight even for someone his age, but his eyes held that same mischievous glint that I’d come to accustom.
“Headmaster,” I greeted, giving a respectful nod.
“Oh, don’t get all stiff on me now,” he waved me off. “Speak casually like we always do. Or have you gotten so old you’ve forgotten how to call me Grandpa?”
A corner of my mouth tugged upward, the curve barely visible to anyone, but I could feel that Headmaster had caught it.
“That was a childish thing I used to do,” I said calmly. “I’ve grown since then.”
“Pity,” he sighed dramatically, taking a sip, like I’d betrayed him in a way. “I liked it better when you ran around barefoot with scrolls twice your size. Always dragging some poor student into your experiments. God, you were a menace. Your curiosity was something hard to predict.”
I chuckled under my breath. “You exaggerate.”
“Do I?” He raised an eyebrow. “You once tried to build a mana-pulse engine using two unstable cores. Nearly blew up the East Hall. Hope you haven’t forgotten that?”
“It was a theoretical success.” I rebuked, albeit awkwardly, knowing that I too had a fair share of mischievous conduct back in the old days.
“It was an actual catastrophe.” He shot back.
His laughter was deep and familiar, and for a moment, the weight of the evening eased.
But only for a moment.
He leaned in slightly, voice lower. “They’re watching you, you know. Everyone here. Some with admiration. Some with other intentions.”
“I’m aware.”
Samuel exhaled, his tone quieter. “Your father placed a heavy burden on you since you were a kid. And this academy…this society…they won’t let you breathe easy. Not with the Griffin name. Not with your talent. Just make sure you still remember how to live, Adam.”
I didn’t answer right away. The ballroom around us hummed with chatter, music, and politics disguised as charm.
“I remember,” I said eventually. “Some days more than others.”
Samuel clapped my shoulder. “Good. Just don’t forget that you’re allowed to stumble now and then. You’re not your father. Because, I know you’re better than him.”
His words were gentle, reassuring, but for the first time that evening, the wine didn’t taste like ash.
For a heartbeat, I allowed myself falter.
It was brief, almost imperceptible. A hitch in my breath. A twitch in my fingers around the glass stem. But Samuel caught it.
Of course he did. He was the man who had been around me since childhood to adulthood. He was one of the very few people who actually knew me for who I was.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing—not in judgment, but in recognition.
“Adam,” he said, voice quieter now, stripped of the usual humour. “Is something weighing your mind?”
I felt the chill crawl up my spine. Even after all these years…I still couldn’t hide from him.
I turned away, as if the chandeliers or the low hum of the orchestra might somehow shield me from the conversation already unfolding. But it was no use. The mask I wore so carefully was already cracked.
A subtle smirk curved my lips, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “You really haven’t lost your touch,” I said almost to distract myself.
He didn’t reply—just waited, patient and still.
I inhaled. Slowly. So very slowly.
Then, without meeting his gaze, I spoke.
“Headmaster…do you think…” I paused, almost as if the words themselves had forced to not form in my mouth. “Do you think it was my fault that pushed my brother—Ryan—to end his life? That my achievements became the shadow that swallowed him whole? That it was me…who turned his world dim enough for him to want to disappear?”
There. The words hung between us, heavy and hollow all at once. Saying them aloud felt like unearthing something I’d buried beneath accolades and expectations. Something foul, and quietly rotting.
Samuel didn’t speak immediately. He too, was very much aware of my bitter-sweet relationship with late younger brother.
We used to be like any other siblings. But, one day, everything changed. Ryan...
He set his glass down on a nearby tray and took a deep breath, his expression unreadable, the crease of his brow tightened.
“Adam,” he said eventually, “you were a boy. A gifted one, yes, but a boy all the same.”
He stepped closer, just enough for his voice to lower further, almost as if afraid the ballroom itself might eavesdrop.
“I knew your brother,” he continued. “I taught him alongside you. Watched him struggle with things no one else could see. He wore his pride like armour, but inside…he was always drowning. Always chasing a version of himself he couldn’t ever reach. Perhaps, the fault lies somewhere in my own inadequacy to correct Ryan’s path before he went astray.”
I said nothing. My jaw was tight, my shoulders rigid. Hand clasped into tight fists.
“He loved you,” Samuel added. “Deeply. He admired you, seeing you as his brother and rival who he wanted to impress. But he feared you, too—not because of anything you did, but because you reminded him of what he couldn’t be. That kind of fear doesn’t come from you, Adam. It comes from within.”
I swallowed hard.
“But what if I had stepped back?” I asked, my voice lower than before. The guilt too thick to swallow. “What if I had seen it—what he was feeling? Could I have stopped it? Could I have saved him?”
Samuel’s eyes softened. “You think too highly of yourself.”
That caught me off guard.
He smiled faintly, shaking his head. “That’s not an insult, mind you. But Adam, you’ve spent your whole life thinking if you just did everything right, if you carried everyone’s burdens, it would balance out. That you could fix anything…anyone. But some things,” he paused, his gaze distant for a moment, towering over the crowd of students and professors, “some things are never meant to be saved. Some people lose their way before anyone can reach them.”
His hand settled on my shoulder, firm and grounding.
“I’ve seen war rip apart empires. I’ve watched kings fall to grief and heroes collapse under guilt they didn’t earn. I’ve watched you grow from a boy who asked too many questions to a man who now blames himself for answers he never had.”
He leaned in, like a shielding wall.
“You did not kill your brother, Adam. His death is not your legacy. His choice was a wound the world gave him long before you ever outshone him.”
I stared at the floor, the ornate tiles blurring slightly in my vision.
“It never gets easier,” I said, almost to myself. “Living in the silence someone else left behind.”
“No,” Samuel agreed. “It doesn’t. But you live anyway. Because that’s the only way their silence means something. You carry their memory. Not their guilt.”
For a long while, neither of us said anything. The music drifted around us, elegant and detached. Laughter rang from the other side of the hall. A place where the world kept turning.
I finally looked up, into the eyes of the man who’d seen more than I ever would.
“…Thank you,” I said, quiet but sincere.
He squeezed my shoulder gently.
“Come now,” he said, voice lightening again. “This is a ball, not a funeral. You should go find someone to dance with. Or at least someone who knows what a decent wine tastes like.”
I chuckled, a little broken but real. “If I do, I’ll let you know.”
He grinned. “That’s my boy.”
And for the first time that night, I didn’t feel like I was walking with a ghost at my side.