"All of us against you?" one of them says mockingly, a smirk plastered on his face.

  "Then so be it," he continues, cracking his knuckles. "Just remember—you asked for this!"

  The group raises their hands in unison, their voices intertwining as they begin chanting. Sparks of mana flicker around them, the air crackling with the beginnings of their spells.

  Too slow.

  I don't give them the chance to finish.

  In an instant, I explode forward, my feet barely touching the ground as I close the distance. My nameless sword flashes from its sheath, but I don’t need the blade—just the weight of it. I slam the pommel into the gut of the first mage, knocking the wind out of him. He crumples, wheezing.

  The one to my left flinches, but he’s too late. I pivot, driving a kick straight into his chest with full force. The impact sends him hurtling backward like a ragdoll, crashing into the stone wall behind him. A loud crack echoes through the arena as debris scatters across the floor.

  The last mage, the one still chanting, freezes. His spell fizzles out before it can even take form. He stares at me, wide-eyed, realization dawning in his panicked expression.

  Then, without a word, he turns on his heel and runs.

  I point my blade at the guy sprawled on the ground, its edge hovering just inches from his chest. He clutches his stomach, still struggling to catch his breath after my strike.

  He looks up at me, his earlier arrogance nowhere to be found. His lips tremble before he finally forces out the words.

  "We concede..."

  The air around us is thick with tension, the remaining students in the arena watching in stunned silence. The other one lie motionless—one groaning in pain, still buried in the debris from my kick.

  I take a slow breath, my grip on the sword tightening for a brief moment before I lower it.

  "Tch," I click my tongue, stepping back. "Next time, don’t start fights you can’t finish."

  I sheathe my sword and turn away. The onlookers whisper among themselves, some in shock, others in excitement.

  I ignore them.

  This wasn’t about showing off.

  It was about proving a point.

  I step away from the defeated trio, my mind still clouded with frustration. I didn’t plan to make a scene, but they forced my hand.

  The whispers around me grow louder. Some students look at me with awe, others with wariness. I can already hear murmurs spreading—rumors about the demon hunter who took down multiple opponents in seconds.

  Great. More attention.

  The guy who stood up for me earlier hesitates before stepping forward. His fists remain clenched at his sides, his face still holding traces of anger from before.

  “That was… incredible,” he says, his voice carrying a mix of admiration and disbelief. “You shut them down before they even had a chance.”

  I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I wasn’t trying to put on a show.”

  “I know,” he nods. “But still… thanks.”

  I raise a brow. “For what?”

  “For proving they’re not as untouchable as they think they are.”

  I study his expression for a moment. There’s something familiar in his eyes—something I know all too well.

  Resentment.

  Not towards me, but towards people like them.

  I exhale. “What’s your name?”

  “Oh—right.” He straightens up, looking slightly embarrassed. “It’s Owen. Owen Graves.”

  “Well, Owen,” I say, turning to leave. “Try not to get yourself in trouble, yeah?”

  Owen grins. “No promises.”

  I pause and glance back at him. "And if they ever mess with you again, don’t hesitate to call my name."

  As I step out of the arena, I catch one last glimpse of the sky through the open ceiling. The clouds have thickened again, swallowing the last traces of sunlight that peeked through.

  I have a feeling this won’t be the last time trouble finds me.

  And next time, I might not have the luxury of holding back.

  ...

  I forgot how fast rumors spread. As I made my way back to my dorm, all I could hear were whispers about the duel. Some exaggerated it, saying I took down ten mages at once. Others scoffed, calling it a fluke. Either way, my name was on everyone's lips.

  Great. Just what I needed—more attention.

  I reached my dorm, shutting the door behind me with a sigh. Stripping off my uniform, I changed into something more comfortable before collapsing onto my bed.

  Today had been exhausting. First, the awkward stares, then the fireball incident, and now this.

  I closed my eyes, letting the fatigue finally take over.

  Whatever happens tomorrow… that’s a problem for future me.

  ...

  Time blurred into a relentless cycle of lectures, training, and late-night study sessions. Each day at the academy tested me in different ways, yet nothing ever felt truly difficult. While my classmates struggled to grasp new concepts, I picked them up with ease.

  Professor Lillian Mayfield’s history lessons were long and tedious, but I absorbed every word. The Great Divide—a rift that tore the world apart—had appeared overnight. No warning, no explanation. It severed lands, shattered alliances, and forced humans and demons into endless war. Some believed it was divine punishment, others claimed it was the result of a failed experiment from a lost civilization. Whatever the truth, it had changed everything.

  Combat training with Professor Garret Stein was where I thrived. While others fumbled through stances and struggled to land their strikes, I moved like I had been doing this my whole life. Footwork, grappling, counters—I picked up techniques faster than anyone else. Professor Stein noticed, of course. He pushed me harder than the others, testing my endurance, but I never faltered. If anything, I welcomed the challenge.

  Arcane studies with Professor Susan Giles were… frustrating. I had no mana, no way to cast spells, no ability to manipulate magic like my classmates. But I still memorized every incantation, traced every rune, and studied every principle. Even without magic, I could understand its structure. And if there was a way to bridge that gap, I intended to find it.

  Alchemy under Professor Adrian Zimmerman was a chaotic mess of bubbling vials, unexpected explosions, and strange-smelling fumes. It was easy to get lost in the madness, but I learned to navigate through it. I could identify potions at a glance, predict their effects, and even see how some mixtures could be weaponized. Zimmerman, despite always being distracted, was brilliant. His hands were constantly stained with ink and potion residue, but his knowledge was invaluable.

  Healing lessons with Professor Kara Snow were… not my strong suit. I wasn’t the type to focus on mending wounds, but I understood its importance. She spoke with warmth, emphasizing that healing wasn’t just about fixing injuries—it was about resilience, survival, and knowing your limits. I doubted I’d ever be a healer, but I paid attention. Knowing how to recover quickly could mean the difference between life and death.

  Weeks passed, and the academy no longer felt unfamiliar. I had surpassed my classmates, not just in combat but in nearly every subject. I should have felt satisfied.

  But peace never lasted long for me.

  At first, it was just whispers. Then stares. By noon, I could feel the tension in the air.

  Something was happening.

  And it wasn’t long before trouble came knocking.

  I felt it before I saw it. A presence—no, several—lurking at the edges of the courtyard.

  As I stepped outside, I saw them.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The three guys I had humiliated in the duel stood at the center of a growing crowd. But they weren’t alone. They had brought reinforcements. A lot of them.

  A towering man, easily over six feet tall, stood with his arms crossed, his bulk making him look like a walking fortress. He wasn’t a student—none of them were. Their armor, the way they carried themselves… mercenaries.

  Twenty of them.

  The students who had gathered whispered among themselves, watching the scene unfold like spectators at an arena.

  I sighed, rubbing my temple. "Seriously?"

  One of the guys I had fought before stepped forward, a smug grin on his face. "You embarrassed us, Demon Hunter. And we can’t let that slide."

  The big guy cracked his knuckles. "So we brought some friends."

  I stared at them for a moment, my mind already running through possibilities. I could take them all on. That wasn’t even a question. But…

  A small part of me wanted to play with them first.

  I let out a slow breath and lowered my stance slightly, just enough to make it look like I was uncertain. Then, in a carefully measured voice, I said, "Alright. I’ll fight. But only if all of you come at me at once."

  A ripple of amusement passed through the mercenaries. Some chuckled. Others shook their heads, amused by what they thought was arrogance.

  "That’s a bold challenge, kid," the big guy said. "You sure about that?"

  I forced a hesitant smirk, playing my part. "I mean, you wouldn’t want it to be unfair, right?"

  More laughter. Some students in the crowd muttered among themselves.

  "Alright, then," the leader said, rolling his shoulders. "Let’s see if you’re all talk."

  The moment the first mercenary lunged at me, I pretended to stumble, barely dodging the strike. I made my movements clumsy, sluggish—just enough to make it seem like I was struggling.

  The second one charged in, and I let him graze me, rolling with the impact as I crashed onto the ground. A murmur passed through the crowd.

  I heard one of the students whisper, "Maybe he really is all talk..."

  Perfect.

  I staggered to my feet, wiping my mouth as if I had taken serious damage. Then, with a sharp exhale, I straightened my posture.

  And I smiled.

  A slow, sharp grin.

  The kind that sent a chill down the spine.

  "Heh…" I chuckled, rolling my shoulders. "You thought I was that weak?"

  I shifted my stance, my body no longer sluggish, my posture precise, refined. The air around me grew heavier.

  The realization hit them too late.

  I was toying with them.

  The moment my foot touched the ground, I exploded forward.

  The first mercenary barely had time to react before I drove my knee into his gut. The impact sent him flying backward, crashing into two others.

  The second tried to draw his sword—I was already there. A swift strike with the blunt side of my nameless sword sent him sprawling.

  Another came from behind. I caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it as I yanked him off balance before slamming him into the dirt.

  Panic set in.

  The mercenaries rushed me all at once, but it didn’t matter. I weaved through their attacks, my movements now effortless. The crowd gasped as one by one, the hired thugs fell.

  Some tried to run. I let them.

  Others hesitated, realizing that the fight had never been fair.

  Because they were never a match for me to begin with.

  The big guy, the leader, was the last one standing. He took a cautious step back, sweat beading on his forehead.

  I tilted my head. "Not gonna run?"

  His fists clenched. He was scared. But he had pride.

  "Come on, then," I said, raising my sword. "Let’s finish this."

  The big guy exhaled sharply, his stance shifting as he braced himself. He knew he couldn't run—not after all that bravado. The students were still watching, whispering among themselves. If he backed down now, his reputation would be as good as dead.

  Good.

  I lowered my sword slightly, letting my body relax just enough to make it look like I was open. It was bait. If he was as desperate as I thought he was, he'd take it.

  And he did.

  With a roar, he lunged, throwing a massive, earth-shaking punch. The kind that could shatter bones if it landed.

  I sidestepped at the last second. His fist crashed into the ground, sending dust and debris flying. He barely had time to process his miss before I struck.

  A single, precise slash.

  Not with the blade—just the flat of my sword against his ribs.

  The impact sent him skidding backward, his feet digging into the dirt. He coughed, clutching his side, eyes wide with disbelief.

  "You’re strong," I admitted. "But strength alone isn’t enough."

  I stepped forward, watching as he struggled to stay upright.

  "You guys wanted to see if I really took down an Archdemon," I continued. "And now you have your answer."

  Silence hung heavy in the air. The mercenaries who could still move scrambled to retreat, dragging their unconscious allies with them. The crowd of students remained still, their expressions a mix of awe, fear, and newfound respect.

  I turned away, letting my sword rest on my shoulder.

  "Listen up," I said, my voice carrying across the arena. "We’re done here. If any of you have a problem with me, don’t bother bringing an army next time. Just come to me directly."

  No one responded.

  The big guy let out a shaky breath before dropping to one knee. "I… concede."

  I nodded. "Good."

  With that, I walked off, my footsteps echoing through the now-silent courtyard.

  I had made my point.

  And now, the academy knew exactly what kind of person I was.

  Then suddenly, a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the courtyard. The sound cut through the stunned silence like a knife, drawing every eye toward its source.

  I turned my head, and there they stood.

  The student council.

  Their uniforms set them apart from the rest—dark navy coats adorned with silver embroidery, polished insignias gleaming under the afternoon sun. They carried themselves with a presence that immediately shifted the atmosphere. The once-rowdy students straightened, whispers growing hushed.

  At the front, the one clapping was a tall young man with striking red hair, sharp and unkempt, like a flame refusing to be tamed. His golden eyes burned with amusement as he studied me, his spear resting casually against his shoulder. The weapon was sleek yet deadly, its edge gleaming with a faint enchantment.

  “Well, well,” he drawled, a smirk playing on his lips. “That was quite the performance. Taking on a small army and still walking away like it was nothing? I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

  I didn’t respond right away. My grip on my sword tightened slightly. Something about him—about all of them—felt different from the others I had fought today.

  Behind him stood three more figures, each exuding an air of authority.

  To his right was a tall, elegant girl with long silver hair cascading down her back. She carried a staff adorned with intricate runes, her icy blue eyes scanning me with quiet curiosity. She looked composed, like nothing in this world could faze her.

  Beside her, a broad-shouldered young man with short-cropped black hair and a scar running down his jawline crossed his arms. His uniform looked slightly more worn than the others, and the massive greatsword strapped to his back made it clear—he was a warrior through and through.

  And then there was the smallest of the group, a short girl with fox-like amber eyes and twin daggers strapped to her belt. Unlike the others, she had an easy grin on her face, twirling one of her daggers between her fingers as if this was all just a game to her.

  The red-haired guy stopped clapping and tilted his head.

  “Where are my manners?” he said, his tone still laced with amusement. “Name’s Reinhardt Vale. Student Council President.” He tapped his spear against the ground lightly. “And these fine individuals behind me? They’re the best of the best here at Aurewyn Grand Academy. My Vice President, Seri Aldridge.” He gestured to the silver-haired girl, who nodded slightly in acknowledgment. “Our Combat Commander, Darius Holt.” The scarred swordsman simply grunted. “And our Intelligence Officer, Lyra Vex.” The dagger-wielding girl gave a playful wink.

  I let my sword lower but didn’t let my guard down.

  Student council, huh? This wasn’t just some group of privileged nobles flaunting their power. These guys… they were strong.

  Reinhardt took a step forward. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you, Eli.” His smirk deepened. “And I think it’s about time we had a proper chat.”

  "Talk?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  Reinhardt grinned, twirling his spear effortlessly before resting it against his shoulder again. "Yeah. Talk."

  I glanced at the others behind him. Seri remained unreadable, her icy blue gaze studying me like I was some puzzle she was piecing together. Darius, the swordsman, simply stood with his arms crossed, looking as if he had better things to do. Lyra, the shortest of them, was still twirling her dagger, her fox-like grin making it hard to tell if she was amused or just waiting for an excuse to stab someone.

  Something about this whole situation put me on edge. These weren’t just some upperclassmen throwing their weight around—they felt different. Their presence alone carried weight.

  I adjusted my grip on my sword, not raising it but not putting it away either. "Alright, then," I said, keeping my voice even. "Talk."

  Reinhardt chuckled. "Relax, we’re not here to start a fight—at least, not yet." His golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "We just wanted to see for ourselves what kind of guy the so-called Demon Hunter really is."

  I exhaled sharply. That title again.

  "You sure have a way of making an entrance," I said, glancing at the small crater left behind from my fight with the mercenaries. "What, did you think I was gonna wipe out half the academy or something?"

  Seri finally spoke, her voice cool and measured. "We’re here because we decide who disrupts the academy’s balance—not some new student who just happened to beat a few second-rate mercenaries."

  I scoffed. "Balance? I didn’t realize the student council was so concerned about schoolyard brawls."

  Darius shifted slightly, his voice calm but firm. "It’s not the fight that concerns us. It’s you."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

  Reinhardt nodded, his smirk never fading. "You’re an unknown, Eli. You show up out of nowhere, take down an Archdemon, and now you’re making a spectacle of yourself. That makes people curious." He leaned forward slightly. "And curiosity? That can be dangerous."

  I met his gaze, unflinching. "So, what? You’re here to warn me?"

  Lyra finally let out a short laugh. "No, dummy. We’re here to see if you’re worth keeping an eye on."

  I felt a chill in the air—not from the wind, but from the sheer presence of the student council.

  This wasn’t just some casual conversation.

  This was a test.

  He raised his hands in a mock gesture of peace. "Listen, one way or another, we’ll find out." His grin didn’t waver. "After all, we’re all teammates in X-Day."

  I frowned. "X-Day?"

  Before I could even ask what that meant, he cut me off with a chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, I know—you don’t have a clue what that is, so let me break it down for you." He took a step forward, casually resting his spear against his shoulder. "Two weeks from now, the best of the best in the academy will travel to the empire to fight in a tournament."

  A tournament? That was new.

  Reinhardt’s smirk widened at my reaction. "The X-Day Tournament is a showcase of strength, skill, and strategy. Every major academy sends their strongest students to compete—not just for glory, but for recognition. The winners earn a direct audience with the royal family, sponsorships, and even recruitment offers from high-ranking officials."

  Seri crossed her arms. "In other words, it’s not just about winning. It’s about proving you belong among the elite."

  Darius finally spoke, his voice calm and unwavering. "And like it or not, you’re on the team."

  I blinked. "I didn’t sign up for this."

  Reinhardt laughed. "Doesn’t matter. The faculty already made their decision. You don’t turn down an invitation to X-Day, Eli. That’s just how it works."

  I exhaled sharply, glancing at the group in front of me. A tournament, an empire, and now I was being thrown into it without even a say? Just my luck.

  Lyra tilted her head, still twirling her dagger. "Better start training, Demon Hunter. You don’t wanna embarrass us out there, do you?"

  I clenched my jaw, weighing my options. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

  "Fine," I muttered. "I’ll do it."

  Reinhardt’s grin sharpened. "Good. Then let’s see if you’re as strong as the rumors say."

  I turned around and left, my mind racing with anticipation. X-Day? Finally, a tournament. I had been waiting for something like this. A real test. A chance to face opponents who could actually challenge me.

  How many strong fighters would I meet? How many would push me to my limits? Just the thought of it sent a thrill through my veins.

  But before I got ahead of myself, I knew one thing—I had to train. Not in flashy techniques or advanced combat styles. No, what I lacked was the basics. The solid foundation that separated true warriors from reckless brawlers.

  I tightened my grip on my sword and exhaled.

  "Time to get to work."