The world twisted—and settled.
Sion blinked as the light around him dimmed, then cleared. He stood once again in the familiar open space before the mist wall—the same place where the Dean had first welcomed them, back when this was just an exam.
But now, it was different.
They were fewer.
The air carried weight. Not from pressure—but from change.
Around him, other students appeared one by one in soft flashes of gold. Faces bruised, clothes torn, expressions unreadable.
Then—
A voice boomed from above. The same deep, steady tone they all remembered.
"Congratulations, Survivors."
"You have passed the trial."
"Ahead of you lies the Academy."
The mist ahead churned like it had heard the call.
"Step forward, and enter your new world."
The voice faded.
The mist remained.
A single wall of swirling white, like fog given purpose. It stretched far to either side, endless in either direction. No wind. No sound.
Sion stepped forward first.
Of course he did.
Someone muttered behind him—maybe Daniel, maybe not. He didn't turn to check.
The mist welcomed him without resistance.
And then—
Warm light spilled over his skin. As a wave of a pleasant, peaceful smell flew over.
He was through.
Sion stopped, eyes narrowing as his gaze adjusted.
He'd expected something grand. Something ridiculous, even. But what he saw…
It was almost normal.
No towering castles. No floating cities. Just land. Endless land.
Vast, open land stretching farther than the eye can follow—so wide it feels endless. Distant mountains loom. Lakes glimmer under the sun. Valleys cut through fields like nature never stopped existing just because killers were raised here.
And scattered throughout this beautiful sprawl?
Buildings.
Some look like cozy homes. Others like open-air temples. One looks like a farmhouse… with smoke gently curling from the chimney.
There are dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. No uniformity. No obvious pattern.
Some float. Some sit on cliffs. One's literally built into the side of a waterfall.
What stood out the most to him though was the smell—pleasant, peaceful, bliss—but there was something else.
To the normal person, they would not be able to smell it out, but Sion could. The smell stood out to him like a speck of blood on a white cloth—the smell of death.
Behind him, other students emerged from the mist one by one, each slowing as they took in the same sight.
A long silence holds over the students.
Then someone mutters:"…This is it?"
Another answers:"This looks like my grandma's village."
But it's not normal.
Because they all feel it.
The stillness of a place that shouldn't be this quiet.
The hum beneath the soil.
The gaze of something that sees them before they even step forward.
The truth is—
The Academy doesn't need to look like a fortress.
Because nothing gets in unless it allows it.
Just then Sion looked up.
The sky shimmered.
Above the Academy's endless fields, a wide screen of golden light unfolded—slowly, deliberately—like a scroll revealing history.
He felt a hum rippled through the air.
Then the text appeared:
---
[STUDENT RANKINGS – TOP TEN]
1. ANESSA – 200,000 pts
Titles: Destroyer, King Slayer, Slayer.
2. SION – 80,000 pts
Titles: Monster Slayer, Monster King Slayer, Mob Cleaner, King Slayer, Slayer.
3. EDWARD – 30,000 pts
Titles: King Slayer, Monster King Slayer.
4. SILAS – 20,000 pts
Titles: King Slayer, Monster King Slayer.
5. JOHN – 15,000 pts
Titles: Monster King Slayer, Monster Slayer.
6. CRYSTAL – 12,000 pts
Titles: Slayer.
7. GORRANA – 11,500 pts
Titles: Slayer.
8. GENEVIEVE – 11,000 pts.
9. FRANA – 11,000 pts.
10. AIZA – 11,000 pts.
---
Sion watched as names appeared on the huge screen. The top ten names were separated to a special box, with the text appearing in golden format.
No one reacted at first.
Then—
"Anessa's first," he heard someone whisper.
"Obviously," another muttered. "Even the staff don't mess with her."
"I heard she made a student puke just by walking past him."
No one questioned it. No surprise. Only dread, reinforced.
Sion followed their gazes.
At a corner, with no one in it's proximity, a gigantic bear lay down with a petite girl napping right on top.
Sion's eyes lingered, not on the girl, but on the bear. A golden glow flashed through his eyes.
His gift—the lion in him—really found the bear intriguing.
But he forced it down.
He took note to remember the girl's name. He had not heard of her before, she was probably part of the first batch of students who took the preliminary tests.
Just as his thoughts were wondering, something clicked, but it was too late.
The attention had diverted to the second name…
A murmur spread.
Then confusion.
Then curiosity.
"Sion?" Multiple students called out at once.
A pang.
"Who is Sion?" They questioned.
Another pang vibrated in Sion's head as his senses were being pulled in multiple directions.
Soon, the name 'Sion' resounded through the whole crowd—with each mention, the pain grew stronger.
It grew till he couldn't take it any longer, he turned and walked through the crowd—staggered through—to the back.
As soon as he exited the crowd, he fell to his knees, his hands holding his head.
A stream of blood ran down his nose.
He could not take it.
Part of his myriad abilities granted by his gift, this was his least favorite—a passive ability that extends his senses to anywhere his name is being called.
For the most part, it was a great ability till a multitude calls out his name at once.
Each voice was a hook—yanking his consciousness in a dozen directions. He wasn't just hearing his name; he was there, in every mouth that spoke it—tasting their breath, their malice, their awe, their confusion. A hundred fractured realities, all screaming "Sion."
It was the reason a few to none, calls him by name in the village.
As the pain increased, an unyielding force bubbled up from within him.
A single roar would silence it all....
It called out to him.
Then, just as he was about to let loose.
A hand placed itself on his shoulder, a gentle stream of energy entered into his body as a pleasant smell drafted through his nose.
He looked over at the one who had stopped him from unknowingly commiting mass murder.
Dara.
She stood there and stared at him for a while.
"Are you okay?" She then caught herself. "Nevermind that question, you clearly aren't."
She tilted her head slightly. "Is this backlash from that move you used against the monster horde?"
"Nope." A hoarse voice sounded out from Sion.
"Then what is it? I thought you should be celebrating, being the second highest ranked in the academy is no joke now is it?"
She said as she took a cloth and wiped off the blood running down his nose.
"Or is it that you hate crowds?"
"It is not the attention." Sion answered. "It is the... Name."
She blinked.
And something clicked in her eyes.
"You can… feel when people say it?"
Sion nodded weakly.
"…That's insane."
"I know."
She smirked. "I wish I could do that."
"No, you don't."
She chuckled slightly.
"Is this why you said, I can call your name whenever and you'd be there?"
"Yep."
"That's dope." She grinned as she stood up.
"A superhero thing." Sion quiped.
"It seems the mumurs are dying out, are you getting better?" Dara noticed the pain in his face was clearing up.
"Hmm." He nodded as he stood. His rosy complexion cleared as the remnant of blood running down his nose cleared up—returning back to his bloodstream.
The blood on Dara's cloth peeled away too—returning to him.
She watched on in fascination as the blood departed from the cloth, and entered his nose.
"You are really fascinating, you know?"
"Yes I am." Sion popped her a grin. Then a frown appeared on his face. "Why aren't you—"
He cut his words short as his head snapped towards the front of the crowd.
A flat elevated platform had appeared, and standing on it were three people—from the badges on their chest and the uniform, they were definitely students.
Two male, one female. Each with an aura that made the students instinctively back away.
The male standing at the middle stared at them with lazy eyes. His smile split his face too wide, too perfect—like a porcelain mask cracked at the edges.
"Welcome freshers."
When he spoke, it felt like their was a delay, like time couldn't catch up.
"...I would be your welcoming committee: the student council president.
A slight pause.
"They call me the Smilingdeath."