CHAPTER 17: SURVIVAL TRAIL (3)

Chapter 17– Survival Trial (3)

The Surveillance Chamber of Arcade Academy was nothing like a simple classroom.

It was a vast, circular hall carved deep into the academy’s heart, with ceilings that arched high like the dome of a cathedral. The stone walls were veined with glowing mana conduits, streams of bluish light that pulsed rhythmically, carrying energy to the massive artifact array embedded at the center of the chamber.

At the core floated a giant crystal sphere, the size of a carriage, suspended midair. It rotated slowly, runes crawling across its surface like living script. Every few seconds, the runes flared, sending ripples of light outward, which transformed into floating projection screens across the chamber.

Each screen displayed a different corner of the survival island—snow-capped mountains, dark forests, grassy plains, and icy caverns. Dozens of students flickered in and out of view, their battles rendered in vivid clarity, as if the instructors were standing right there beside them.

Beneath the projections stretched a semi-circular dais of polished blackstone, lined with long desks. Instructors sat at their stations, each surrounded by floating crystal panels where they could zoom in, magnify, or replay students’ battles at will.

The room itself felt like a mix of a war council chamber and a grand theatre. The only sounds were the quiet hum of the crystal sphere and the occasional flicker of magical sparks as the runes shifted.

---

The instructors were not relaxed. Each leaned forward, their eyes fixed on the floating screens.

Some tapped their fingers against the desks, others scribbled notes on parchment that immediately absorbed into glowing rune-slates.

When students clashed with monsters, the light from the projection flickered across the instructors’ faces, highlighting their reactions in sharp contrast: narrowed eyes, raised brows, clenched jaws, faint smirks.

It was a room of judgment. A room where futures were decided.

---

At the very front, before the great sphere, stood Vice Principal Sophia Emberheart.

Unlike the others, she had no desk. Her presence alone dominated the chamber—tall, poised, her crimson hair tied back into a flowing tail, her coat edged in gold trim that glimmered in the crystal light.

Her arms were crossed, her sharp crimson eyes locked on the largest screen, which displayed the live leaderboard. Every flicker of movement on her face slight frown, tightening lips, raised brows sent a ripple of unease through the instructors behind her.

Though the room was filled with murmurs and occasional laughter, when Sophia spoke, the entire chamber stilled instantly.

---

From the very start, small arguments broke out:

Ronwell Hart, the battle instructor, leaned back with a grin, arms crossed over his chest, scoffing whenever someone mentioned "elegance" or "mana efficiency."

Sara Everheart, with her calm scholarly demeanor, often cut in sharply with critiques of mana consumption and elemental balance.

Alastor Greythorn never took his eyes off the sword users, his voice like gravel as he muttered commentary.

Cedric Ironguill was the loudest, his deep laughter booming whenever a student landed a flashy kill.

The mix of personalities created constant tension. Every time the screens shifted to a new student, their perspectives clashed: discipline versus recklessness, control versus power, tradition versus raw talent.

And in the middle of it all, Sophia’s gaze was like a sword blade—silent, precise, dangerous.

---

Vice Principal Sophia Emberheart stood at the center, arms folded over her chest. Her crimson hair shimmered like molten flame under the light of the crystals, her sharp eyes sweeping the projections.

"Two hours in," she said softly, her voice carrying authority, "and already... the standings are unusual."

Her gaze flicked toward the main screen showing the leaderboard.

#1. Michael Willson – 1430 points

#2. Leon Lionheart – 870 points

#3. Edric William – 760 points

#4. Selena Veylan – 730 points

#5. Aiden Stromfang – 730 points

Murmurs rippled through the instructors.

---

"Focus on Leon Lionheart," said Alastor Greythorn, the Sword Instructor. He was a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, his hand absently stroking his beard as his steel-gray eyes locked on Leon’s screen.

The projection shifted. Leon stood in the blizzard, blade burning crimson as he clashed with a massive E-rank Ice Wolf Alpha.

BOOM!

The wolf lunged, frost spilling from its fangs. Leon met it head-on, his blade flaring with fire. Sparks exploded, the snow underfoot melting instantly.

"Lionheart Sword Style – Twin Fang!" Leon roared, his fiery slashes forming a blazing cross that cut through the beast’s chest.

The screen lit up with a shower of flame and snow as the wolf collapsed.

+150 Points

Alastor’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Hmph. Solid technique. His foundation is excellent, and his control over his flame affinity is improving. Not bad at all."

"Expected of a Lionheart," muttered Nathan Pendragon, the 1st-year combat instructor, arms crossed. "But his stamina consumption is still too high. Look at his breathing—he’s forcing it."

Sophia’s crimson eyes flicked over Leon’s posture. She gave a small nod. "Yes. He’s talented, but he pushes himself in bursts. If he doesn’t refine that before the year ends, he’ll hit a wall."

Alastor snorted, smirking. "He’ll refine it. Lionhearts don’t crumble easily."

---

"Switch to Selena Veylan," Sophia ordered.

The projection rippled, shifting to show Selena moving silently in the dense woods. Her dagger gleamed faintly in the moonlight filtering through the canopy. Around her, shadow hounds prowled, their growls echoing like whispers.

She vanished into the darkness—then reappeared behind one. Her blade slid into its throat like liquid shadow. Shhhk!

The beast dissolved into smoke.

The instructors leaned forward as Selena danced through the pack, every movement precise and silent. The trees themselves seemed untouched as she slipped between them.

"Impressive," murmured Sara Everheart, the Mana Exploration instructor, her hand on her chin. "She’s using her shadow affinity with incredible finesse for someone her age. Each kill costs her barely any mana."

Cedric Ironguill, the bulky Alchemy Instructor, chuckled, his beard shaking. "Polite, elegant, and efficient. Royal blood shows in everything she does."

Sophia’s lips pressed into a thin line. "...She’s dangerous. Not just because of her strength, but because of how little effort she wastes. Even among royals, this level of control at E-rank is rare."

---

"Switch to Aiden Stromfang."

The projection shifted again, showing Aiden in the grasslands, facing a Thunderhorn Elk.

The beast lowered its glowing antlers. Electricity surged across its body.

Aiden only grinned. "Bring it on!"

He swung his blade down with a roar. Lightning erupted from his strike, clashing against the elk’s charge. CRASH! The explosion split the ground, grass igniting into flame as the two forces collided.

"Storm Fang Slash!" Aiden shouted. Lightning forked across the battlefield, blindingly bright.

The elk crumpled.

+100 Points

Ronwell Hart, the Battle Instructor, burst into booming laughter, slamming his fist on the table. "Hah! That’s what I like! A proper fight! None of that sneaky shadow dancing—pure clash of force!"

Sara rolled her eyes. "That boy wastes too much mana, Ronwell. Look at him, nearly out of breath after one kill."

But Nathan Pendragon smirked. "He’s got spirit. That counts for something."

Sophia raised a brow. "Spirit alone doesn’t win wars. He’s talented, but... reckless."

---

"Now... Edric William."

The screen shifted to the Green Valley. Edric stood in the sunlight, his holy aura blazing like a miniature sun. Dozens of sky raptors circled above.

He raised his blade arrogantly. "Kneel before the light!"

WHOOOSH! A pillar of radiance erupted, blinding. The raptors shrieked as holy light shredded their wings midair, their bodies falling like burning meteors.

+300 Points

Several instructors shielded their eyes from the glow.

"Hmph." Garrick Dawson, the Dungeon & Monster Studies instructor, scowled. "Showy. Inefficient. But effective."

Dorian Ford, the History teacher, smiled faintly. "The William family prides itself on overwhelming brilliance. He embodies that tradition."

Sophia’s expression hardened. "...And also their arrogance. Look at his stance. He wastes energy just to appear grand. If he continues like this, he’ll burn out before the trial ends."

Ronwell chuckled. "Still, with that kind of power, who cares? He’ll dominate anyway."

Sophia gave him a cold look. "You’ll see."

---

Then came the moment.

"Switch to Michael Willson," Sophia ordered.

The projection rippled, and the image sharpened—showing Michael standing before the cave of the Frostfang Tiger.

The beast’s roar shook the ground. Snow burst from the cave mouth, frost coating the trees around it.

The instructors leaned forward unconsciously.

Michael’s sword gleamed faintly with mana. His eyes were sharp, his body steady, his stance refined.

CRACK! The Frostfang Tiger lunged, its claws slicing through the air, cold wind exploding outward like blades.

Michael’s figure blurred—vanishing an instant before the strike hit. The beast’s claws tore through the trees instead, trunks snapping like twigs.

"Shadow Swap?" Nathan murmured, eyes narrowing.

"No..." Sophia whispered, eyes widening slightly. "That movement—space affinity."

The instructors froze.

BOOM! Michael reappeared behind the beast, his blade glowing faintly with spatial distortion. He slashed. The strike didn’t just cut—it bent space itself, warping the air.

Sparks exploded. The Frostfang Tiger howled as blood sprayed across the frozen ground.

"Impossible..." Sara breathed, her eyes wide. "Space affinity? At his age?"

The battle raged. The beast countered with an icy roar, frost exploding outward. Michael raised his free hand, conjuring a barrier of shimmering ice. KSHHH! The blizzard shattered against it, shards scattering like broken glass.

Then, Michael surged forward.

Every strike was efficient, merciless. Sparks lit the air. Trees split and toppled. Frost and flame clashed violently with each blow.

Finally, he raised his blade high, pouring the last of his mana into it. The edge pulsed with distorted light, reality itself rippling around it.

"Spatial Sever."

WHOOSH!

The world seemed to split. The Frostfang Tiger froze mid-roar—then its body slid apart, cleaved in two clean halves.

Silence.

Only the sound of the forest wind remained.

Michael exhaled, his blade trembling faintly as the last of his mana drained away. He collapsed to one knee, chest heaving.

His smartwatch chimed.

+500 Points

Michael Willson – 1930 Points – Rank: #1

---

The room was dead silent.

Finally, Ronwell Hart broke into stunned laughter. "Hah... HAHAHA! That kid’s insane! Did you see that cut? Space affinity! SPACE!"

Sara’s eyes still glowed with disbelief. "I... I thought no one below rank B could wield it properly..."

Cedric Ironguill grinned, slamming his fist on the table. "A monster. A bloody monster is what he is."

Nathan Pendragon smirked faintly, though his eyes were sharp. "His fundamentals are flawless. That wasn’t just raw talent, he’s trained himself ruthlessly. Every movement had purpose."

Alastor leaned forward, his scarred face unreadable. "...He fights like someone who’s seen a hundred battlefields. That’s not the style of a student."

Sophia Emberheart said nothing. Her crimson eyes locked onto Michael’s exhausted figure on the screen.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

This boy... where did you come from?

---