CHAPTER 56: FRESHER BALL (4)

Chapter 55- Fresher Ball (4)

(Michael POV)

The silence pressed in, heavier than any spell.

Magnus Draven had revealed his hand—and I had refused it.

I could feel it: the shift in the air, the sudden tightening of noble jaws, the poorly-concealed smirks of those who longed to see me fall. Nobles rarely liked each other, but against a commoner who spat in their face? They became a pack.

Magnus adjusted his cuff, composed, but his gaze was darker now.

"Building your own army, was it?" he repeated, as though tasting the words. "A bold fantasy. But remember, fantasies end when faced with reality. What will you feed them? Where will you house them? How will you pay them? Coin flows from noble coffers. Land belongs to noble families. Guilds answer to noble councils. Every path you imagine..." His eyes sharpened, "...already belongs to us."

It was the voice of a man who believed in inevitability.

But inevitability was something I’d spent my entire life spitting on.

"You speak as if the world ends where nobility begins," I said quietly. "But it doesn’t."

Magnus’s lips curved faintly. "Then enlighten me. Where does it end?"

I didn’t look at him. I looked past him—at the crowd, the chandeliers, the banners of Arcadia swaying in faint mana breeze. At the whispers of commoners in the back, the clenched fists of students who had always walked with heads bowed.

"It ends when people like me stop listening to people like you."

Gasps rippled. A few students even choked on their drinks.

Maria... she smiled. The faintest, most dangerous smile I’d seen on her yet.

---

(Leon POV)

Damn him.

The idiot actually said it.

I could see the nobles’ faces—the twitching mouths, the narrowed eyes. They wouldn’t forget that line. Not tonight. Not ever.

Draven himself froze, just for a heartbeat. Then his smile returned, thinner, sharper, like a blade turned sideways.

This wasn’t bravery. This was suicide.

Selena leaned close, her whisper sharp in my ear. "Do you see now? He isn’t just reckless. He’s dangerous."

Dangerous.

...And yet, some part of me, traitorous and furious, thought:

He said what I’ve always wanted to.

---

(Maria POV)

I should have been afraid.

Magnus Draven wasn’t someone you defied lightly. His reach extended beyond the Academy—political webs, alliances, whispers of darker ties. His word could blacken reputations, close doors, cripple futures.

Yet watching Michael, I felt something strange.

Not fear.

Not even relief.

...Excitement.

That blunt defiance. That refusal to bend even when the weight of nobility pressed down on him like an avalanche.

Most men in this hall wore masks. Polished smiles, polite bows, hollow words.

But him? Michael Willson? He was... real.

And the more I watched, the more I wanted to know where that resolve came from.

---

(Michael POV)

Magnus studied me for a long moment, his silence somehow louder than his words. Then, finally, he exhaled softly.

"So be it."

His smile returned, almost lazy now, though I caught the tightness in his jaw. "Defiance is admirable. But admiration and protection are not the same. Remember this moment, Michael Willson. When the walls close in, when your precious independence crumbles, and you look for a hand to pull you up... none will come."

He turned slightly, his cloak sweeping across the floor as though he were dismissing me from existence itself.

But he stopped halfway, his voice carrying back over his shoulder.

"Commoners fall alone."

The words dropped like a curse.

He strode away, students parting before him in instinctive deference. Nobles whispered, their gazes like knives. Commoners looked conflicted some in awe, some terrified.

I stood still, my hand tightening briefly at my side, until Maria’s soft voice reached me.

"You handled it well," she murmured.

I let out a slow breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. "...That was handling it?"

She laughed softly, tilting her head. "You’re still standing, aren’t you?"

---

(Narrator POV )

In that moment, Michael Willson became something more than Rank 1.

He became a symbol.

For nobles, an upstart who needed to be cut down.

For commoners, proof that even iron walls could crack.

And for Magnus Draven—

A threat to be remembered.

---

(Leon POV)

I couldn’t breathe.

Not because of fear. Because of rage.

He stood there, with Maria at his side, refusing Draven as though he were some storybook hero.

And the worst part?

The hall loved it.

Not the nobles. No, they were seething. But the commoners? The lower-ranked cadets? Their eyes burned with something I hadn’t seen before.

Hope.

All because of him.

"Michael Willson," I muttered under my breath, the name bitter on my tongue. "You’ll regret this."

---

(Michael POV)

The orchestra struck up again, louder this time, trying to smother the tension. Students drifted back into chatter, but the energy was different now—strained, brittle.

I was about to say something to Maria when—

Thumm.

The chandeliers flickered.

Once. Twice.

Then darkness swallowed the hall whole.

Gasps erupted. Glass shattered as someone dropped a drink. The orchestra screeched to a halt mid-note.

The shift hit me instantly. Not sound. Not sight. But weight.

A barrier. Heavy, suffocating, wrapping around the hall like chains.

Not a student’s spell. Not an instructor’s ward. Something far, far darker.

Whispers rose, panicked. Someone screamed.

Then—

A voice slithered through the dark, warped and mocking.

"Little heirs of glory... tonight, your blood baptizes the dawn of a new age."

My heart lurched.

It’s starting.

---

The chandeliers that had cast rainbow light now hung lifeless above.

The grand feast untouched. The dance steps frozen mid-motion.

And twenty shadows began to take form within the black.

Demon soldiers.

The Freshers’ Ball had ended.

The slaughter had begun.

---

(Michael POV)

The chandeliers flickered once. Twice.

And then, like a breath extinguished, the grand ballroom drowned in darkness.

Gasps spread instantly. Glasses clinked and shattered as hands fumbled in the dark. Someone screamed a high, panicked sound that split the silence like glass cracking.

My eyes strained, useless in the black, but my body felt it.

Not just the loss of light.

A shift. A pull in the air like chains wrapping around the hall.

...A barrier.

The hair on the back of my neck rose as faint red lines began to etch themselves into the crystalline floor. At first, it was like veins glowing beneath ice. Then, with every passing second, the lines deepened curving, twisting, forming symbols I didn’t recognize but had read about once in the worst parts of the Academy’s forbidden tomes.

Ancient Language.

Runes not meant for human tongues.

The circle pulsed.

Heat radiated outward, thick with sulfur. The stench of rot and iron filled the air.

And then—

Thud.

Something heavy dropped into the circle.

For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

Then another shape fell.

Thud.

Thunk.

And another.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Shapes humanoid, but not human began crawling out of the light, their bodies steaming as if birthed from fire.

The first one raised its head.

My chest tightened. Its skin was crimson, stretched taut over corded muscle. Two horns curved from its temples, jagged and black as obsidian. Its eyes glowed yellow, slitted like a predator. Its jaw opened unnaturally wide, teeth serrated like daggers.

The ballroom erupted in shrieks.

"A–a monster!"

"No... no, this can’t—"

And then one voice screamed the word that froze the blood in every cadet present.

"DEMON!!"

---

Chaos.

Some cadets stumbled backward, tripping over gowns and coats. Nobles cursed, their composure fracturing like cheap porcelain.

A few even tried to rush the exit only to slam against invisible walls, the barrier humming with a cruel resonance.

The demons didn’t wait.

They dropped one by one from the circle, heavy steps shaking the floor.

Twenty. At least twenty already.

And the circle... it was still glowing.

Some Students at the barrier that blocks the exits.

Random Cadet slamming into the wall, panicked

"I–it won’t break! We’re trapped!"

Another voice cracking

"We’re going to die—we’re—!"

Michael snapping, his voice cutting the chaos

"Shut it and hold your ground! The more you panic, the faster you’ll die."

The cadet freezes. Michael turns back, silver eyes narrowing at the circle as more demons drop.

Michael (grim):

"...Twenty already. And the circle hasn’t even slowed."

My grip tightened on my sword.

Beside me, Maria’s expression was steel—her hand already shimmering faintly with frost mana.

"Maria," I said quietly. "Stay alert. This is not VR Simulations so they are strong, be careful "

Her silver eyes met mine. She nodded once. No hesitation.

---

(Emily POV)

Demons.

The sight alone froze me for an instant. My hands trembled before I forced them still around my rapier.

I’d seen them in books, in records from the war. They weren’t supposed to be here—not inside Arcadia, not inside our walls.

Demon Soldiers. Each one as strong as a D-rank hunter.

And more were coming.

I turned, scanning the cadets—the pale faces, wide eyes, bodies shrinking back. Dozens of first-years who had never even seen a beast, let alone a demon.

If they broke, we would all die.

I bit down on my fear, hard, until the copper taste of blood steadied me. Then I raised my voice, sharp and cutting across the hall.

"Listen, cadets!"

The panicked cries faltered, heads snapping toward me.

"Second-years and third-years, to the front! Take formation! First-years—stay together, cover each other, and do not break rank!"

Justin stepped up beside me, his hand firm on my shoulder for just an instant before drawing his blade.

His presence alonecalm, unyieldinglent weight to my words.

Justin steps up beside her, his tone calm, steady as stone.

"You heard her. Move! Steel to the front, mana behind. If you’ve got courage, now’s the time to prove it."

Cadets shuffle, some fumbling, others gritting their teeth as they form into groups. The panic ebbs into strained focus.

From the corner, Draven’s sardonic drawl cuts through.

Draven smirking, hand lazily resting on his blade.

"Tch. First a ball, now a battlefield. Arcadia really knows how to throw a party."

Emily glares, voice biting:

"If you’re done running your mouth, get ready for battle ."

Draven’s smirk fades slightly, his eyes hardening as his blade half-draws, shadows whispering faintly around him.

Draven quieter, sharp

"...Don’t order me, noble girl. I fight because I want to, not because you said so."

Justin cuts in, stepping between them before the argument sparks further.

Justin firm, commanding

"Save it. You can kill each other after the demons."

Even Draven... that arrogant bastard... was ready to Fight, his expression unreadable as his hand rested on his own sword hilt.

It was enough. The crowd steadied, fear turning into something sharper.

But inside—

Inside I still shook.

Because the circle pulsed again.

And I knew this was only the beginning.

If Demon Warriors emerged—C-rank, B-rank monsters—this hall would become a slaughterhouse.

My knuckles whitened around my rapier.

I forced my voice steady one last time.

"Stand ready! Protect your comrades! Hold this ground!"

And prayed to every star above that it would be enough.

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