Sam stood before the glowing ranking board, his name flickering faintly near the bottom.
Rank 194. Dorm: Nullis.
The words didn't sting as much as he'd expected—but they lingered, like a bruise you only notice later. They pulsed in the corner of his vision even after he looked away.
Around him, the crowd buzzed. Students called out their ranks with disbelief or glee. A few cried. Others laughed too loud, high on survival and success. Some were already being swooped up by senior guides in polished uniforms, each one representing one of the prestigious dorms: Aetherion, Valiant, or Ignis.
They were the ones with potential. The ones Nova Sanctum would shape into weapons or legends.
Sam just stood there. Silent. Still.
A soft mechanical chime pulled him back to the moment. A faint orb of light floated toward him, pulsing with a soft, persistent glow.
"Candidate Sam Schneider. Follow."
Its voice was clear, but empty—like it had repeated that line a thousand times today.
Sam didn't reply. He didn't need to. He followed.
The orb didn't take him through the archways of white-stone towers or the sleek glass walkways of the main campus. It didn't lead past marble halls or the banners proudly waving the academy crest.
Instead, it drifted further out—beyond the pristine. Down a crooked path few dared to tread. The trees grew denser, the shadows deeper. Moss swallowed stone. Cracked cobblestones poked out from under weeds like broken teeth. The wind was colder here, biting and damp, and the silence between their steps grew louder with every passing moment.
At the very end of the path stood a building that looked more like a forgotten chapel than a dormitory.
A half-rotted sign swung from rusted chains above the door. The word was barely readable beneath the mold and dirt, but Sam could still make it out:
Dorm Nullis.
This was it. The place for those who just barely passed. No glory. No grandeur. Just a forgotten corner of Nova Sanctum's proud legacy.
Inside, the air was stale. Thick. Like the building itself had given up breathing years ago. Stone walls were chipped, some parts patched lazily with mismatched bricks. Old sconces flickered with weak orange light. It was cold—not from temperature, but from the weight of neglect.
His room wasn't much. A narrow bed with a lopsided frame. A desk with uneven legs, reinforced by stacked bricks. A mirror, fractured so badly it turned his reflection into a mosaic of strangers.
There was complete silence as he walked in...no welcomes....no anything.
And yet… he wasn't alone.
Other students slowly trickled into the dorm. One boy's eyes twitched constantly, as if still trying to wake from the nightmare. Another clutched her coat like armor, her hands trembling from a fear she couldn't shake. One kid sat in the hall, knees pulled tight to his chest, whispering the same words over and over.
Each of them had passed—but the trial had left something behind.
They weren't unworthy. Just... unfinished.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling, his thoughts clouded but quiet—until a voice boomed through the halls, raw and gravel-edged.
"I am Kael Voren. Your advisor."
The voice didn't need speakers. It came from the walls themselves—cold, commanding, and completely indifferent.
> " I was once like you all.You're not here because you're weak. Is that what you want me to say?? You're here because no one else wanted to deal with you. You're the mess no one had time to clean. So now... either rot here, or rise. I don't care which. Just don't waste my time."
And then… silence.
That was it. No ceremony. No rules. Just a line drawn in the dust.
Sam exhaled slowly, laying back on the creaky bed.
"Not exactly inspiring," he muttered under his breath.
But it was honest.
And in a place like this, honesty was more valuable than hope.
The next morning, every student in Dorm Nullis was summoned to the first-floor common hall.
A large glowing panel hummed softly on the far wall, illuminating the room with cool white light. On it were words—sharp, clear, unchanging.
Available Classes – Term One
Sam approached the board, reading slowly:
Aether Combat Fundamentals
Arcane Theory & Sigil Dynamics
Mystic Beastology
Aether Channeling & Internal Flow
Combat Strategy & Battlefield Tactics
Shadow & Stealth Operatives
Relic Handling & Forbidden Arts Study
He lingered at "Aether Channeling," drawn to the idea of mastering what had saved him in the trial. That raw energy—the thing that surged when he was at his limit—it was real, and he wanted to understand it.
But then he remembered why he was here. The conversation with Edward. The mysterious combat instructor—someone Sam had to meet.
And if that meant choosing "Aether Combat Fundamentals" and starting from the basics, so be it.
Later that day, as he stepped out into the chilled air of the training field plaza, he spotted a figure alone on the far end. Standing like a shadow that refused to move.
Zeke.
Arms crossed. Posture unmoving. Eyes fixed ahead, as if he saw things no one else could.
Their eyes met for only a moment.
Zeke didn't smile. Didn't flinch.
"So you're in Nullis."
It wasn't a jab. Just fact.
Sam nodded. "Yeah."
Zeke blinked once. No judgment. No sympathy.
"Mmm. I hope you won't fall behind."
And he turned away. His steps left no sound.
Just like that, he was gone.
Sam stared at the spot where Zeke had been.
It wasn't praise. It wasn't even kindness.
But it lit something inside him.
Zeke didn't care whether Sam rose or fell.
And somehow, that made Sam want to rise even more.
"It's moving way too fast." Sam sighed.
Dorm Nullis wasn't the end.
It was where the fire would start.