The hall buzzed with anticipation, a sea of bodies filling every seat. It didn't take long for all the newly awakened freshers of the year to assemble. The seating had been pre-arranged in advance—every chair was occupied. This meant that everyone who was supposed to be here, was here.
Each group clustered around their respective senior representatives.
It was the same for those who had come from Whistler Town.
Zane sat among twenty-seven others, forming a small group of twenty-eight students under the guidance of Thor Shelby.
Shelby moved through the rows, distributing application forms to each of his juniors. The quiet rustle of papers being filled spread across the group like a gentle breeze.
Zane, halfway through his form, paused and glanced around the massive hall. He began mentally counting.
There were ten clear groups, each formed around a senior representative. Each group had roughly fifty-six students, give or take.
"Five hundred and twenty-seven..." he whispered under his breath, concluding his count. "So, are we all of this year's awakened?"
Shelby, collecting the finished applications, glanced at him with a smirk. "Nope. This tower only represents the Eastern Region of the Continent. There are five more towers, each for a different region—Northern Highlands, Western Frontier, Southern Lowlands, the Island Nations, and North-Eastern Ranges. The overseas students have an even more complicated selection process."
Zane raised an eyebrow. "So, by estimation, there should be almost three thousand new awakeneds this year?"
Shelby chuckled, shaking his head. "Mathematically, that's not how this works. Each region yields a different number of awakeneds each year. It fluctuates, depending on countless factors—environment, bloodline concentration, spiritual density, and so on. Statistically speaking, our Eastern Region produces the fewest. So don't jump to conclusions."
Then, after a brief pause, Shelby added with a knowing smile, "My senior once asked me the same thing when I was a fresher in this very room."
Zane turned his head curiously.
"Now I'll ask you the same question," Shelby said. "Look around, Zane. Observe every single one of these fresh faces… and then look at yourself. Tell me—do you notice any difference? Can any skill of yours fill the gap if one exists? Can attitude alone bridge it? Be honest."
Zane frowned slightly, his gaze sharpening. It felt like a challenge.
He tilted his head, giving Shelby a look that seemed to say, Are you implying I have shortcomings?
"Don't give me that look," Shelby said, exasperated. "Just do it. Take it seriously for once."
Zane sighed. There was no harm in playing along, he figured—and besides, he had an advantage.
He could access their statuses.
As he stood up and began walking along the aisles, a familiar digital shimmer blinked into existence above each student's head.
The System was active.
Like holographic tags in a video game, glowing panels floated above each student's head—Name, Affiliation, Core Ability, Combat Rating, and Potential Tier.
Zane's eyes narrowed.
A creeping sense of inferiority built up inside him, gnawing at his chest. For the first time since entering this tower, a heavy awareness dawned upon him.
His biggest shortcoming... was his age.
He was already seventeen—a late bloomer. Most of the other freshers had awakened between the ages of ten and fourteen, already years into their training and development.
His brief encounter with the dungeon had given him a significant stat boost, yes—but even now, many among these freshers matched his stats. Some even surpassed him.
And then there was Shawn Bracewell.
Zane's eyes settled on the youth for a moment.
This brat is something else.
He'd sensed it before, but now he could confirm it. Shawn's combat rating, core ability, and potential tier were in the upper echelons. He wasn't just talented—he was dangerous.
Only now did Zane realize that the brat he'd been admiring from afar had been staring daggers at him the entire time, his gaze cold and piercing—as if some deep, karmic grudge existed between them.
Zane frowned.
"What's his deal?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He turned away, ignoring Shawn, and made his way back to his seat beside Shelby.
Shelby chuckled as Zane sat down. "Now do you know your shortcoming?"
Zane didn't answer. He kept scanning the room.
Among the crowd, he counted over a hundred students whose stats matched or exceeded Shawn Bracewell's.
He sighed.
"I've got a long way to go," he whispered to himself, steadying his breathing.
The feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy slowly ebbed away, replaced by something else—zeal. Determination. The will to grind, to surpass them all.
Yes, he was at the beginning of his journey. But he had something none of them did.
He had the System.
And that System… would carry him forward. As long as he stayed smart, hungry, and brave.
He sat up straighter and murmured its name under his breath, repeating it like a mantra.
"Borderline Supervillain Slash Hero System…"
Each repetition anchored his resolve, like a switch flipping in his brain—resetting his focus, overriding the creeping doubts.
If there was one silver lining to his age, it was that he was more mature—physically, mentally, emotionally.
A boy among prodigies, yes, but one with a man's mind.
Shelby, still waiting for an answer, nudged him with an elbow. "Don't worry, kid. Late bloomers have their perks too. Look at me—everyone from my batch, and even seniors, flinch when they hear my name."
He grinned proudly. "Age? Pfft. Just a number."
Zane let a small smile play on his lips. He had come to peace with himself long before Shelby's words—but still, the reassurance was a bonus.
"Attention, please," a voice rang out from the dais.
The room, once buzzing with chatter and restless murmurs, fell into an attentive silence. All eyes turned toward the speaker.
A young man stood tall on the platform, clad in the formal uniform of the Academy. A sidearm rested at his hip, a sword strapped across his back, and a wristwatch glinted under the lights. His posture was confident, his presence commanding. What set him apart from the freshers was the insignia on his shoulder badge:
3RD YEAR.
But it wasn't just that.
Emblazoned across his chest was a striking emblem: a blank serpent coiled around a violet obsidian crystal, flanked by twin crescent moons.
Zane's eyes narrowed with recognition.
"He's from House Noxis," he whispered. He instinctively activated his System, reading the hovering stats.
"He's strong... freakishly strong."
Shelby leaned in and replied with a calm smirk, "Frankie's a good kid. Still, I believe you're much better."
Zane didn't argue. But something told him Frankie Grenora wasn't someone to take lightly.
Frankie stepped forward and addressed the crowd. His voice was cool and composed, echoing clearly across the room.
"My dear juniors, welcome to the Academy."
His words, though formal, carried a kind undertone. "After extensive discussions, we've prepared the first round of placements. You may review and raise questions if you have any. Keep in mind—this is just the initial round. A second evaluation will follow, which includes interviews."
A soft beep went off on every student's wristwatch.
Zane looked down. A notification blinked across the screen:
[Faction Placement – Round One Available]