Zane skimmed through the list projected on his watch, eyes narrowing as he searched for his name under the only faction he had applied to—House Drakon. The only one not backed by powerful nobles or corporate sponsors.
Truth be told, he hadn't wanted to join any faction at all. But the Academy's rules were strict: every student must select a faction. And House Drakon had been the only one that didn't come with hidden strings or burdensome expectations.
There were six lists on display—each headed by a different faction name.
Zane skipped past the first five and scrolled to the final list under House Drakon… but his name wasn't there.
His expression tensed.
Shelby, watching him closely, chuckled. "You're not on the list? Not surprising. Only kids from powerful families or with serious financial backing usually get picked in the first round."
Zane frowned and started memorizing the fifty-seven names listed under the six factions. Only one name stood out—Shawn Bracewell, ranked third in House Ignis.
He glanced over his shoulder—and there he was. Bracewell, standing off in the crowd, grinning at him like they shared some unspoken grudge.
"What's with this cheeky brat?" Zane muttered, turning away.
Shelby, overhearing, leaned in with a teasing smirk. "Looks like someone from a super-family already has their horns pointed at you. You've got yourself a fanboy."
His voice was just a bit too loud.
"Shut up. This is all your fault," Zane growled, uncomfortable with the extra attention.
Shelby didn't let up. "So… are you scared of him? Or maybe his old man?"
"Afraid? No," Zane said firmly. "I just don't like unnecessary tussles. That's all."
Up on the dais, Frankie Grenora raised his voice again, silencing the murmurs.
"Attention again. Those of you on the list who wish to accept your placements, please step forward and receive your faction tokens. But remember—once you choose, there's no going back."
The selected students began rising from their seats, walking confidently toward the platform. One by one, they approached the respective representatives of the six Houses.
Zane counted them—thirty-three students from the fifty-seven had chosen to accept their placements.
Thanks to his System, he could see their vital stats—age, ability scores, and affiliations. Almost every one of them outclassed him in pure stats. Most were younger than him too.
I've got a long road ahead, he thought, clenching his fists.
On the stage, each student was handed a token shaped in the unique emblem of their chosen faction. They pressed it proudly to the front of their uniform, just over their heart pocket. Rings of various designs, colors, and patterns appeared on their fingers, signifying their allegiance.
Zane's eyes narrowed further.
Not a single student chose House Drakon.
"Shelby," Zane said quietly, "I don't see anyone picking House Drakon."
"Don't worry," Shelby replied with a crooked smile. "This happens every year at selection towers. At first, no one picks it."
"How bad is House Drakon?"
Shelby scratched the back of his head. "Bad enough that no nobles or rich families touch it. Infrastructure's poor. No gym, no sponsors, not even standard curriculum benefits. But... it has perks. No binding contracts, no rules, no obligations. You get your freedom. That's a luxury none of the other five factions can afford."
He paused, then added casually, "Besides, after the Second Round, most of the undecided ones usually fall into House Drakon anyway. It gets the highest intake every year. Nearly half the total students, actually."
Zane gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement.
Back on stage, the ceremony concluded.
The suited man beside Frankie took the mic. "Alright, let's begin the Second Round. This phase includes three segments—the Preliminary Test, the Internal Assessment, and finally, the Interview. Get ready. Today is going to be interesting."
Suddenly, cheerful music erupted from hidden speakers. Fireworks burst across the air magically, casting brilliant colors across the dome ceiling. A gigantic projection screen shimmered into view, listing the thirty-three students and their affiliated factions.
Applause rippled through the hall.
"Congratulations to all of you," Frankie said with a slight bow. Then his tone shifted to something more serious. "Now, let me explain the Preliminary Test."
"All students will receive a green token card. You will be dropped into a simulated arena. Your objective is simple—collect as many cards from others as possible. You may use any method—combat, tactics, trickery—but killing is strictly forbidden. Once again, killing is forbidden."
"The time limit is thirty minutes. The more cards you gather, the higher your ranking will be in the test."
A quiet murmur of excitement spread through the room.
With a low hum, the ground beneath them vibrated. A side section of the hall opened up, revealing a wide corridor lined with glowing runes. The students followed instructors through the passage, emerging into a massive pre-entry chamber. The floor sparkled with faint green light and circular glyphs.
Attendants walked past them, handing out glowing green cards to every student—each embedded with a unique code and faint pulse of mana.
Sure! Here's a revised version of your passage with smoother flow, more vivid imagery, and tightened phrasing:
Zane glanced down at the card in his hand. It felt warm to the touch—alive, almost.
[Arena Entry Token Acquired – Player: Zane Carter]
[New Quest Available]
Objective: Collect as many green cards as possible within 30 minutes.
Rewards:
Collect 10 cards = +1 to all stats
Collect 20 cards = +2 to all stats
Collect 30 cards = +3 to all stats
…
Collect 100 cards = +10 to all stats
Collect 200 cards = +20 to all stats
Collect 300 cards = +30 to all stats
Collect 400 cards = +40 to all stats
Collect 500 cards = +50 to all stats
Penalty:
Lose 1 card = -1 to all stats
He looked up. All around him, students were examining their own cards—some curious, some eager, others visibly anxious. A few were already tucking theirs into inner pockets or securing them tightly on their belts.
Suddenly, with a low mechanical groan, a massive metallic gate at the far end of the chamber began to rise. Behind it lay a sprawling, simulated wilderness—broken ruins sprawled between towering cliffs, dense patches of forest, scattered debris, and jagged stone pillars piercing the sky like forgotten monuments.
A gust of wind swept through the now-open threshold as a voice boomed over the speakers:
"Enter the arena. The countdown will begin once the last student has crossed the line."
Zane slid the green card securely into his belt, tightened his gloves, and stepped forward without hesitation. His eyes sharpened.
This was more than a test. It was a battleground.
And he was ready.
It had begun.