**Chapter 15**
Beneath a colossal dome shimmering like torn space, the newcomers gathered in the Grand Banquet Hall—where not only food was served… but also promises, threats, and omens.
The hall was vast, its dimensions immeasurable, as if the walls themselves breathed. The air hung heavy with the scent of burnt metal and rare perfumes. Above them, black candles hovered unsuspended, burning with unconsumed blue flames that cast dancing shadows over the long tables filling the hall.
At the tables, students sat scattered without order—humans beside elves, dwarves near half-dragons… Some averted their gazes; others stared fixedly, as if a fragile truce lay over a powder keg.
The dwarves ate silently, but their hands lingered near belts hiding weapons. The elven nobles did not touch the food at first—they sniffed it as if testing for poison. Half-dragons ate slowly, each bite calculated like a survival ritual. As for the humans, reactions varied—some devoured the food fiercely, others scanned the hall like soldiers on foreign soil.
At the hall's end stood a dark marble dais, where the faculty sat with faces uncovered this time. Each bore a distinct aura:
- A bald man with an eye burning like an ember.
- A pale woman in a green robe that slithered like a snake.
- A frail youth perpetually smiling… yet whose eyes held no mirth.
- An elder with a silver beard and unblinking eyes—as if he had witnessed a hundred world-endings.
And at the center… stood **Julius**, the Headmaster.
A tall man, as if his stature had been honed like a blade. His cloak, woven of shifting night-threads, reflected light like graves reflecting the memories of the dead. When he spoke, his voice was not loud—yet it pierced every corner… as if the hall's very walls listened:
> *"You survived."*
A pause. Eyes fixed on him. Breath held.
> *"The first trial did not measure your strength… but what you were willing to sacrifice. Some of you sacrificed friendships… others your principles… and some, your humanity. Good… This is acceptable."*
He raised his hand. With a single wave, the food vanished from the tables. Before each student appeared a crimson candle and a small black book bearing the academy's seal: an open eye wreathed in flame.
> *"This is the Shadow Book. Those who do not understand it… will understand nothing. Those who misuse it… will be forgotten."*
He stepped back, sweeping his gaze over them:
> *"Now, listen well."*
> *"This academy is not a school. It is a court, a sieve, an execution ground… Based on your trial results, you have been assigned to classes by rank."*
He lifted his other hand. Columns of light materialized in the air, glowing with sigils:
---
**• Class D** – *For those who barely survived. They feared too much, hesitated too long—yet did not die. Their stay is temporary.*
**• Class C** – *The moderately capable. They fought but are still testing themselves. They may rise… or collapse.*
**• Class B** – *Those who showed combat or control brilliance, but whose hearts remain untested. Many paths lie before them.*
**• Class A** – *The elite—those with balanced power and mind. They are closely watched.*
**• Class S** – *The rare few. Not chosen… but imposed. They stood in death's path and walked out smiling.*
**• Class X** – *A class unspoken of publicly. If you are here… you are not like them. And we are not like you.*
---
> *"Your names will be announced after supper. Do not try to change your placement—for your place will change you."*
He smiled.
> *"Welcome to the Grand Academy."*
---
**[Scene shifts to a ruined castle]**
The sound of unknown hymns echoed through the rubble—a death melody heard only by those who had lost everything. In this crumbling castle, the hearts of the weak still pulsed with hope, though shadows deepened and war approached, devouring all without mercy.
Then… silence fell.
The silence before a stab, before an explosion—the silence where hope lies slain.
A scream. Short. Strangled. Then another… and another, until dozens cried out. The sound of tearing flesh; the stench of blood rising from the heart of dead walls.
From the collapsing stones, a long shadow emerged. It walked calmly over bleeding ground. Its sword did not gleam—it dripped. Its eyes did not shine—they extinguished light in all who met them.
> *"Dispose of them all… Leave nothing behind."*
The order was cold, as if discussing clearing a table after a feast.
This was no battle… but a mass execution. Heads flew; screams choked mid-throat; bodies crushed under soldiers' boots as if trampling not men, but ash soaked in betrayal.
The sorcerers who stood to defend… were not given time to finish a single incantation. One turned to shout at his comrades—but a spear tore through his back and chest. The last thing he saw: the castle wall smeared with his blood, as if signing the final line of a forgotten history book.
In a narrow corridor, a girl trembled, clutching her brother… Her eyes stared at passing soldiers. One paused… looked at her… then walked on without a word. But the next soldier was not so kind. The sound of steel shattered the silence—then… nothing.
The castle, once unyielding, became an open mouth swallowing all remaining humanity.
Now, only the drip of blood could be heard. Orders being executed. Death writing its name on the walls.
---
**[Deep within the castle]**
Beneath layers of scorched stone and ash, where the world's laws no longer reached… a ritual reached its climax.
The air was not air—but the breath of something primordial… something meant never to awaken.
At the chamber's center, the ritual circle glowed—not red or black, but a fusion of dread and madness. The blood of virgins flowed through stone grooves; the bodies of the guilty burst like rotten offerings rejected by spirits. Choking smoke rose, plunging the place into near-silence… the silence before a storm.
The High Priest raised his hands toward the shadowed dome, his cracked voice weaving a tongue older than creation:
> *"O Breaker of Chains, O Lost Between Dimensions, O Sleeper Among Shadows… Awaken!"*
Faint voices reverberated through the walls—not echoes, but whispers, as if a thousand cursed spirits chanted the rite behind him. Some wept, some laughed… some cursed life itself.
The earth split. The ritual's chant warped into a cacophony of madness—
Then… the first emerged.
A Level IV beast. Ten meters tall, shrouded in light-shattering smoke, eyes like pits of hell, arms ending in claws that devoured emptiness. Each step defied the world's laws; each roar tore hope from the hearts of fighters above.
Soldiers heard it… felt their blood freeze… and ran.
But the ritual was not over…
The High Priest crumbled slowly—his skin peeling, his face tearing under the weight of the power he'd unleashed. Yet he did not stop. With trembling hands, he slit his chest with a blue dagger—a dagger carved from a dead star—and poured his last blood onto the sigil.
The earth did not shake… it wept.
And from the fissures… emerged the other beast.
Level V.
A being beyond comprehension—as if nightmares coalesced into one form: dozens of legs, each ending in an eye; wings of moaning bones; a mouth dangling severed heads that screamed endlessly; and a light… a strange light around it… not of salvation. But of endings.
The corpses of warriors above levitated… then scattered.
The sky split. The moon bled.
Finally, the last priest shrieked as he was dragged into the spiritual rift:
> *"Our prayers are answered… Let the blood feast begin!"*
And above, the knights who thought victory near… became sacrifices to a new end.
---
**[Scene shifts]**
Pale light seeped through black-glass windows, spilling onto cold marble floors. Deadly silence hung in the air, broken only by steady footsteps approaching… then halting.
**Jin** stood rigidly before a massive door inscribed in silver:
> **HUNTER REGISTRATION DIVISION.**
His face was impassive, his eyes devoid of fervor—as if the world around him were mere noise unworthy of attention.
Behind a glass desk, a clerk rose with a formal smile, holding a glossy black card centered with a red star:
> *"Your Hunter Badge—Rank S… Congratulations, Hunter Jin. A bright future awaits you here."*
Jin took the card without blinking, staring at it as if it meant nothing. His fingers closed around it, but his eyes showed no spark. Only one question burned within him:
> *"Now… Where are the missions?"*
The girl hesitated, her mouth suddenly dry:
> *"Rank S Hunters receive special assignments from the government… You must wait. Typically, it takes one to two weeks per mission. Until then, you could… train nobles' children, or attend as an honorary instructor—"*
Jin cut her off, his voice cold as a blade's edge:
> *"This is nonsense. I don't wait. I want money… now."*
Silence.
The girl swallowed. The room's atmosphere shifted. The air thickened. Jin hadn't raised his voice—yet he seemed to strangle the room with his threat.
**Neomi**, who had stood silently behind him, stepped forward:
> *"Jin… Calm down. I'll explain everything as promised. Don't ruin things this way."*
Before he could reply—
A deep, mocking, and alien voice resonated through the chamber:
> *"Hmm… Seems we have an angry one here."*
The silence shattered.
The clerk shrieked as she stood:
> *"Director, sir!! W-what are you doing here?!"*
The air shifted as if shadows bowed to his presence.
From the corner of the room emerged a man—violet hair, eyes concealed by a single-lens visor, clad in a long black leather coat. He walked with a calm like the stillness before a storm detonates.
His gaze fixed on Jin… and he smiled an inscrutable smile:
> *"Rank S… and cocky from