The announcement of the Hero Selection Test had spread like wildfire.
By the next morning, the Aurelius Royal Academy was a furnace of excitement and fear.
Every student, from the lowly halls of Class C to the noble balconies of Class S, now stood on equal ground—at least in theory.
In the grand assembly hall, hundreds of students gathered. Banners fluttered above, and on a raised stage, Headmistress Althea stood with a parchment bearing the royal seal. His voice, sharp and refined, echoed across the room.
"The Kingdom of Alarion has decreed that five heroes shall rise to face the Demon King's return."
A ripple of murmurs.
Headmistress Althea, continued.
"Three have already been chosen. Two remain. And those final slots will be decided by the Hero Selection Test—The Verdant Forest Trial."
Gasps erupted. Nobles clenched their jaws. Commoners dared to hope.
Headmistress Althea raised his hand.
"Only one student from each class may enter. C, B, A, and S. Four students. Two heroes will emerge."
The hall trembled with the weight of opportunity.
Rael stood at the edge of Class C's crowd. His expression unreadable. But inside, something ancient stirred. That same fire that once burned in battlefields beyond memory.
Behind him, the whispers were venomous.
"Class C doesn't stand a chance."
"Everyone knows Class S has Eris."
"The nobles will crush this."
Rael turned slowly. "We'll see."
---
Later That Day – Class C Homeroom
Professor Helgar's boots thudded against the wooden floor as he entered the classroom. He tossed a sealed scroll onto his desk.
"You heard the Headmistress Althea," he said gruffly. "This isn't just a class test anymore."
He scanned the room with hard eyes.
"This is war."
Silence.
Helgar cracked his knuckles. "Only one of you gets the chance. One student from Class C will enter the Verdant Forest and compete against Class B, A, and S. The one who wins can become a hero chosen by the King himself."
Everyone turned to look at Rael.
But Helgar smirked.
"I'll be clear. This isn't about who's strong. This is about who can survive. Who can outthink nobles, dodge assassins in the forest, and take down monsters no textbook can prepare you for."
He raised a hand, and a magical panel formed, showing this:
---
Selection Test: Internal Class Duel
"Tomorrow," he declared, "you fight each other. No killing, but no mercy. The last one standing will represent Class C."
Gasps.
Rael remained still.
Helgar's eyes locked onto him. "I expect you'll win. But even if you don't... at least you'll bleed for it."
---
Class A – Elsewhere
In a golden-lit tower, the chosen representative was already decided.
Laziel, son of the Marquis of Flame and her level is apprentice, held a crimson blade and grinned at the announcement.
"Commoners?" he scoffed. "Let them try."
---
Class S – Eris's Room
She stared at her sword in silence.
"I'll meet him there," she whispered.
Her heart beat faster—without knowing why.
---
Night – Rael's Room
Rael stood in the moonlight, practicing Echo of the Afterlife.
He slashed the air.
The world trembled.
The first wave shattered a rock wall.
The second sliced through a mana-reinforced dummy.
The third… whispered with ghostly silence, chilling the room.
He lowered his blade, sweat dripping.
"This test... is no longer about status," he muttered.
"It's about fate."
The training field behind the academy had been transformed into a battlefield.
Dozens of stone pillars, broken swords, and scorch marks littered the arena—a grim reminder of the battles fought by past students. But none like this.
All of Class C stood in a wide circle, nearly forty-nine students strong.
Boys and girls. Commoners and scholarship students. Armed with blunt blades, spell stones, and cracked armor handed down from older years.
Above them, Professor Helgar stood on a platform, arms crossed.
"The rules are simple," he barked. "This is a free-for-all. No teams. No alliances. The last one standing represents Class C in the Hero Selection Test."
Forty-nine students stood in a wide circle, eyes fixed on one person.
Rael.
No one spoke.
They all knew the unspoken truth: Rael was the strongest in Class C. Rumors of him beating Leonhart Margrave, mastering advanced stances, and even matching Class B students in mock spars had spread like wildfire.
And now?
They had a chance to bring him down.
Together.
Professor Helgar's voice boomed across the arena.
"This isn't a team test. This is war. Only one may stand. Begin."
The moment the word left his lips—
They moved.
All of them.
---
Rael didn't flinch.
He saw it coming the moment he stepped into the field.
The glares. The clenched fists. The way even students who never spoke to one another suddenly shared eye contact.
They planned this.
The first strike came from behind—Rael turned his head, leaned slightly, and let the blade whistle past his cheek.
A staff swung toward his knees—he jumped, landed on it, and kicked the wielder in the jaw.
Dozens closed in, forming a crushing circle.
Some students used magic—fireballs, wind spears, earth thorns—while others charged with raw weapons.
The field exploded with noise, spells, and steel.
And Rael…
Raised his right hand.
He slowly placed it on the hilt of his sword.
Then, calmly, as if reciting a prayer—
He whispered:
"Second Form: Echo of the Afterlife."
---
The blade shimmered with faint silver light.
Rael took a single step forward—and slashed.
But the cut didn't land on any one student.
It cut the space around him.
A wave of silver mana energy burst from the edge of his blade, expanding in a circle, slicing through the air like a bell toll echoing through eternity.
The first layer hit their weapons—breaking spears, bending swords, disarming mages.
The second layer flowed through their mana—disrupting spells, shattering focuses, silencing chants.
The third… struck something deeper.
Their souls.
Every student hit by the wave froze mid-motion. Their legs trembled. Arms went slack.
And then—they collapsed.
One after another.
Until Rael stood alone in the center of a silent field, surrounded by unconscious bodies and dropped blades.
---
Professor Helgar's Shock
The silence stretched.
Professor Helgar's eyes were wide. His mouth hung open.
"That technique…" he muttered. "That wasn't from any style I've seen. Not swordsmanship, not spirit arts, not even ancient mystics…"
He jumped down from the platform and marched toward Rael.
"Explain yourself," he demanded. "Where did you learn that?"
Rael looked up calmly. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"There's an old cave near my village," he said. "I used to train there as a kid. One day… I found a scroll. Half-burned. No name. No school."
He placed the sword back in its sheath with a click.
"But it resonated with me. Like I'd seen it before."
Helgar narrowed his eyes.
"A lost art… from the mountains of the village of Elowen?" he murmured. "Or something… older?"
Rael didn't respond.
---
Aftermath
The other students were carried off by healers. None were injured beyond exhaustion, but they wouldn't forget the fear of that wave of Mana force.
Helgar announced in a low, serious tone, "Rael Elowen will represent Class C in the Hero Selection Exam."
No one argued.
Rael sat alone at the edge of the arena, gazing up at the sky. He closed his eyes.
"Second Form… is enough for now."
But deep in his heart, he could feel it:
If he used the third form all class C may die.