The sky above the Obsidian Tower had turned a peculiar shade of violet that morning. Clouds loomed like waiting titans, unmoving and breathless, casting long shadows across the enormous stone arena carved into the side of the academy grounds. This wasn't just a test. It was a spectacle.
Over three hundred students from various classes—mages, swordbearers, summoners, alchemists, beast tamers, and more—filled the colossal staging grounds, buzzing like a hive of nerves, ambition, and barely restrained arrogance.
Among them stood the top-ranked elite, glowing in pride and polished armor, chatting confidently in their tightly-formed groups. Near the outer circle, further from the tower's platform, the bottom-ranked students shuffled nervously. Their uniforms were wrinkled, some had visible bruises from the first trial, and none of them dared to stand too tall.
"So this is it… The Second Trial," muttered a girl in alchemist robes, adjusting her monocle nervously. "I heard it's survival-based… in another dimension."
"Seven days. No rules. No time-outs. Just you, the monsters, and the void," came a dry voice. It belonged to Elias Varn, rank #14 among the mages. Tall, composed, and as expressionless as a statue. "And the clock starts ticking the moment we enter."
"I heard someone died last year."
"Can't die in the trial. If you're fatally wounded, the mirror ejects you and brings you back to the venue," Elias said. "But you might wish you died."
Students began forming small groups. Alliances from the first trial reactivated like old guilds in an MMO. People whispered names—the Nova Circle, Team Moonfang, Black Claw Coalition—as if they were brands.
Meanwhile… near the back row—
"He's not even here yet," sneered a short, spiky-haired boy in a beast tamer uniform. "Figures. Trash like him probably ran away after flunking."
"Who? Kingslay?"
"Yeah. Guy failed the Mirror Trial so hard even his grandmother probably felt it in her grave," the boy cackled, earning a few chuckles from his group. Most of them wore the red bands of lower-ranked combat classes—beast tamers, elemental archers, rune-sabers. Not quite top of the food chain, but high enough to mock those beneath.
"Didn't they say he didn't even use magic?" a tall summoner girl added with a scoff. "Is he actually a mage or just a confused janitor?"
"Worse. He's comedy relief."
The laughter rippled out, shallow and cruel.
From above, on a raised obsidian balcony overlooking the arena, Headmaster Varion stepped forward, his long gray coat billowing behind him like a sentient curtain of authority. The murmuring crowd fell silent. Behind him stood over a dozen instructors and examiners, all cloaked in various regalia—some in white ceremonial mage robes, others in armor etched with old enchantments.
"Today," Varion began, his voice magically amplified and resonating like a bell tolling across the stone walls, "marks the commencement of the Second Trial."
A collective inhale passed through the student body like a gust of wind.
"You will be transported to a dimensional arena known as Nyx Hollow. It is an unstable realm—untouched by civilization, yet crawling with hostile entities and ancient remnants."
An instructor stepped forward—Professor Yulina, known for her brutal honesty and silver whip. "Your task is simple. Survive for seven days. Defeat monsters, explore the environment, and if you so choose… eliminate competitors. No restrictions. No alliances enforced. What you do in there is up to you. But remember…"
Her eyes scanned the crowd like a falcon.
"Survive."
A trembling hand went up from somewhere near the middle. A boy in enchanter robes.
"What if we… don't fight anyone? What if we hide?"
Professor Yulina gave a sharp smile. "Then you'll live. But you won't win."
That sobered the mood quickly.
"There are points to earn, as before," Varion continued. "Survival time. Monster kills. Item collection. Territory discovered. You will be watched. You will be ranked. And you will be returned here should you fall unconscious or… worse."
A faint hum rose behind the professors—twelve massive Obsidian Mirrors began to shimmer, their surfaces rippling like dark water.
"Form your teams, if you must. When the mirrors glow blue, the trial begins."
The air turned electric with tension. Students began to move with haste—hands grasping arms, whispers turned to strategic mutters, weapons unsheathed and inspected. Even the elite stopped preening and started planning.
From the edges of the crowd, a heavily freckled boy with rust-colored hair approached a stern girl in knight armor.
"Team up, Isla?"
She shook her head. "You're too reckless. You'll get us both killed."
Oof. Rejected before the monsters could even start.
Near the front, Elias Varn stood alone, his expression unreadable. He adjusted the strap of his spellbook and quietly muttered to himself. "No allies. No liabilities."
In contrast, a tall dark-haired boy—Rogan D'rell, one of the top ten—was forming a literal harem squad. Three girls, one boy, and a summoned ice bear stood behind him. "Just stick behind me. We'll sweep the place. Easy points."
A few eyes darted toward the entrance pathway leading from the Tower itself.
Still no sign of Zane Kingslay.
"Coward," muttered the beast tamer again, scratching the ear of a restless wolf by his side. "I bet he's halfway across the border by now."
"Maybe he quit."
"Maybe he died of shame."
They all laughed again—louder this time. It echoed off the high walls like the warm-up act of a tragic play.
But then—
A noise.
Not loud. But strange.
Like… squeaking?
A small cart rolled into the edge of the arena. Piled high with something... something brown. Something...
"BREAD!"
Zane Kingslay burst into view, pushing a wobbling wooden cart overloaded with steaming hot loaves of bread, pastries, and something that looked suspiciously like ramen stuffed inside a baguette.
The crowd stared in stunned silence.
Zane stopped dramatically, wiped sweat from his brow, and panted. "Made it… whew… alright, who ordered carbs with a side of chaos?"
One of the summoners dropped her staff in disbelief.
Zane stretched his arms, his black school coat tied around his waist, shirt clinging with sweat, and eyes gleaming like he hadn't just survived two days of physical hell training.
"Yo, sorry for the delay. You know how it is—had to feed my imaginary fanbase."
The beast tamer blinked. "Is that... is that a food cart?"
Zane didn't answer. He grabbed a loaf, tore it in half with his teeth, and gave a loud, echoing crunch. Crumbs rained down like divine confetti.
"Ready to roll," he said, full-mouthed, turning toward the mirrors as the first one pulsed blue.
BZZZMMM!
A vortex of energy exploded from the surface like a stone thrown into a pond of lightning.
Headmaster Varion raised his arm. "Begin."
Students surged forward. Teams disappeared into the glowing portals one by one. Screams of exhilaration, war cries, and nervous shrieks filled the air.
Zane finished chewing, handed his cart to a confused janitor, and smirked.
"To think I was almost late to my own redemption arc."
He cracked his neck, stepped into the mirror—
—and vanished.