Dawn stretched golden fingers across the sky, painting the towering walls of Adraksha in streaks of molten light. The massive obsidian gates of the Inner Academy loomed ahead, cold and silent, carved with divine runes that shimmered faintly in the morning light.
Rudra stood at the threshold, taking in the sheer weight of the place. The air here was different—thicker, heavier. Prāṇa filled every breath, humming just beneath the skin like a low, constant storm.
He stepped forward.
No turning back now.
The Administration Hall was massive—its interior shaped from polished black stone that reflected the fire-lit chandeliers above. The floor echoed each step, and the walls were lined with shelves holding thousands of glowing scrolls, crystalline tokens, and strange artifacts pulsing softly.
Behind a large obsidian counter sat an elderly man with a long face, silver hair, and round, owl-like spectacles perched on his nose. His eyes, however, were anything but gentle. Sharp. Calculating.
"You're the new Initiate," the man said without looking up.
"Yes. Rudra."
"Rudra," he repeated, as if tasting the name. He reached for a small crystal slate, tapped it twice, then looked up and met Rudra's gaze fully. "Before anything else, you must understand where you now stand."
He gestured toward the vaulted ceiling above them.
"This is the Nexus Hall of the Inner Academy. Everything outside those walls was a warm-up. This place?" He tapped the counter. "This place either sharpens you into a blade… or breaks you into dust."
Rudra stood tall, silent.
"You'll have freedom here," the elder continued. "Far more than you're used to. You may train alone. Ignore lectures. Craft your own path. But understand this—freedom is not a gift here. It is a test."
He gestured to the right, where a shimmering mission board floated mid-air, covered with glowing inscriptions:
- Pacify Spectral Swarm (Grey Forest Perimeter)
- Retrieve Star-Iron Ore (Deep Caverns)
- Escort Supply Caravan (Crimson Ridge)
"One mission. Every month," the elder said, voice cold and slow. "Succeed, and you gain Academy Points. Points are your lifeline. You'll use them for everything—food, combat techniques, weapons, rare texts, even permission to enter restricted areas."
"And if I fail?" Rudra asked.
The elder didn't answer. He only held Rudra's gaze for a long, cold moment.
Then, finally, he reached under the counter and slid a slate-gray wrist band across to him.
It pulsed with cerulean light the moment Rudra touched it, flashing his full name and the faint outline of a roaring flame—his registered path.
"Your Identity Token," the elder said. "Do not lose it. It tracks your points, records your performance, and confirms your status. Lose it, and you lose everything."
He handed Rudra a neatly folded set of robes next—charcoal-gray, with silver trim, and the academy's sigil stitched across the chest: a mighty tower struck by lightning.
"You are now one of us."
Rudra nodded. The weight of the token felt heavier than it looked.
But the man wasn't finished.
He raised a hand and counted off with rigid fingers.
"Four rules. Memorize them. Break them, and you are expelled."
He held up one finger. "No unsanctioned duels."
A second. "No theft."
A third. "No lethal force against fellow Initiates."
The fourth. "No acts of malice that weaken the academy's purpose. Noble blood?" He snorted. "Means nothing here."
Rudra took it all in. The rules. The structure. The unspoken threat behind each word.
"Understood."
The elder leaned back, finally satisfied. "Then welcome, Initiate. ."
A holographic map shimmered to life in front of Rudra as he left the hall. Different school pulsed into view, each marked with glowing emblems.
Alpha School – A sword icon / Gamma School – A clenched fist..
Combat Specialization: Knights, Blademasters, Elementalists, Titans, War-Masters.
Beta School – A flask icon./Delta School– A hammer and book.
Non-Combat Specialization: Alchemists, Healers, Rune Theorists ,Artificers, Historians, Beast-Tamers.
Rudra's destination.
He stepped forward.
The hallways were broad, lined with glowing crystals. Every step hummed with silent pressure—the kind of pressure only powerful Prāṇa could create. Passing Initiates looked older, sharper, dressed in variations of the same gray robe, but each with subtle customizations—sashes of different colors, etched bracers, glowing amulets.
He was no longer the best in the room.
And he loved it.
He found his way to the Central Lecture Hall, guided by memory and quiet whispers. It was a towering amphitheater carved directly into the side of the mountain.
Edward's words echoed in his mind:
"Theory only every second day."
Today was one of those days.
Rudra took a seat near the edge. He looked down at his new token, feeling its glow pulse gently against his fingers.
New place. New rules.
New fight.
But he was ready.
He'd dance through this too.
The classroom was built like a coliseum—tiered seating spiraling around a glowing central platform. Carved stone and prāṇa-glass lined the walls, amplifying sound and clarity. A place where knowledge wasn't just spoken—it was declared.
As Rudra stepped through the archway, thirty pairs of eyes snapped toward him.
Most students were older—seventeen to nineteen, seasoned Initiates who wore their strength like armor. Their eyes were sharp, movements precise. The kind of people who didn't just train—they thrived in pressure.
Whispers began instantly, rustling like dry leaves.
"…New face?" "…Mid-semester admission?" "…Looks young. Too young."
Rudra met it all in silence, stepping forward with calm precision. No swagger. No hesitation.
His gaze flicked to the front row.
Vaishnav.
The tall, red-armored Initiate sat front and center, posture rigid. As Rudra entered, Vaishnav's shoulders tensed. His spine straightened like a drawn bow.
Rudra could feel the heat of his glare from across the room—sharp and cutting. There was no mistaking it: fury, bruised pride, disbelief.
Rudra held his gaze for a second. Just one.
Then looked away.
No allies here. Not yet.
He scanned the room and made his way to an empty seat near the back corner.
As he sat down, the boy next to him leaned over slightly. Sandy hair, sharp green eyes, and a smile that balanced curiosity with casual mischief.
"Rough landing?" the boy whispered, subtly nodding toward Vaishnav's stiff back. "Ignore the cold prick. He's been like that since yesterday."
Rudra gave a small nod.
"I'm Harry. Harry Vance."
"Rudra."
"Nice to meet you, Rudra. Welcome to the Academy." Harry smirked, keeping his voice low. "You've caused quite the stir. Mid-term admissions aren't just rare—they're nearly unheard of. Especially in Gamma."
Rudra said nothing. Let him speculate.
Harry gave him a sidelong look, still whispering. "So… what did you do? Rescue a senator's daughter from a spectral bear? Solve a riddle that's stumped scholars for decades?"
Rudra smiled faintly. "Passed a test."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "That's all you're giving me?"
"That's all there is."
Harry leaned back, clearly intrigued. "Right. Mysterious. I like it
Rudra gave a noncommittal grunt.
Harry grinned. "Well, this should be fun. Don't let the stares bother you. People around here size each other up like merchants eyeing Gold."
Rudra glanced around.
Some students had already lost interest, turning back to their lecture notes. Others continued to watch him carefully, especially those seated closer to the center. Not hostile—yet— just curious.
Harry leaned in one last time. "Just a heads up—here in Gamma, strength earns respect, but discipline keeps it. Show off too soon, and half the room will line up to knock you down."
Rudra nodded slowly. "Good to know."
"Don't worry though," Harry added with a wink. "I've got a good feeling about you."
The room settled. At the center platform, a tall figure in violet-trimmed robes stepped into view. The lecture was about to begin.
Rudra sat back, silent and observant.
He had arrived.
Now the real work began.