The third round began as soon as the medics carried Corbin out of the arena. But unlike the previous rounds, the atmosphere had changed.

  It felt heavier.

  Fight after fight unfolded across the eight mini-arenas — and not a single first-year managed to beat their upperclassman.

  Some were crushed in seconds.

  Some lasted a little while.

  But all of them lost.

  Reid felt his throat tighten. His palms grew damp. With each defeat, with each student falling to the ground, the weight on his chest grew.

  Quill noticed.

  He leaned slightly toward Reid, voice soft but steady.

  “Don’t worry, Reid. Look — everyone’s losing. You don’t need to win. Just show them what you can do.”

  Reid exhaled shakily.

  Quill continued, his smile small but genuine.

  “And… even though I said you don’t need to win, I believe you’re the only one who actually can.”

  Reid blinked — and the shake in his heartbeat steadied.

  “Thanks, Quill. I’ll give it everything.”

  And then — the fourth round was called.

  Field Six.

  Reid vs. Emilia.

  They stepped into their arena. The mana-walls shimmered around them like glass forged from lightning.

  Emilia looked at him with the same calm, sharp gaze she’d worn when teaching him — except now, her expression held a strange mix of pride and amusement.

  “Good job getting this far, Reid,” she said lightly. “You didn’t expect me to be your opponent, did you?”

  Reid forced a chuckle. “Not really. Guess I’m a bit unlucky, huh?”

  Emilia giggled softly. “You think this matchup was determined by chance?”

  Reid blinked. “What?”

  She tilted her head.

  “Sir Harven chose the matchups personally.”

  Reid snapped his gaze toward the judges’ stand.

  Harven sat there with the world’s most unhelpful smile, silently mouthing:

  Good luck, Reid. I believe in you.

  Reid’s eye twitched.

  I’m going to strangle him.

  Wynne raised his hand.

  “Fourth round… begin!”

  Reid activated his Beast Eye instantly, dashing forward with explosive speed — aiming to overwhelm Emilia before she reacted.

  But she reacted.

  Her sword moved like flowing water.

  A single, elegant motion.

  Clang.

  She deflected Genusrosa’s blade without even shifting her stance.

  Her footwork was pristine — clearer than Quill’s, sharper than Maverick’s, smoother than anyone Reid had fought.

  She was strong. Terrifyingly strong. And she was only two years older.

  How?

  Reid grit his teeth and attacked again, faster, harder, pushing the limits of his Beast Eye. But each strike met the same effortless defense. Emilia’s expression didn’t even change. Her breathing didn’t quicken.

  Then Reid noticed something that made his stomach sink.

  Her eye.

  Her Beast Eye wasn’t activated.

  She was fighting him without using it.

  “Don’t hold back, Emilia!” Reid shouted. His voice cracked with frustration.

  “I don’t want an opponent who underestimates me!”

  He activated his Beast Eye again, forcing his body into a speed that bordered on self-damage. He lunged—

  And in a single instant, his vision blurred.

  A silhouette appeared in front of him like a ghost materializing from thin air.

  He barely registered Emilia’s presence before—

  Thud.

  The flat of her sword slammed into his stomach.

  His body folded.

  His breath vanished.

  The world tilted.

  And then—

  he hit the ground.

  Wynne’s voice echoed distantly, as if from underwater.

  “The winner is Emilia Ryn.”

  Reid’s consciousness slipped away like sand through fingers.

  Reid woke up to the faint scent of herbs and the soft glow of healing crystals.

  He blinked.

  The medic room was filled with rows of beds — some students unconscious, others groaning quietly. A few had friends sitting beside them, whispering encouragement.

  Reid turned his head.

  Beside his bed sat Quill… quietly reading a book while eating an apple.

  The book’s title read: “The Restless Night.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Its cover showed a forest swallowed by darkness — fittingly dramatic for Quill.

  When Reid stirred, Quill’s eyes lifted at once.

  “Oh—Reid. You’re awake.”

  He set the book aside. “Are you okay?”

  Reid pushed himself upright with a wince, then smiled.

  “Yeah. I think I’m okay. What happened?”

  Quill sat up straighter as well.

  “Well… when you told Emilia not to hold back, her eye lit up. She moved so fast I couldn’t even see it. One second you were dashing—next second, she was in front of you.”

  He tapped his stomach lightly. “She hit you with the back of her sword. Then you collapsed.”

  Reid chuckled, rubbing his ribs.

  “That explains the pain.”

  He glanced around the room, then turned back.

  “Did all the matches end?”

  Quill nodded. “Yeah. They’re all finished.”

  Reid smirked.

  “So no participant managed to beat an upperclassman, right?”

  Quill hesitated.

  Then, with a small, faint smile, he said:

  “…There was one person.”

  Reid blinked.

  Flashback — Round 6, Field 1

  A few hours earlier…

  Wynne’s voice boomed across the arena:

  “Sixth round… begin!”

  Field One erupted into motion.

  Standing there was Flint. His opponent—a boy with no visible weapon—stood calmly across from him.

  Flint opened with his signature move.

  A blaze erupted from his hand, shaping into a flame-forged sword.

  But then… the other boy raised his hand too.

  A sword formed — not of fire, but of blue energy, shimmering like a blade made of lightning and ocean.

  Flint froze in awe.

  But the boy did not.

  He dashed forward with frightening speed.

  Clang!

  The two swords collided — Flint’s flame against the boy’s blue energy.

  Flint staggered.

  The boy’s strikes landed one after another, each heavier than the last. Flint was pushed back, barely managing to parry. His flame sword began to flicker — shrinking, thinning, fading.

  He was losing.

  Until—

  Something in Flint’s left eye sparked.

  A red light.

  No — a gleam, unnatural and sharp, like the awakening of a beast within.

  His aura surged outward in a violent wave.

  And in that instant, his flame sword ignited anew — but bigger.

  Twice as large.

  Twice as bright.

  Flint stepped forward.

  Slow, deliberate.

  His opponent’s eyes widened as Flint raised the massive flame blade.

  The boy swung—

  But Flint didn’t retreat.

  Didn’t flinch.

  Didn’t hesitate.

  His sword sliced through the boy’s blade of blue energy — shattering it.

  Then Flint stopped the edge of his flame sword at the boy’s throat.

  The arena fell silent.

  Wynne raised his voice, almost startled:

  “Winner — Flint Stanz!”

  A wave of astonished murmurs swept through the crowd.

  Students stared.

  Judges leaned forward.

  Even Wynne’s brows tightened with interest.

  Someone had done it.

  Someone beat an upperclassman.

  Reid was as shocked as the crowd had been.

  Flint Stanz.

  The name echoed in his mind like a bell struck too hard.

  “I never knew someone that strong was among the participants…” he muttered.

  Quill nodded, eyes still wide with disbelief.

  “Well, just being able to use Armatria is insane. But casting one that size?” He exhaled. “He might be the strongest of all of us.”

  Reid’s smile faltered for a heartbeat.

  But then he straightened his back and said, “But don’t worry, Quill. We’ll surpass him one day, right?”

  Quill’s eyes lit up with ambition.

  “Of course we will.”

  A thought struck Reid suddenly.

  “Hey, Quill—when will the exam results be posted?”

  Quill blinked.

  “Oh, they’re already out. I checked before coming here.”

  Reid’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

  “Well? Did we pass?”

  Quill’s expression darkened… just a little.

  “I passed,” he said quietly. “But you…”

  Reid’s stomach twisted.

  Quill continued, “You…”

  Reid leaned in, face growing tenser.

  Quill repeated, “You…”

  “Just say it already!” Reid snapped.

  Quill burst into laughter.

  “You passed.”

  A wave of pure relief washed over Reid. He flopped back onto the bed.

  “What are you doing, Quill? Trying to kill me?”

  Quill chuckled. “It was just a joke.”

  Reid sighed. “So… did everyone pass? Was that whole upperclassman thing just a dramatic way of showing us we’re not strong enough?”

  Quill shook his head.

  “No. Only twenty-four of us passed.”

  “…What?” Reid stared.

  “Yeah,” Quill said, still surprised himself. “I guess this trial was sort of a second chance for the ones who didn’t shine much in the first stage.”

  Reid took a moment to digest that.

  “…I guess you’re right.”

  He pushed his palms against the bed, ready to stand up.

  Immediately, Quill grabbed his shoulder.

  “What are you doing? The doctor said you shouldn’t stand.”

  Reid patted Quill’s hand gently.

  “I heal faster than others. I’ll be fine.”

  He rose halfway—

  —and his entire body was suddenly slammed back onto the bed.

  He wheezed in shock as Wynne and Harven stepped into the medic room.

  “You shouldn’t stand up, kid,” Wynne said casually, lowering his hand — clearly the source of the telekinetic shove.

  Harven marched forward.

  “Reid, you’ve—”

  He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Quill sitting beside Reid’s bed.

  And just like that…

  All of Harven’s excitement died.

  His smile faded.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Oh. He probably told you then.”

  The jealousy hit him like a brick.

  Harven turned to Quill with the slow, deliberate glare of a man robbed of a dramatic entrance.

  “Can you leave, Quill? We have private business with Reid.”

  Wynne raised a hand, mildly confused.

  “Well, actually, it isn’t that private. He can stay if he wants—”

  Harven placed a firm palm over Wynne’s mouth.

  The psychic stared at him, baffled.

  Then Harven leaned down, staring Quill dead in the eyes.

  A shadow fell across his face.

  His voice dropped an octave.

  “Go. Kid.”

  And Quill, sensing that arguing would only make things infinitely worse…

  stood up and walked out without a word.

  Harven clapped his hands together and grinned.

  “Alright! Now that you’ve successfully entered the Academy,” he announced proudly, “it’s time for the main event! I brought Wynne here to finally look at the beast inside your eye. Are you excited?”

  Reid nodded — though honestly, Harven seemed twice as excited as he was. The knight practically vibrated in place.

  Wynne stepped closer, raising both palms. His expression sharpened, and the room grew quieter, heavy with an invisible weight.

  “Relax,” Wynne murmured. “This will only take a moment.”

  Reid opened his mouth to respond—

  —and instantly fell asleep.

  His body slumped back, breathing steady.

  Wynne’s eyes closed. His hair began to float upward, suspended as if in water. A faint blue glow rippled from his fingertips.

  Harven, meanwhile…

  …was in the background trying to do a handstand and whispering,

  “Look, Wynne! Look! I can almost hold it this time!”

  He wasn’t succeeding. But he was trying.

  One minute passed.

  Wynne’s brows tightened.

  His breath strained.

  His eyes watered with tears that weren’t emotional — just pressure.

  By the second minute, the blue glow around his face twisted into something darker. His breathing turned ragged. His pupils shrank into thin rings of terror.

  But Harven didn’t notice.

  He was now staring at a child across the room, pointing at them like,

  “Look at this kid! He just scratched his nose with his foot! That’s talent!”

  Wynne’s shoulders trembled.

  His fingers clenched.

  Something inside Reid’s mind — something Wynne was touching — pushed back.

  Violently.

  By the third minute, Wynne’s expression had morphed into pure fear. A fear so sharp it looked ancient — like the fear of something that should not exist.

  His knees buckled.

  “No—” he whispered, voice cracking. “This… this can’t…”

  He collapsed.

  His body hit the floor with a heavy, lifeless thud.

  Harven turned.

  His smile evaporated.

  “Wynne?!”

  He dashed over, catching the psychic before his head hit the ground.

  Harven lifted him, eyes wide, panic leaking through his voice.

  “He fainted?” Harven whispered. “Wynne never faints. Not from telepathy… not from anything.”

  His gaze slid to Reid — still asleep — and confusion twisted into something colder.

  “…Was it Reid?” he murmured. “Did something inside him… do this?”

  For the first time in years, Harven Klutz felt a chill crawl up his spine.

  He shouted for the medics.

  “Get over here! Now!”

  He looked back at Reid — peaceful, unaware — and swallowed hard.

  “Kid,” he whispered, “what in the world are you?”

  The medics rushed in, lifting Wynne onto a stretcher as Harven stood frozen, torn between worry, fear, and guilt.

  As Wynne was carried away, his unconscious body twitched —

  and for a moment, just a moment, he whispered a single word through trembling lips:

  “Impossible…”

  The room went still.

  Harven stared at Reid one more time— now not with care, but with a slight fear.

  Origins: A New Beginning

  by Cosmic Aurora

  What You Can Expect

  - Rational Protagonist

  - Some Slice of Life

  - Some Mystery / Psychological Themes

  - Substantial Character Growth, Both for MC and Side Characters

  - A Story that Starts Fast but Slows Down

  - Well Developed World and Magic System

  - 1500-2500 Word Chapters

  - No Instant Overpowered MC

  Release Schedule

  - 4x week Mon/Tue/Wed/Thu @ 14:00 CET

  - has 12 Early Access Chapters