Fredozy
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Chapter 3: Prospects
🕑 Added 2025-09-04 14:25:49 +0000 UTCVeylin Institute, an academy built at the edge of Vorath's eastern quarter. Here, most children in Vorath were placed to not only study but also learn the rudiments of Anatomy, Biology, Aura control, Lumen flow, and basic survival combat. The very foundation upon which future warriors or scholars of the realm would rise.
"Silence!"
The barked word snapped the air, and the classroom hushed. Their instructor, Arven, stood at the front with his arms folded. He was a tall man, lean and hard around the edges, his greying hair was tied back, his sharp eyes felt like steel cutting across the students.
"You've all been preparing for this moment," Arven said, his voice deep and commanding. "Next week, the Final Proving Examination begins. It will determine whether you remain here… or rise to something greater."
The students straightened, some with excitement, others with dread. Arven allowed the tension to linger before continuing.
"The examination has three parts. The first" he raised a finger, " is a written test. The rest…" He paused deliberately, letting the silence stretch. "…will be revealed when you face them. I will only tell you this: you will need every ounce of knowledge and courage you've gathered. Your lives, your futures, may change in the span of those three tests. The reward? The chance to enter Astralis Vanguard Academy itself."
At that name, the room erupted.
"Astralis!"
"I heard only the top ten percent even make it past the first stage."
"They say graduates get chosen by noble houses."
"If I pass, I'm never coming back to this dump."
The classroom filled with chatter again, excitement brimming in every corner. Chairs scraped, voices overlapped, and the anticipation of passing the exam itself.
But at the back of the room, a boy sat with his head on the desk, unmoved by the frenzy. His dark hair spilled loosely across his arms, his breathing calm, almost as though asleep.
A sharp kick rattled his chair.
"Oi," a voice said behind him, amused and kinda impatient. "You hear that, Riven? It's finally about to start."
Riven didn't lift his head. His voice came out soft, steady, almost bored. "I heard the first time, Kevan. No need to kick the chair."
Kev, a broad-shouldered boy with wild copper hair and an eagerness that bordered on recklessness, sighed heavily. "Saints above, you're hopeless yiu know that. This is our chance our only chance to become something more than forgotten street rats. And you're just lying there like it's another dull lecture."
Riven said nothing, his gaze hidden beneath the curtain of his hair. But inside, his thoughts were less silent.
'Astralis Vanguard Academy, huh? The place where heroes are forged, where legends begin…' He could almost laugh. 'Now what good is a broken person in a place like that? Even if I somehow passed, my body would betray me sooner or later. I'm not one of them. I never will be.'
He sighed quietly and opened his eyes, staring at the worn grain of his desk with a distant, absent gaze.
—
By the time the sun dipped low, class had ended. Students filtered out in noisy groups, debating strategies, making plans, dreaming of futures waiting beyond Vorath. Riven sat alone beneath the crooked branches of an old elm tree by the training field, resting his arms on the bench as the wind brushed through. For a while, it was quiet and of course that was until shouting drifted across the grounds.
He ignored it at first. But the voices grew louder, angrier. He exhaled sharply and stood, brushing off his trousers, heading toward the disturbance with reluctant steps.
Around the corner of the practice yard, he found three familiar faces, all archetypes of arrogance and strength.
The leader, Darius, a boy with a tall sharp features and black hair cropped short, his posture radiating superiority. Beside him, Ceyric, a heavier-set boy with a cruel, narrow eyes that always seemed to glimmer with mischief. And the third, Soren, lean and sharp-tongued, his smirk ever-present.
At their feet lay an unfamiliar dark-haired boy, his lip bloodied. He curled inward as the three circled him like wolves.
"Hey," Riven called, his voice flat, almost weary. "Mind keeping it down? I'm trying to enjoy what little rest time I get."
The three turned. Laughter broke out.
"Well, look who it is," Darius sneered. "If it isn't the defective trash."
"No," Ceyric cut in with mock gravity. "He's not just a defective trash. He's nothing."
Riven sighed, already turning away at the futile attempt to get back his peace and quiet. But then, from the ground, the bloodied boy croaked out.
"P-please… help me…"
Riven glanced at him from the corner of his eye in apathy. "Deal with it yourself."
That drew cruel laughter.
"Listen to him," Soren jeered. "Still pretending like you're above us even though you failed to awaken. What kind of insult is that?"
Riven looked back at them with a cool, impassive stare. "Is that supposed to sting? You'll have to do better than playground taunts."
His calm dismissal only fueled their anger. He rolled his eyes. "Saints, grow up already. You sound like children swinging sticks at shadows." His lips curled into a faint smirk. "Though I suppose that's fitting, given the minuscule sizes of your brain."
The smirk landed deeper than expected. Ceyric's face twisted. He spat back, "Yeah, run away why don't you, like your mummy's little bitch!"
That made Riven stop.
Slowly, he turned back, his eyes narrowing, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "What… did you just say?"
The air thickened. Darius barked, "Enough! Take him out!"
The three surged forward at once. Riven's lips pressed into a thin line. 'And here we go again… I should've just gone home.'
A quick glance to the side and he saw a long training staff leaned against the fence.
Darius's fist came swinging first, a wild punch filled with the reckless strength of a newly awakened minor tier One. Against most students, it would've been nothing but a bruise. Against him, a Tier Zero, it could shatter ribs.
Riven ducked low, rolling to the side, unwilling to take even a glancing hit. His fingers brushed the staff as he came up, his eyes became cold with his movements turning sharp.
Riven breathed in deeply as he darted forward, boots scuffing against the dusty training yard floor. The jeers of the older boys pressed down on him like a swarm of gnats, but he didn't slow. One of them lunged, swinging a heavy kick at his ribs.
Riven dropped low, then sprang upward in a fluid motion. His body twisted mid-air with his foot now planted firmly on the boy's face, using it as a stepping stone. The kid's cry cracked through the air as Riven landed in a roll, dirt streaking his forearms.
Without turning, his voice cut sharp and firm at the boy still frozen near the edge of the yard.
"Why the hell are you still here? Do you need to be told before you to leave?"
The younger kid's wide eyes shimmered with hesitation, but fear won out. He scrambled up, stumbling on his own feet before darting off across the yard. His hurried footsteps faded just as the laughter of the bullies returned.
"Look at him," one sneered. "Thinks he's some kind of fighter."
They then rushed him in a pack. Riven's grip on the staff tightened. He didn't immediately swing wildly. He pivoted, letting his smaller frame weave between their larger bodies, the staff whistling through the air as he drove it into soft targets.
A sharp crack against the bridge of Soren's nose sent blood spraying. Another jab sank into Ceyric's throat, making one him double over gagging. A sweeping low strike then caught Darius right in the groin as he rushed in to punch him. He dropped with a strangled yelp, clutching himself.
In that moment Riven made a mistake and assumed they were all down and relaxed. Ceyric recovered first and sprinted faster than Riven could react, he managed to catch his ankle as Riven jumped trying to avoid him but his reflexes were much lower than that of an awakened. The world spun as the brute heaved him around and slammed him down. Riven's back smacked the ground with a crack that stole his breath. His jaw clenched against the scream clawing at his throat, but a hiss escaped anyway. Pain blazed down his spine as his skull bounced against the dirt, stars flooding his vision.
He barely registered the shadows swarming over him until rough hands pinned his arms and fists began to rain down. His body jerked beneath the barrage, each blow making his world tilt further into haze.
Darius cocked back a fist, aiming straight for his face. Instinct cut through the fog. Riven tucked his knees tight against his chest, then lashed out with both legs at once. His boots slammed into the ringleader's face, the crunch of impact echoing like a drumbeat. The boy reeled back with a howl, collapsing into the dirt again.
The other boys froze just as a voice thundered across the yard.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
The bullies flinched, their heads snapping toward the sound. Standing at the edge of the yard was one of the instructors, his expression carved from stone and his presence felt heavier than the strike of a hammer. His sharp glare swept across them, pinning each boy in place like insects under glass.
Riven, panting on the ground, turned his head. His stomach twisted when his gaze found the boy he had ordered to run standing just behind the instructor, eyes wide, chest heaving from the sprint that must have carried him here.
Riven's thought was immediate and bitter.
'Shit.'
