The beast’s roar tore through the golden hall like thunder made flesh. It was not merely sound but a wave of pressure, a force that pressed down on the lungs and rattled the bones of every soul present. Tens of thousands of voices died in an instant. Conversations cut short, laughter evaporated, and even the shuffle of restless feet stilled.
For the first time since Avin had entered the hall, true silence reigned.
The colossal creature stood at the far platform, towering even while crouched on four muscular legs. It was the size of a small house, its body cloaked in thick brown fur that shimmered faintly under the radiant light spilling from the ceiling. The head resembled that of a lion, broad and noble, but its wings—two vast structures of leathery membrane—spread outward like the sails of some ancient warship. And its talons... sharp, curved, and avian, they clicked against the marble floor as if eager to shred it apart.
Avin’s breath caught in his throat. His first instinct was to run. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to flee, to get as far from this monster as possible. He had seen animals in this world before, but this one dwarfed them all. He remembered the wolf that had chased him during his first minutes in this cursed land. He remembered being killed in a dream by a beast. He remembered Leo strangling him during training, as casually as one might leash a dog. His history with animals was a long list of terror and humiliation.
But before panic could consume him, the figure atop the beast shifted.
The rider descended in a single, graceful motion. The hall’s brilliance seemed to bend around her, as though light itself acknowledged her presence. She was tall, statuesque, her form wrapped in garments of flowing white silk interwoven with silver strands. Her hair cascaded down her back in a sheet of immaculate ivory, and her face bore the calm, ageless beauty of something not wholly human.
And then Avin saw them—the ears. Long, elegant, sharply pointed, they protruded through her silken hair like the crowning insignia of another race.
"Is that an... elf?" he whispered under his breath.
The thought struck him like a stone. At first, his mind rebelled, tried to dismiss it as delusion. But no—what reason did he have to doubt anymore? In a world with giant scorpions, monstrous wolves, and men who could summon light itself into weapons, why not elves? Slowly, inexorably, the logic sank in. This world wasn’t Earth. It never had been. And if he needed another reminder, she was standing right there, radiating a majesty that was both alien and divine.
When she spoke, her voice was music gilded with authority, every syllable carrying effortlessly across the cavernous hall.
"Greetings, aspiring students of the Hero’s Prestigious Academy," she said, her tone formal yet melodic, like poetry made sound. "I am Serenya Morrivan, head of the Beast-Taming Department, and the presiding host of your entrance examinations."
A wave of awe rippled through the gathered crowd. Whispers turned into cheers, and applause rang like rain upon stone. The students marveled at her, at her poise, at the impossible beast she had ridden as though it were nothing more than a horse.
The beast answered their admiration with another roar. This one was shorter, but it silenced the applause instantly, demanding attention, commanding respect. Its golden eyes swept over the hall like twin suns, daring anyone to challenge its dominance.
Serenya lifted a hand, her pale fingers cutting gracefully through the air. At once, the beast lowered its head, obedient as a trained hound. The mere act was enough to show the gulf between them—between her and every mortal in this hall.
"The entrance exam," she continued, "exists to preserve the dignity of this academy and to ensure that only the most capable among you ascend its halls. It is not cruelty, nor malice—it is necessity. This place does not exist to create mediocrity, but to shape legends."
Her words hung heavy, pressing into the hearts of everyone listening.
Avin’s pulse quickened. Legends? He barely survived bandits. He could hardly ride a horse. And yet, here he was, standing among thousands, expected to prove himself worthy.
Then the hall was bathed in light.
A sudden eruption of green energy surged from the marble floor, forcing Avin and countless others to shield their eyes. The brilliance coalesced into a massive orb above them, shimmering with runes of ancient design. Slowly, majestically, the orb split into three smaller globes.
One shifted into the shape of a colossal tome, its pages inscribed with phantom letters that shimmered faintly before vanishing.
Another twisted into the image of two swords locked in eternal clash, sparks of light bursting where they met.
The last melted into the vision of a barren field, endless and bleak, stretching into a horizon that seemed to swallow all hope. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn novel~fire~net
The crowd gasped as one. The air quivered with awe.
"These are the three trials," Serenya declared. "The written exam. The battle—both group and one-on-one. And finally, survival."
At the word survival, Avin felt his stomach knot.
"You will be judged across these three domains. Your ranks will be tallied, your strengths and weaknesses weighed. And when it is done, the top one thousand among you shall be chosen. The rest..." Her voice trailed off into chilling silence.
Then the uproar began.
"One thousand?" someone shouted.
"Out of tens of thousands of us?"
Voices rose like a tidal wave. Fear, anger, disbelief—it spread through the crowd like fire through dry grass. The once-silent hall erupted into chaos.
And then the beast roared.
This was no mere sound. This was apocalypse in audio form. A bellow so immense it rattled the soul itself. The air vibrated, the marble cracked, and the golden ceiling seemed to tremble.
Avin’s hands flew to his ears. It was useless. The roar wasn’t only in his ears—it was inside his skull, hammering his thoughts, clawing at the edges of his mind. It wasn’t a sound. It was a command. A voice screaming in a language older than humanity, something primal and absolute: silence.
Students crumpled all around him. Dozens, then hundreds, collapsing to the floor with blood trickling from their ears. Their screams were drowned instantly by the next wave of sound, a higher-pitched screech woven into the roar that felt like daggers stabbing into the brain.
Avin staggered, almost falling. His vision blurred, his teeth rattled in his skull. But he did not fall. He clenched his fists, forcing air into his lungs. He had felt this before—not the sound, but the crushing weight of something greater than himself. The oppressive presence of gods, the suffocating heat of battle, the cruelty of fate. All of it had tempered him. All of it had prepared him for this moment.
Still, he nearly broke.
When at last the roar ended, the hall was a graveyard of groans and silence. Hundreds lay unconscious, their ears bleeding, their bodies twitching. The survivors—Avin among them—stood trembling, ears ringing, hearts pounding.
Serenya’s voice returned, calm, unbothered.
"All of these," she said, gesturing elegantly toward the fallen, "have already failed."
A collective gasp rippled through the survivors.
Avin’s eyes darted toward Eira and Sylas. Relief washed over him when he saw them both standing, shaken but conscious, their faces pale and strained. He allowed himself a small exhale. But then, on the far side of the hall, he noticed someone else. A figure standing tall, utterly unfazed. While the rest of them shook and bled, this one remained statuesque, untouched, as though the roar had been nothing but a breeze.
Avin’s blood ran cold.
Before he could dwell on it, glowing circles bloomed beneath each of the fallen. Intricate runes, pulsing with soft light. And then, one by one, the bodies vanished, whisked away into nothingness. Gasps filled the room again, but no one dared speak aloud.
"They will be escorted back to their homes once they recover," Serenya announced, her eyes sharp. "They are unworthy of Lady Gaia’s blessing."
The name struck Avin like a blow.
"Gaia..." he muttered. Memories surged unbidden—visions of a goddess’s voice during his near-death. The one who spoke when his world had ended. Could it be the same? Was her influence here, too?
His mind spiraled with questions, but Serenya’s voice cut them off like a blade.
"Well then," she said, her tone as serene as her name. "Shall we continue—without interruption?"
Her eyes swept over the hall. Thousands of students, cowed and trembling, stared back at her. No one spoke. No one dared.