Richard's Pov
They called it the Culling.
Miracle Academy's entrance trial wasn't a regular test. It was a culling.
The trial was conducted in a vast, trap-riddled maze, it's very walls shifting with arcane pulses.
Hundreds of students entered, and only a fraction would survive long enough to be accepted. There were no teams. No fairness. Just six hours of chaos and carnage, where students eliminated one another to climb the ranks. The strong hunted and the weak fell.
"Number 1115, step into the portal," the examiner said with deadpan boredom.
I was the last cadet called.
I stepped forward, my fists clenched. The other examinees had already vanished one by one, swallowed by shimmering circles of light. No one wished me luck. And yet, I stepped into the portal unyielding.
The world twisted.
It felt like my entire body was vacuum-sealed, crumpled into nothing, and then spat out with unforgiving force. I hit the ground hard, knees scraping against rough, uneven stone. My vision spun before settling. I stood inside the belly of the maze—tall black walls that stretched high above, no sky, only dim glowing runes tracing overhead like veins.
Then came the voice.
"The rules are simple," the announcer said. "Survive for six hours. If you're rendered unable to fight or your life is in immediate danger, you'll be rescued by instructors. But of course—you'll fail. Let the trial begin!"
A loud gong echoed across the maze.
And the screaming began.
I bolted into the nearest corridor.
There was no strategy yet. Just distancing myself from threats. Chaos thundered through the walls—booms, clashes, and elemental detonations. Already, the air smelled of ozone, smoke, and blood.
The first trap came quickly—a tripwire that triggered a barrage of obsidian darts. I dropped flat just in time, one blade grazing my shoulder. I bit down a scream and rolled forward, smashing the ground with my heel.
The floor beneath me collapsed.
I barely caught the ledge with both hands, my legs dangling above a pit lined with sharp spikes. With a grunt, I heaved myself up, muscles trembling. The cut on my shoulder burned, but I didn't stop.
"Keep moving.", I yelled in my head.
I couldn't afford to stop.
Thirty minutes in, I'd already seen three bodies—students who'd fallen to traps or each other. One girl lay face-down, her own summoned vine strangling her mid-scream. Another boy's chest had been caved in by blunt force and seemed barely alive. I didn't look too long.
I couldn't afford empathy.
At Hour One.
A trio of students cornered me near a dead-end chamber—an ice-user, a wind manipulator, and a guy with jagged bone armor. They were probably weak so they teamed up to survive the culling.
"Easy kill," the bone-armored one sneered. "It's the Hollowborn."
My mind raced as I raised my hands, attempting to stall for time . "You sure you want to—?"
He lunged first.
I ducked under his swing and slammed a smoke vial I'd stolen earlier into the ground. As fog erupted, I dropped to the floor and scrambled behind a pillar. The water-user tried to trap me with frost, but it hit the wrong spot. She cursed.
The wind-user blew the fog away—but I was gone, already crawling into a vent tunnel barely wide enough for my frame.
I didn't win that fight. But I survived it.
For now, that was enough.
I have no clue how to use my ability.
At Hour Two.
Heat exhaustion hit.
The maze changed. The walls shimmered with crimson light and pulsed with fire runes. The environment shifted with time, part of the trial. Now, I was in what looked like a volcanic sector. The air burned in my lungs.
I had no water. My legs screamed from too many close calls. I was limping now, and my right ankle twisted after dodging a shifting stone tile that almost crushed me.
A cadet whose ability was fire-breathing chased me for twenty minutes, breathing out intense flames that scorched the walls behind me.
"Stop running like a cockroach. Damn Hollowborn! Stop and let me end you.", he screamed at me in frustration.
"Aren't you embarrassed attacking a Hollowborn? Yet, you can't even catch me.", I shouted back mockingly.
I was intentionally provoking. "Come at me, bastard.", I murmured to myself.
I used the environment and led him through unstable grounds, luring him into triggering a trap of molten lava underneath in his path.
The ground gave way beneath him, but he reacted quicker than I expected and barely held on to the end of the hole.
I instantly closed the gap between us, towering over him as I caught a glimpse of boiling lava beneath him.
"You bastard! You're just a filthy Hollowborn. How dar….", I landed a heavy kick on his face to send him down.
His scream followed as he flew straight into the lava but was immediately rescued by an instructor.
I left without looking back.
"Nobody was ever going to look down on me again", I said to myself as my eyes burned with determination.
At Hour Three.
My hands were raw. My breath was ragged. My body was covered in bruises, cuts, and burns. But I kept moving around relentlessly.
A girl tried to ambush me in the mist sector, blades laced with toxins. I only saw her because of the faint glimmer on her wrist before she struck. I didn't need to fight back. I lured her into a trap and let the maze do the work.
I was no warrior. Not like the other cadets.
They may be fighting for glory and pride, but I was fighting for survival.
And I was still here because of that.
Hour Four.
I stopped counting traps.
Arc lightning corridors. Magnetic tiles that stole gear. It was a massive illusion sector that made me fight a copy of myself for fifteen straight minutes until I realized it wasn't real.
I was shaking now.
The hallucinations were starting. At one point, I swore I saw my uncle—dead, long buried—walking toward me with open arms.
I screamed and hurled a rock at his face.
It passed through the illusion and shattered a mirror rune.
The image vanished.
I dropped to my knees, wringing from the pain in my lungs. Just for a moment.
Then I got up.
At Hour Five.
The maze narrowed. Fewer competitors were left. I hadn't seen another soul for at least half an hour.
My steps were clumsy now.
My vision blurred.
I nearly fell into a gravity pit, barely catching myself on a chain link as the platform crumbled under my feet.
I didn't know how much longer I could last.
I kept moving on instinct.
At Hour Five and a half
The hallway curved suddenly. Stone gave way to marble. The air was different—heavier, full of pressure. Not from the environment, but from something ahead.
And then I saw him.
At the far end of the corridor, silhouetted by red light and steam—
Caleb Hemmins. A prodigy who I saw awaken an SS class potential in the ceremony.
He turned his head slowly, and our eyes met.
"Hollowborn.", he said with an evil smile.
And in that smile—I saw something far worse than hatred.
Then he spoke.
"You've lasted longer than I expected, Hollowborn. This won't do at all. We can't have people thinking the Miracle Academy has no standards."
I could barely stand. My knees shook.
But I raised my chin and held his gaze, unflinching from the pressure.
A look of surprise flashed across his face.
"Weak people should lower their heads in the presence of the strong.", he said in a dangerous tone.
An insane amount of pressure erupted from his body, threatening to knock me down.
Due to my inexperience with the laws, I was like a naked baby in winter.
"Kneel, Hollowborn.", Caleb's voice traveled into my head with dominance.
"Even if the laws themselves were to fall on my head, I would never kneel.", I gritted my teeth as I forced my body up with all my willpower.
Caleb looked at me with surprise and rage in his eyes.
"Then die.", he said as he took a step forward.
My heart thundered.
This was it.
The moment everything changed.