The entrance ceremony II

After getting my belongings, I headed toward the dormitories, curiosity bubbling up as I took in the imposing structures ahead. The dorms weren't just buildings—they resembled grand, fortress-like castles, complete with towering spires and intricate stonework that hinted at ancient craftsmanship. Each apartment block stood like a bastion, divided by year, with high, sturdy walls and gates guarded by academy staff. The architecture was nothing short of majestic, with arches that stretched gracefully over wide corridors, and stone pillars lined the pathways, etched with symbols of protection and prestige.

Even though these buildings were designed for functionality, they exuded an air of elegance and regality. Their stone façades were carved with intricate designs, featuring mythical creatures and emblems of the academy's long history. It felt like stepping into a medieval castle, each block seemingly built to honor the tradition of mana users from generations past. The dormitories, despite their grandeur, were sectioned off carefully. Each year's block was separated, with guarded gates preventing students from entering blocks that weren't their own, reinforcing the academy's commitment to curbing bullying and maintaining order.

I walked under one of the archways leading into the first-year block, which was just as awe-inspiring as the exterior. Every inch of the building seemed to reflect the academy's ethos—strength, unity, and tradition.

The first-year dorms were all the same, regardless of background. Whether you came from a family of standing or a common one, the facilities provided were identical for everyone. It was an equalizer of sorts, a small comfort in a world so heavily divided by status. Even though the academy offered additional facilities, such as mana rooms and private practice areas, these were available on a first-come, first-served basis. And if you wanted to access the more advanced facilities that were on academy grounds, you'd need to spend points—points earned through exams, quests, or other achievements. Those facilities also had strict time limits, making them a resource to be carefully managed.

As I entered the first-year block, I marveled at the sheer scale of it. Each building could house up to 200 students, including the necessary amenities like showers, kitchens, and study rooms. There were five blocks in total, given that only 1,000 students were accepted into the World Academy each year. The academic staff had done their best to assign rooms randomly, though you could apply to switch if you had a valid reason, like a conflict with a roommate or other personal issues. To do that, you had to speak to the dorm principal in charge of your year.

I glanced down at the holographic screen on my key watch, which displayed my room number: 734. The top floor.

"Of course," I muttered under my breath, eyeing the long staircase that led to the upper levels. Thankfully, students here could use mana to reinforce their bodies, so climbing stairs was no trouble. Still, it was a reminder of the hierarchy that would be in full effect from next year. Second-year students had the option to change rooms based on merit, and during midterms, the top 200 students could switch to better accommodations. The top 10 students even get exclusive VIP rooms with private training areas. I remembered hearing a story about Arthur and Jayden getting into a heated fight over the first-place room—it wasn't just a matter of comfort, but status.

I reached the top floor, slightly winded but still managing a chuckle. "No wonder they encourage us to train. Even climbing stairs is a workout here."

Finally, I arrived at my room and unlocked the door with a simple tap of my watch. The door slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing the minimalist interior. A bed, wardrobe, study desk, and an attached bathroom. It was nothing extravagant, but it had everything I needed. I was relieved to see the bathroom; at least they cared enough about hygiene to give each student their own toilet.

On the desk was a familiar round-shaped device, similar to the one I had seen upon entering this world. It looked like some sort of holographic computer. Curiosity got the better of me, so I placed my hand on it, feeding a small pulse of mana into the device. Instantly, a display popped up, projecting academic data into the air. Thousands of files and notes related to the academy's curriculum filled the space before me. This was the academy's version of a personal assistant, and judging by the sheer amount of information, it seemed like I'd be using it often.

I let out a sigh and started unpacking, placing my uniform and essentials into the wardrobe. The bed was surprisingly soft, and as I sat down, exhaustion from the day's events began to creep in. Before I could sleep, though, I remembered something important—I hadn't finished reading all the academy's rules.

Pulling up the rulebook on my key watch, I began skimming through the various regulations. Most of them seemed straightforward: no fighting in dormitories, no unauthorized use of restricted facilities, curfew times, etc. But then I stumbled across something strange.

**"Rule 47: All strange phenomes such as seeing translucent objects, hearing strange voices or experiencing dizziness when leaving space to another that occur within the academic grounds are to be reported to the academic staff immediately.." **

"What a weird rule, almost if saying there are ghosts in the academy"

A shiver ran down my spine. There was something unspoken in this rule, something that hinted at a darker reason behind it. Whatever it was, I would be sure to avoid any midnight strolls until I knew more. For now, though, my body demands rest.

I slid under the covers, letting the thoughts of the day swirl in my mind as sleep slowly overtook me. Tomorrow would bring more challenges, but tonight, I allowed myself a rare moment of peace.

As I lay on my bed, exhaustion finally overtook me, and I felt myself drifting into sleep. The day's events began to blur, and soon I was lost in a dream that felt unnervingly real.

When I opened my eyes next, I found myself in an enormous ballroom, the kind you only see in royal palaces, with towering chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling and casting a warm, golden glow across the hall. The room was filled with people dressed in lavish, luxurious outfits—glistening gowns, tailored suits, and ornate jewelry that sparkled under the lights. I could even distinctly recognize the main heroes. Each wearing extremely exquisite clothes and accessories. The sound of violins and cellos echoed softly in the background, but something was off. I felt a strange heaviness in the air, like a storm on the horizon.

As I glanced around, the elegant scene slowly began to warp. Flames flickered at the edges of the ballroom, barely noticeable at first but quickly growing more intense. The heat pressed against my skin, and an unsettling realization sank in: we were trapped. The fire wasn't just a backdrop—it was alive, moving closer, hungry and relentless. The once-vibrant colors of the guests' outfits faded into a dull haze as smoke curled through the air, and panic began to set in.

Then I noticed them—figures creeping from the shadows at the edges of the hall. They moved in perfect unison, their footsteps eerily silent against the marble floors. They wore long, dark cloaks, their faces hidden behind intricate red and black masks, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light. There were at least a dozen of them, surrounding us in a slow, deliberate circle. The music had stopped, replaced by the distant crackle of flames and the hushed murmurs of fear spreading through the crowd.

I tried to move, but my legs felt heavy, like they were bound to the floor. My heart pounded in my chest, and a sharp pain ran through my side. I glanced down, only to realize I was bleeding. I didn't know how or why, but I was injured, and the wound throbbed with each breath I took. My vision swayed, the dizziness making it hard to focus, but I could see the masked figures getting closer, their presence suffocating.

People around me began to panic, trying to move away, but the circle of masked men closed in, slowly tightening. I could hear whispers, but they were indistinct, just a constant hum of fear. One of the figures reached out with a hand wrapped in leather gloves, a glint of something sharp catching my eye.

Suddenly, through the haze of pain and confusion, I heard someone beside me mutter in frustration, "If only I had my weapons."

The words made me shocked, but before I could process them, the masked figures lunged. My heart raced as they closed in, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion—the glint of blades, the flash of red masks, the fire creeping closer. Darkness consumed me just as I felt the cold edge of a weapon approach.

And then, I woke up.

The dream clung to me like a fog, my heart still pounding as I lay in the dim light of my dorm room. For a moment, I couldn't shake the sensation of being surrounded, the eerie stillness of the masked figures, or the heat of the flames. It had felt so real, like I had actually been there, trapped with no way out.