Class was over.
Ren's mana thermos was empty. My brain was operating at about 3 pixels of resolution. And all I wanted was to flop face-first into bed and pretend I hadn't just accidentally flexed in front of a room full of magical death prodigies.
"I think Instructor Veyla tried to set my soul on fire," Ren muttered as we reached the hallway to our dorm. "Did you see that look she gave me after I asked if mana diagrams could be skipped like ads?"
"She looked like she was deciding between vaporizing you or writing a thesis on why you exist."
"Both are valid reactions."
We turned the corner.
Our dorm door loomed ahead—faintly humming with residual weirdness. Not comforting.
"Please no cursed soup. Please no animated pancakes," I whispered as I opened the door.
Click.
We stepped inside.
And stopped.
There was a third person in the room.
Not just in the room—unpacking. Calmly. Neatly. Like he belonged there. A single black duffel. Folded uniforms. A dark obsidian blade leaning against the wall like it was judging us. Which, fair.
The guy didn't even look up at first. Just finished tucking a robe into a drawer with the precision of a monk folding holy relics. Then, finally, he turned.
White hair. Sharp-cut. Not messy like the cryptic hybrid kid from earlier. Eyes: silver-gray. Calm. Like stormclouds just before the lightning hits.
His aura?
Flatlined.
Like he wasn't even there.
Which, somehow, made him more threatening.
"You're in our room," I said dumbly.
"I am," he replied smoothly. His voice was soft, low, clear. Like a blade sliding from a sheath. "Assigned this morning."
He turned back to his duffel.
Ren blinked. "Wait—hold up. We have a new roommate? Was this in the syllabus? Did I miss a flyer?!"
"I'm Evan Caelthorn," the new guy said, without looking back. "Transferred after the... Dorm Sector Thirteen incident."
I exchanged a slow glance with Ren.
"Incident," I echoed. "That's code for murder, right?"
"Or mass pancake-related trauma," Ren added.
Evan ignored us. Finished organizing. Sat down cross-legged and unsheathed his sword with a sound like the room flinched.
The blade gleamed black and silver, etched with faint runes that shimmered under the dorm lights. It didn't look fancy—but it felt ancient. Dangerous.
I cleared my throat. "So... clan?"
"Fallen branch of the Caelthorn Lineage," Evan said without blinking. "Formerly of the Umbracryx Accord."
"That sounds fake and ominous."
"It was both."
He resumed meditating, sword laid across his knees like a judgment.
Ren leaned over and whispered, "This guy's cooler than us combined. And he hasn't even blinked."
"I can hear you," Evan said calmly.
"…He's like Megumi with murder aura."
"I heard that too."
A beat of silence.
Then, softly—barely visible—his mouth twitched upward.
Not a smile.
But close.
And in Dragon School terms?
That was basically a hug.
Next Morning – The Arena
The Drakensoul Arena was alive.
Columns of obsidian. Floating glyphs. A sky that looked like it was planning war.
Hundreds of students stood in formation around the central combat ring, mana humming in the air like a storm waiting for its cue.
Instructor Vaerion stepped into the center, robes flowing like smoke, eyes gleaming like a disappointed god.
"Today, you will be evaluated."
No warm-up. No kind welcome. Just declaration and doom.
"You will be paired based on rhythm and mana thread. Victory is not the goal—understanding is."
I raised my hand halfway. "Uh, what does understanding mean in this context—"
"In this context," he cut me off, "it means not dying."
"Copy that," I muttered.
Day 1 Matchups:
Kael Dravion vs. Kirin Voss (Earth-Type, poor bastard)
Ren Aethergaze vs. Jorn Malek (Berserker-Type, built like a fridge)
Han Jihoon vs. Rett Varin (Stormfang Lineage, Lightning-Type, smug energy: maxed)
Evan Caelthorn vs. Vayne Dross (Shadowblade Duelist)
Fight 1 – Kael Dravion vs. Kirin Voss
Kael stepped into the ring like a drama prince looking for a camera crew.
Kirin Voss, his opponent, was a bulky earth-type student with rock gauntlets and nervous sweat.
Kael didn't even draw his blades at first. Just flexed his mana and let fire swirl around him like he was starring in his own anime opening.
The match started.
And ended fifteen seconds later.
Kirin launched a boulder fist.
Kael sliced through it with a flaming chainblade, flipped midair, and buried the second blade into the ground—causing a localized eruption.
A blast of heat washed over the spectators, sharp enough to sting exposed skin even behind the mana barriers.
Dust cleared.
Kirin was unconscious and slightly smoking.
Kael brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder and strolled off like a runway model.
"Next."
Fight 2 – Ren Aethergaze vs. Jorn Malek
Instructor Vaerion called out:
"Ren Aethergaze. Step forward."
Ren jogged into the ring, twirling his wand like he was auditioning for a magical boy anime.
(Dragons didn't need wands.
Ren just thought it made him look cooler.
Like a magical anime protagonist who forgot to read the manual.)
Across from him stood Jorn Malek — a berserker dripping with red mana, gripping a two-handed axe like he was about to solve all his problems with violence.
Vaerion's voice boomed:
"Begin."
Jorn charged immediately, bellowing a war cry.
Ren panicked (as usual), raised his wand, and shouted:
"Amplified Force Pulse!"
A compressed ball of mana shot forward—
Wobbly. Overcharged. Sparking wildly.
Instead of a clean knockback, it detonated in a shockwave.
BOOM.
Jorn was flung backward into the mana shield with a heavy CRACK.
Ren got blown into a barrel roll mid-air and crash-landed on a stack of healing crystals.
The whole arena blinked.
Dust cleared.
Jorn was face-down and unconscious.
The healing crystals under Ren pulsed softly, almost applauding his accidental victory.
Ren sat up, dazed, hair standing completely on end like a dandelion.
He raised a shaky fist in victory:
"Support Mage, baby! Tactical explosions, totally intentional!"
Fight 3 – Han Jihoon vs. Rett Varin
I stepped into the ring, trying not to trip on my own anxiety.
Across from me stood Rett Varin, lightning-type, Stormfang lineage. Arrogant smirk. Gauntlets humming like high-voltage death.
He cracked his neck. "You? Seriously?"
"I get that a lot," I muttered. "Let's disappoint everyone together."
"Begin."
He moved fast—too fast.
CRACK.
A bolt screamed at me. I dove, barely avoiding a flash-fry.
"Warning shot!" Rett grinned.
Cool. Loved that for me.
He followed up, throwing lightning punches. One grazed my shoulder—instant numbness.
I tried to counter.
Tripped.
Faceplanted.
Laughter rippled through the arena. Even Ren groaned.
"Not like this, bro," he muttered.
Rett stepped back, began charging a full-sized lightning orb.
"Time to fry the Special Admission!"
I froze—
And then—
Something snapped.
Not in the air.
In me.
The pressure. The panic. The sheer instinct to survive.
[ Trait Triggered: Adaptive Resonance ]
[ Combat Sync Level Rising... ]
[ Trait Unlocked: Lightning Step (Lv.1) ]
Move with lightning-aligned mana bursts. Predictive acceleration based on hostile aura.
The world changed.
For a fraction of a second, everything slowed.
My body moved before my brain could even shout a warning.
I didn't just dodge—
I moved.
Lightning surged through me—not to hurt, but to guide.
CRACK—WHOOSH—
I zipped to the left, barely visible, trailing faint sparks in my wake.
Rett spun, confused.
I was behind him.
He turned—too slow.
I slid past, low, my momentum crackling along my limbs like borrowed stormlight.
I hit him in the gut with my shoulder. Mana-enhanced.
He stumbled.
I darted forward again—one step, two, zigzagging in a blur of speed.
BZZZZZT!
I popped up in front of him like a glitch and jammed my elbow into his chest.
He flew backward, lightning discharging from his own gauntlets as he collapsed.
Silence.
I was breathing hard. Still sparking faintly.
But standing.
Instructor Vaerion raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting."
Even Kael leaned forward. Not smirking.
Lira's eyes followed the fading trails of light around my feet.
I grinned, breathless.
Lightning Step.
"Bro, I just unlocked First Form: Dumb Luck Flash!"
I could get used to this.
Fight 4 – Evan Caelthorn vs. Vayne Dross (Shadowblade Duelist)
"Evan Caelthorn. Proceed."
He walked forward with zero drama. No flexing mana. No weapon drawn. Just silence and precision.
Across the ring stood his opponent: Vayne Dross, Shadowblade duelist from the Nightclad Order. His armor gleamed obsidian. Two enchanted daggers shimmered with violet smoke.
"Did they seriously pair me with the quiet kid?" Vayne chuckled. "Fine. I'll make it quick."
Evan said nothing.
Did nothing.
Didn't even reach for his sword.
Begin.
Vayne vanished in a blink—classic shadow dash—reappearing behind Evan with both daggers slashing inward like twin fangs.
Any normal fighter would've blocked, flinched, or panicked.
Evan?
He turned slightly.
CLANG.
A dagger hit the ground, disarmed mid-strike.
Vayne backflipped away, eyes wide. "What—?"
Evan reached for his blade.
No aura flare. No system prompt.
Just steel sliding free.
Fsshhk.
One step.
One clean, horizontal arc through the air.
For a heartbeat—nothing moved.
Then Vayne's remaining weapons split in half. Clean. Surgical.
The aftershock of the strike cracked the arena floor behind him.
Evan sheathed his sword with one smooth click.
"—Silent Moon Cut."
Vayne dropped to his knees.
Fight. Over.
Instructor Vaerion's voice was quiet.
"Victory. No flaws."
Ren muttered, "Okay. Now I'm afraid of touching his shampoo."
And me?
I just tried to remember how to breathe.
Evan left the ring. Expression unchanged.
Ren stared. "He's a sleeper boss character."
"No," I muttered. "He's the final boss's older brother."
Back in the Dorm – That Night
Ren flopped onto his bed. "So. We're a trio now."
"Apparently," I said, rubbing the side of my head.
"Special Admission, support chaos, and silent sword god."
Evan, from his corner: "You're not wrong."
I turned to him. "So... that sword thing?"
"It was just practice."
"You call that practice?"
Ren: "Can you teach me to slice reality?"
Evan: "No."
Another pause.
Then laughter.
Not just mine or Ren's—Evan's too. Quiet. Sharp. Real.
And for a moment, the chaos paused.
Not gone. Just... manageable.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But tonight?
I had allies.
Maybe even friends.
And in Drakensoul?
That's the rarest magic of all.
📝 Author's Note – Chaos Unlocked:
And now… we have a trio 💥
Evan Caelthorn joins the cast—cool, composed, blade of judgment energy. Jihoon's dodging attacks like a rhythm game, and Ren is still the gremlin glue holding them together.
Poll Time:
What should our trio's chaotic codename be?
A) The Dorm of Destined Dumbasses
B) Adaptive Disaster Division
C) Team Probably Expelled
D) Jihoon & Co. (but the "Co." gets progressively weirder each chapter)
Drop your votes and chaos theories below ⬇️
Especially: What was the Dorm Sector Thirteen incident? And what's Evan hiding beneath that cool exterior?
Until next time—stay sharp, stay strange, and don't trust the vending machine that hums at night.
—Your loyal chaos bard 🐉✨