The journey wasn't short.
Lilith said the academy was hidden deep within the ruins of an ancient vampire stronghold—veiled from most maps, protected by old-world magic and monstrous terrain. To Kite, it felt more like a sick joke. Between unstable portals, Qi storms, and a hungry bat-beast trying to eat him during a midnight piss, the road was anything but glamorous.
By the fifth day, they arrived.
A cliffside overlooked a valley choked in mist. And from the edge of that abyss, Kite saw it: towers rising from stone, bridges of bone-white marble, and an obsidian wall that shimmered with arcane seals.
Banter's Academy.
So this is where the future monster-slayers of the world were bred.
"This… doesn't look like a school," Kite muttered.
"It isn't," Lilith replied, her eyes scanning the spires. "It's a battlefield with uniforms."
A long bridge stretched from the cliff toward the front gate. Dozens of figures in cloaks and hunter gear were already crossing, escorted by Academy staff.
"Follow me," Lilith said.
The second his foot touched the stone bridge, something pulsed in the air.
[Bloodline Signature: Valid]
[Access to Banter's Academy granted.]
[System Cloaking Activated – Concealing abnormal interface.]
His vision flickered faintly for a moment—like reality had shifted around him.
He looked up and noticed a massive sigil embedded into the gate wall. A fang and a sword, wrapped in thorned vines. The emblem of the hero Banter, the man who once led humanity against the beast hordes during the first emergence.
The gate opened slowly.
And they entered.
Inside, the academy was vast.
Open-air courtyards connected massive halls of stone. Floating platforms zipped across towers in the distance. Trails of beast Qi shimmered in runic patterns etched into the tiles. Statues of old heroes loomed along the path—some human, some not.
Kite kept close behind Lilith, trying not to gawk too much.
"This is where all the real ones train?" he muttered. "Looks like the kind of place that eats first-years alive."
"Because it does," she replied. "Only the strongest survive their first semester."
As they approached the main plaza, groups of students had already gathered. Some were clearly fresh like him—nervous, quiet, wide-eyed. Others carried weapons, wore robes with minor noble symbols, and already had faint auras of power around them.
Kite stood out.
No gear. No badge. No house backing him.
Just a black cloak and worn boots… and a system no one could see.
He could feel the glances already. Whispers. Unspoken judgments.
"Stay here," Lilith said. "You'll be processed for trial combat shortly."
"What, no tour? No lunch? No 'welcome to our prestigious institution'?" Kite asked.
She looked back once, amused. "Welcome to the pit, Kite."
And then she was gone.
A man stepped onto the platform near the fountain—gruff, short-bearded, clad in beast-hide armor.
"New recruits," he barked. "You're not students yet. You're candidates."
He pointed to the raised stage beside him. "Combat trials begin now. You'll fight one-on-one. No killing—but injuries are expected. Lose, and you get dorm scraps and bottom-rank placement. Win, and you get something better."
Kite exhaled through his nose. "Right. Trial by punching."
A large projection crystal lit up near the stage, showing names pairing up.
[Trial Match: Round 1]
Nocturne, Kite vs. Arkhal, Drevon
Kite stared.
"...Someone already knows my last name?"
[System Notice: Minor information leak via Academy records]
[Class remains Hidden – Name accessible through magical registry]
"Great," he muttered. "They spelled it right, at least."
He climbed the steps to the dueling platform, heart calm but blood warm. Across from him stood a boy his age, maybe a year older. Long blond hair tied back, polished spear at his side. His uniform bore the mark of House Arkhal—one of the minor noble houses tied to beast suppression squads.
"Of course," Kite murmured. "A noble brat."
Drevon looked him over with open disdain. "You don't even have a weapon."
"I make do," Kite said. "I'm crafty."
"You'll be bleeding."
The referee, a tired-looking woman with a magic scroll, raised a hand. "Begin when ready."
Kite didn't move.
He waited.
Drevon struck first, lunging forward with a spinning spear thrust.
Kite rolled low, grabbing the edge of the spear as he passed, twisting it mid-air. The motion disarmed it briefly, forcing Drevon to retreat with narrowed eyes.
"Trickster," Drevon hissed.
"Nope," Kite replied. "Just efficient."
[Blood XP Gained: +9 – First Combat Exchange]
[Attribute Bonus: +1 Agility (Quick Reflex)]
He could feel it. The pulse. The slight burn in his chest when XP filled his veins. A whisper of the system—subtle, encouraging.
His body moved faster than it had days ago. He dodged, ducked, countered.
No martial arts training. No Qi-enhanced weapon.
Just instinct… and something inside him that was changing.
Drevon roared, activating flame Qi into his spear. The blade lit up, cutting into the arena floor with heat.
"You'll burn—!"
Kite darted under his swing, slid across the arena, and—
Bit him.
Not deep. Not enough to kill. Just enough to taste the blood.
[Blood XP Gained: +18 – Noble Target]
[Bloodline Awakening: 0.5% → 0.6%]
[Skill Progress: Vampire Physiology Lv.1 → Lv.2]
[Condition: Blood Saturation 3%]
Status: Stable
Drevon stumbled back, shocked.
"Did you just—?!"
The referee stepped in immediately. "Enough!"
Kite wiped his mouth. "He's fine."
"Match over," she declared. "Winner: Kite Nocturne."
Silence.
Then murmurs.
Kite stepped off the stage, blood thrumming in his ears.
He didn't just win.
He proved he belonged.
And this was only the beginning.