The grand Awakening Hall of Avalon Ability Academy was packed with students, instructors, and high-ranking officials. Banners bearing the academy’s insignia hung from the marble pillars, and the massive Awakening Crystal stood at the center, glowing faintly. Today was the most important day for every student—the day their abilities would be revealed. Many of the student were seen whispering among themselves as they pinged hands towards some student known to have hailed from magical families. Families that had a deep root in Avalon Ability academy. Leonard carter was a nobody but he was reckoned with for his extra ordinary abilities he had demonstrated each time during his trainings. But today was different,special. It was day many of the had anticipated to know their ranks. Leo Carter stood among the crowd, his heart pounding. He clenched his fists, taking a slow breath to steady himself. This was the moment he had trained for. The moment that would determine his future

A suffocating pressure filled the air. The Abyssal Fiend’s energy pulsed like a living nightmare, its presence alone enough to make the ground tremble beneath Leo’s feet. Dark tendrils slithered through the air, reaching toward him with deathly intent. Leo’s breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles screaming from the strain of his earlier awakening. Every fiber of his being told him to run, to get away from this monstrosity. But he couldn’t move. His body refused to listen. His mind raced, a desperate voice in the back of his head urging him to do something—anything. Then, without thinking, he lunged forward. “Haaah!” His fist swung through the air, aiming for the center of the fiend’s core, hoping—praying—that his ability would activate, that whatever had stirred within him before would awaken again. But the moment his fist made contact— Nothing. No power. No energy. No miracle. His punch landed like a weak tap against the creature’s dark armor. The Abyssal Fiend

The academy halls had never felt so suffocating. Leo walked through the corridors, his head bowed, his ribs still aching from his injuries. The hushed whispers and mocking laughter followed him, clinging to him, suffocating him. He had known things would be bad. But this? It was worse than he had ever imagined. The student giggled as they looked at him. Some pitied him while some laughed out loud mocking him. “Look who it is,” a voice sneered from behind. “The so-called prodigy.” Leo kept walking, refusing to react. But the voices only grew louder. “The mighty Leo Carter, defeated in a single strike.” “What a joke! I actually used to look up to him.” “Guess his F-rank ability suits him. Failure-rank!” Laughter erupted around him, the jeering voices cutting deeper than any wound. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to fight back, to yell, to do something. But what could he say? They were right. He had failed. The only way of g

******************************** Leo had thought he had already experienced the worst of it. He was wrong. Being an F-Rank wasn’t just a title—it was a death sentence. From the moment the rankings were finalized, the academy transformed into a battlefield where only the strong mattered. The elite students, those with S-Rank and A-Rank abilities, walked through the halls like kings and queens, their very presence commanding respect. And the F-Ranks? They weren’t even treated as people. They were prey. Thrown to the Wolves Leo’s nightmare began that morning. As he walked into the academy courtyard, hunger gnawed at his stomach. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday—F-Ranks were only given leftovers, and by the time he reached the dining hall last night, there had been nothing left. But food was the least of his worries. The moment he entered the training ground, a D-Rank student named Marcus Vale smirked and stuck out his leg. Leo didn’t see it coming. His weakened

********************************************* [ The Academy’s High Council Meets ] The air inside the Grand Chamber was thick with tension, so dense it seemed almost tangible, clinging to the skin like mist before a storm. Towering pillars lined the circular room, each etched with ancient symbols that pulsed faintly with a deep, crimson light. Shadows danced along the walls, thrown by the flickering flames of torches mounted high above. At the center of it all stood the academy’s highest-ranking instructors and elders, seated in grim, heavy silence around a long, polished obsidian table that reflected their strained expressions like a dark, distorted mirror. Not one dared to speak out of turn. At the head of the table sat the Headmaster—a towering man with sharp, hawk-like features and an aura so overwhelming it seemed to warp the very air around him. His SS-rank ability made even the strongest warriors in the room feel like children standing before a storm. His gloved fingers tap