Ryan stood just beyond the iron gates, with his eyes sweeping across the academy grounds as though he had stepped into an entirely different world.The compound was massive, far larger than he had imagined from the outside. Several buildings stretched across the land like a small city, and the corridors connected one structure to another like veins. Ryan knew getting familiar with the structure would take a while as some buildings looked like training halls, with their walls reinforced with thick stone and steel, and others like administrative blocks, with tall glass windows and polished concrete. Across were watch towers standing at the far corners of the academy, with several security guards which Ryan didn't see earlier roaming in camouflage clothing.‘This is more than an academy,’ Ryan tightened his grip on the documents in his hand, now worn from the heat and sweat. His luggage sat beside him like a reminder of how little he had brought into this place with no allies, no comf

“Give that to me,” he spat, and Ryan pulled the papers closer to his chest.“I can’t do that,” he replied. “Instructor Kael instructed me to submit this only to the receptionist office.”The moment the name left Ryan’s mouth, he noticed the reaction immediately.The group shifted, and one of the boys’ smiles faded. “Did he just say Instructor Kael?” someone whispered.The leader scoffed, but the confidence in his voice weakened slightly. “You must be lying,” the leader said. “I’m a Tier One student and Commander Qang's favorite. If there was any request about a new student, I would know.”Even with his confidence Ryan could see the certainty crawling into his face.“The commander must have missed it,” Ryan muttered.The group gasped, and the leader’s eyes widened with fury. “How dare you call the commander that!”Ryan shrugged his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to offend anyone, and I already resolved this with the commander,” he said, but the leader wasn’t listening anymore.He shoved Ryan

Ryan moved up the lone staircase, feeling the fatigue in his thighs, but his newfound confidence made his shoulders finally relax since he had entered the building. When he finally reached the second floor, his eyes swept through the corridor, and its polished floor reflected the overhead light. From the distance he could see the end of the hall with doors lining on both sides, each carrying a marker with an engraved nameplate.Ryan moved his feet, scanning them then slowed down on the third door on the right, and the name etched across its template caught his attention.‘MR. Wilson,’It was the office the receptionist had directed him to.He stopped in front of the door and for a second stared at it as though it might open on its own, then moved his hands and placed a knock on it.Inside, there was a pause, then a voice answered. “Come in.”Ryan exhaled and pushed the door open. He was greeted by a small space and he moved through the threshold, past the painted gray walls lingering

Mr. Wilson stood up, and his chair scraped against the floor. Ryan, unsure of what the man intended to do, lingered, his gaze on him. He had learned that in this academy, people did not stand unless they meant business. Mr. Wilson pulled out an old ledger, placing the book in front of the desk. “You carry Thomas’s blood, and you don’t even realize what that means,” he said. Ryan only stared at the book but said nothing. Mr. Wilson flipped it open, and the pages made a crackling old sound. “The academy is not what it used to be,” Mr. Wilson said. “It is still powerful, still feared, still respected, but inside these walls, there is rot.” Ryan, not fully understanding him, leaned forward. “What do you mean?” Mrs. Wilson’s lips tightened, and she glanced at her husband as if silently begging him not to say too much. “Succession,” Mr. Wilson said, his voice dropping lower. “Iron Gate Academy is heading toward a shift in leadership. There are instructors, commanders, and powerful fa

Meanwhile In a cold marble room far from Iron Gate Academy, the morning sun poured through floor-to-ceiling windows, cutting across the polished floor in pale golden shafts.The city outside looked beautiful from this height, and cars moved like insects, and beside it, buildings stood above people living their small lives.The room was warm from the fireplace crackling in the corner, but the warmth did not soften the atmosphere. A glass of bourbon rested on the arm of a leather chair, and beside it sat Nikolai Volkov. A silk robe draped lazily across his shoulders, the fabric expensive enough to feed an entire neighborhood. His posture was relaxed, almost bored, as though the world could not possibly offer him anything surprising anymore.Across the room, a huge television screen displayed the morning news, and the anchor smiled, like tragedy was simply another form of entertainment.“Good morning to you all,” she announced. “Today we begin with breaking news.”The screen cut insta