Chapter 360 — Orientation II

The moment they stepped onto the stage, the Great Hall’s noise cut off like someone had sliced through sound itself.

Students recognized them immediately.

"That’s the tournament team!"

"Edrin Kael! He fought in that first match!"

"Ariana Sterling with the spatial teleportation!"

"Those are the ones who survived the portal!"

The new first-years leaned forward, excitement blazing across young faces. These were the legends they’d heard about, the commoners who’d shattered every expectation and proven that talent rankings meant nothing compared to will.

But the Nobles shifted in their seats, faces showing dismissal mixed with resentment.

One of them spoke loud enough to carry. "They aren’t the strongest. It’s just that Liam and the others quit the council. These ones happened to be recruited by Damian Valcor. They haven’t earned their positions."

Old commoner students immediately fired back, voices rising with anger. "Those traitors still have the face to remain in the Academy after nearly sabotaging our ranking and resources!"

"They resigned hours before the tournament!"

"Left Elizabeth and Damian to field all first-years against fourth-year teams!"

"And we still won the first round in five seconds thanks to them! Show some fucking respect!"

The hall erupted, arguments building on top of each other, voices rising until the careful quiet shattered completely.

Edrin stepped forward to the microphone.

"Good morning to everyone." His voice cut through the noise. "Currently, the Student Council President is currently occupied with something, so she can’t be here. But–"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

The voice boomed across the Great Hall, cutting Edrin off mid-sentence like a knife through thread.

A man stood in the fourth-year section.

The word "man" fit better than "student" because everything about him screamed violence earned and survived.

His orange hair caught morning light streaming through high windows and his eyes swept the stage with pure contempt.

Power rolled off him in waves that made the air feel heavier.

B+ rank.

The Aura made first-years instinctively lean back in their seats, made their hands grip armrests and made their breathing shallow.

Second-years who prided themselves on confidence found themselves swallowing hard.

Whispers spread through older students like fire.

"That’s Jorah Royce."

"He came back?"

"Spent the entire last year on missions. Didn’t even attend classes."

"Elizabeth beat him in second year. He’s been hunting strength ever since."

"Always her rival... Never could win though."

"But look at that Aura. He’s definitely stronger now."

Jorah approached the stage with a predator’s stride, students parting before him like water before a shark. He stopped at the edge and looked up at the seven council members with the expression people reserve for insects.

"Since when did the council become this pathetic?" His voice carried across the hall without needing Aura enhancement. "Second-years playing at leadership while real students are out fighting?"

"..."

Nobody spoke as the silence pressed down like a physical weight, new students watching with wide eyes, older students wearing serious expressions.

Jorah’s gaze found three figures in the crowd. "Liam. Naomi. Elena." He spoke their names like accusations. "You three resigned and let these children replace you? What happened? Did you lose your spines along with your positions?"

Liam Evergreen rose slowly from his seat, green hair disheveled, exhaustion written across features that used to smile easily. "We didn’t lose anything, Jorah. We chose to step down. You’ve been gone for a year... Things changed."

"Changed?" Jorah’s laugh was ugly, mocking. "Changed into what exactly? A daycare center for commoners?"

Elena Dray stood beside Liam, platinum hair catching light, her voice carefully controlled. "Walk away, Jorah. You don’t understand the situation. If you keep pushing, there will be consequences you can’t handle."

Jorah stared at her for a long moment, then threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed off the hall’s high ceiling, harsh and genuine.

When he stopped, his face went serious with jarring suddenness.

"Consequences." He drew the word out, tasting it. "From who exactly? You three who quit? These second-years playing dress-up on stage?" His expression shifted to something colder. "I spent a year on real battlefields. Actual missions where people die if you fuck up. Where Monsters don’t care about your rank or your talent or your Noble name." He leaned forward slightly. "You think anything in this Academy scares me?"

He turned away from them, dismissing Liam and Elena entirely, his attention returning to the stage.

"Aside from Elizabeth, there’s nobody here worth the air they breathe. Gareth graduated, Arielle graduated and the council is fucking empty."

Liam’s jaw clenched, his hands forming fists at his sides.

’Still the same brainless brute... Doesn’t even know that Gareth himself was defeated. And that was before the portal.’

Jorah’s expression went from dismissive to actively cruel.

"I’ve heard stories about this Damian Valcor everyone seems so terrified of." His voice dripped poison. "The commoner who got lucky in a few portals... Ate some Monsters and suddenly thinks he’s special."

He paused, making sure every student was listening.

"But from what I hear, the guy’s brain is completely scrambled now. All those reports about mental damage from his sick art?" A vicious smile spread across his face. "They say he hallucinates, talks to people who aren’t there and has complete breakdowns in the middle of conversations. At least that’s what the cameras captured."

Whispers exploded across the hall, students leaning toward each other with wide eyes.

Jorah raised his voice over the murmurs. "That explains why he’s not here, doesn’t it? Probably locked somewhere, drooling on himself. Mumbling nonsense about dead people."

His smile widened, showing teeth.

"The Federation should just put the poor bastard out of his misery and do everyone a favor."

The whispers built into conversations, fear and disgust mixing across all the faces.

"Is it true?"

"The reports did say–"

"Mental damage from eating–"

A cold voice cut through every word and conversation.

"Shut up!"

"..."

The hall went dead silent.

People could hear their own heartbeats, their own breathing, the rustle of their uniforms as they unconsciously shifted in their seats.

A girl stood up in the first-year section.

Black hair fell to her shoulders and her silver eyes surveyed the hall with a gaze that felt mature despite belonging to a girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen years old.

She wore the standard first-year uniform. Black skirt, crimson blazer, light grey shirt and a black tie. The black shield with stars embroidered on fabric marking her as Stormhold Academy.

But her presence demanded attention in a way that had nothing to do with appearance.

Murmurs started immediately.

"Luna Valcor."

"The first-ranked student."

"Felix Onyx’s granddaughter."

"Military Police Vice-Director’s family."

"Nobody fucks with the Military Police."

Luna’s Saintly Presence sub-skill worked passively, washing over the hall in waves students couldn’t consciously detect but responded to anyway.

Trust bloomed in chests and certainty settled in bones. This girl meant well, her words carried truth and believing her was the only rational choice.

Jorah heard the murmurs and processed implications.

’The big shot commoner... First in entrance exam history. Vice-Director’s granddaughter.’