Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

At the Olympic Sports Center’s observation deck, Tristan entered slowly with his assistant at his side. The lively chatter between the various war academy principals faltered the moment they saw him.

“Mr. Tristan is here.”

“Mr. Tristan.”

Several of the presidents rose to their feet in greeting.

“Mr. Tristan, please, sit here,” said Wade, president of Langford War Academy, smiling deferentially.

“Mr. Wade, you’re too kind.”

Tristan was never one for idle banter. After a few brief exchanges, he sank into his seat.

“Principal,” his assistant leaned closer, voice low, “the deadline is nearly here. Haven’t you chosen your last candidate yet?”

Tristan exhaled slowly. He knew the clock was running out. Even if his decision wasn’t final, he had to put forth someone. Just as he was about to say a name, he spotted Varric hurrying up the steps.

“Varric? What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to escort the students inside?”

Leaning down, Varric murmured into his ear. “Principal, I took the liberty of making the final call.”

Tristan’s brows lifted. “You what?”

Varric allowed himself a sly grin. “Axel’s here.”

For the first time in years, Tristan looked genuinely startled.

“This boy…” A flicker of amusement lit his aged face. “good as ever.”

The assistant, however, frowned. “Principal, forgive me for speaking bluntly, but isn’t Axel too weak for this stage? His strength—” The assistant trailed off.

Because Axel’s past achievements had been sealed away for… special reasons, most in the education sector had no idea where his abilities truly stood.

Tristan waved the concern aside. “He’s at least Level Three by now. No worse than the other options we had.”

He leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, this tournament is just a warm-up. There will be another next year. Let him get his feet wet.”

......

Meanwhile, down on the main floor, Axel found himself standing before a massive scroll stretched across its frame. Paintbrush in hand, he noticed the security guards stationed around it—but curiously, not a single contestant in sight.

“Don’t just stand there. You’re the last one in. Hurry!” a staff member barked, waving for him to write.

With a shrug, Axel brushed a single stroke across the ink-washed surface.

Instantly, the painting came alive. A crushing pull wrenched through his body, like he’d been swallowed whole. His vision blurred, his lungs filling with the faint, earthy scent of ink.

And then—everything changed.

Axel stood on the crest of a solitary mountain. The sky was bleeding red from a setting sun, its light casting long shadows across the peaks around him. Fifteen mountains in total ringed the horizon, each crowned with a cluster of simple farmhouses. Between them yawned bottomless abysses.

“So this is the battlefield?” he muttered.

The brush was gone, now etched like a tattoo along his wrist. Before he could think further, a voice cut through the silence.

“Who are you?”

He turned. Three men and one woman approached across the rocky ridge, all of them in their early twenties. The woman, dressed in a plain white training uniform, looked fresh-faced, her beauty understated but striking. She had been the one to speak.

“The principal’s final pick, I’m guessing. But he looks like a damn freshman,” said a lanky man with glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

Axel raised a hand in greeting. “Uh… hey. I’m Axel. Bloodstone Warfare School. And you are?”

The bespectacled man gave a soft chuckle, recognition sparking in his eyes. “Ah, thought so. Axel—the freshman prodigy.”

He extended a hand. “Name’s Yakov. These are the other Shiverstone representatives.”

The others didn’t answer right away, their eyes narrowing at Axel.

“Freshman…” the woman murmured, her tone caught between skepticism and thought.

Her name was Yara—captain of the Shiverstone team. She’d heard his name tossed around by younger students. She knew it Axel would one day be the backbone of their academy. But seeing him here, so young and untested, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Still, she pushed the doubts aside and straightened her shoulders. “We’re a team now. No matter what year we’re in, we need to trust each other. Yakov, introduce everyone properly.”

“Right,” Yakov said. He gestured first to Yara. “This is Yara, our strongest. A top-tier Level Four with the awakened talent Fighting God. Pure close-quarters combat. Any weapon, any style—she makes it hit harder.”

Axel’s eyes flicked toward her. She was the one in the top rankings.

“As for me,” Yakov continued, “I’m mid-level Level Four. My awakened talent’s Holographic Vision—mental link-ups, psychic assault, battlefield awareness.”

Axel nodded thoughtfully. Similar to Kaia’s gifts, and their cultivation level wasn’t far apart.

Although Holographic Vision wasn’t the most devastating power in combat, it was invaluable for teamwork.

Yakov wrapped up his explanation and gestured toward the tallest, most muscular man in the group. “This is Richard. His awakened talent is Iron Body. He’s a Level Four, mid-tier. Strong resistance, insane recovery.”

Richard chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a hint of shyness.

“And lastly—Umar. Level Four, top-tier. Awakened talent: Shadow Assassin. Other than Yara, he’s the deadliest in the squad.”

Umar only gave a slight nod, clearly not the chatty type.

Axel sized him up. Level Four, top-tier? The Bureau’s intel pamphlet listed only nineteen people in that bracket. Meaning Yara and this stone-faced Umar were both among that rare handful.

Bloodstone Warfare School is one of the Four Majors, yet compared to the others, feel… lighter in weight. Weak, even. Axel kept those thoughts buried. Out loud, he said nothing.

Yara broke the silence. “Axel, what’s your awakened talent?”

Axel hesitated, then shrugged. “A healing talent.”

What had once been Recharge had evolved into Explosive Energy. He wasn’t a pure healer; he was more like a hybrid—healer, supporter, and when it came down to it, a booster. Still, he found himself most at ease with Abundant.

“Is that so?” Yara’s tone cooled. She looked away, and Axel caught the flicker of disappointment on the others’ faces too. Healing had its uses—sometimes life-saving in team fights. But what they really lacked right now was ranged firepower.

Aside from Yakov’s psychic reach, everyone else here was locked into melee.

“Well,” Axel added quietly, “I do have a few other tricks.”

He didn’t miss the disappointment in their eyes, but since none of them voiced it outright, he wasn’t going to call them out.

Yara noticed his look. Her voice softened as she explained, “Don’t take it the wrong way, Axel. No one’s targeting you. It’s just—our whole lineup is close-range, and the Landscape Scroll picks environments at random. We could get dropped somewhere that screws us. Having a ranged specialist would make things less risky.”

She spoke with sincerity. Richard and Yakov both nodded in agreement, reassuring Axel that it wasn’t personal.

“Landscape Scroll? That’s what this place is?” Axel asked.

“Yes,” Yara said. “We’re not in Shiverstone anymore. The Landscape Scroll is an Original Instrument crafted by the Ministry of Education. It reshapes the battlefield every round. Randomized terrain, randomized conditions.”

Yakov added, “And only the competitors are inside. That way, families and schools can’t spy, analyze, and then arm their own players with counter-instruments.”

Axel nodded slowly. So this is how they keep things fair.

Silence stretched between them until Yara drifted toward the canyon’s edge. She stared at a wooden cabin on the far side, where a man in white waved at her with an easy smile.

For a second, Axel thought he must be a friend. Then Yara raised her middle finger at him.

“Alright. The first-round schedules are about to begin. We can’t afford to embarrass the academy—we need a top-four finish, minimum.”

Richard thumped his chest with a grin. “I’ve been itching for this. The Bureau’s rankings are bullshit anyway. I’ve got hidden abilities they’ve never seen. This time, I’ll prove it.”

Axel’s mouth twitched. Yara, however, shot Richard a look sharp enough to cut glass. “Idiot.”

Richard froze mid-smile. “Huh? What’d I do?”