Third Person POV
"All students report to the Main Hall immediately."
The announcement cut through the post-battle buzz, and Riyan found himself being herded along with the rest of the first-years toward the same cavernous space that had hosted the entrance ceremony. The place was obscenely large—vaulted ceilings that seemed to stretch into another dimension, murals of dead heroes covering every surface like the Academy was trying too hard to remind everyone about legacy and sacrifice and all that shit.
He'd tuned most of it out the first time. He tuned it out now.
Students piled in, conversations overlapping into white noise. The top ten got stares—ranging from awe to calculation to barely-disguised hatred. Riyan caught someone's eyes and shot them a grin that said yeah, I know exactly what you're thinking, and no, you don't have a chance.
They looked away fast.
Fera Starlight was across the hall, violet-streaked white hair catching the light. Their eyes met for a second. Something flickered across her face—not the contempt she used to wear when looking at the original Riyan, but reassessment. Maybe respect. Hard to tell with ice queens.
He waved at her. Casual. Friendly. Like they were old buddies.
Her expression tightened into something that might've been annoyance or might've been the first crack in her carefully maintained composure.
Too easy.
The stage filled with the instructor lineup—the heavyweights who actually mattered.
Lev Aven appeared first, looking exactly like what a 347-year-old angelic Vice-Principal should look like: white hair, gold eyes, the kind of beauty that came with a side order of "I will end you if you step out of line." Her husband Teras followed—built like someone who'd survived too many real fights to care about looking pretty, dark blond hair and black eyes that assessed threats on instinct.
May Aero moved like water. The Spear Saintess at 239 years old, vampire heritage keeping her looking thirty-something, dark red hair and red eyes that promised violence if you gave her a reason. The spear on her back wasn't decoration.
Jas Starlight shimmered into existence rather than walked—spirit magic bullshit that looked cool but was probably just her showing off. Violet hair, violet eyes, Fera's mom and the Main Instructor for Magic. Fifty-eight years old and dangerous in the way wild things pretending to be civilized were dangerous.
Gray Aero took his spot last. The Sword Saint at fifty-six, white hair and green eyes, hand resting on his sword like it was part of his anatomy.
Three SS-ranks, two S-ranks, centuries of experience. A reminder that this place wasn't just a school—it was a fortress run by people who could level cities if they felt like it.
Riyan looked at them and felt... nothing special. Respect for their strength, sure. But not intimidation.
Strong? Yeah. Legendary? Definitely. But they're still just obstacles between me and the top.
Lev stepped forward, her voice carrying without obvious amplification—though he suspected subtle enhancement anyway because why not.
"Students. Congratulations to all of you for passing the entrance examination of Reyas Academy. Your presence here represents not just personal achievement, but potential to shape the future of our world."
Standard opening. Riyan suppressed a yawn.
"Now, I will announce the top ten students from the Ranking Battle."
The hall went dead silent.
"Rank 10: Iris Aero. Rank 9: Jessica Aven."
Riyan barely registered them taking the stage. Iris—youngest Aero daughter, reddish-white hair, vampire heritage, tenth place with that bloodline had to sting. Jessica—Vice-Principal's kid, blindfolded because of her Unique Soul's Eyes, future Holy Saintess, all that destiny garbage.
He tuned back in when it mattered.
"Rank 8: Fera Starlight."
Now that got his attention. His former obsession—well, the original Riyan's former obsession—walked onto stage with the kind of poise drilled into nobility from birth. White hair with those violet strands, violet eyes that stayed carefully neutral even when they found him again in the crowd.
He gave her a thumbs up and a grin that was probably inappropriate for the formal setting.
Her eye twitched.
Still getting under her skin. Perfect.
"Rank 7: Livia Descartes."
His twin sister practically bounced up there, black hair and blue eyes identical to their mother's. The disappointment from losing to Raven had apparently evaporated in the excitement of being top ten. C+ rank, S-rank Ice affinity, all solid numbers.
But it was the way she looked at him that sent warning signals through his brain. That possessive pride. That obsessive devotion the system had flagged as "Deep Obsession."
He smiled back because what else could he do?
Future problem. Definitely a future problem. But not today.
"Rank 6: Yanel Gates."
Dark elf, dark indigo hair and eyes, C- rank but bearing S-rank Close Combat talent and "Son of Destiny" designation. Another protagonist-adjacent character.
Great. More chosen ones.
"Rank 5: Ava Mairis."
His cousin. His god-sister. His rival who actually earned the title. The Asura Princess walked onto stage like she owned it, pure bloodline showing in every movement. C+ rank, S+ Fire affinity, competitive fire blazing when their eyes met.
Riyan's grin widened. Now that's more like it.
"Rank 4: Noha Kai."
Battle junkie. Vibrating with energy. C- rank, S-rank Martial Prodigy talent, "Daughter of Destiny" status. The kind of person who lived for combat and probably had "let's fight" as their first and last words every day.
"Rank 3: Alex Karots."
The protagonist himself. Main Son of Destiny. The orphan who was supposed to rise above everyone through sheer plot armor and hidden talents and the universe's personal favoritism.
Currently ranked third.
Behind two "villains."
Alex walked onto stage with controlled humility, but Riyan could see the disappointment underneath. C+ rank, S+ Water and S- Holy affinities, trained by the legendary thousand-year-old Dryad Claire Rees. Objectively impressive.
But for someone promised greatness by fate itself? Third place had to taste bitter.
Riyan caught his eye and winked.
Alex's jaw tightened.
Yeah. Chew on that.
"Rank 2: Raven Zeus."
His childhood friend. The Princess of Reyas. The girl whose obsession with him had been forged in blood and trauma in a forest when they were both too young for any of it.
Raven moved with fluid grace that hid the violence she was capable of. Greyish-white hair and golden eyes marking her demon heritage, B- rank with S Thunder affinity. Formidable in ways that went beyond stats.
But it was the way she looked at him as she took her place that made something warm bloom in his chest despite knowing better. That intensity. That possessive devotion that had started with a stone and blood and a whispered "thank you."
"Yan," she mouthed silently.
He shot her a peace sign.
Her expression softened just slightly.
Yeah. That one's complicated. Very complicated. But she's mine.
"And Rank 1... Riyan Descartes!"
The applause hit—genuine admiration mixed with political calculation mixed with shocked disbelief. He'd actually done it. Claimed first place. Shattered the narrative.
Riyan walked onto stage like he owned the entire Academy. B- rank with SS+ Darkness and S+ Fire affinities, SS-rank Spear Saint talent, Unique-rank Reader's Eye and Dual Energy User. He'd earned this through genuine skill, not plot manipulation or destiny's handouts.
He took his place at the center and stretched lazily, like this was mildly entertaining at best.
Several students looked scandalized.
Good.
Lev continued once they'd all assembled. "Iris, Jessica, Fera, Livia, Yanel, Ava, Noha, and Alex Karots—you have all been awarded the status of Exceptional Students. This grants you priority access to training facilities, increased resource allocations, and the authority to challenge those ranked above you for their positions."
Applause. Less intense than before. Exceptional Student was nice, but everyone knew the real prizes went to the top two.
"And Raven Zeus and Riyan Descartes, you have both been awarded the title of Elite Students and will serve as representatives of all first-year students. This grants you access to restricted areas of the Academy, personal mentorship from senior instructors, and seats on the Student Advisory Council."
More applause, heavy with envy.
Then Lev turned to him specifically, and her expression shifted to something that might've been amusement. She leaned in, voice dropping just low enough for stage-only.
"Hey, brat. You're up to give a speech. Try not to pee your pants like you did when you were a child."
Heat flooded his face even as his mind corrected: That was the original Riyan, not me, but apparently body memory stores humiliation intact.
"That's cold, Aunt Lev," he muttered back. "I was like, what, five?"
"Six," she corrected with a smirk.
I'll remember this.
But he stepped forward anyway, channeling mana into his voice—not for volume, but for weight. For authority that would make every word stick.
His scarlet eyes swept the assembled students.
"Hey," he started, casual as hell. "I'm Riyan Descartes. First rank. But you knew that already."
Some students shifted. Others leaned forward.
"So. Welcome to Reyas Academy." He waved dismissively. "I could do the whole inspirational thing, but let's skip that. You won't remember it. You'll remember this moment because I'm standing here and you're sitting there."
Shock rippled through the crowd.
"Let's cut through the bullshit." His smile widened. "A lot of you are wondering how I transformed this much. I get it. The old me was pathetic. I'm being charitable with that description."
Fera's face flushed. He didn't look at her directly.
"But that version? Dead. Gone. What replaced him is standing in front of you right now, and I look damn good." He ran a hand through his black hair. "And before you think 'wow, this guy's full of himself'—you're right. But here's the difference."
He paused.
"I can back it up."
He gestured to the top ten behind him. "These people? Talented. Strong. Worthy of respect. But me?" He pointed to himself. "Different level. Not because fate chose me or I'm blessed by destiny or any of that protagonist garbage. Because I decided mediocrity wasn't acceptable."
His tone shifted, sharpening. "You want the secret? It's stupidly simple. I don't accept limits. Someone says 'impossible,' I hear 'no one's done it yet.' Someone says 'you can't,' I say 'watch me.'"
He started pacing. "Most people accept what they're told they can be. They look at their talents, their bloodlines, their circumstances and think 'this is my ceiling.' But ceilings are just floors if you break through hard enough."
His eyes blazed. "I'm not here to feed you feel-good nonsense about how everyone's special or dreams coming true if you believe hard enough. That's garbage. Half of you will plateau at average. A quarter will quit. Another chunk will stagnate for years."
The brutal honesty hit hard.
"But that remaining few who actually have what it takes?" His smile turned sharp. "You already know who you are. You felt it during the Ranking Battle. That need to prove yourself. To be the best. To stand at the top and look down."
He stopped, faced them directly. "I'm not telling you to work hard or believe in yourself. You want to catch me? Figure out what you're willing to sacrifice. Because I've already decided—there's nothing I won't give up to reach the peak."
His voice dropped. "Some of you are looking at the gap between us and feeling discouraged. Don't be. That gap is just space. Most of you won't close it. You'll try, hit obstacles, give up."
He shrugged. "And that's fine. Not everyone's built for the top. Some people are meant to be extras in other people's stories. The world needs background characters."
The audacity sent shock waves through the hall.
"But for those who refuse to be background?" His grin turned predatory. "Come at me. Challenge me. Try to surpass me. Because here's the truth—I love it. Nothing makes me happier than someone thinking they can beat me, giving everything they have..."
Pause.
"...and then realizing the gap's even wider than they thought."
Alex's expression had shifted from controlled to barely suppressed fury. Ava looked ready to fight him immediately. Noha was vibrating with excitement.
Perfect.
"Now, practical stuff." His tone lightened. "I'm your first-rank Elite Student, which means I'm supposed to be some kind of role model. So here's my advice."
He held up one finger. "One: Don't compare yourself to me. That way lies insanity. Compare yourself to yesterday's version instead."
Second finger. "Two: The training facilities are amazing. Use them. Abuse them. Push yourself until you puke, then push harder. Or don't. I'll still be first."
Third finger. "Three: Politics will happen whether you want them or not. Noble houses, family alliances, all that noise. Don't get so caught up you forget why you're here—to get stronger."
He lowered his hand. "And four—" His expression turned genuinely serious. "Watch each other's backs. We're rivals, sure. Competing for rankings and resources. But when something genuinely dangerous happens—and it will—we're on the same side."
The sincerity caught people off guard after the arrogance.
"So yeah." He spread his arms. "That's my speech. Work hard or don't. Chase me or settle. Either way, I'll be at the top looking fabulous."
He turned to walk back.
Then someone laughed. Then others. Laughter mixed with applause mixed with shouting and disbelief and excitement.
Riyan took his place back in line, hands in pockets, like he'd just commented on the weather.
Lev was pinching the bridge of her nose, hiding a smile.
Teras grinned outright.
May looked like she'd found a new favorite student.
Jas studied him with analytical interest.
Gray just shook his head with long-suffering experience.
But Riyan watched specific reactions.
Fera looked torn between outrage and something that might've been admiration. Livia's eyes shone with intensified worship. Ava blazed with competitive fire. Raven watched him with fond exasperation, mouthing "Show-off."
And Alex looked like someone had slapped him with reality. Hands clenched, jaw tight, wounded pride transforming into genuine determination underneath.
Good.
Let him feel it. Let them all feel it. I've drawn the line, and now everyone knows exactly where they stand.
The hall erupted as students filed out, arguments breaking out everywhere at once.
Riyan caught Alex's furious glare from across the flowing crowd—the protagonist's fists clenched white, Claire's earlier warnings probably echoing in his head.
Further left, Ava was surrounded by Mairis family students all demanding to know if she'd let her cousin talk like that. Her smile was sharp enough to cut. "Let him? I'm going to enjoy watching him try to maintain that position when I come for it."
But underneath the competitive fire, Riyan caught something else in her expression—genuine respect. Because empty arrogance was easy to dismiss. But he'd backed up every word.
Fera stood with Jessica and Iris near the eastern exit, her expression complicated in a way that made him want to laugh.
"Your thoughts?" Jessica asked quietly.
"He's... changed." Fera's voice carried uncertainty. "That wasn't just power. That was complete confidence. Like he genuinely believes no one can touch him."
"Arrogance," Iris muttered.
"Maybe." Fera paused. "Or maybe he's just that strong and knows it. Either way, he's not the same person who used to..." She trailed off.
"Grovel?" Iris supplied.
"I was going to say 'embarrass himself.'" Fera's lips twitched. "This version though? I almost want to see someone try to knock him down."
Across the hall, Alex stood alone, fists still clenched. I'll show him, he muttered. I'll show all of them.
But Riyan had already turned away, catching Raven's eye as she descended from the stage. She shook her head with that fond exasperation, but her smile was genuine.
"Yan," she said softly as she reached him. "You're impossible."
"I prefer 'refreshingly honest.'"