Dev woke up with a start as the morning bell rang loudly through the dorm.
He turned his head.
Aditya was already awake.
Vansh was still sleeping.
"Vansh… wake up," Dev said.
No response.
Aditya sighed. "I've been trying for the last ten minutes."
Dev walked over and shook him. "Get up. We have Basic Combat."
Vansh groaned and turned away. "Five minutes…"
"We don't have five minutes."
"I do…"
Dev stared at him for a second—
then pulled the blanket off.
Cold air hit instantly.
Vansh shot up. "HEY—!"
"WE'RE LATE!"
That got him moving.
But between forcing Vansh out of bed, his slow movements, and constant complaining—
half an hour was gone.
The three of them were running through the corridors.
"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Dev said, slightly out of breath.
"My fault?" Vansh replied. "You woke me up like I was dying!"
"I tried earlier," Aditya said calmly, even while running. "You refused to wake up."
"I was resting!"
"You were sleeping!"
They turned a corner and rushed toward the training hall.
"Faster!" Vansh said.
"You're the reason we're late!" Dev snapped.
They finally reached the class—
rushed inside—
—and stopped.
The hall was filled with students.
But the teacher hadn't arrived yet.
For a moment—
all three of them stood there in silence.
Then—
they all let out a deep breath.
"…We made it," Dev said quietly.
Vansh grinned, hands on his knees. "See? Perfect timing."
Dev looked at him. "You wasted thirty minutes."
"And we're still on time."
Aditya adjusted his sleeve calmly.
"Technically… we are early."
Dev shook his head.
But despite everything—
they were here.
Just in time.
The Arrival
The chatter inside the hall slowly faded.
A presence entered.
Footsteps echoed.
Slow.
Heavy.
Controlled.
Every student turned.
And then—
silence fell.
A tall man stepped into the hall.
Broad shoulders.
Battle-worn body.
Eyes that carried years of experience.
Pratap Rajput.
Shock spread instantly.
"Is that really him…?"
"He retired…"
"One of the top three close combat fighters…"
"Why is he here?"
Dev frowned slightly.
"…Who is he?"
Vansh looked at him in disbelief.
"You don't know him?"
Before Dev could answer—
Aditya spoke.
"You grew up in a small village," he said calmly.
"In an orphanage."
"It makes sense you don't know."
Dev stayed silent.
Listening.
Aditya continued—
"Our world is divided into three continents."
"The one we live in… is called Heartland."
Dev's focus sharpened.
"And in Heartland," Aditya said,
"there are four great kingdoms."
He raised his hand slightly.
"Surya Garh."
"Long Wei Empire."
"Yamato Dominion."
"Volkras Union."
Vansh smirked.
"And we're in the best one."
"Surya Garh," Aditya confirmed.
"The kingdom of blazing spirit."
"Known for physical combat, discipline, and balanced strength."
Dev glanced at Pratap again.
Understanding slowly forming.
"And he…" Dev said quietly.
Aditya nodded.
"Pratap Rajput."
"One of the strongest close combat fighters in this entire continent."
"He retired."
"And now…"
Dev finished the thought.
"…he's teaching us."
Vansh grinned.
"Yeah."
"Welcome to real training."
The System
Pratap stopped at the center of the hall.
His gaze moved across the students.
No aura.
No visible pressure.
But everyone felt it.
Experience.
"I don't care who you are," he said.
"Your background."
"Your breath."
"Your talent."
None of it mattered.
"Here…"
A slight pause.
"I decide your level."
Silence.
"Before I teach," he continued,
"I want to see your strength."
"And your weakness."
Students straightened instantly.
"So we begin with something simple."
A faint, almost dangerous calm settled in his voice.
"Friendly duels."
The atmosphere changed immediately.
Excitement.
Tension.
Fear.
"All of you," Pratap said,
"write your name on a slip."
"Give it to me."
"I'll mix them."
"Pick two."
"And when your name is called…"
His eyes sharpened.
"You fight."
No hesitation.
No excuses.
"Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
Students quickly began writing their names.
Paper slips moved forward.
One by one.
Dev held his slip for a moment.
Then wrote—
Dev.
He handed it over.
Watching it disappear into the pile.
Pratap gathered all the slips.
Mixed them slowly.
Carefully.
Then he looked up.
"One more thing."
The room went still again.
"In every class…"
"there is ranking."
A ripple spread.
"In your first class…"
"I decide your position."
Dev's focus sharpened.
"Your performance today…"
"is your starting point."
Pratap's voice remained calm—
but heavy.
"Those who rank in the Top 15…"
"…in any three classes…"
"…within your year…"
A pause.
"…will have a very bright future."
Silence followed.
No fear now.
Only determination.
This wasn't just training.
This was selection.
The First Names
Pratap reached into the pile.
Pulled out a slip.
The entire class held its breath.
"…Vansh Rajput."
A grin spread instantly across Vansh's face.
"Finally."
Pratap opened the second slip.
"…Divya Sharma."
A wave of murmurs spread.
"Divya?"
"She's the fastest in the batch…"
"Vishnu Breath…"
"This is going to be insane…"
Aditya spoke quietly.
"She has the best agility in our batch."
Dev looked at Vansh.
"And him?"
Aditya didn't look away.
"Best attack power."
Across the hall—
Divya stepped forward.
Light.
Calm.
Focused.
Vansh stepped forward.
Confident.
Unshaken.
Speed.
Vs.
Power.
Even Pratap watched more closely now.
"This duel," he said calmly,
"will begin shortly."
Dev's eyes remained fixed on the arena.
Something about this felt important.
Not just a fight—
A starting line.
The atmosphere grew heavier.
And in that moment—
everyone understood.
This academy didn't build students.
It created warriors.