"You were amazing, Elias." Ashton said as soon as we entered our room.
"Really amazing." Nantos added, before flopping onto his bed with a tired sigh. The rest of us followed suit, the exhaustion finally hitting after the long day.
"Although we didn't make it in, we're honestly happy that at least you, Dante, and Zaden did." Ashton continued.
"Of course I'd get in." Zaden said confidently, smirking as he leaned back.
Ashton chuckled, then leaned forward slightly. "So… do you guys know what we'll actually get if we win the tournament?"
We all glanced at each other, a bit clueless—except for Dante, whose expression told us he knew exactly what the prize was.
"If anyone wins the tournament." Dante began, his voice low with a mix of pride and seriousness. "They've granted one reward from the Grand Archive."
"The Grand Archive?" Ashton echoed, confused. "What's that?"
Dante smirked. "It's more than just a reward. It's a vault of ancient treasures—spells lost to time, legendary weapons, enchanted relics, sealed grimoires, even contracts with Elemental Spirits. Each one powerful enough to change your fate."
Everyone went silent.
"As in… choose anything?" Simyle finally whispered.
"One item. One secret. One power." Dante confirmed. "But no one's allowed to access it unless the Academy Council approves it—and that only happens if you win the tournament."
"And has anyone ever asked for something crazy?" Nantos asked, suddenly more awake than he'd been all day.
"There's a story about someone who once asked for a Phoenix feather to bring someone back from the dead." Dante said. "Another used it to awaken a bloodline that had been dormant for generations."
I felt a chill run through me.
"What would you ask for?" Ashton asked, glancing around the room.
Everyone had ideas. Ambitions.
And me?
I wasn't sure yet. But I knew one thing:
If the Grand Archive could give me a way to control what's inside me… or understand it… then I had to win. No matter what.
--
As I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to process everything that had happened today, a sudden voice sliced through the silence.
That voice.
The same cold, sharp whisper that once made my blood run cold.
I turned my head quickly—too quickly—and there it was again.
Perched calmly at the edge of my bed… the crow.
Its feathers were impossibly black, like they absorbed the light around them. Its eyes glowed faintly, an eerie silver, watching me with an unsettling stillness.
"Don't worry." it said, its voice only heard in my mind. "Only you can hear me."
I sat up slowly, heart pounding.
"The tournament is coming up… and you've been selected. Very well done." Its beak didn't move, but the words echoed in my skull. "But now, here's the thing—I hope you haven't forgotten what you chose."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
The crow's head tilted slightly, as if amused. "You chose to be a villain. You chose to make this world burn."
I swallowed, memories I tried to suppress flickering in the back of my mind. "Right… so?"
"And you're doing none of it." The voice was disappointed now—almost insulted.
"Huh?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"In the tournament." It continued. "You have to win. No matter what. Even if it means killing someone."
My breath caught. "What?!"
"Yes." it said, without hesitation. "You chose this path. You don't get to stray now."
"But I can't just kill them." I whispered. "They're innocent."
The crow laughed—a low, grating sound that echoed too long in my head. "Innocent?" It said mockingly. "Oh, they are not. None of them are. Tell me, Elias… If you had chosen a different path, would your life be like this?"
I didn't answer.
"You have friends now, don't you?" the crow pressed. "People who say they care. But did you have any friends before? Back then?"
Images crashed into my mind.
Hands grabbing my collar. Fists hitting my face. Laughter ringing in my ears. The pain. The humiliation. The helplessness.
"They mocked you. Hit you. Humiliated you. Made fun of you like you were nothing." The crow whispered, its voice suddenly softer, more persuasive. "Have you forgotten how they made you feel?"
I clenched my fists.
"No." I muttered.
The crow leaned in closer, its voice now like a poisonous lullaby.
"Good. Then prove you remember. Prove you're not weak anymore. Burn it all down."