Roan was exactly as I remembered him from the game.

He was tall for an elf, taller than most humans, with a lean muscular build that spoke of years of combat training rather than the delicate grace that most of his kind preferred to display, and his crystal-tipped spear rested against his shoulder like an extension of his arm.

He had a lazy grin on his face and wasn’t talking to anyone. He was just observing — watching the crowd with the calm, detached focus of a predator who had already sized up every potential threat in the room and found them wanting.

There was no arrogance in his posture, no swagger in his stance, just the quiet confidence of someone who had nothing to prove because he already knew exactly what he was capable of.

In the game, Roan Sol-Valis was known as the "False Protagonist" — a title given to him by fans who believed that if Arthur Vale hadn’t been chosen by the Goddess, Roan would have been the hero instead.

The forums called him other things too: "The Prince of War," "The Silver Menace," "The Elf Who Refused to Lose." Some players called him "The Child of Luck" or "The Bastard of Destiny" because everything about him seemed tailor-made for greatness — his bloodline, his talent, his looks, his power.

He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a spear in his hand, and the world had never once told him no.

He was a war genius, a prodigy among prodigies, a fighter who had never lost a sparring match, a tactician who had never been outmaneuvered, a warrior who had been groomed for greatness since the moment he could hold a spear.

The developers had designed him to be the perfect rival for Arthur, and only barely surpassed by Arthur in the game after the hero had accumulated enough power-ups and plot armor to tip the scales.

But here was the thing that made players rage on the forums.

Roan didn’t just have an SSS-rank core — he had an Origin-rank path. Origin. The highest possible rank. The kind of path that most characters in the game could only dream of.

And his affinity? Time. Fucking time affinity.

Do you believe that?

The elf bastard could manipulate time itself, and he refused to use it.

He never needed it. His battle strategies, his martial arts, his sheer physical prowess — they were so overpowered that he never once had to fall back on his affinity.

The developers had given him the most broken ability in the game, and he treated it like a backup plan he never bothered to learn. Players used to joke that Roan was so strong that even the concept of losing was afraid of him.

...And that was why he was called the False Protagonist.

Not because he was weak, but because he was too strong. The plot had to kill him off — off-screen, mind you, because the developers couldn’t figure out a way to write a believable death for him, just to make room for Arthur’s rise.

He died off-screen. We never got a proper explanation. No epic battle, no sacrifice, no last stand. Just a mention: "Roan Sol-Valis fell in battle." And that was it.

The fans had rioted. They wrote essays about it. They demanded answers. But the developers never gave them.

Now that I think about it, I thought, how did he die? With time affinity, with his skills, with his everything, how did someone like him just... fall? Off-screen?

I didn’t have an answer. Maybe the developers didn’t either.

He was emitting an Expert Mid aura right now, the same rank as Arthur. Most of the main cast was either at my rank or above me, but that didn’t mean they were stronger. Ranks were just numbers.

Power was something else.

But Roan?

Roan was a different story. He was a crazy battle maniac bastard who lived for the thrill of combat. If there was one person I wanted to avoid in the exam, it was him, not because I was scared, but because of his insane obsession with strong fighters.

In the game, the moment he realized Arthur was strong, he started challenging him constantly, dragging him into fights at the worst possible moments. He didn’t care about politics or diplomacy or any of that.

He just wanted to fight.

And let’s be real, I thought, if anyone deserves the name "Child of Luck" or "Bastard of Destiny," it’s this elf. Look at him. He’s a prince. He’s beautiful. He’s talented. He has an Origin path and a time affinity he refuses to use because he’s too strong to need it.

Some people are born lucky.

Roan Sol-Valis was born with the universe in his pocket.

Near him, standing slightly apart as if she knew better than to get too close to her brother’s battlefield, was his sister Lyssaria Sol-Valis.

Her silver-blonde hair was braided back from her face, and her jade green eyes were soft and warm, drawing stares from the candidates around her who had never seen an elf princess before and weren’t sure if they were allowed to look at her.

She was gentler than Roan, softer, with none of his sharp edges or restless energy, but there was steel beneath her calm expression, the kind of steel that came from growing up in a royal court where everyone wanted something from you and you had to learn how to say no without making enemies.

She was a healer, a mage, a diplomat with her affinity — World Tree affinity. Together, they made a pair that no army in the world would want to face.

Roan must have felt my gaze because his storm-silver eyes turned toward me, sharp and assessing, and for a moment — just a moment, something flickered across his face. Recognition, maybe. Or curiosity.

He tilted his head slightly, his platinum hair shifting with the movement, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He knows who I am, I thought. Great.

Further back, half-hidden in the shadows, I caught a glimpse of silver-white hair and deep violet eyes — Elisabeth von Noctis, the vampire princess, her pale porcelain skin almost glowing in the dim light, her expression cold and unreadable.

She was watching the crowd like a predator watching a herd of prey, and more than one candidate shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

I also saw Caster Ironwell, the half-dwarf with messy brown hair and hazel eyes, his stocky athletic build packed with muscle that looked like it had been earned through years of hard labor. He had a hammer and shield strapped to his back, and he was talking animatedly with a group of candidates who looked like they had no idea what he was saying but were too polite to walk away.

And there, sitting alone on a bench near the back with her slate-grey hair pulled back and her amber-gold eyes fixed on the doors, was Nyra Silverfang.

The high beastkin from the wolf lineage. Her silver wolf ears twitched at every sound, and her tail was wrapped around her waist like a belt, hidden but not completely.

So they’re all here, I thought. The main cast. The heroes. The ones who are supposed to save the world.

...And me.

The anomaly.

_

My gaze drifted back to Alice, who had found a seat near the front and was currently engaged in a heated argument with a young man I didn’t recognize.

Her hands were gesturing wildly, her mouth was moving a mile a minute, and her face was flushed with the kind of righteous fury that only someone who was absolutely convinced they were right could muster.

I was still watching her when she turned her head, caught my eye, and raised her middle finger without breaking stride in her argument.

My eye twitched.

A hush fell over the room.

The doors at the far end of the waiting area swung open, and a woman walked through — tall and commanding, with dark skin that gleamed like polished mahogany under the soft glow of the mana-lamps, her features sharp and elegant, carved by years of discipline and authority.

Her silver hair was cropped short against her scalp, a striking contrast that made her seem almost otherworldly, and her eyes were the color of storm clouds, grey and sharp and sweeping across the crowd like a blade assessing a battlefield.

She wore a fitted black jacket with silver trim over a dark blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows in a way that suggested she was ready for anything, and tailored black pants tucked into boots that had seen hard use.

There was nothing flashy about her outfit, nothing decorative — just practical, functional clothing that said she valued substance over style.

But pinned to her chest, just above her heart, was a silver badge in the shape of an open book, the symbol of the Vice President of Aegis Academy, and the metal gleamed under the lights like a warning.

Her presence alone was enough to silence even the most heated arguments, and the candidates who had been shouting at each other just moments before now stood frozen, their mouths half-open, their arguments forgotten.

They didn’t know her name yet, didn’t know her rank, but they could feel it, the weight of a Grandmaster Mid pressing down on the room like a physical thing, reminding everyone in the room that no matter how strong they thought they were, there was always someone stronger.

She walked to the center of the room and stopped, her boots clicking against the marble floor like the ticking of a countdown clock. Her grey eyes swept across the crowd, slower this time, and I could feel her gaze pass over main cast and then on me.

"...Candidates," she said, her voice cold and precise, each word falling like a blade. "I am Professor Helene Draven. Vice President of Aegis Academy. I will be overseeing your orientation."

She paused, letting the weight of her title and her rank settle over the room.

"You are here because you believe you have what it takes to become students of this Academy. You are wrong. Most of you will fail. Some of you will die. And the rest will be forgotten before the next exam season begins."

Her voice carried to every corner of the room without effort, sharp and clear and utterly without warmth. "Listen carefully, because I will not repeat myself."

She gestured to the holographic screen floating above her head, which displayed a detailed map of the Sealed Valley — forests marked in deep green, mountains in grey, rivers in blue, and scattered ruins marked with small black symbols that looked like broken towers.

There were no monster markers, no resource locations, no helpful icons of any kind. Just the land itself, waiting for them to explore blind.

"This is the Sealed Valley," she said. "A Forbidden Zone that has been repurposed for this exam. It spans hundreds of square miles — forests, mountains, rivers, caves, and ruins. It is filled with monsters ranging from Grade 1 to Grade 4. There are rumors of Grade 5 creatures in the deeper caves, but those have been... contained."

She smiled. It was not a nice smile. She paused, letting that word hang in the air, and no one in the room looked reassured.

"Your exam will last one full week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours." Her grey eyes swept across the crowd, daring anyone to complain.

"If you are thinking that this is too long, you are correct. It is meant to be. The Academy does not want students who can survive a weekend in the woods. We want students who can endure. Who can adapt. Who can keep fighting when their bodies are screaming and their minds are fraying and every instinct tells them to give up."

She paused, letting that sink in.

"During this week, you will hunt monsters, gather resources, and complete whatever objectives you discover. Your bracers will track everything — kills, assists, discoveries, rescues. Each action will earn you points."

She held up her own wrist, and the holographic screen shifted to display a mock-up of the bracer’s interface.

"Your bracers will show you three things and three things only: the time remaining, the number of candidates still alive, and the names of those who fall. If you wish to form a party, you can — your bracer will list your party members and nothing more. No points. No ranks. No locations. You are alone in the dark, and the dark does not care."

She lowered her hand, and the screen returned to the map.

"To claim a kill, you must destroy the monster’s core. Stabbing it through the heart is not enough. Cutting off its head is not enough. You must find the core, usually located somewhere deep in the creature’s body, and shatter it. Only then will your bracer register the kill and award you points."

A murmur ran through the crowd. Some candidates looked confused. Others looked nervous.

"Food and water are not provided. You will find supplies scattered throughout the valley — hidden caches, abandoned camps, the ruins of old settlements. Some of them will be easy to find. Some will require effort. Some will be guarded."

Her grey eyes narrowed. "You can also hunt for food. The monsters are not the only creatures in the valley. There are deer, rabbits, fish, normal animals that will not try to kill you. If you can catch them, you can eat them."

The room murmured again.

"Your bracers also have an emergency teleport function. Press the button, and you will be transported to the medical bay outside the valley. If you press it, you will be disqualified. If you damage it, you will be disqualified. If you lose it..."

She paused. "Don’t lose it."

She looked at the crowd, and her voice dropped, becoming even colder, even sharper. "You are allowed to fight each other. You are allowed to steal points. You are allowed to form teams, though points will be divided according to damage dealt. You are allowed to... kill."

Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, like she was reading a grocery list instead of describing murder. "If you kill for pleasure, your points will be deducted. If you kill in self-defense or in the pursuit of objectives, your points will stand. The choice is yours."

The room went silent. Even the whispers stopped.

"If you think this is cruel," she continued, "you are right. It is. The world is cruel. The monsters that tear through our gates do not care about your feelings. The monsters that burn our cities do not care about your potential. If you cannot survive a week in a controlled environment with an emergency escape button on your wrist, you will not survive what is coming."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the room.

"From this moment on, you have no family. You have no titles. You have no wealth, no connections, no safety nets. You are nothing more than your name and your skill."

She smiled — a thin, cold smile that made more than a few candidates shift uncomfortably. "...If you die, you die. No one will mourn you. No one will remember you. You will be another statistic, another body in the ground, another failure who couldn’t cut it."

She paused again, her grey eyes sweeping across the crowd.

"At the end of the seven days, only the top two hundred candidates will be admitted to the Academy. Everyone else will be sent home. The top candidate, the one with the highest points — will receive the title of Primus. First among equals. It comes with privileges, resources, and the respect, or envy, of every student in the Academy. Over one hundred thousand candidates registered. Only two hundred will pass. That is less than one percent."

She let that sink in.

"The exam will be broadcast to the entire world. Your families will be watching. Your friends will be watching. Your enemies will be watching. The Astra Union will be watching. The Guilds will be watching." Her smile widened, sharp and predatory.

"Perform well, and you will be remembered. Fail, and you will be forgotten. And if you die — your family will watch that too."

Her grey eyes were cold, colder than the marble floor beneath their feet, colder than the stone walls that surrounded them.

"There is no shrinking zone. There is no safe area. The entire valley is dangerous, and it will remain dangerous for the full seven days. You cannot hide in a corner and wait for the exam to end. You must hunt. You must fight. You must earn your place."

She lowered her hand, and the holographic screen flickered off.

"That is all. Welcome to the Academy. Prepare yourselves. The exam begins shortly."

She stepped down from the platform and walked toward the doors, her heels clicking against the marble floor like the ticking of a countdown clock.

The room erupted into nervous chatter, but I wasn’t listening. I was watching the professor walk away, her silver hair catching the light, her footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

The Sealed Valley, I thought. I remember this from the game. It was a mid-game area, meant for leveling and farming rare materials. But here, now, it’s the entrance exam. In the original game, the exam took place in a different location, a controlled training ground, not a real Forbidden Zone. Something has changed. The timeline has shifted.

The Academy is using a real danger zone instead of a safe one.

And the Grade 5 monsters...

They said they were contained.

But in the game, they weren’t. Something is wrong. Or maybe I’m just jinxing myself.

I ran a hand through my hair and tried to calm my racing thoughts. What could have caused this change? The crack in the sky? Me? The fact that I survived the trial and came back? Any of those could have altered the course of events.

Fuck!

I knew something was going to happen, and now this? I just hope nothing goes wrong.

Please. I’m probably jinxing it by even thinking about it, right? Damn it!

I pushed the thought aside and focused on the present.

The Headmaster appeared without warning.

One moment the waiting area was filled with the sound of nervous chatter, and the next it was silent, utterly, completely silent, as if the air itself had been sucked out of the room.

A figure stood in the center of the space, his feet on the floor, his posture straight and unyielding. His silver hair was cropped short, not falling past his shoulders. His eyes were molten gold, sharp and clear, gleaming with a light that wasn’t quite natural.

His face was not lined with age, he was ancient, yes, but not frail. His body was lean and strong, his shoulders straight, his movements precise. And his presence was overwhelming in a way that made my chest feel tight and my throat dry.

He was a dragon.

One of the few who still walked among the younger races, though very few people know about this fact. And he was looking down at us with an expression that was almost amused.

"Candidates," he said, his voice soft and ancient and utterly without effort, "I am Headmaster Vega . Welcome to Aegis Academy."

He smiled.

"Let the exam begin."

He waved his hand, and portals began to open across the waiting area — shimmering tears in reality that glowed with pale blue light. Each one led to a different part of the Sealed Valley, a different starting point, a different chance at survival.

Candidates rushed through them, eager to begin, and to prove themselves. I watched those idiots go, as I know there no point in going to early or rushed.

Random teleportation, I thought. He’s scattering us across the valley. No teams, no alliances, no safety in numbers. Just us and the monsters and seventy-two hours of survival.

This is going to be fun or maybe...

I didn’t complete my thought and stepped through the nearest portal, and the world disappeared.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in a forest.

The trees were ancient — taller than any building in Aegis Prime, with trunks so wide that ten men holding hands couldn’t circle them.

Their leaves were dark green, almost black, and they blocked out the sun so completely that the forest floor was cast in perpetual twilight. The air was cool and damp, thick with the smell of earth and decay, and somewhere in the distance, a monster roared.

I looked down at my bracer.

The screen glowed faintly, displaying a countdown — 167:59:58 — and a map of the valley, with a small dot marking my location.

Seven days, I thought. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Let’s see what this place has to offer.

I started walking.