The morning bell didn't just ring – it shrieked like an angry bird trying to wake the dead.
By the time Ares stumbled into the central hallway, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, a thick crowd had already gathered beneath the tall stone archway that led to the mess hall. Excited whispers buzzed through the air like a swarm of bees, mixing fear and excitement into one nervous hum that made his skin crawl.
At the center of all the chaos stood the Merit Board.
A massive slab of crystal that towered over the crowd, easily ten feet tall and glowing with soft purple light that seemed to pulse like a living thing. Names flickered and danced across its smooth surface in shimmering gold and bright red letters, arranged from top to bottom in perfect order. Waves of magical energy drifted off it like heat from a fire, making the air shimmer.
The first official merit rankings had finally been posted.
"Two thousand points for Nael again..." someone muttered nearby, sounding half amazed and half annoyed.
"Wait, is Thorne still holding second place?"
"No way Vael dropped that far – he was sitting pretty in the top five just last month!"
Ares squeezed through the crowd like a fish swimming upstream, being careful not to bump into anyone's shoulders or step on any toes. The last thing he needed was to start a fight before breakfast. The glowing names scrolled past his eyes, all grouped by rank and painted in different colors depending on age. Points, special honors, shrine test scores, and class grades – everything laid out in neat, glowing lines that told the whole story of who mattered and who didn't.
He found his own name floating near the bottom of the list.
25 – Ares Eisenklinge – 155 Points
Not dead last, which was something. Not impressive either, which was probably better. But that wasn't really what he was looking for anyway.
His eyes climbed upward, scanning the higher ranks like a hawk searching for prey.
1 – Nael de Eisenklinge – 2,000 Points
2 – Thorne de Eisenklinge – 1,850 Points
5 – Evandor Eisenklinge – 1,620 Points
6 – Caelum Eisenklinge – 1,440 Points
9 – Rowan Eisenklinge – 1,160 Points
His eyes narrowed into thin slits as the truth hit him like a punch to the gut.
Those names floating at the top of the board... they weren't just his competition in some school game. They were his actual brothers. His flesh and blood siblings, all fighting for the same prize he was after.
Evandor, eight years old. A walking battering ram who charged through every problem like a bull through a china shop, always hitting too hard and going too far. Caelum, seven years old. The quiet one who thought three moves ahead and never let anyone see what he was really planning behind those calm eyes. Rowan, six years old. The class clown who smiled and joked around but never, ever made a careless mistake.
All of them ranked high. All of them getting recognition and respect.
And not a single one of them knew who he really was – their baby brother, the sixteenth son, standing in the crowd watching them from the shadows.
---
Later that day, after a brutal shrine alignment class that left his head pounding and his mana core feeling like it had been wrung out like a wet towel, Roul appeared beside him in the corridor like a friendly ghost.
"You check out the board this morning?" he asked, matching Ares' walking pace perfectly.
"Yeah, I saw it."
"You placed higher than some people expected. The instructors will definitely notice that." Roul's voice carried a warning note, like he was trying to tell Ares something important without saying it directly.
"I'm counting on them noticing," Ares replied, keeping his voice steady and calm.
Roul gave him a sideways look, one eyebrow raised. "You really want to climb to the top? Fight for first place?"
Ares shook his head firmly. "Not yet. Let all the hot-heads fight over who gets to stand in the spotlight. I just want to stay close enough to the light to see what's really going on."
The older boy made a grunting sound of approval. "That's smart thinking. But I need to warn you about something – the moment you crack into the top fifteen, everything changes completely. Your daily schedule, what you get to eat, how many hours you spend in the shrines. You get access to the Auracore libraries. Even the instructors start treating you like you might actually matter."
"What about the class captains?" Ares asked, thinking about the power structure Roul had explained before.
"They test you. Right out in the open where everyone can watch." Roul's voice dropped to a whisper. "Especially Thorne. That kid loves making examples out of people who get too close to his territory."
Ares nodded slowly, filing away that important piece of information.
"I've been keeping an eye on him," he said carefully.
"Then you already know he's about as dangerous as they come around here."
---
They were walking through the outer corridor that ran along the edge of the Discipline Wing when the sound reached their ears – a thin, broken crying that made both boys stop in their tracks.
Around the corner, a small boy who couldn't have been older than six stood in the middle of a practice circle, stripped to the waist and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Across from him, an older kid with cold eyes circled slowly like a hunting wolf, wooden training swords spinning lazily in both hands. One of the instructors leaned against the stone wall nearby, looking about as interested as someone watching paint dry.
The fight – if you could call it that – started without any signal or command.
The wooden swords cracked against bare skin with sounds like breaking branches. The younger boy collapsed to his knees, gasping and sobbing, but rough hands hauled him back to his feet immediately.
"Public punishment," Roul muttered under his breath, his face twisted with disgust. "Kid failed an etiquette command twice yesterday. They let Thorne 'correct' his behavior."
"Isn't that a little... excessive?" Ares asked, though part of him already knew the answer.
"This is the Cradle, remember? Pain's just another teaching tool to them. They think suffering builds character or some bullshit like that."
Ares turned away first – not because he couldn't stomach watching the beating, but because he'd already seen everything he needed to learn from it. This place didn't just train warriors. It created monsters who enjoyed hurting people weaker than themselves.
And his brother Thorne was apparently one of the worst monsters in the whole place.
---
That night, after the hallways grew dark and the fortress settled into its nighttime quiet, Ares sat cross-legged on the edge of his narrow bed with a wax tablet balanced on his knees and a stylus clutched in his small fingers.
He wasn't working on homework or copying down lesson notes. He was drawing names, ranks, and personal observations like a general planning a war.
Nael – top of the food chain, perfectly disciplined, shrine testing monster.
Thorne – enjoys hurting people, brutal fighter, hungry for power.
Caelum – impossible to predict, too clever for his own good.
Evandor – steady and reliable, keeps his distance from drama.
Rowan – adapts to any situation, quiet but never careless.
And at the very bottom of his list, he wrote:
Ares – complete unknown. Potentially very dangerous.
He set the stylus down carefully and whispered his thoughts aloud to the empty room, his voice barely louder than breathing:
"Let them all chase after two thousand points and fight over who gets to wear the shiny crown. I'll go after something much more valuable – the foundation that holds up everything they're standing on."
He paused, staring at the names glowing faintly on his wax tablet in the candlelight.
"And then I'll cut it right out from under them."
Across the room, Roul's breathing had settled into the steady rhythm of sleep. Outside their small window, the Cradle hummed with magical energy and hidden purposes, a fortress full of children learning to be weapons – most of them not even realizing they were being shaped into tools for someone else's grand plan.
But Ares was different. He could see the game being played around him, could feel the invisible strings being pulled by masters who thought they were so much smarter than a bunch of kids.
They had no idea what they were really dealing with.
He blew out the candle and lay down on his hard mattress, but his mind stayed wide awake, spinning with strategies and possibilities and the patient, dangerous thoughts of someone who knew how to wait for exactly the right moment to strike.