Rise Of The Lesser-Blood

Thomas woke up to the crisp morning bells echoing from the highest administrative spires. Sitting on the edge of his mattress, he blinked away the residual exhaustion from yesterday’s battles, allowing the translucent blue data lines of his system interface to drift seamlessly beneath his eyes. He stayed entirely silent about his talent, checking his internal pathways before closing the interface and reaching for the freshly tailored uniform laid across the wooden chair.

The standard uniform of the High-bloods was pure white and always marked by a prominent, elegant gold trim and the Academy’s crest embroided on the breast pocket. And the uniform for the lesser-bloods was just plain with no elaborate trimming. However, Thomas’s new uniform was completely different. To signify his unprecedented elevation from the lesser-blood ranks into the ultimate cohort, the academy had provided him with a brilliant silver trimmed uniform variant. The deep charcoal fabric was heavy and structured, the silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar catching the early morning light like polished steel. It was sleek, dark, and carried an unyielding weight.

He adjusted his collar, steeled his jaw against the lingering dull ache in his fractured ribs, and made the long trek down to the Class 1-A lecture hall.

The moment Thomas pushed open the heavy oak doors of the classroom, the ambient chatter in the tiered hall violently died out. A thick, suffocating silence instantly descended over the entire room as dozens of High blood students stared at him in utter, unadulterated malice. Their eyes immediately locked onto the distinct silver trim lining his jacket. It was a visual marker of high elite placement that none of them had been able to achieve despite their generational lineages. A wave of intense, toxic jealousy visibly washed across the front noble rows, their faces twisting into bitter, furious scowls as they watched a lesser blood student walk past their desks with his head held high.

Thomas ignored their glares entirely, keeping his face masked in his usual unreadable calm as he made his way toward his usual seat in the very back row.

As he passed the middle tier, he caught a sudden, icy movement. Julian was sitting elegantly in his chair, his face bare as he slowly turned his head to deliver a venomous, piercing side eye. Julian was also wearing an entirely new variant uniform today, but his jacket was uniquely customized. It featured both the intricate gold trim of his High-blood status along the seams and the prestigious, silver accents belonging to the Horsemen of the Calamity trim running along the lapels.

The visual contrast between Julian’s gold obsidian design and Thomas’s sharp silver embroidery was loud and undeniable, setting an explicit final line between the two rival recruits.

Thomas quietly settled into his bench next to Ryan, Mina, and Lina, his friends offering him tight, supportive nods as the class bell rang out.

Thwack!

The sharp, sudden crack of a heavy wooden pointer striking the front podium shattered the lingering tension in the lecture hall. Standing at the front stage today for their theory block was Instructor Sterling, a veteran scholar who treated magical notation like a precise mathematics. His stern face was entirely focused on the text before him, his glasses reflecting the cold morning light as he looked over the freshman. He didn’t waste a single second on generic greetings, but his sharp eyes lingered on Thomas and Julian for a brief fraction of a second.

”Quiet down!” Instructor Sterling barked, his voice echoing cleanly off the vaulted stone ceiling. ”The preliminary filters and the elimination blocks of the Freshman Tournament are officially over. First, I would like to congratulate our two winners who both came from this class for scaling the final brackets and securing their placement as new additional members of the Horsemen.”

A collective, quiet murmur of bitter frustration rippled through the front rows, but the High-bloods didn’t dare to speak over the veteran scholar. Julian remained perfectly rigid, his ebony eyes focused on the stage while Thomas kept his posture perfectly relaxed.

”But as for the rest of you do not think your current positions are permanent,” Instructor Sterling continued, his voice dropping into a serious, calculated weight as he adjusted his notes. ”The real evaluation of your capabilities begins now. I expect every single one of you to study exceptionally hard over the next week. In roughly seven days or so, all of the freshman classes will be taking an official academy trip down to the Marshlands.”

The mention of the destination caused several High-blood students to visibly stiffen in their seats.

”This is not a leisure tour,” Sterling warned coldly, his gaze sweeping across the tiered rows. ”You will be heading deep into the treacherous wetlands for an active mana beast hunting operation. You will be required to track, engage, and harvest materials from lethal entities under real, unrefined wilderness conditions. If your mana circulation patterns are sloppy or your defensive shielding techniques fracture under physical pressure, the environment will swallow you whole before the field instructors can even think about intervening to salvage your lives.”

He turned directly toward the slate blackboard behind his desk, channeling a sharp, dense spark of mana into a piece of chalk to open the morning’s lecture.

”Now, open your books,” Sterling commanded. ”Today, we begin our comprehensive lesson on the biological and spiritual architecture of mana beasts.”

With a series of rapid, heavy strokes, the instructor began sketching out the complex, law defying internal mana circuits that defined a wild creature. Unlike humans who required an awakening crystal to unseal the dormant energy within their souls, a mana beast was born with raw, unrefined energy woven directly into its flesh and bone structure from birth. They did not utilize refined martial techniques or structured spells; instead, they weaponized their own elemental attributes through primal, instinctual force.

”The primary difference you must understand when transitioning from human duels to beast hunting is the variable of core density,” Instructor Sterling explained, his precise voice echoing through the quiet room as the chalk traced a circular node inside the sketch of a swamp predator. ”A human combatant manipulates their energy through specific meridian channels or as we call them mana circuits to preserve stamina. A high tier mana beast does the opposite. They actively flood their entire muscle mass with dense, volatile mana to reinforce their physical thresholds. A Grade A swamp reptile can multiply its hide density by three hundred percent in a single millisecond when sensing an incoming strike.”

Thomas listened to the detailed breakdown with an intense, quiet focus, his mind methodically logging every piece of environmental data. Beneath his eyes, his system interface remained entirely dormant, but his brain was already processing the tactical variables of the upcoming trip. The Marshlands were a chaotic, unpredictable cradle of raw elemental trauma, filled with venomous predators, dense atmospheric moisture, and constant physical friction. For an ordinary student, it was a terrifying danger zone. But to Thomas, an ecosystem packed with raw, unrefined beast talents was nothing short of an absolute feast. He sat silently in the back row, his fingers resting casually on his notebook as the lesson continued deep into the afternoon, his smile slowly returning in the quiet of his thoughts.