Chapter 87: _ Master Eldritch

Elira No-One

...

"Survival of the fittest?" Miriel whimpered, clutching her satchel against her chest. "Bren, we’re first-year scholars! I came here to study history and magical architecture, not to be trampled by battle-mages!"

"Then you picked the wrong academy, Miriel. Last Bastion doesn’t care about your GPA. If you can’t dodge a rogue spell or take a hit, you don’t make it to second year." Bren said dryly, rolling up her sleeves and flexing her hands.

This was her forte and I could tell she was thoroughly enjoying it.

"Silence!"

A thunderous voice boomed across the courtyard, instantly cutting through the terrified chatter of over a hundred students.

Standing on the elevated stone dais overlooking the terrace was a tall, commanding figure. He wore dark battle robes trimmed with brass scales, and his graying hair was braided tight against his scalp. He didn’t carry a book, a scroll, or a wand as expected of a professor... this rugged-looking man had an iron rod resting casually across his shoulder.

"I am Master Eldritch," the man announced, his blue eyes sweeping over us like a predator assessing cattle. "Welcome to Tactical Combat & Entity Eradication. Unlike your other lectures where old scholars bore you with ancient texts within four cozy stone walls, in my domain, you learn through cold, sweat, and terror. Here, you feel what real danger tastes like."

Bren leaned toward Miriel and me, muttering under her breath, "We feel that every damn day in this place."

I bit my lip to keep from snickering.

"This course serves one primary purpose," Master Eldritch continued, pacing the edge of the dais. "It prepares your bodies and minds for the real world beyond mate bonds and silly brawls.... The Borrowed—the damned, resurrected souls of dead shifters and Fae who made a pact with the Dark Hell Lord. They return to our realm, murder a living soul, steal their memories, and wear their faces to slaughter the living and execute his master plan. We train you... to hunt and slaughter them."

I rolled my eyes internally. Great. Another lecture dedicated to skin-walking corpses. Between Ajax’s bracelet and being hunted in the Sunken Arch, I felt like I was already on a first-name basis with the realm’s worst nightmares.

Master Eldritch stopped pacing and crossed his arms. "First-tier Dragons. Step forward."

Not a single student moved. First-tier dragons were pure-blood nobility—likely the princes and their immediate siblings.

"Second-tier Dragons," Eldritch called out.

Bren immediately straightened her back and stepped out from the crowd. Beside her, about eleven other initiates stepped forward with their chins held high.

The rest of the crowd looked at the small group with visible awe. Miriel and I beamed with pride, grinning at Bren as she stood tall in her faded Redmere tunic. I glanced past the line and caught sight of Elsie and her two sycophants, Caelia and Heidi.

None of them had moved.

Miriel instantly puffed out her chest, sticking her tongue out at Elsie. Elsie’s eyes narrowed into furious slits, her knuckles turning white as she glared daggers back at us.

"Second tiers, form a line on the left," Eldritch instructed. "Third tiers, step out."

About fifty students stepped forward, heavily thinning the crowd still standing near the fountain. Elsie and Caelia proudly stepped into this group, smirking as they joined the third-tier line.

"Fourth tiers."

Miriel let out a tiny, disappointed sigh. Her shoulders slumped as she stepped forward, joining the large wave of remaining initiates. Heidi stepped out alongside them, casting a smug look at Miriel.

"And Fifth tiers."

The remaining five initiates standing near the fountain walked forward, forming their own sparse line.

I didn’t move. I remained standing right where I was, completely alone on the stone flagstones near the center of the terrace.

Master Eldritch’s eyes drifted over the assembled lines until they finally landed on me. He frowned, tilting his head. "You. The girl in the brown tunic. Why are you still standing there? Which tier do you belong to?"

"I don’t know my tier, Master," I managed to speak clearly despite a hundred pairs of eyes drilling into my back. "I don’t have a dragon."

Eldritch’s eyes twitched. "No dragon? Ah... you must be the initiate No-One."

"I am."

He gestured for me to approach the dais. I walked over, and as I reached the stone steps, Master Eldritch clamped a calloused hand onto my shoulder.

"Listen to me, girl," Eldritch declared, turning to face the entire courtyard. "Without a beast’s blood humming in your veins to shield you, you are bound to learn every lesson the hard way. In Last Bastion, lineage is a gift, but power—raw power—is the only currency that matters."

A few snickers broke out from the third-tier line. Elsie covered her mouth, whispering something nasty to Caelia.

"Quiet!" Eldritch snapped, making the snickering students flinch. He turned back to the lines. "Those who have already awakened their secondary abilities, step forward and declare them. Let your peers know what tools you bring to the field."

Almost all the second tiers stepped forward, declaring abilities that had the lots of us gasping in awe. A handful of third tiers followed, along with two fourth tiers. None of the fifth tiers moved.

When it was Elsie’s turn, she stepped forward with a haughty smirk, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "Elsie of House Abraham. Third-tier. Ability: Hair Manipulation."

I stared at her in utter disbelief. Hair manipulation?! Her ability was literally controlling her own hair like extra limbs. I held back a laugh. It fit her ridiculous, overly vain personality so perfectly it was almost poetic.

"Now that you know what your peers are capable of," Master Eldritch announced, tapping his iron rod against the flagstones, "it is time for your first practical examination: The Shadow-Hollow Gauntlet."

With a sweep of his arm, the stone obstacles around the terrace roared to life.

Heavy wooden pendulums began swinging wildly across the course. The cobblestone floor shifted, revealing sinking stone platforms and glowing blue runic traps. High above the arena, a dozen glowing, erratic orbs of wild magical energy materialized, darting through the air like hyperactive lightning bugs.

"Those glowing entities are Mimic-Sparks. They simulate the erratic speed and aggression of low-level shadow-beasts you shall encounter during assigned Academic missions. Your objective is simple."

He looked directly at the second-tiers.

"Each Second-Tier initiate will act as a squad captain. You will draft a team consisting of yourself, one Third-Tier, and one Fourth or Fifth-Tier. Your team must navigate the moving gauntlet, capture three Mimic-Sparks, and deposit them into the vault at the center of the terrace."

A wave of excited, anxious murmurs swept through the crowd.

"The rules are simple," Eldritch grinned, showing a row of sharp teeth. "The sparks will fight back with non-lethal electric shocks that numb limbs and send you flying. Sabotage against competing teams is fully permitted. The winning team receives thirty merit marks toward their academic standing and the losers, well, you’ve lost your marks. Initiates... draft your squads!"

Hold up... does that not mean I had already failed before the class even began?!