Chapter 2: Welcome to Aethelgard

Chapter 2: Welcome to Aethelgard

Kael tried to scramble back, but an invisible force held him fast. The Warden’s gloved hand remained outstretched, an unmovable object in a world that had suddenly gone silent and gray. The shouts of the truck driver, the distant campus bell, the very rustle of leaves in the wind—all of it was gone, replaced by a profound, humming stillness. The students and faculty flowing past on the sidewalk were like ghosts, their eyes seeing nothing.

“There is no choice in this, Neophyte,” the central Warden’s voice echoed, not in the air, but directly inside Kael’s skull. “Your old life has ended.”

Before Kael could protest, the world dissolved. It wasn't a flash of light, but a violent, wrenching twist. He felt as if space itself had folded in on him, his body being pulled through an impossibly small point. A nauseating sensation of falling and rising at the same time overcame him, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the vertigo.

When the feeling subsided, he opened them again, gasping on cold, sterile air that smelled of ozone and ancient stone.

He was no longer on his college campus. He was standing on a vast, obsidian courtyard, one of many new arrivals blinking in confusion. Around him, perhaps fifty other young men and women, all looking as disoriented as he felt, were stumbling to their feet. They wore a motley collection of clothes—pajamas, business suits, athletic gear—a snapshot of lives violently interrupted.

But it was the place itself that stole his breath and replaced it with a knot of ice in his stomach.

Aethelgard Academy.

The name hadn't been spoken, but Kael knew it in his bones. This was the fortress the Wardens served. It was a place that spat in the face of physics. Jagged towers of black stone clawed at a bruised, perpetually twilight sky where a sickly purple nebula swirled in place of a sun. Colossal stairways spiraled up into the gloom, connecting to nothing. Arched bridges spanned impossible chasms between floating islands of rock, each housing another gothic structure lit by the eerie glow of arcane lanterns. The entire fortress pulsed with a low, oppressive energy that vibrated in his teeth and made the hairs on his arms stand up.

This was not a school. It was a prison built on a nightmare.

“Look at them,” a girl with neon pink hair whispered nearby, her voice trembling. “Like lambs to the slaughter.”

Kael followed her gaze. Lining the perimeter of the courtyard were other figures, older, clad in dark, practical uniforms. They watched the new arrivals with the bored, predatory stillness of wolves observing a herd of sheep. Their eyes held no sympathy, only cold, hard assessment.

A sharp crack echoed across the obsidian, silencing the panicked murmurs. A woman strode forward from the ranks of the uniformed figures, her footsteps a merciless beat against the stone. She was tall and severe, her silver hair pulled back in a braid so tight it seemed to pull at the corners of her piercing ice-blue eyes. A thin, pale scar cut across her right eyebrow, a permanent mark of violence. This was not a teacher; she was a weapon in human form.

“Welcome to Aethelgard Academy, Neophytes,” she said, her voice sharp and cold as shattered glass. It carried across the vast courtyard without any apparent effort. “My name is Instructor Seraphina Voronova. Forget the lives you knew. They were a lie, a fragile shell of blissful ignorance.”

Her gaze swept over them, and Kael felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine as her eyes briefly met his. It was like being weighed and measured by a butcher.

“Each of you,” she continued, her voice hardening, “has been chosen. Awakened. You have been gifted with a System, a tool to perceive and manipulate the fundamental energies of this world. An energy your ancestors called magic, but which we know by its true name: Fear.”

A ripple of shock and disbelief went through the crowd. The blue screen in Kael’s vision, still displaying his 150 Terror Points, seemed to mock him with its silent confirmation.

“The universe you thought you knew is a lie,” Seraphina declared, her voice ringing with grim authority. “It is a calm little pond surrounded by a raging, endless ocean of cosmic horrors. Extradimensional entities, beings of pure chaos and terror, press against the veil of reality at every moment. For millennia, Aethelgard has been the dam holding back that ocean. We are humanity’s shield. And now, so are you.”

Her words painted a picture so terrifying, so far beyond anything Kael had ever imagined, that it was hard to process. It felt like a scene from a dark fantasy novel, yet the cold stone beneath his feet and the chilling presence of the instructor were undeniably real.

“But a shield must be strong,” Seraphina’s voice dropped, becoming dangerously quiet. “It cannot have cracks. It cannot have weaknesses. Aethelgard has no room for the weak. Your training begins now. And with it, the Culling.”

The word hung in the cold air, heavy and final.

“Your first test is simple,” she said, a cruel hint of a smile touching her lips. “Survive. You will be placed in the Fear Pens. Inside, you will face a creature of the night, a Dreadbeast born from shadow and terror. These creatures are drawn to fear. They feed on it. The more you panic, the stronger it becomes, the faster it will find you.”

Kael’s blood ran cold. A creature that fed on terror. It was a perfect, vicious circle. He glanced at the other Neophytes. Faces that had been merely confused were now masks of pure, dawning horror. The ambient anxiety in the courtyard skyrocketed, becoming a palpable wave of dread. His own Phobos System seemed to hum in response to the feast of fear.

“You have one night,” Seraphina announced, her voice rising to a sharp command. “Survive until the morning light, and you will earn your place as a student of this academy. Fail…” She let the word hang in the air for a moment. “And you will be culled. Your energy will be returned to the academy’s wards, your pathetic existence serving a greater purpose in death than it ever could in life.”

There it was. The ultimate failure. Not just a bad grade, not just losing a game. Annihilation. The concept struck the core of Kael’s Atychiphobia with the force of a physical blow. The fear of failure wasn't an abstract concept anymore. It was a tangible threat with teeth and claws, waiting for him in the dark.

The uniformed guards began to move, their expressions implacable as they herded the terrified Neophytes towards a massive, arched gateway at the far end of the courtyard. The entrance was a maw of absolute darkness, a black hole that seemed to swallow the dim, purple light.

Kael found himself shuffling forward, swept up in the tide of trembling bodies. The scent of raw, primal fear was so thick he could taste it. He could already feel a tremor in his hands, the familiar cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He was just a college student. He didn’t know how to fight. He had no special skills. All he had was a mysterious blue screen and a crippling fear of the very thing he was now required to avoid.

As he reached the threshold of the Fear Pens, the darkness beckoning him, a single, terrifying thought consumed him: I can't fail this.

The thought sent a jolt, not of terror, but of something else—a strange, electric thrill—through his veins. The blue box in his vision flickered.

He took a step into the oppressive black, the great stone doors beginning to grind shut behind him, sealing his fate. Welcome to Aethelgard.