Extra's Ascent

They assembled within the grand hall, a colossal chamber vast enough to accommodate more than a thousand first-year students of Eldora. The space echoed with quiet tension, an unspoken anticipation that clung to the walls like mist.

Each student sat alone, distanced strategically from their peers. Their uniforms were crisp and impeccably fitted, bearing the insignia of the institute with pride. Two sheets of paper lay flat on each desk, flanked by a pencil on the right. Their hands rested at the edges, posture rigid, eyes forward. Not a whisper stirred among them, just silence and the subtle hum of nerves.

At the helm stood an imposing figure on a raised platform. His gaze, sharp and sweeping, moved across the hall with the precision of a predator. No angle escaped his line of sight, his presence alone enough to straighten the backs of even the most distracted students.

Once he had surveyed every inch of the room, his voice thundered through the chamber.

"Begin!"

With that single command, the written examination commenced.

The rustle of paper filled the air as students turned over their question sheets and answer forms. Pencils were grasped without hesitation, and minds dove into the sea of queries laid before them.

Among them, Aldrich sat unnervingly relaxed. The calm he exuded mirrored the ease he'd displayed during Eldora's entrance assessment. He leaned slightly forward, eyes scanning the first question.

"So, first one," he murmured under his breath, lips curling in faint amusement. "Check."

These questions posed no threat to him, not because of meticulous studying or late-night revisions. No, the ease came from a different source entirely.

Most first-years, including Aldrich, had poured their focus into combat drills and mystic conditioning. The written exam was viewed as a mere formality, a stepping stone before the real test began which is the physical trial.

Very few had invested time into actual academic preparation.

Yet Aldrich breezed through the written segment, not because of preparation, but due to foresight. Every question mirrored those from the novel he once knew. Topics spanned historical milestones, mana theories, and the fundamentals of mystic knowledge. For him, it was all too familiar.

He completed the exam well before the allotted time, joining a small group of early finishers. They waited in silence for the rest to complete their papers. While many chose to rest, Aldrich opted otherwise.

Rising from his seat, he made his way toward one of the open training facilities on campus. His stride was purposeful, sharp, and focused.

Just as he rounded a corridor, a familiar voice called out.

"Hey! Wait up!"

It was Aydin Astravon, Aldrich's roommate picking up his pace to catch up.

Aldrich raised a brow, surprised to see him so soon. "You finished early?"

Aydin nodded, falling into step beside him. It was unexpected. Aldrich had never imagined Aydin as someone who would breeze through academics. He always appeared more concerned with flair, attention, and carrying the pride of his bloodline.

And why wouldn't he?

Aydin was a scion of the Astravon family, one of the Mystic Order's three most powerful lineages. Their mastery of sealing arts was unrivalled, and their dominion over Sector C was undisputed.

To be born into such a heritage came with prestige. And Aydin? He wore it proudly. His arrogance wasn't without merit, but what set him apart was his respect for ability. Unlike Selina, who judged others by wealth and pedigree, Aydin acknowledged merit. Prove your worth, and he'd treat you as a peer.

Before Aldrich could respond, another voice cut through.

"Now where would you two lovebirds be sneaking off to without moi?"

Dante Pendragon, flamboyant as ever, sauntered toward them with his trademark grin.

Aldrich turned with a smirk. "Just heading for a light workout before the next phase."

Dante's eyes lit up. "Ooh, sounds like a party. Mind if I join?" Though, the way he asked left no room for refusal.

"If we said no, would it even matter?" Aldrich teased.

Dante chuckled, slinging an arm around both their shoulders. "Exactly. Now let's go, comrades!"

"Typical of you, Dante," Aydin said, shaking his head with a faint grin. Despite the gesture, he didn't resist the Pendragon's overfriendly grip.

The trio made their way to the training hall and began with the essentials, stretching. Limbering up was crucial, even for those who already honed their bodies to near perfection.

As Dante reached for his toes, fingers brushing his pinky, he glanced sideways. "But seriously, Aldaman, don't you think you've been overdoing it lately?"

His tone was light, but his gaze was serious. Dante had noticed.

It was becoming a pattern. After lectures, Aldrich would vanish. He wasn't in the dorms, not lounging around campus, not mingling with others. If you ever wanted to find him, the training halls were your best bet. Door by door, room by room you'd discover him amidst drills or exercises, never idle.

For Aldrich, training had become more than routine. It had evolved into a compulsion, something instinctive. Something necessary.

And Dante wasn't wrong. There was a difference between dedication and obsession. Aldrich wasn't just training anymore, he was chasing something.

"What else is there to do besides train?" Aldrich responded, voice low but resolute.

That answer came from deep within the voice of a past self. Paul, Earth's deadliest marksman, hadn't reached that title through mere talent. It was grit, repetition, and tireless effort.

Now as Aldrich Aldaman, he'd tried to bury that part of himself. He had sworn off ambition, relinquishing desire for greatness. He was meant to live quietly, with no hunger for supremacy.

But that oath had shattered.

He had discovered a new target? Dwayne Aldaman. A rival. A benchmark. And with that came a burning, undeniable urge: to surpass him.

More than that, Aldrich also has the desire to ascend.

To become a LORD

He understood what that title meant. It wasn't a ceremonial role or an empty crown. It was power, influence, and legacy built only through relentless growth.

And so, he trained, emulating the same trait that propelled Paul, an orphan who lost his parents at a very young age, into Paul the greatest marksman Earth has to offer.