Elian leaned against the cold brick wall outside the ballroom, the task letter clutched tightly in his hand.
"Destroy someone more powerful than you — without being caught."
It sounded impossible.
It was impossible.
And yet, in the back of his mind, something twisted into a grim sort of amusement.
The boy who once hid behind cracked glasses and threadbare sweaters was now being invited to bite back.
Carefully.
Quietly.
Fatally.
---
He knew the game now.
This was no simple prank.
It wasn't even about reputation anymore.
It was a blood sport.
A secret war among the elite students — a war where betrayal, manipulation, and cruelty were the weapons of choice.
And if he didn't play?
He'd be crushed like the others who had dared to defy the unspoken rules.
---
As Elian walked down the dark, deserted campus streets, his mind raced.
He needed to choose carefully.
Destroy someone powerful…
Who?
Liliana herself?
No — too soon.
Sebastian?
Maybe, but it was dangerous without understanding his real weakness.
No — he had to start with someone lower on the ladder. Someone who still carried weight, but was reckless enough to make mistakes.
---
By the time he reached the battered iron gates leading to the boys' dormitory, Elian had already chosen his target:
Jordan Weiss.
Captain of the fencing team.
Son of a minor oil magnate.
Known for his violent temper and his fondness for crushing those beneath him — both literally and socially.
Jordan was popular but messy, impulsive — too confident in his father's influence to clean up after himself.
He was the perfect prey.
---
The next morning at school, the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Everyone whispered about the Selection.
Everyone pretended not to know.
Elian sat at the back of the Economics lecture hall, pretending to take notes, while Jordan swaggered in late, tossing his designer backpack carelessly onto a desk.
The guy reeked of privilege.
Wearing a navy jacket from a luxury brand, his golden hair artfully disheveled, his lazy smirk daring the professor to reprimand him.
The professor, a thin, balding man in his sixties, said nothing.
Typical.
Jordan was untouchable.
At least, until now.
---
Elian watched him carefully, memorizing his routine.
Jordan was sloppy — he flirted with underclassmen, skipped classes, slipped into forbidden parties, and flaunted the school's few remaining rules.
He wasn't careful.
He wasn't untouchable.
Not if Elian played this right.
---
After class, Elian didn't go back to the dorms.
Instead, he slipped into the dark corners of campus where secrets lived:
The back alleys behind the administration building.
The hidden tunnels beneath the old chapel.
The small, grimy coffee shop where deals were made with whispered threats and heavy envelopes.
He found them there — the so-called Fixers.
Students who handled dirty work for a price.
Fake photos.
Edited videos.
Stolen documents.
If you had enough money — or the right leverage — you could destroy someone without ever lifting a finger.
---
Elian approached a girl sitting alone in the farthest booth.
She couldn't have been more than seventeen, but her eyes were old — tired and cruel.
She looked him up and down once, unimpressed.
"What do you want, freshman?" she drawled, sipping black coffee.
"I need evidence," Elian said quietly.
Her eyebrow arched.
"Of?"
"Drug possession," Elian said, his voice steady. "On Jordan Weiss."
The girl's lips curled into a slow, delighted smile.
"Risky," she murmured. "Expensive."
"I can pay."
He slid the black card across the table.
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly — just enough.
She picked it up, examined it, and gave a low whistle.
"Where the hell did a nobody like you get a Black Seraph card?"
"Does it matter?"
The girl laughed, sharp and humorless.
"No," she said finally. "It doesn't."
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"Give me 48 hours."
---
That night, as Elian lay in bed staring at the cracked ceiling, he thought about what he was doing.
He should have felt guilty.
He should have felt afraid.
Instead, he felt something else blooming inside him.
Something cold.
Something dangerous.
He had spent years being prey.
Now?
Now he was the hunter.
And he would tear down every false god at this school, one by one.
Starting with Jordan Weiss.
---
Meanwhile, across campus, Liliana sat before a roaring fireplace in the secret parlor, swirling a glass of dark wine between her fingers.
Sebastian lounged nearby, flipping through student files.
"Do you think he'll survive the first task?" Sebastian asked lazily.
Liliana smiled, watching the flames dance.
"Survive?" she murmured.
"Oh, Sebastian... he won't just survive."
Her eyes glinted like sharpened steel.
"He'll thrive."
---