As the five boys arrived and regrouped with their leader, they quickly realized they weren't alone. Students filled the open staging area—some wearing the same uniforms as them, while others wore variations marked with different trims and insignias, clearly identifying them as second- and third-years.
"Remember what I said," Harkel warned quietly, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. "Stay on your toes. I know my family—and I know some of them will use underhanded tactics to rack up points during the first Beast Hunt."
Everyone nodded. This first hunt would set the standard. Falling behind here meant playing catch-up for the rest of the event, and none of them could afford that.
"If it isn't the killer," a mocking voice called out.
They turned to see six boys approaching. At the front was Kyle, his bright blue hair impossible to miss. He wore his usual smug grin.
"Well, Harkel," Kyle said casually, hands tucked into his pockets. "You didn't talk to me during the entrance exam like the app said you would. What's going on, pal?"
Three of the boys behind him chuckled. The other two—standing close on either side of Kyle—remained silent and stiff.
"Wait a minute," Harkel said, narrowing his eyes. "Naggy and Emmett… you weren't part of Kyle's group before."
No one answered.
Harkel felt a familiar irritation twist in his chest. He knew his cousin. Whatever Kyle had done, it wasn't clean—but now wasn't the time to think about it.
Riven glanced past them and noticed Park, a second-year, watching from a distance. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Park immediately looked away and moved closer to his own group.
So he's part of the game too, Riven thought. Maybe I'll get that apology sooner than I expected.
Luka, on the other hand, felt something else entirely.
Eyes—full of contempt and quiet aggression—were fixed on him. He lowered his gaze, shifting uncomfortably as he looked around. The pressure made him take a small step back.
A firm hand landed on his back, steadying him.
When Luka turned, he saw Leo.
"It's too late now," Leo said quietly, just loud enough for Luka to hear. "We're already here. There's nowhere to go back to. Don't let their eyes scare you. If they really had the guts, they'd come say it to your face. Don't let anyone demean your character."
He gave Luka's shoulder a reassuring pat.
"Yeah," Luka said, straightening up. "You're right. Thanks, man."
"So," Jordan said, trying to lighten the mood as he scanned the crowd, "has anyone caught your eye yet?"
"I don't like staring at others," Joey replied, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular.
"Well, she has my attention," Luka said, pointing.
The girl he indicated stood out immediately. She had sleek, long silver hair cut cleanly into a sharp bob that rested at her chin. She towered over most of the students—easily brushing past seven feet—and even Leo who was nearing six-foot-nine looked small beside her.
Her uniform marked her as a second-year and, more importantly, as someone not from the walls.
Just looking at her made several nearby boys gulp unconsciously.
"I need that," a whisper slipped out.
All five boys immediately recognized the voice.
"Luka… you good?" Leo asked, struggling to keep a straight face.
Luka froze, then smacked his own forehead.
"I said that out loud, didn't I?"
All of them nodded in unison.
Several people appeared suddenly—so suddenly that no one could say where they came from. One moment the space was empty, and the next, they were simply there, as if they had stepped out of the air itself.
Each of them carried multiple devices strapped to their arms, backs, and belts—compact machines humming faintly with restrained energy. Without exchanging a single word, they spread out across the area and immediately began their work, planting the devices into the ground and attaching others to nearby structures with practiced efficiency.
No one questioned them.
Not because they weren't curious—but because of what they were wearing.
Their uniforms were unmistakable.
Each person wore a fitted black tactical suit, reinforced at the chest and shoulders, with smooth deep-purple lines running through the fabric like veins. The purple wasn't bright—it was dark, muted, almost regal—glowing faintly whenever they moved. Long coats hung from their shoulders, split at the back for mobility, the inner lining dyed a rich violet that contrasted sharply against the black exterior.
Their gloves were armored, fingertips tipped with subtle metallic plating, and their boots were heavy, clearly designed to withstand unstable terrain. On their chests sat a small insignia stitched in purple thread—simple, sharp, and authoritative.
They didn't look like students.
They didn't look like soldiers either.
But still, almost everyone knew who these people were—almost everyone.
Riven and the other students were clearly confused about who they were, so he decided to ask the one person he knew who had the most knowledge about the game.
"Harkel," the boy whispered, "who are these people?"
Harkel looked at him with an are you serious? expression.
"I guess you wallborn really don't pay attention to what's happening outside the world, huh?" Harkel said, looking at Riven, who returned the stare with an offended look. "Oh—no offense."
"None taken. Continue," Riven rushed, wanting his question answered. Harkel could still tell the boy had taken some offense.
"These are guards of the Voss Clan. It takes a lot to become a guard—money, training, and sacrifice. They're well respected among clan members. Even if they're not at the top of the hierarchy, no one ever discredits their bravery."
"Wait a minute," Luka said, listening in. "When you become the leader, wouldn't we become your guards?"
"Not really," Harkel replied. "Those guards are more for the clan itself. What we call the people who directly protect the clan head are knights."
"So… we're your knights? Cool!" Joey exclaimed.
"That wasn't a joke."
"They're talking like they're actually going to become knights."
"I should go over there and kick their asses for even thinking they're on the same level as us."
Whispers spread around them. Other students were clearly unhappy with the conversation.
"We shouldn't be talking about this so casually," Harkel said quietly. "Especially here. My people take offense to things like this, and we're really trying to keep a low profile at the beginning."
Once the guards finished setting up their devices, a blueprint-like portal appeared.
Almost everyone stared in awe—some even among the Voss Clan members themselves.
"A portable portal…" Harkel whispered, staring at the bright blue light.
"By that face, it looks like you're shocked too," Jordan said.
"Yeah. Even though the Voss Clan controls multiple planets, most of us stay on one. The only way to travel between them is spacecraft, which takes one or two days—and even then, traveling at those speeds isn't safe for anyone under twenty. Portals are the best option, but even with our wealth, we don't have many. They cost a fortune. We don't even have portals for every planet we own. So yeah… I'm shocked too."
The conversations stopped as the guards prepared to address everyone.
One of them stepped in front of the portal.
"Hello, everyone. My name is Ashton, and today will mark the first Beast Hunt of the Clinton Games. This is the very first Clinton Game ever held. If one of you eventually becomes the head of the Voss Clan and decides to host another, you may add more rules. For now, the rules are simple. We don't yet know what restrictions will be necessary, so keep that in mind."
Ashton stepped aside and was handed a board by another guard wearing the same uniform.
"This is how entry will proceed. First-years will go first, in alphabetical order. Then second-years, also alphabetically. Lastly, the third-years."
Everyone knew why it was done this way.
Second- and third-years had clear advantages. They had already gone on outings, planetary examinations, or beast hunts. First-years had done none of that.
Names were called one by one as students entered the blue portal.
When Harkel's name was called, only the Voss family member was announced—not the entire group. That meant when one of them was called, all of them had to go.
"Okay, hold onto one another like you're in a line," one of the guards instructed.
They did as told.
"Good. Now make sure to hold your stomach."
They began walking toward the portal.
As the guard's words finally registered, one of them froze.
"Wait—sorry. Did you just say hold our stomach?"
Luka never finished the sentence.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the world dropped away.
It felt like falling into a deep ocean—pressure closing in from every direction, sound vanishing, light bending into blue streaks. His body twisted without moving, weightless yet crushing, like being pulled downward while suspended in place
"Ahhh!"
Some of the boys screamed, their stomachs twisting violently, feeling like they were about to throw up breakfast, lunch, and dinner all at once.
Then—ground.
Their feet slammed down as their screens flickered and died the instant they made contact. An uneasy feeling washed over them. One of them tried to hold it back, but the others couldn't.
They bolted toward a line of trash cans, throwing up into them.
"Whew…" Riven sighed, swallowing the bitter taste rising in the back of his throat. When he finally opened his eyes, he froze.
A town stretched out before them, bathed in shades of blue and soft color, like it existed in a different era altogether. Smooth stone buildings shimmered faintly under the light, their edges glowing with calm, polished hues. Cool wind flowed constantly through the streets, brushing against skin like a gentle tide.
Children from all over the world ran past, laughing, each holding bright blue balloons. Inside the balloons, something moved—tiny spirals of energy, circling endlessly like miniature cyclones trapped in glass.
As they looked around the place, one thought passed through all of their minds.
"…Did we go to the right planet?"