Prologue: Six Feet Above Ground
EVERETTE LESTREINGE
Scythe Academy is one of the elite schools in the capital. And that's the very reason I was transferred here.
They weren't the usual kind of elite school, the sort that strictly filtered their admissions by pedigree, trust funds, or prestigious family lineages. No. Scythe was the exact polar opposite.
With a background like mine, and a student record burned down to ashes, there wasn't a single institution left in the country willing to take a chance on me, no matter how much money or political influence was pulling strings behind the curtain.
My record is filled with reckless behaviour and unyielding defiance.
Yet, against all odds, Scythe accepted me.
My parents were practically weeping with joy when the acceptance letter arrived, wasting no time in begging, and eventually ordering me to stay put and finish my education in peace.
I had prepared myself for an off-campus apartment, or a sleek high-rise condo in the city center, but reality hit hard when I was marched straight into a campus dormitory.
To make matters worse, it wasn't even a private suite, it was a cramped, shared room.
The first few days played out like the typical fairytale of an upper-crust academy. Grand marble halls, state-of-the-art facilities, and polished brass fixtures gleaming under warm lighting from the huge chandelier on the main entrance of the academy.
But it didn't take long for the illusion to shatter.
A full week had passed since the freshmen orientation gathering, and I made a conscious effort to maintain my distance, keeping everyone at arm’s length.
But that reserve quickly earned me a reputation and was officially named as the arrogant “snob” of Class B.
And in a place like this, being an outcast meant one thing.
An easy target.
I never imagined I would end up trapped in a living hell disguised as absolute luxury.
And to my luck, the administration turned out to be completely useless. Even after the violence and incidents I dare not recall that unfolded over my very first week, the faculty and staff remained dead silent.
There were no official announcements, no emergency assemblies, and not a single word offered to soothe the growing uproar among the school and worried parents.
The administration simply dismissed the mounting evidence of ongoing violence as nothing more than harmless, exaggerated student rumors.
While the higher-ups scrambled to bury the truth, the entire student body was left hanging by a thread, and trapped in a limbo between fragile peace and paralyzing fear.
Everyone knew that this wasn't the first time something terrifying had broken out behind the academy gates.
The anxiety in the air was thick enough to choke on. Because none of us knew if there would be a next time, who among us would become the next, or if our luck would hold out when the blade turns to the next.
Except this time, the stakes had changed into something far more sinister.
As the cracks in the facade widened, digging into Scythe history came alongside with uncovering secrets that made my blood run cold.
Who could have ever guessed that the prestigious academy that the people put on a pedestal, the place where we sleep soundly, is six feet above the ground of a foundation filled with secrecy?
