The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 93: The Game Begins

Chapter 93: Chapter 93: The Game Begins

Lorraine’s POV

The applause and cheers still rang in my ears after Astrid delivered the final words of my death sentence.

They were all looking at me like I was already bleeding out. Like they could taste the 30 Lunars on their tongues. Students whispered behind cupped hands, some outright pointed, others smirked, ready to kill me to earn coin and glory.

I sat still in the back row, Adrian’s fingers wrapped tight around my left hand, Felix gripping my right like he might lose me if he let go. But even their touch couldn’t stop the boiling inside me.

I wasn’t afraid. Not exactly. Fear was too soft, too shallow for what I felt.

I was burning.

I could still feel Astrid’s words crawling on my skin like barbed wire.

Brutal public spectacle.

My name on every tongue. My death a game. A reward.

This place wasn’t a school. It was a slaughterhouse dressed in stone and steel.

And I was the lamb they wanted to rip apart for sport.

Astrid raised a hand, and the crowd stilled again like trained animals. She smiled, smug and poised.

"For now," she said, her voice calm, sharp as ice, "classes and lectures shall continue as planned. Skipping any class will be met with severe punishment. This is, after all, still an academy."

She took one step back. "That will be all for..."

Boom...

The auditorium doors slammed open with a violent echo that silenced all the students and even Astrid

Every head turned.

And in he walked.

Tall. Towering. A shadow wrapped in flesh.

The man was massive, easily over six foot five, with broad shoulders that stretched the seams of his casual shirt. His long, dark brown hair fell around his face in thick waves, and every slow step he took radiated quiet power.

He didn’t wear a uniform. He was obviously not a student. The aura he carried was not one of a student

Even from a distance, I could see the occasional flicker of red in his eyes. A Lycan. No doubt.

The kind that didn’t need to prove anything because his very presence screamed dominance.

The tension in the room thickened as he made his way toward the stage, past rows of hushed nobles, elites, and Lycans. The silence was uneasy, like even they didn’t know what to expect.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed.

The man climbed the stage with lazy confidence and walked right up beside her, his smirk sharp as a blade.

"Were you really going to dismiss the students," he said, his voice deep and amused, "without introducing me first?"

Astrid didn’t smile.

If looks could kill, he’d be a corpse.

But he didn’t care. He stood there beside her like he owned the room.... hell, like he owned her.

The silence that followed Astrid’s narrowed stare was sharp enough to slice through bone. But she masked it quickly, clearing her throat with a forced calmness that barely veiled her irritation.

"This is Magnus Thorn," she said, her voice tight. "He’s been newly assigned to the academy to.... observe things and..."

"I think I’ll just introduce myself, Astrid," Magnus cut in smoothly, raising a hand with an almost lazy elegance.

The entire auditorium shifted.

Because that was the first time anyone had ever cut Astrid Voss off mid-sentence.

She took a step back. Not out of fear, no, Astrid never showed fear, but something else flickered in her eyes. Restraint. Displeasure. Wariness.

Magnus stepped forward, claiming the center of the stage like he’d always belonged there. His gaze scanned the room like he was mentally cataloging every face, every flaw.

"My name is Magnus Thorn," he began, voice calm but cold, "but you will address me as Director Thorn."

A low murmur rose through the students, but no one dared speak out loud.

"I used to be a war commander," he continued, "until I dropped the sword and became the right hand of Ronan Valerius Hunter, the Alpha King himself."

"And now," he said, "he has sent me here. To this cesspool of entitlement, mediocrity, and chaos. To restore the fallen grace of Lunar Crest Academy."

His eyes flicked to Astrid, daring her to speak. She didn’t.

"The only director you’ve ever known is Astrid Voss," he said, voice steady. "But from this day forward, you have two directors. Astrid.... and me."

A slow dread built in my chest, cold and creeping. This man wasn’t just another Lycan. He was a storm dressed in skin. A predator who smiled as he tore the world apart.

"Director Voss may have turned a blind eye to most of your mischiefs, your class skipping, your petty little games. I will not."

He took a step closer to the edge of the stage, his presence wrapping around the room like a noose.

"I am going to train you. Drill you. Most of you come from rich, powerful families, you think your name protects you? It doesn’t. I will rip that pride and prestige off your skin, and lay you bare."

There was a beat of silence.

"Only then," he continued, "can we mold something useful from this pile of spoiled weaklings."

The nobles, elites and lycans sat straighter now, unease clear in their stiff posture. _{fr\(e)ew(e)b.(n)o (v)(e)l.com}

"Because nothing matters more here than power, your survival instinct, your ability to fight, to live. That’s what separates the dead from the worthy."

My throat tightened. His gaze swept the room again, and when it passed over me, I felt it like a blade sliding beneath my skin

"That ids why," he said, "from now on, I will personally assist Professor Alaric Cain with your combat and strategy classes. And you will now attend these classes twice a week, not once."

Groans rose from the crowd.

Magnus ignored them.

"And I’ve heard," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips, "that you lazy lot wake up by seven a.m. to prepare for class. That ends now."

The auditorium froze.

"From now on, the wake-up siren will sound at five a.m. Classes begin by six. No exceptions."

There was a pause before he spoke again

Then, in a tone that sent a chill slithering down my spine, he added, "And if anyone dares to miss even a single class...."

He raised his hand again, this time extending one thick long finger.

"You will lose one finger for every class missed."

Everyone gasped.

"Along with other punishments, of course," he added, almost casually.