Veridian Blood Score: Conducting the Apocalypse

The metallic scent of blood, long dried on the marble floors of the Veridian Grand Hall, had never truly faded from Valten’s senses, even after ten years. Beneath the dim, glittering, yet cold light of the crystal chandelier, he stood with his back to the crowd of trembling new students in the audition room. The discordant scraping of violin strings filled the air, polluting the silence that should have been sacred to a conductor. "Stop." Valten spoke the word in a flat tone, yet it instantly froze the entire room. A male student in the front row jolted, his hand gripping the violin bow shaking so violently that the instrument nearly fell to the floor. "You," Valten pointed without turning. His voice was raspy yet authoritative, the kind of voice that demanded absolute obedience. "Your rhythm is flawed. You play as if you are trying to apologize to God for being born. In this academy, we do not apologize. We conquer the notes." Valten turned his body. He was only twenty-eight, yet his gray eyes radiated a cold depth, as if he had seen the end of the world and decided not to care. His crisp black suit seemed to contrast sharply with the aura of destruction he carried. "What is your name?" Valten asked, stepping closer. The sound of his shoes against the marble floor echoed like a heartbeat marching toward death. "E-Elias, sir," the young man stammered. "I... I am just not used to the acoustics here." Valten chuckled softly, a dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes. He took the violin from Elias’s hands with a graceful yet intimidating movement. "Acoustics? You think this is about the room? This room was built on the foundation of the bones of musicians more talented than you. If you cannot make this space obey your frequency, then you are nothing but trash to be swept away by history." Valten placed the violin on his shoulder and closed his eyes. He did not play it the way the textbooks taught. He drew the bow in an unconventional manner, creating friction that produced a sharp, piercing screech, a low frequency that made the room's glass windows vibrate violently. Wunggg... The vibration didn't just travel through the air; it seeped into the chests of everyone in the room. Elias collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Valten stopped instantly, restoring the suffocating silence. "That," Valten whispered in front of Elias’s pale face, "is the beginning of the truth I will uncover. Welcome to the outcast class." In the corner of the room, the large teak door opened slowly. A woman in an emerald silk gown stepped inside. It was Elara, a royal informant whose presence always carried the scent of lilies and danger. Valten recognized her footsteps even before she stepped onto the red carpet. "Conductor Valten," Elara greeted with a tone deliberately made sweet for the students, though her eyes stared sharply at Valten, as if counting his heartbeats. "The Royal Council is very impressed with the progress of the 'training' you are conducting. They want to know when this orchestra will be ready for a 'performance' at the palace?" Valten put his violin away with a casual movement. He stared at Elara, reading every detail of the expression on her face. He knew Elara was not here on her own initiative. Elara was Veridian’s sharpest set of eyes and ears. "Tell the Council that this orchestra needs time," Valten replied, walking toward Elara until they were only a palm's width apart. He could smell the expensive perfume masking the scent of gunpowder that Elara secretly hid behind her corset. "Perfect music requires a perfect sacrifice, doesn't it? And I am ensuring just that." Elara leaned her lips toward Valten’s ear, whispering softly so the students wouldn't hear. "Don't play with fire, Valten. The Emperor is preparing 'Project Resonance.' If you go too far, you won't just lose your position; you will become a part of the history they erase." "I lost everything ten years ago, Elara," Valten whispered back, his voice as cold as ice. "The only thing left is a grudge waiting to be played into a symphony of destruction. And you... you are the most interesting discordant note for me to study." Elara stiffened, her hands clenched within the folds of her dress. She knew Valten was planning something far greater than a mere rebellion. Yet, as a spy, she was trapped in a dilemma. Valten was the man she loved, and the man most likely to destroy the world she served. "Students," Valten’s voice rose, breaking the tension between them. "Put your instruments away. Starting today, we will not be learning classical music. We will learn how to tear atoms apart through sound resonance. If any of you cannot bear to hear the sound of destruction from within yourselves, the exit is behind you." Not one of the students moved. They were children discarded by their families because their magical talents were considered impure, or because of their failure to obey the rigid royal curriculum. To them, Valten was their only hope, though they did not know they were being used as pawns in a deadly game of chess. Valten walked to his desk, picking up an old score with edges already scorched by fire. It was the last note his father had written before dying at the Blood Feast. In it, he had composed the Void Note, a frequency capable of piercing even the strongest magical shields in the Kingdom of Veridian. As night began to fall, Valten stood on the academy balcony overlooking the Veridian Palace, which stood majestically on the hill, emitting a neon blue light from the nuclear magic core they hid in the basement. Ting. A loud, sharp sound rang out from the direction of the academy gate. The palace guards who usually stood outside the gate were found lying on the ground with blood leaking from their ears. Elara, who was still in the room, widened her eyes as she looked out the window. "Valten, what are you doing?" Elara exclaimed in a panic. "That’s the Emperor’s Guard! They didn't come for an audit; they came for an execution!" Valten did not seem surprised. Instead, he smiled thinly, a smile full of controlled madness. He raised his hands as if conducting an invisible orchestra. "Let them in, Elara," Valten whispered. "Today, we will hold our first rehearsal. And the main instrument is their lives." Below, the academy's massive iron gate shattered into pieces, not from a fiery explosion, but from the sound vibrations that turned metal into dust. The guards, layered in magical armor, advanced with swords drawn, but every step they took caused them to collapse to the ground, as if the gravity in that place had been manipulated by the symphony Valten had begun to play in his mind. However, just as Valten was about to give the cue for the next attack, a shadow appeared behind the guards. It was the Rival Conductor, a man with a black cloak covering half his face. He raised his hand, and instantly, the resonance Valten had built ceased. "Conductor Valten," the man’s voice echoed, heavy and full of pressure. "You forgot one thing. Music is not just about sound. It is about who holds control over the silence." The man snapped his fingers, and instantly, the entire academy was wrapped in a seal of total silence. No sound, no breath, no heartbeat. Valten felt his chest tighten, as if the oxygen had been stolen from his lungs. The world became deathly quiet, and in the midst of that lethal silence, Valten realized he had walked into a trap far more calculated than he had ever imagined.