A hushed tension lingered in the air. Forty students — among them Elias, Feldine, Jullian, Synthros, Threx, Veylan, Nyssyra, Caelistra, and Saryn — some Rank 2 and many Rank 1, seated in neat rows, buzzing with the energy of their first day.
Then, she entered.
A woman strode into the classroom, her long silver-gray hair falling like moonlight over her shoulders. Her eyes, sharp and piercing, were the color of stormy skies — calm but dangerous. Her skin was a cool, dusky hue, her features dark yet hauntingly beautiful. She was a dark elf, unmistakably so, with long, pointed ears and a presence that silenced the room without a word.
She wore elegant robes, tailored and stylish, far from the standard faculty garb. Her form was graceful, but her aura was deadly serious. On her robe gleamed three stars — Rank 8.
A murmur of disbelief passed through the class. Rank 8? Already?
She stepped in front of the desk with a commanding gaze, scanning the class once. Her eyes paused briefly on Arthur, seated calmly by the window — fourth seat from the back, expression unreadable.
Then she spoke, her voice firm and low, yet it cut through the room like a blade:
"Silence."
Every student went quiet instantly.
She continued, "You all know the rules. I won't waste time repeating them. If you want to pay attention in my class — do. If you don't — leave. I'll test you all at the end of every month. Fail once, and you're out of my class. No exceptions."
A brave student raised a hand. "T-Teacher… your name?"
She smirked slightly. "I was getting to that."
"I am Velithra Drazhel. Rank 8. Your homeroom teacher for the next six years. I'll teach you the foundations of mana — and how to survive with it."
With a flick of her wrist, dozens of shimmering blue bracelets floated through the air, hovering toward each student.
"This artifact is your lifeline. It grants access to all authorized areas of the academy. It has a built-in spatial pocket — for your books, gear, or even tamed beasts. Wear it. Do not lose it."
She turned on her heel. "That's all for now. Your schedule will be delivered to your rooms."
And with a twist of magic, she vanished — leaving the room cold and quiet again.
⸻
Students slowly began rising, whispering in stunned voices.
Synthros, Threx, Nyssyra — all left in silence. But Elias's group remained.
Elias muttered, "How did he do that?"
Jullian nodded, stunned. "He must've passed the regular exam too…"
Feldine clenched his jaw. Veylan, visibly rattled, whispered, "Even now… I still can't see through him."
Elias asked softly, "Did anyone get a read on his realm?"
Jullian shook his head. "No. Nothing."
Elias gave a small, bitter laugh. "I thought I was exceptional. Only three students here have a Divine Core like me…"
He looked toward Arthur again.
"And yet there he is — with a lower core, but stronger than all of us. Arthur Valerian… a monster among geniuses."
Meanwhile, in Jullian's mind, his master's voice whispered:
"I couldn't read his core grade. But his realm… he's at Peak Rank 2."
Jullian nearly fell from his seat.
Veylan caught his arm. "You okay?"
Jullian hesitated, then stood. "…Nothing. I'm heading out for now."
He left, mind reeling — just like the rest of them.
——————
In the solitude of his personal dorm, Synthros Yzhalith Zephyros sat on the edge of his bed, fists clenched, jaw tight. His deep crimson eyes stared unblinking at the floor, but his mind was consumed — burning — with a single name:
Arthur Valerian.
That name… where have I heard it before?
And then the memory struck him like a bolt of lightning.
"The boy who defeated Elias… five years ago."
Back then, Elias only had a Crystal Core — not the Divine one he possesses now. But even so… that boy had done the unthinkable. And now, here he was again. At the top. Above all of them.
Above me.
Synthros gritted his teeth, the weight of humiliation pressing into his chest like a vice.
"I wrote every answer. Every single one," he muttered aloud. "I only missed one question. 299 out of 300 — 149 in theory, the rest in combat. My rank is intermediate Rank 2… no one should have scored higher."
His voice trembled not with fear, but disbelief. Rage.
How?
"There must be some mistake."
But deep down, he knew there wasn't. Erinoguard Academy didn't make mistakes. Their exams were graded by sentient scripts older than the continents, by magic etched into the very walls of the halls. If Arthur stood above him, then it wasn't by error. It was by truth.
Still, Synthros wouldn't accept it.
He rose from his bed and walked to the tall window overlooking the academy's midnight-lit grounds. The stars above Arcadia shimmered like a mocking audience, distant and indifferent.
"I'll give it fifteen days," he whispered, his reflection in the window glowing faintly red.
"Fifteen days for everyone to settle in. Fifteen days for Arthur to taste the spotlight."
He turned, a sinister smirk crawling across his face. "And then I'll drag him down from it. In front of everyone."
His pride — once a crown — now felt like a chain. But it also burned like a furnace.
No one takes my place. No one outshines me.
From the shadows of his dorm, the crimson light of his core flickered with a violent pulse — a signal that war, at least a personal one, was coming.