The battlefield fell silent.
Kael Vaelthorn stood alone, surrounded by shattered stone, collapsed arena walls, and scorched earth. His uniform was torn, his sword buried in the ground beside him. Blood dripped down his cheek, but he remained composed. Cold. Unmoved.
The exam had ended.
Not through teamwork. Not through strategy. Through sheer dominance.
The magic barriers surrounding the battleground shimmered once—then cracked, collapsing like glass. The instructors, who had been watching in silence from the elevated observatory, exchanged uncertain glances. None of them had expected a single student to wipe out every monster in the exam scenario. And certainly not Kael Vaelthorn.
The evaluation system paused. Then glitched.
It displayed:
"[Unrankable Performance Detected]"
before resetting into:
"S-Rank. Pass."
Gasps filled the stadium.
---
Later That Evening – Imperial Plaza
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden light across the academy's central courtyard. Hundreds of first-year students gathered in formal attire, standing beneath floating crystal lights and fluttering house banners. It was time for the Advancement Ceremony—the final ritual of Year One.
The headmaster appeared atop the marble podium, flanked by high-ranking instructors. His voice, amplified by wind magic, echoed across the plaza.
> "Today marks the end of your first step into the world of true magic and martial power. You've faced battles, tests, and truths about yourselves. Many of you struggled. A few rose above."
Each student was called forward to receive their Advancement Sigil, an enchanted token proving their promotion into the Second Year.
When Kael's name was announced, the murmurs ceased instantly.
> "Kael Vaelthorn," the headmaster said slowly, "approach."
He walked forward, his expression unreadable. He ignored the stares—some filled with fear, others curiosity, and a few with something close to awe.
As he stepped onto the platform, the instructors stood silently. There was no speech prepared. No explanation could capture what he had done.
Instead, the headmaster extended a platinum sigil with both hands.
> "This crest is rarely awarded," he said, voice subdued. "It is given only to those who accomplish what should be impossible—complete, unassisted annihilation of an elite combat trial."
Kael accepted it without a word. His fingers closed around the sigil, then he turned away from the stage—already walking off before applause began.
But it did begin.
First, a single pair of hands clapped.
Lyra.
Then came Elira. Hema. Soon, the plaza echoed with applause—not out of celebration, but out of stunned acknowledgment.
Kael walked past them all, expression unchanged.
He didn't care about medals. Or cheers. Or recognition.
But, for the briefest moment, as he passed Lyra, his steps slowed. Their eyes met.
He nodded—barely.
She smiled.
---
End of Chapter 47