Chapter 18: To the Capitol!
Five days left until the academy exam.
And I was in a field trying to break ti.
Noel was sitting on a rock nearby, half-watching, half-napping.
My boots crunched against dirt as I adjusted my stance and rolled my shoulders.
Pouch of mana crystals? Empty.
Body? Still buzzing.
"GTP," I thought. "You ready?"
[Standing by. Activating motor control.]
"Let's see if we can do this."
[Temporal magic prid. Try not to implode.]
"Gee, thanks."
Then it happened.
The air around thickened—
The wind slowed—
And for just a mont, everything went quiet.
Leaves stopped mid-fall. A bee froze mid-flight.
Even the sound of the breeze dropped off like soone muted the world.
I blinked.
"...No way."
I moved forward—
One clean step.
Everything snapped back to normal. Wind whooshed. Bee buzzed away. Leaves fell like nothing happened.
But I was standing sowhere else now.
I'd moved.
In frozen ti.
"...Holy sh*t."
[Temporal regulation successful. Duration: 0.6 seconds.]
"...I JUST BENT TI?!"
I threw my hands in the air and turned to Noel.
"DID YOU SEE THAT?! I JUST FROZE TI!"
She looked up lazily and nodded. "You teleported."
"I TI-STEPPED. WAY COOLER THAN TELEPORTING."
[Motor system and magical flow stabilized. You're now capable of short-range temporal shifts. Limited. But functional.]
"So you're saying I can fight in slow-mo like an overfunded action movie?"
[If you don't pass out, yes.]
"HELL. YES."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, grinning.
* * *
The city gates were wide open when we arrived.
Noel stood beside , hood over her head, cloak fluttering in the morning breeze.
I had my bag slung over my shoulder, packed with only the essentials: clothes, paper, snacks, and a suspicious number of mana-enhancing pills.
Waiting near the gate was a polished dark-wood wagon, reinforced with magic runes and fancy trim.
In front of it?
Haven—my noble investor guy. Still overdressed as hell.
"You really didn't have to go all out," I said, eyeing the glowing wheels.
He waved it off. "Don't insult . You're practically a national treasure now."
"...Because I wrote about giants?"
"No. Because you made rich."
He handed the reins with a grin. "Use this to get to the capital. Smooth ride, high-speed enchantnts, built-in heating, and—"
He opened the back. "—a fully stocked minibar."
I stared at the wine bottles.
"...You know we're not even legal age here, right?"
"You're going to the capital," he said, smirking. "Break so rules."
I shook his hand. "Thanks, Haven."
He nodded. "Have a safe trip, Sam. Make a scene when you get there."
"That's the plan."
* * *
The gates faded behind us as we rolled onto the main road.
Mountains in the far distance. Golden plains on both sides.
The sun was just starting to climb. A few birds flew overhead.
We were officially on the road to Altheria, the imperial capital.
The place where nobles, geniuses, frauds, and monsters all gathered in the na of education.
And also where I planned to break every expectation in existence.
I leaned back on the seat, arms behind my head.
...Yo, GTP.
[I'm here.]
Got anything interesting about the capital?
[Plenty. Altheria is split into six districts. The central one is ho to the royal family and the Academy.]
[It has the highest recorded mana density in the empire. Also the highest cri rate during festival seasons.]
Sounds fun.
[Also, gladiator-style underground duels are legal if both participants sign a waiver.]
...Sounds more fun.
Noel glanced at from the other seat. "You're smiling."
"Am I?"
She nodded. "That usually ans you're planning sothing stupid."
I grinned wider. "Yup."
* * *
Inside the top floor of the Altherian Academy's central tower, sunlight poured in through tall, crystal-paned windows.
Papers fluttered. Quills scratched. Magic-infused docunts slid themselves into neat stacks.
And at the center of it all sat a woman with sharp eyes and silver hair tied in a long braid—her black robes trimd in gold, a single sapphire pin on her collar.
Headmaster Caerwyn Eloria.
Age: unknown.
Reputation: terrifying.
Magic level: off the charts.
She looked barely older than thirty, but everyone who knew her said she'd been here longer than the bricks in the walls.
She sat behind a massive oak desk, eyes scanning through the final stack of entrance exam submissions.
Every applicant was required to send in a formal form—a week in advance—with their background, sponsor, magical aptitude rating (if known), and proof of identity.
Most were commoners with simple aspirations.
Others... not so much.
Caerwyn tapped the table lightly.
The next paper floated up.
"Blake Ardent. Sponsored by Iron Fang rcenaries. Swordsmanship rank: A."
She nodded slightly.
"Eva Velynn. Dual-sword user. Magic score: B , agility: S-."
Another.
"Lucas Veynard... Noble house from the West. Mana pressure off the charts..."
Then the paper shimred.
Royal crest.
"Serenia von Ardelia. Imperial Princess. Enrolled under standard conditions. No special exemptions."
Caerwyn raised an eyebrow.
"She's taking the normal test? Hmph. The royal family really is letting her grow teeth."
She moved the paper aside.
And then the final one floated up.
Black ink.
Bold letters.
Sam Avencroft.
She didn't need to read the rest.
Caerwyn leaned back in her chair, the paper still hovering midair.
"So the talk of the empire's finally showing up."
The boy who turned storytelling into a national obsession.
Who introduced mass production printing, rare distribution systems, and narrative serialization into a world that didn't even have newspapers.
The boy who sold fiction at auction for hundreds of gold coins.
"Hmm..."
She glanced once more at the list.
Princesses.
Warriors.
Monsters in human skin.
And a boy with a pen.
This year had a nickna already.
"The Golden Age."
She smiled faintly.
"This batch is going to be fun."
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