Another voice whispered:
"I know that family... Daryl cos from a lineage of monsters. They train from childhood. Real battlefield training."
Everyone stared.
Rowan stood calmly in the center of the field.
One hand in his pocket.
The other casually blocking every one of Daryl’s attacks.
Like it was nothing.
And that was when fear finally crept into Daryl’s eyes.
"Well, I don’t frown on winning," Rowan said calmly, his eyes steady.
"I won’t let anyone look down on , so I won’t lose pitifully."
Daryl didn’t pause. He slashed again and again—slash, slash, slash—each strike aid to overwhelm.
But Rowan blocked every single attack. Effortlessly.
Daryl stepped back, panting, gripping his sword tightly. His aura flared slightly as he tried to catch his breath.
"What the hell is going on?" he muttered.
"From a young age, I’ve been told I’m outstanding... I’m rare, elite... yet... this is the first ti soone my age can go toe-to-toe with ."
He narrowed his eyes. "And they’re not even releasing aura. But they’re a Sword Saint... Sword Saints are supposed to be weak! How... how is this possible?!"
Clenching his teeth, Daryl roared, "I will defeat him!"
He charged again, sword raised high.
Rowan, calm as ever, sidestepped the attack easily.
Daryl’s eyes widened in shock.
Rowan suddenly dropped to the ground, sliding smoothly onto one knee.
"I give up," Rowan said casually.
The staff lady’s voice rang out.
"Enough. The opponent has already given up."
Rowan stood, dusting off his trousers as if nothing had happened.
Daryl gritted his teeth, furious.
"Who does he think he is?!"
"That bastard purposely lost!"
"He didn’t fight back... he was only blocking my attacks!"
The staff lady stepped forward, a small smile on her face.
"Wow... that was impressive. Truly impressive, Daryl."
Daryl’s lips curved slightly into a proud grin.
Then her gaze shifted to Rowan.
"And you... for a Sword Saint, you are truly... amusing."
"You didn’t release any aura at all. You were holding back the entire ti."
Rowan smiled lightly.
"No... no, no. It’s all him. That’s the only reason I’m not scratched," he said calmly.
The staff lady waved a hand.
"Very well. Both of you, return to the stands."
Rowan and Daryl moved back, the crowd murmuring in awe.
Even without showing it,
Rowan returned to his seat and quietly watched the remaining students complete their combat trials.
Swords clashed.
Shouts echoed.
So students fought desperately, others confidently, but one by one, the trials ca to an end.
When the last match finished, the staff lady stepped forward onto the field.
"Alright. The combat trials are now complete."
Her voice carried clearly across the training grounds.
"So of you have proven that your abilities are already well-developed — whether you are Sword Gods, Sword Lords, Sword Saints, or even Swordn."
She glanced at the list in her hand.
"However, there are also students whose strength still needs deeper evaluation. Those students will remain behind for further assessnt with instructors."
She pointed toward a large board standing at the side of the field.
"Everyone, go check the board. If your na is written there, you may proceed forward. If your na is not on the list, remain here."
The students quickly moved.
Rowan picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder as he walked toward the board.
His eyes scanned the list.
There it is.
Rowan Aldwin.
He had passed.
About fourteen students stood beside him, their nas also confird.
The remaining sixteen were asked to stay behind.
"All students whose nas are on the board may proceed to the main hall in the academy yard," a teacher announced. "You may take a break and wait there."
Rowan exhaled slowly.
"...I’m exhausted."
And starving.
He walked out through the massive doors and followed the long stone path into the academy yard.
The yard was beautiful.
A wide garden filled with colorful flowers stretched across the grounds. White stone benches stood beneath large umbrellas. A peaceful fountain flowed at the center.
Rowan found an empty seat beneath one of the umbrellas and dropped his bag beside him.
I didn’t think the first day would be this tiring...
Just then, a familiar voice called out.
"Master, are you done?"
Rowan looked up.
"Elian?"
She walked toward him with a gentle smile.
"Did you pass?" Rowan asked.
Elian nodded. "Yes. But not for sword. I passed for magic. I’ll be teaching in the mage division."
She lowered her gaze slightly. "So... I won’t be in your class."
Rowan smiled warmly. "That’s fine. We’ll still see each other every day."
Elian’s expression brightened.
She handed him a small wrapped al.
"I brought this for you."
Rowan opened it.
Rice and skewers.
His eyes lit up.
"Thank you. I’m starving."
He started eating imdiately.
Elian laughed softly as she watched him.
Then—
The atmosphere in the academy yard suddenly shifted.
Whispers spread through the garden.
"Wow... who is that?"
"She’s beautiful..."
"Is she an angel?"
"Who is she?"
Students slowly turned their heads.
Rowan looked up, confused.
And then he saw her.
Elian stood beneath the sunlight, her long dark hair flowing gently in the breeze. The light reflected softly against her skin, giving her an almost unreal presence. Her calm expression, her gentle eyes, her quiet elegance — it was enough to draw everyone’s attention without her even trying.
Students stared.
So froze.
So whispered.
So couldn’t look away.
Rowan blinked.
...They’re talking about Elian?
He glanced around and saw dozens of students openly staring at her.
Elian kept smiling as she watched Rowan eat.
She moved with a gentle elegance, light and graceful, as if the world itself made space for her. Then she stepped closer to Rowan.
"Master... you have sothing on your face. On your mouth," she said softly.
Before Rowan could react, she reached out and wiped the corner of his lips with a handkerchief.
The entire academy yard went silent.
Then—
The killing intent exploded.
Dozens of students froze.
Veins popped.
Teeth clenched.
Fists tightened.
"Who the hell does he think he is?"
"That bastard..."
"I’m going to kill him."
"How dare he let her touch him?"
"That lucky bastard should die."
Rowan felt it instantly.
A wave of murderous pressure rolled toward him from every direction.
...Why do I suddenly feel like I walked into a battlefield?
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