The Grand Hall was filled with the quiet tension of a new beginning. Below, rows upon rows of fresh first-year students sat in silence, their eyes fixed on the stage. Sunlight filtered through enchanted stained-glass windows, painting the polished floor with warm patterns.
Crimson and gold banners hung above, proudly bearing the crest of the Academy.
At the front of the hall, Nicolas von Aldros stood tall behind the podium. Dressed in formal robes, hands resting calmly on the edge, he began to speak—his voice carrying effortlessly across the massive room.
"Welco to the Imperial Academy of Valor. Today, your journey begins. You will learn more than just magic or swordsmanship here. You will learn what it ans to survive. To adapt. And if you’re lucky... to thrive."
The ssage was clear, as it always was: many enter. Few succeed.
Up on one of the viewing balconies, Noel leaned against the railing with his arms crossed. Attendance wasn’t required for second or third years, but he had chosen to co anyway. A new year ant new players on the board—and it never hurt to observe.
He scanned the crowd below. Hundreds of unfamiliar faces. Full of nervous excitent and untad ambition.
’So many variables,’ he thought.
He didn’t recognize most of them—not that it mattered much. Things had already changed from how they were written. That ant anything could happen now.
From the corner of his eye, he caught movent—another figure on the sa balcony.
Dior.
Seated a few rows behind, shoulders back, posture stiff. His uniform was clean, composed, and his face unreadable. He was silent, alone. Nothing like the loud, prideful boy from months ago.
Noel frowned slightly.
’So he got back into Class S... Interesting.’
He didn’t look over again, but the thought lingered.
The speech ended minutes later to polite applause, echoing faintly against the marble walls.
Noel didn’t clap.
He just turned and walked away.
’Let’s see what this year really has in store.’
After the welco speech, the Grand Hall began to empty as the first-years were led by assistants and junior staff toward their assigned dormitories. Their voices, hushed and uncertain at first, slowly grew louder with curiosity and excitent.
From his position in the hallway above, Noel observed them quietly as he leaned against one of the marble pillars. He didn’t need to hear every word—just enough.
"Did you hear about the girl who can control ice and gravity?"
"Selene von Iskandar, right? They say she can use all elents. A real monster."
"And what about that group with Marcus? The one that handled that incident last year?"
"You an the elite group? That guy... Noel or sothing? The one with the erald eyes?"
’Why am I in Marcus’s group now?’ Noel thought dryly. ’Whatever.’
He wasn’t alone in attracting attention. A few boys were exchanging not-so-subtle glances toward the council mbers guiding the new students.
"Did you see the one with the long black braid? That’s the Estermont girl."
"And the platinum blonde with the elven ears? She’s from House Lestaria, right? Damn..."
Noel’s gaze sharpened. He didn’t say anything—but when he turned to look directly at them, his expression was flat and cold.
The effect was imdiate. A wave of discomfort rolled over the group as if the temperature had dropped ten degrees. One of them rubbed his arms awkwardly despite the heat.
"Ugh... what was that?"
"Did he just... glare at us?"
Noel turned his attention elsewhere.
’Maybe next ti they’ll whisper a little quieter.’
A familiar voice called out nearby.
"There you are! You vanished after the speech."
Roberto appeared at his side, grinning like always.
Noel gave a nod. "Just watching the circus."
Roberto chuckled. "You’re part of the circus, genius."
"C’mon," Roberto said. "Let’s find the others. I heard sothing about a training announcent."
The training field behind the main academy building had been cleared out for the gathering. Forty students—spanning all three years of Class S—stood lined up in neat rows. The sun bore down gently from above, and the air buzzed with quiet tension. So second and third-years already knew what to expect. First-years didn’t.
At the front of the field stood two n: Instructor Rauk and Professor Daemar.
Rauk—broad-shouldered, with short military-cut hair and a presence that radiated discipline—stood like a wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. An ex-soldier from the royal army of Valor, he carried the air of soone who had seen real war—and didn’t care for excuses.
Beside him was Daemar, tall and slender, with streaks of gray in his neatly combed hair and sharp violet eyes behind rectangular spectacles. Despite his more refined appearance, his presence was no less commanding. Every student knew better than to underestimate him.
Rauk spoke first, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade.
"You’ve probably seen the notice in your dorms. But in case you slept through the obvious—Class S is entering a training phase. Full sester. No exceptions."
He swept his eyes over the students.
"There’s been too much chaos lately. And next ti, if you’re not prepared, you’ll die."
Silence.
Daemar stepped forward next. His tone was crisp, his words chosen with care.
"Your training will be divided. Those of you who specialize in physical combat—who use mana to enhance your bodies—will report to Rauk. That includes fists, blades, and beast forms."
His gaze paused briefly on Garron.
"Magicians, you’ll train with . Control, precision, output. I don’t care if you use fire, gravity, wind, or void. You will master it."
Noel nodded silently.
Rauk added, "Afternoons are free. Use that ti to recover or break yourselves further. Your choice. But show up on ti every morning."
There was a ripple of quiet relief.
Daemar’s violet eyes scanned the group. "Also—by order of King Alveron IV, the state of alert from last sester is officially lifted. Additional guards have been stationed, so you’re free to leave campus... for now."
The tension among the students eased slightly.
’Well not bad, if the story doesn’t change much next pillar will be in the dwarf kingdom, but it will not be involved directly with the academy event.’
Rauk clapped once, loud and sharp. "Training begins tomorrow. Don’t make us co looking for you."
After the announcent, students began dispersing from the training field, so chatting nervously about the new schedule, others already planning how to make use of their free afternoons.
Noel turned toward the main building, heading to the council hall. His thoughts were already drifting ahead—about the eting, the sester, and the increasing weight on his shoulders.
Then he heard it. Soft, but clear.
"...Noel."
He stopped and turned.
Standing a few steps away was Selene von Iskandar.
Her short, neatly trimd blue hair frad her cold features. Her cyan eyes t his with an even gaze, unreadable as always. She wore the sumr version of the academy uniform: a crisp navy-blue blouse with silver trim and a short black skirt. Every fold perfectly in place.
"...Do you want to go eat sothing?"
No expression. No inflection. Just a statent.
Noel blinked.
"You’re inviting to lunch?"
Selene gave a small nod. "Yes. I found a place. Outside the walls. Good at."
She paused briefly, then added in the sa flat tone, "I’ll pay. I have money."
It was so direct that it nearly made him laugh, but he kept his face neutral and replied with a small nod of his own.
"Alright. Sure."
Without another word, Selene turned and began walking toward the academy gates. Noel followed behind at a calm pace, slipping his hands into his pockets.
He glanced sideways at her as they walked.
’Still quiet, still cold... but asking out to eat? This is sothing new.’
The two passed through the gates without issue. The guards barely glanced at them—Selene’s presence was enough to avoid questions.
And just like that, they stepped past the outer wall, heading into the sunlit streets of Valon.
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