Damian gazed at the vast expanse of Eldoris's green fields, with Toph perched eagerly on his lap, observing everything with wide-eyed curiosity. It had taken them less than a week to prepare and set out for the nearest harbor—Nenrilas. To avoid drawing attention, they dressed in casual clothes and traveled in a modest, sowhat well-kept carriage, suitable for lower nobility or wealthy rchants.
The four of them were seated inside, facing each other. A second-ranker drove the carriage, while two additional second-rankers, each leading a team of five Light-Walkers, trailed nearby in concealnt. Not that there was anyone for miles around.
"Is there going to be a written test or sothing?" Sam asked, his expression betraying clear concern. It was obvious he thought his chances were slim if that was the case.
"Only basic questions," Princess Evrin explained, sitting next to Einar, who also listened intently. Damian suspected she already knew this information. "Anyone who understands mana and can read and write will pass easily. The real test is of strength and class abilities. It's different if you're aiming for access to crafting or scholarly subjects—those require separate tests."
"See? Don't worry. All you muscleheads need to do is flex, and you're in," Damian did not miss his chance to take a shot at his supposed
'Assistant'
, who had never assisted him in anything. Sam shot him a glare, which Damian t with equal intensity.
"It's an honor to gain entry," Einar added, her enthusiasm spilling over. "People from all five kingdoms co to try their luck, especially because performance determines allocation. You can keep trying, and the higher your score, the more years you can skip. Only the strongest gather in the fourth and fifth years at Highsword Academy. The final exam of the fifth year also doubles as the ranking test for warriors of all ages who co to prove themselves."
Einar paused, realizing Damian and Sam were smirking at her. Flustered, she puffed her cheeks and turned to look out the carriage window, her ears tinged red. Evrin chuckled at the sight, amused by this rare side of her friend.
Einar clearly adored the romanticism of knights and heroes—the daring quests, clinking armor, gleaming swords, and solemn oaths sworn under banners. She didn't dream of watching from a tower; she imagined herself standing shoulder to shoulder with warriors, her blade sharp, her heart steady, her na etched in tales of glory. At least, that was the impression Damian had gathered from her over the years. She embodied the aspirations of many children in their world before the harsh realities of noble life—sches, traditions, and overwhelming responsibilities—snuffed out such dreams.
Not every noble child wanted the life laid out for them. From the way Evrin behaved, it seed she wished to be anywhere but her ho. Then again, at 14 or 15, this was the age kids rebelled. Damian wasn't certain how old the elf princess was, but if she was near their age, it could just be a phase. Having only recently crossed that threshold himself before becoming a youth again, Damian wasn't exactly an expert on teenage behavior.
Nenrilas, a modest-sized town, was charming in its way. Nestled between mountains on one side and the ocean on the other, it was a well-trafficked trade harbor, though not as busy as Pyron. Winters here were brutal—the massive ocean lake in the mountain's basin often froze solid until spring, rendering the harbor useless for much of the year.
The sun was setting, painting the evening sky with reddish hues as they checked into an inn. Their ship was scheduled to leave early the next morning. Strolling through the bustling streets, Toph grew excited, trumpeting with delight. To give the little guy a better view, Damian wandered alone through the streets of Nenrilas, taking in the sights.
After 20 minutes of exploring, Damian noticed sothing unusual. Though pathfinders ca and went, two distinct mana signatures lingered within his mana sense range constantly. They felt unnatural— it was concealed but unmistakable, condensed mana suggesting second-rankers. To confirm his suspicions, Damian circled the whole town, keeping the inn at the center to monitor his friends. The inn itself housed no notable pathfinders above the first rank.
Damian tried to change direction and walked towards them without drawing suspicion, but as if they could see him from over kiloters of distance they started getting back, maintaining the distance. Having no choice, Damian entered into a dark alley, changed his clothes, and wrapped a cloth around his face. Pushing Toph under his clothes to hide. Then, turning toward his pursuers, he sprinted at full speed. Townsfolk shouted in surprise, and even so guards and pathfinders tried to follow, but Damian ignored them, leaping over buildings to close the gap between hin and the strangers.
Yet, no matter how fast he moved—fast enough to outpace powerful second-rankers—the gap remained unchanged. It was as if they anticipated his every move and could see him clearly from kiloters away.
Before the inn could fall out of his mana sense range, Damian stopped. This could also be a ploy to lure him away and leave his friends and the princess alone, they weren't helpless without him but he preferred to be there just in case. Frustrated but cautious, he returned to the inn with Toph back on his head. He had his fill of not just walking but running and a bit too fast at that. The poor little guy was shaking, holding his head tightly. Damian took him in his hands and hid him in his warm clothes again, only then did he calm down a little.
The one team of the two who had followed them here from the capital had left, Only two second-rankers and five first-rankers remained, watching the inn from hiding. Damian thought about informing the others but then decided against it. He would keep watch tonight. If they intended to make a move, it would happen before dawn—or on the ship tomorrow. And that was if they were an enemy. Though Damian doubted the Eldoris forces would run away from him like that, the mana signatures were sothing unique too.
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