After Lyra, dozens more students took their turn at the Awakening Crystal.
As the novel dictated, four would awaken Epic-tier elements this year.
One had already done it.
After some time.
It was already nightime.
The glowing hall buzzed with tired excitement.
Most stayed behind—either to cheer for friends or, more commonly, to watch others fail and laugh about it.
Finally, it was Lilith's turn.
Sam turned to her, ready to offer a supportive nod.
She was asleep.
Head tilted. Cheek puffed. Pudding-smeared smile.
Sam blinked. "You've got to be kidding."
He shook her gently. "Hey. Wake up. It's your turn."
"Mmm… one more pudding…" she mumbled.
"Oh shit—WAKE UP."
Her eyes snapped open halfway.
Zombie-mode activated.
She stumbled toward the stage, clothes a wrinkled disaster, hair like she'd lost a fight with a pillow.
Nobles whispered. Commoners stared. Someone snorted.
She looked nervous—until she saw Sam, grinning like an idiot and giving her a confident thumbs-up.
She smiled back.
Then placed her hand on the Awakening Crystal.
BOOM.
The crystal flared violently.
Light exploded outward. Shock rippled through the hall.
The female professor flinched, visibly startled. Whispers erupted.
A moment later, the sigil appeared—dark red, shaped like a pulsating drop of blood on the awkening crystal.
Epic-tier.
The hall fell into stunned silence.
"A commoner…?" someone whispered.
The professor collected herself, then shouted,
"C–Congratulations! You are this year's Second Epic-tier awakener — the
Blood Element!"
Applause.
Stiff, confused, and reluctant, but applause.
Lilith just stood there, dumbfounded.
She blinked, looked at her hands like they didn't belong to her… then slowly smiled.
She turned and ran back to Sam.
He gave her a pat on the head like she was a golden retriever who'd just won Best in Show.
She felt warm. Giddy. Like her life had just shifted.
Which, in fairness, it had.
Many tried to approach her, but Sam just smiled at them — calm, casual… and somehow terrifying.
They backed off, one by one, a little too quickly.
Soon, another name echoed through the hall.
A name Sam recognized from the novel.
Elias Dorne.
The noble heir of House Dorne.
He stepped forward without a word — tall, lean, and intense.
His eyes were ashen silver, cold like a blade just pulled from ice.
His hair, raven-black, fell in soft, careless waves.
The moment his hand touched the crystal—
FWOOOOM.
A thunderous shockwave of dark energy burst outward.
The Awakening Crystal turned pitch black, veins of obsidian lightning crawling across its surface like a living scar.
A hush fell across the hall.
"…Epic-tier?" someone whispered.
Whispers turned into stunned gasps as the sigil formed — sharp, jagged, unrelenting.
Obsidian Element.
The third Epic-tier awakening this year.
And the ceremony wasn't even over.
Normally, they got one.
Maybe two if the stars were feeling charitable.
This was unheard of.
Even the Principal, normally a stone-faced statue, looked vaguely awake.
The Emperor, raised a brow.
Elias didn't gloat. Didn't even blink.
He just stepped back from the crystal and returned to the crowd in silence — not acknowledging a single person.
The nobles parted before him like waves before a silent tsunami.
Sam watched him go.
"Right," he muttered.
The noble heir of House Dorne. Hero's main rival.
In the novel, Elias was one of the few people Sam had grudgingly admired — a genius with no interest in politics, alliances, or drama.
Just raw power and an endless death stare.
And then, as more students went up one by one — some groaning at their bad luck, others cheering mildly — the room began to stir again.
Because the next name…
"Princess Seraphina Elion."
The air grew heavy.
From the Stage, she descended.
One step at a time.
Each click of her boots echoed like a countdown to judgment.
Platinum-blonde hair, braided in regal perfection, swayed behind her like a comet's tail.
Her icy violet eyes scanned the hall without emotion — not looking at anyone, but through them.
Silence reigned.
Boys watched in awe.
Girls watched with envy.
The nobles dared not breathe.
Seraphina reached the Awakening Crystal without a word.
She placed her hand.
A surge of pale light erupted — not bright, not blinding, but soft and haunting.It shimmered like moonlight dancing across a still lake. Not flame. Not frost. Something deeper.
The crystal pulsed once.
Then a sigil bloomed into view — a teardrop encircled by a silver ring, glowing gently, as if mourning something long lost.
Delicate.
Quiet.
And absolutely unnatural.
The hall collectively held its breath.
Even the professors looked uncertain.
Then, after a long pause, the female professor cleared her throat, her voice echoing:
"Epic-tier… Silversoul Element!"
Gasps. Murmurs.
Some students looked confused.
Others terrified.
A few noble scions immediately began recalculating their family engagement plans.
Because Silversoul wasn't just rare.
It was ancient.
Mysterious.
Soul-aligned magic — the kind that whispered back when you cast it.
And just like that…
Four.
Four Epic-tier awakenings in a single ceremony.
The hall broke into confused, awed applause.
Sam sighed.
He just wanted to ignore her.
Princess Seraphina, they called her — but to him? She was clearly a lunatic wrapped in royal silk.
Midnight had already draped itself over the academy like a tired blanket.
The stars outside twinkled peacefully, utterly unaware of the chaos unraveling below.
Sam leaned against the window, gazing out.
Calm. Quiet. Peaceful.
The exact opposite of the inside, where the atmosphere was still too energetic for a room full of sleep-deprived teenagers and dangerously unstable elemental prodigies.
He rubbed his temple.
"Soon it'll begin. Just a few more names and then…"
Then it happened.
A name was called.
Aurelian Vale
One that made Sam freeze.
His spine stiffened. His thoughts stuttered. His eyes narrowed.
Because the name?
The Hero's.
Sam blinked slowly, trying to process it.
After all, he'd been waiting to see the Hero — the real protagonist — the future world-saver.
"Right, let's see what kind of golden child we're dealing with," he thought, turning casually toward the stage.
And then—
He saw him.
Golden hair.
Brown eyes.
A limping leg.
A bleeding nose.
Sam's face went blank.
His soul briefly left his body, went for a walk, and decided it didn't want to come back.
Because that boy—
That broken, bruised, very much assaulted boy—
Was the same one Sam had publicly humiliated.
Falsely accused.
Shoved.
Mocked.
Kicked.
And then forgot about.
Sam stared.
Stared some more.
His mouth opened ever so slightly.
Then he whispered the only thing that fit the occasion:
"...Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk."