A white light had blinded the eyes of both Ares, Kai, and Kira. As soon as that light dissipated, the hall for the second test was revealed before them. The hall was magnificent in every detail, worthy of being a training ground designated for the elite and nobles.
The air was cold, carrying the scent of iron mixed with oil, along with a faint trace of ground dust and the sweat of ancient warriors who had trained here. Their noses twitched for a moment, as if the smell alone was enough to awaken the fighting instincts deep within their bodies.
The vast training ground stretched out before them: on one side, shiny metal weights were regularly arranged, revealing military discipline, and on the other, long rows of shelves loaded with various types of weapons, from thin swords to heavy spears, reflecting a sharp glare under the high lights.
In the center, solid training dummies stood like soulless soldiers, waiting for someone to vent their anger and strength upon them. Meanwhile, a square fighting arena rose in the heart of the hall, surrounded by a smooth circular floor specially designed for running and physical tests, making the place look more like a stage for heroism than just a training hall.
The emblem of the Academy of the Heart, shaped like a heart with a sword in the center and small, sparkling lightning sparks flying around it, also stood out, instilling an awe in the place as if it were pulsating with life.
Kai and Kira's focus was entirely on the hall; their eyes were completely drawn to it. Even Ares himself was slightly shocked as he blinked in surprise.
He muttered in a low voice, a mix of admiration and sarcasm: "Seriously... the Academy of the Heart knows how to provide a luxurious life."
But his emotions quickly settled; this was normal after all; it was the strongest academy. However, Ares didn't continue staring at the hall, but fixed his sharp gaze on the nearby figures, those who were supposed to be the candidates for the elite test.
There were also several figures standing in a side area, whose expressions clearly indicated they were just spectators.
Ares felt a heat rising in his heart, a murderous intent that almost erupted had he not controlled himself. Right in front of him stood the person he most longed to fight: Ryan, who was smiling sweetly as he talked to a girl beside him.
The girl had long, silky black hair, sparkling black eyes, and soft white skin. She was slightly shorter than Ryan and wore the Academy of the Heart uniform. Ares recognized her immediately; she was Anya, the beloved daughter of the Emperor, the princess of the Sun Empire, and Arthur's half-sister (from a different mother).
She had not inherited any of the royal family's traits, which led her to be scorned. Nevertheless, Ares had to admire her; while everyone might see her as foolish and kind, he knew she was ambitious, intelligent, and knew how to play her cards. Yet, despite all this, she was weak and soft-hearted, and unfortunately, in the struggle for the Sun Empire's throne, her opponent was Arthur... a man with his intelligence, strength, influence, and a cold heart that would crush even his own son, let alone his sister. Even with Ryan's support, Arthur had reached an unshakable position.
On the other side stood Arthur himself, with his sun-like eyes, watching everyone in the hall with interest.
His gaze met Ares's; calm against calm, coldness against coldness, scrutinizing minds met for a moment and then separated. It was as if a silent, implicit understanding had passed between them, a nod unnoticed by anyone else.
Arthur felt a fleeting shock when he glimpsed an unwavering confidence in Ares's eyes, an indifference to his surroundings, and an intense focus on the one standing to the side. A small smile appeared on Arthur's face as he muttered to himself: "It looks like it will be an interesting show..."
Then he slowly moved his head, noticing Ryan and his lustful gaze toward his sister's body and several beautiful girls, despite his attempts to conceal it. Arthur smiled scornfully, exhaled coldly through his nose, before looking away from him.
As for Ares, while he was watching intently, he spotted a familiar face... Selina. She was staring at him with chilling coldness, her eyes gleaming with a hidden intention. Ares blinked calmly, then turned his gaze away as if he hadn't noticed her, which made Selina bare her teeth in anger, her fingers clenching tightly until her knuckles went white.
Ares saw many characters who would become important in the future, but his true focus shifted to a massive desk behind the hall, topped by four chairs on which four people were seated.
But what truly captured his attention were two individuals.
The first: an old man sitting with his back against the chair, bald-headed, with a thick white beard, deep brown eyes reflecting wisdom and experience, and a face full of wrinkles. This was one of the 12 Pillars of this Generation, a man who had reached the rank of Nine Stars in fencing. Ares recognized him quickly... He was Alan Forester, the Academy's Director.
The second, standing at the pinnacle of the sword world, someone who compelled even the Emperor to speak to her with respect. She was the Sword Saintess: Ayla Silver, a woman known for her deadly sword speed, which earned her the title "Crescent Blade." Her hair was black as night, her green eyes sparkled like stars, and her skin was pure white like the moon; her body was graceful and proportionate, reflecting perfect beauty. If Selina possessed a cold, untouchable beauty, Ayla possessed a pure and gentle beauty.
Both Alan and Ayla noticed Ares's gaze, which held no fear, awe, or lust, but a pure desire for combat. A gentle smile formed on Ayla's lips, while her eyes sparkled with interest. Alan's expression, however, remained unchanged.
Alan muttered to himself, observing Ares with intense focus: "In the end, I only came here to see the beast's descendant... Is he truly a beast?" Then his eyes narrowed slightly, before he whispered again: "And it seems I wasn't wrong... Beasts only breed beasts."
Ares had suppressed his aura to almost zero, making him seem practically non-existent. This made Alan and Ayla's interest in him increase even more, as if the mystery surrounding him was breath-taking.
On the training ground, a massive supervisor appeared, his chest muscles nearly exploding from his huge size, his long, spiky red hair swaying with the breeze, while his sharp eyes glinted like sparks. He roared with a voice like a monster's growl:
"The final test will now begin, and it will be overseen by his Excellency, the Academy's Director, and the Protector of the Human Race, Lady Ayla Silver, the Sword Saintess!"
The arena shook with his shout, as if the air itself trembled from the intensity of his voice, and excitement erupted in the hearts of the students who were about to take the test, especially since it would be supervised by two of the greatest figures of the human race.
The supervisor continued in a strict voice: "I will now call out all the names in ascending order... from the lowest score to the highest."
This test aimed to measure the students' potential in using weapons.
The supervisor began calling out names one after another. Each student advanced with heavy steps due to nervousness, then chose the weapon they were proficient with. The sounds of metal clashing against metal echoed in the arena as the students faced the polished iron training dummies, covered in protective enchantments shimmering with faint blue lines.
With every sword strike or spear thrust, sparks flew from the solid surface of the dummies, while the echoes of impact resonated throughout the area. Arrows shot from bows ricocheted and scattered fragments of light when they hit the protective barrier, and daggers only left superficial scratches before being immediately erased by the enchantment.
The air was filled with the smell of hot iron and sweat pouring from the students' foreheads, and their heavy breaths mingled with the sounds of shouts and small explosions resulting from the collisions. Thirty students stood one behind the other, each trying to showcase their skill before the eyes of the attendees.
Time passed slowly until finally, it was Ares's turn.
"Now, the last person... Ares, step forward!" the supervisor called Ares with a deep voice that shattered the silence in the hall.
The crowd stood tense, their faces strained after their repeated failures to destroy the training dummy. How could anyone have done it? It was an iron dummy, reinforced with a protective enchantment, impossible to cut... even a One-Star knight couldn't penetrate it. The smell of iron mixed with oil and sweat permeated the place, and the air was charged with tension, as if every breath the students exhaled carried the weight of the moment.
Everyone looked at Ares, his footsteps echoing in the hall like muffled heartbeats. He was the last in the group... yet, that meant he was the first. Arthur scrutinized Ares, as did Selina, and many followed with their eyes. Ryan and Anya, however, remained in silent adoration, Ryan not paying attention to anyone else.
Ares advanced toward the weapon rack, picking up a sword with a steady grip, feeling the metallic coldness seeping through his fingers. He walked with confident steps toward the dummy, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, his muscles taut in preparation for the explosion.
"Alright, Ares, all you have to do is execute one strike." The supervisor spoke, his voice sharp but sounding dull from boredom, as if time itself weighed heavily on him.
Ares nodded, looked toward the dummy with calm eyes, and muttered to himself: "This is a one-time opportunity... as long as I get a high position in the Academy, I'll get more resources."
Ares raised the sword vertically above his head, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, his chest expanding and contracting slowly, every cell in his body sensing the movement, the anticipation, the raging power within him.
Ares's aura began to glow, surrounding him like a moving flame, heading towards the sword which became enveloped in darkness, as if the darkness itself responded to him.
Ares opened his eyes, which gleamed with a vibrant purple, and swung the sword with immense force. The air around him shook, the ground trembled beneath his step, and in the eyes of those who saw, the Mana threads throughout the hall danced before him, a beautiful and terrifying sight. A knot of Mana threads appeared in the center of the magic circle on the dummy, which began to shake under the pressure.
The air froze around him, and a strange coldness rose, piercing the bodies of the attendees, while the smell of iron and the dark aura mixed with the air, a heavy feeling weighing down their chests.
Slice.
The sound of torn metal filled the hall with a terrifying echo. The dummy was split in half with a single strike... something everyone before him had failed to do. He had cut the magic circle.
The iron clanged against the ground, dust trembled in the air, and the hall was completely silent, every eye wide with astonishment, every sense strained, as if time itself had paused for a moment, surprised by Ares's power. He stood firm, calm yet deadly, an undisputed victor.