The Apex Hall of Nova Academy was not as large as the lecture theaters used by ordinary classes. It did not need to be. Only ten seats were ever filled by 10 students chosen through ruthless competition, examination, and trial. The room was built of pale stone veined with silver that caught the light of enchanted lanterns, and the Academy's cresta, blazing star encircled by runes, was carved into the floor beneath their desks.
To sit here was to stand at the peak of their generation. Each of the ten knew it, and every word, every glance carried the weight of ambition, rivalry, or pride.
When the great doors closed with a low echo, silence fell across the chamber.
Lysandra Vaelthorne is standing in the front, her posture unhurried yet commanding. Dark hair streaked with silver caught the lanternlight, and her sharp amethyst eyes moved across the students without pause. She was a woman who needed no theatrics. Authority seemed to flow from her naturally, honed by decades of battle and tempered by wisdom.
The ten rose instinctively as she passed. No one dared to treat her lightly. She was not their friend, not their family. She was their judge, their measure, and their reminder that talent alone was not enough. Respect bound the Top Ten in her presence.
She set a slim, rune-sealed case on the lectern. Her voice was steady, clipped, neutral.
"Today marks the true beginning of your path as Apex students. Each of you stands at the edge of history's blade. Whether you dull or sharpen it is not my concern; it is yours. However, Nova Academy does not merely observe. We arm you with the means to carve your destiny."
Her hand lifted, and with a wave of her fingers, the seals unraveled, revealing a single manual bound in black leather, its cover etched with a silver eclipse.
"Kael Rivers," she said.
Every eye turned toward the black-haired boy with amber-gold eyes. He stood, pulse steady, and stepped forward.
"This is Eclipse of Eternity, an SS-rank sword manual," Lysandra continued, her amethyst gaze never softening. "It is a privilege reserved for the Apex Class. Only one among you receives it today."
Kael accepted the manual with both hands, bowing slightly. "I will not waste this gift, Professor."
Lysandra gave the barest nod, as though acknowledgment itself was a currency she rarely spent.
The other nine students did not speak. Envy stirred, ambition flared, but no one moved. They all knew the rules and privileges were earned, not begged.
At the back, Adrian Kaelthorn leaned against his desk, silent, white hair catching the faint glow of lanterns. A year ago, it had been black like Selene's. A year ago, he had still been within the walls of a family that cast him aside. Training had bleached it pale, or perhaps it was grief and resolve hardened into strands. He never explained. He never needed to.
He watched Kael with cool detachment, not envy. Manuals did not make legends. The wielder did.
Lysandra's voice broke the silence again.
"You are also required to join at least one club," she said, tone still flat. "Clubs are the bones of this academy. Swordsmanship, Archery, Alchemy, Traveling, Dueling, and many more. Or, if you wish, the Student Council is responsible for order, events, and announcements from the Headmaster. Application forms are due by Wednesday."
That was all. She closed the lectern, her robes shifting faintly with the movement, and left the hall. No parting words. No farewell.
The instant the door closed behind her, the room breathed again. The nine watched Kael with varying shades of interest, challenge, and calculation.
Adrian rose from his seat.
As he neared the door, a soft, hesitant voice stopped him.
"…Adrian."
He turned slightly. Selene sat two desks back, black hair shadowing her pale face. Her hands clenched on the edge of her desk as though to hold herself together.
His eyes, cold and unreadable, fixed on her. "What is it?"
Her voice trembled, nearly breaking. "Wh–which clubs… which clubs did you choose?"
Hope flickered in her gaze, fragile as glass, but behind it lay desperation.
Adrian frowned faintly. Confusion tugged at him—not that she had spoken, but why she had. This was the same sister who once turned from him when he was mocked, who called him a disgrace, who ignored his pleas when he was cast aside. Why now?
He pushed the thought away. His reply was clipped, devoid of warmth. "I haven't chosen yet."
He turned and walked out without another glance.
Selene's breath caught. She had expected coldness, but hearing it burned more than she had imagined. She remained seated long after the others began to leave, her eyes blurring with unshed tears.
Selene's POV
I stayed behind, gripping the edge of my desk as though it might anchor me. My brother's white hair haunted me as he walked away.
It hadn't always been white. When we were children, it was black, soft and unruly, shining in the sun as we played in the gardens. Back then, he laughed easily. Back then, he was someone I leaned on.
But the years had changed me. When others called him weak, I laughed with them. When they mocked him at banquets, I stayed silent. When he reached for me, I stepped back. I told myself I was simply going along with the family, with our world. That he was better off forgotten.
Yet when he left a year ago, the house felt hollow. And when he returned, his hair had turned white, his eyes colder than steel. What had he endured in that year? How much pain, how much loneliness had carved itself into him until even his very appearance had changed?
I wanted to ask. I wanted to beg forgiveness. But how could I, when I was one of the reasons he had left in the first place?
The other students filed out around me. A voice broke through my haze.
"Are you okay?"
I looked up. A boy with black hair and amber-gold eyes stood beside my desk, Kael Rivers, second in the entry exams, the one who had just received the manual. Concern was clear in his gaze.
I forced a smile, though it trembled at the edges. "I'm fine."
The lie tasted bitter.
He studied me for a moment longer, then nodded and left, clutching his new manual.
When the hall finally emptied, I pressed a hand against my chest. The ache there was too sharp to ignore.
"Adrian…" I whispered, though no one could hear.