John Markus sat still in the empty training room, his hand clenched around the strap of the armor the teacher had just given him. White light cut through the energy-proof glass and picked out the scratches on the breastplate, giving them a metallic gleam that was cold and proud. In his chest his heartbeat sounded like a war drum, slow and urgent at once.
The teacher stood opposite him, tall and thin, hands clasped behind his back. He watched John quietly, as if weighing something deep, then said in a low voice,
"Hold on to that gift. Not for its material value, but because it will always remind you, someone is betting their faith on you."
John let out a rasping laugh.
"That ten-thousand-dollar investment, right? You really went all out, teacher. What if I fail?"
"You will not fail," the teacher answered immediately, decisive as if that thought had never needed consideration.
John tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in skepticism.
"That confident, huh? Or you trusting my 98 energy points?"
"I trust something else." The teacher poured tea, the light scent of lotus spreading through the room. "I trust the kid who once broke his arm and still grinned while asking about combat drills. With your current ability, you have a seventy percent chance to get into one of the four top academies."
John arched an eyebrow.
"Only seventy percent?"
"Seventy percent is already too generous. If the whole country's students heard that, they'd faint."
John flicked his chin.
"Fine, tell me what makes those four academies special. Let me see which one fits me best."
The teacher smiled, a strange light flickering in his eyes.
"Okay. Listen closely, because this will be the last time I give you theory."
He set the teacup down, his voice slow but firm, each word like a drumbeat from the battlefield.
"Aetheria Academy, the school for those who speak with energy through formulas. Nine out of ten students there are Mages. The lecturers and professors are ability users of the Mage class, ranks four through seven. They build their own research zones and even have isolation wards to control energy fields."
John nodded.
"Mages, huh... Not for me. If I went there I'd blow up the lab before graduation."
The teacher didn't argue, he just continued.
"Second, The Crestwood Institute of Arcana, the oldest academy. It's a gathering of brilliant maniacs, focused on ability research, anomalous beasts, weapons, and weavecraft. Honestly, students there rarely go to the front lines, but when they do, each one brings a store of knowledge enough to annihilate an opponent."
John propped his chin on his hand, his gaze darkening.
"Sounds like academic hell. If I went there they'd kick me out for not remembering the third energy formula."
The teacher gave a small nod.
"You're right. Not a fit."
"Next."
"Third, Stella Maris College, the Support school: healing, reinforcement, defense. Everyone thinks they're weak, but without them no battlefield could hold. Graduates there are fought over by organizations. The teaching staff are all rank four to rank seven, people who've survived brutal melees."
John shrugged.
"Support, huh... You once said I'm the type to rush in and punch first, think later. Now you want me to stand behind others and buff? No thanks."
The teacher laughed out loud.
"You speak the truth. Also not a fit."
"And the last academy?"
This time the teacher paused. His eyes went deep, like someone recalling a person long gone.
"Veridian University."
The name seemed to make the air in the room tremble.
"The youngest academy, yet considered the strongest in practical combat. There, ability rank isn't the most important thing. What they value is survival rate."
John raised a brow.
"Now that's interesting."
"The founder of Veridian was a rank eight ability user, a Warrior class. His ability was A-rank, called the Berserker Warrior. The more he was injured, the stronger and faster his attacks became. A feared double-edged ability. Yet he used that despised power to climb to rank eight, becoming a living legend, now a national symbol."
John fell silent, looking off into the distance. The light in the room reflected on his brow, sweat beading like dew.
"A despised man who still reached the top... sounds familiar. Reminds me of someone I know."
The teacher smiled.
"You mean me?"
"No. I mean myself."
The room softened, and they both laughed.
Then the teacher grew serious.
"Veridian isn't for the weak. The dropout rate after the first year reaches seventy percent. But those who make it through become pillars of the world."
John folded his arms.
"You say I have a seventy percent shot, which means thirty percent fall away."
"Falling away doesn't mean dying. Whether you live is still up to you."
John let out a dry laugh.
"The more you say it, the more it suits me."
The teacher looked at him, a rare hint of approval in his eyes.
"I knew you'd pick that academy."
"Why?"
"Because you're the kind who only walks the path others don't dare to step on."
John nodded, his voice dropping.
"Sir, Veridian University is my destination."
The teacher closed his eyes and sighed softly, as if a burden had been lifted.
"Good. I won't stop you, nor will I advise against it. Just one thing: if you want to live at Veridian, don't let instinct drown out reason."
"I'll remember." John stood, armor in hand, the three vials of energy neatly tucked in his bag. His shoulders were heavy, but his steps steadier than ever.
Before he left the room he paused and turned.
"Teacher."
"Hm?"
"This investment... I'll pay it back later, tenfold."
The teacher smiled faintly.
"I'll wait."
When the door closed, a draft from the corridor chilled the tea. On the table a sheet listing the academies lay open, beside it a hurried, smudged note:
"Veridian, where only the insane dare survive."
In the corridor John clenched his hand. Energy flared in him like fire. Two weeks. Only two weeks to prove he had the right to step in.
He let out a small laugh, a light challenge.
"Veridian, wait for me."