The school's infrastructure was astounding—two large buildings connected by a glass bridge, plenty of large playgrounds, some for training and some for rest!
The road leading to the entrance of the school was crowded with students and teachers.
At the entrance gate, Selpe said to Ibaan, her voice calm, "You go to your class. Don't bump into bullies. I'll first find my classmates."
Everyone was staring at him with mixed emotions — desire, surprise, awe, envy, and more.
Selpe was an inspiration to most of the students; she was experienced, mature, and strong even at such a young age. Everyone respected her.
Selpe was in Class A — the second-strongest class. She was one of the well-known students in the Upra Branch of the School of Thoughts and Perseverance — strong, focused, and disciplined.
Just as Ibaan's memories flashed through his mind, he suddenly thought,
'Huh? Wait a second… Selpe didn't exist in the story. Then why is everyone admiring her?
Uhmm pheraps my interferance as extra character chnged the story a bit..'
Selpe stared at him, waiting for a response.
"Alright," he replied with a smile, scratching the back of his head.
As she left, he walked slowly while thinking,
'The protagonist is in Class F, and I'm in Unranked. I can't befriend him while being unranked — it would look suspicious!
I think I should take the class advancement test! My swordsmanship is good even though I'm not a swordsman. But I guess I'm better than average… After all, the captain taught me well!'
In the school, classes weren't decided by the Rank of the Mark branch but by skill—how strong the student was, not only physically but also mentally. If a student hadn't awakened their Mark yet but was stronger than mere humans—those who didn't awaken any marks— they could still get a rank that suited them well.
With that thought in his mind, he headed straight to the president's office. The president of the school was the founder of the Upra Branch, as well as one of the strongest men in the State of Heaven!
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
He knocked on the door three times.
"Come in!" an adult male voice echoed.
He stepped inside.
There stood a tall man with long black hair and a trench coat — the president of the Sri Branch.
The president's eyes widened for a moment, then he gestured for Ibaan to sit down.
Without wasting time, Ibaan introduced himself and said, "...Sir, I want to request a rank advancement test."
The president was always looking for talented students who could become great warlocks in the Sri Branch—or pheraps in any of the five branches of the School of Thoughts and Perseverance. These were: Sri Branch, Raj Branch, Bugam Branch, and Anat Branch—all built in the most populated cities of the State of Heaven.
Every year, the schools held an annual tournament across all branches. If the first prize winner came from one branch, that branch—and its president would receive extraordinary privileges for a year.
The president sighed. "Well, well. If you want to advance, there's no issue with that. You said you're unranked, right?"
He paused, adjusted his spectacles, and continued, "I've had a lot of requests for advancement from unranked students, but none impressed me. So there was no promotion. Show me you're different. Better than the rest."
'Huh? What should I say? Think! Think!'
After a moment of silence, the young student spoke . "Let's see it in the trial."
Ibaan knew very well that the president held a trial everytime for those requesting advancement beside the annual tournament.
The spectacled man chuckled. "Alright. If you can hold out for ten seconds against me, you advance."
...
With that said, suddebnly the surroundings changed, and Ibaan found himself on the president's trial ground.
'It's one of the president's abilities… But I know his plan! Hehe'
Just then, a long tachi sword appeared in the president's hand, while Ibaan summoned the Divine Sword—it appeared beside his torso inside its sheath.
The president spoke calmly, "Shall we start?"
Ibaan hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir."
The president didn't move. He simply waited.
Closing his eyes, Ibaan steadied his breath. He whispered into the silence, commanding the unseen.
"Air, follow his steps. Wherever he moves, come from him. Carry his intent to me before his strike lands."
The wind stirred. Dust lifted at his feet. Slowly, Ibaan gripped the hilt.
The blade slid free—black rougish boundary, white blade— and he lunged forward, eyes still shut.
The president raised a brow but didn't move.
A sudden rush of wind surged behind Ibaan, guiding his swing. His torso twisted, and his sword cut through the air.
CLANG!
Steel met steel. Sparks flew. The president's lips curved slightly. Even blind, the boy struck true.
"No one has ever caught my step," the president murmured. "You're the first."
'Hella yes?'
Ibaan pressed forward, turning with each gust of wind that followed the president's movement.
His sword struck from the side, grazing the man's wrist with its blunt edge. For a heartbeat, he thought he had broken through.
But the president vanished.
He wanted to open his eyes, but—
'I'll die but losing my self-respect…Hell no! But Damn it, why did I get so confident? I have to impress him!'
He subconsciously ordered nature again.
"I order you to blow up the ground with each swing!"
Following the wind, he stepped aside. The dust flew as he swung his sword!
The two swords met again with a metallic ring—but this time, the ground cracked and erupted beneath them!
He didn't feel the force from his own sword, but from the surroundings. The president's expression froze at the sight. Then, in a flash, he vanished!
A blast of air surged beneath Ibaan's feet, hurling him back. Another slammed from the front—then from behind, both sides, and above. The pressure crushed his chest.
'What—?!'
His eyes flew open just as the ground rushed up to meet him. He hit hard, dust exploding outward.
The president stood over him, unruffled. He extended a hand and pulled Ibaan up, patting his shoulder firmly.
"You lasted ten seconds. That's no small feat for an unranked. Congratulations — welcome to Class F."
Ibaan's chest heaved, but a grin spread across his face.
But it hadn't even been ten seconds, yet the president had already stopped and announced,
'Ten seconds?… it hasn't even been half…? Anyway, I did it… Yay!'
The surroundings returned to normal— the president's office.
The president walked back to his seat. "Very well, Ibaan. You really impressed me. You're the first unranked to do so. Although the session ends in three months, you can still join Class F. When do you plan to start attending?"
"Today," Ibaan replied.
The president smiled. "Good. I'll inform the management and lead you to the class myself. It'll help you make a good impression with the F-class students."
Ibaan bowed his head. "Thank you, President!"
...
The president led him to Class F and introduced him to the students.
...
"...This will be your new classmate. He has great potential — Ibaan De Light."
After that, the president left the room.
While walking toward the management office, he wore a thoughtful expression. 'He has powers like Master. I need to inform both the Master and the school management to observe and protect him. We can't afford to lose him—not with the war coming.'
Meanwhile, back in the classroom...
Everyone murmured after noticing the "Light" in his name, which meant he was from the Light Clan.
"Hasn't the Light Clan gone extinct already?"
"Does he carry the curse?"
"I hate the Light Clan. Rumors say they bring misfortune."
"Anyway, he'll die tomorrow."
"Who cares? Ignore him."
He heard those whispers and could easily guess how hard life had been for Ibaan because of his background.
He had even read about how the Light Clan was hated and ignored—even readers disliked them, as if the author wanted them forgotten.
Then, he noticed a young man sitting alone by the window — blonde hair, blue eyes, staring outside with a sharp look.
A a wave of excitement waved through his heart and a thought crossed Ibaan's mind:
'Charlie... the protagonist.'