The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when Valen made his way through the estate's corridors, heading toward the administrative wing where Head Maid Beatrice managed the household affairs. He found her in her usual office, already awake and reviewing the day's schedules with practiced efficiency.
"Young Master Valentine," she greeted him with a respectful nod, her stern but not unkind face softening slightly. "How may I assist you this morning?"
"Beatrice, I need some funds for personal expenses," Valen explained. "Training materials and such."
The head maid studied him for a moment, then produced a small leather pouch from a locked drawer. "Your mother left instructions before her departure. She wanted to ensure all your reasonable needs would be met." She counted out ten gold coins—a substantial sum for most people—and placed them in Valen's palm. "Please use these wisely, Young Master."
Valen juggled the pouch in one hand, feeling its satisfying weight, and thanked her before departing. His next destination was the guards' barracks, where he needed to find a certain young man who'd sold him the Soul Crystal the previous night.
The poor guard was deep in the exhausted sleep that only comes after a long night shift. Valen felt somewhat guilty about waking him, but necessity overrode courtesy. After several persistent knocks, the guard stumbled to his door, bleary-eyed and confused.
"Young Master Ashford?" he mumbled, trying to shake off sleep. "Is something wrong with the crystal?"
"No, nothing like that," Valen assured him, producing five of the gold coins. "I need your help with something else. I need you to find a skilled craftsman who can create a protective shell for this Soul Crystal." He showed the guard the dark marble-like crystal. "Something that will suppress all mana fluctuations and prevent detection."
The guard's eyes widened as the gold coins caught the morning light. Five gold was more than he earned in several months. "I—yes, Young Master! I know exactly who to approach. There's a master craftsman in the artisan district who specializes in Soul Crystal work."
"Can you have it completed by this evening?"
"Absolutely! I'll leave immediately!" The guard was suddenly very awake, practically vibrating with energy as he accepted the coins and the crystal.
As the guard hurried off to get dressed, Valen couldn't help but feel a twinge of vulnerability. With the Soul Crystal away from his possession, his newfound advantage was temporarily out of reach. If something happened—if the crystal was lost or stolen—all of their careful planning would be for nothing.
The anxiety drove him to seek refuge in the one place where he could be productive while waiting: the grand library of Duke Ashford's estate.
The library was a magnificent space, three stories tall with towering shelves packed with centuries of accumulated knowledge. Morning light streamed through tall windows, illuminating countless leather-bound volumes in various states of age and preservation. The smell of old paper and ink hung in the air like incense.
This is what I imagined noble libraries would be like, Valen thought as he settled into one of the comfortable reading chairs. The novel never really described spaces like this properly.
As he settled in, Iris's cheerful voice chimed in his mind. "The previous Valen didn't realize I could record and analyze books instantly. He spent his days reading each book word by word, struggling through the difficult passages."
"So now we can consume the entire library in just a few days?" Valen asked, excitement building.
"Precisely. Let's begin."
Valen selected a new book from the nearest shelf—A History of Magic in the Last Decade—and began flipping through its pages at a pace that would seem absurdly fast to any observer. He wasn't actually reading in the traditional sense; he was simply exposing each page to his field of vision for a fraction of a second while Iris's capabilities did the real work.
Most of the books in the library were written in Praxian, the ancient language used by mages across the entire continent. The former Valen had learned to read Praxian during his childhood education, but actually comprehending complex texts in the archaic language was mentally exhausting work.
But Iris's language processing capabilities made such difficulties irrelevant. She absorbed the visual information, translated the Praxian text, analyzed the concepts, cross-referenced them with previously acquired knowledge, and organized everything into digestible packets of understanding.
Once she'd processed a complete book, she used the Dream Learning function to transfer the essential information directly to Valen's memory. He would close his eyes for a few minutes, experience what felt like hours of compressed learning in a dreamlike state, and wake with complete comprehension of the material.
To any external observer, Valen spent most of the day in a comfortable chair, alternately sleeping and lazily flipping through books he barely seemed to glance at.
The old librarian—who'd served the Ashford family for forty years—watched this performance from his position at the central desk. He couldn't help but sigh deeply, shaking his head at what he assumed was the typical behavior of a privileged noble youth pretending to study while actually napping.
If only you knew, Valen thought with mild amusement, catching the librarian's disapproving look.
As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting the library's windows in shades of orange and gold, the young guard returned. His face was flushed with exertion—he'd clearly been running—but his expression was triumphant.
"Young Master!" he called out, then immediately lowered his voice when the librarian shot him a withering glare. "Young Master," he repeated in a whisper, approaching Valen's chair. "I've returned with your commission."
He produced a small velvet pouch and carefully extracted the Soul Crystal. Valen's breath caught. The dark crystal was now encased in an exquisite golden shell, intricately engraved with flowing Ancient Praxian runes that seemed to shimmer and shift in the fading light. The craftsmanship was exceptional—the shell fit the crystal perfectly, like it had been grown rather than constructed.
Beautiful, Valen thought, turning it to catch the light. The runes alone are worth studying.
"The craftsman was a master of his art," the guard explained proudly. "He assured me these runes will completely suppress all mana fluctuations. No one will be able to detect when you're using the crystal unless they physically examine it."
Valen accepted the crystal, feeling its familiar weight now wrapped in protective gold. He hadn't learned to read Ancient Praxian runes yet—that was a specialized skill that required years of study to master. But he would need to study them eventually. These runes were the fundamental building blocks of all spells and techniques, the written language through which mages commanded natural forces. When activated with mana, they could manifest the supernatural and extraordinary.
"Excellent work," Valen said, genuinely impressed. "You've earned your payment."
The guard hesitated, then added, "Young Master, on my way back the Grand Warrior asked me to inform you that you are to convene in the training ground tomorrow morning."
Valen nodded, dismissing him with thanks. After the guard departed, he couldn't help but mutter, "They only gave me one day of rest!"
Valen spent the evening in his room, familiarizing himself with the shelled crystal, testing its responsiveness. Everything worked perfectly—Iris could still activate the Mana Link spell through the Soul Crystal, and the golden shell prevented any external detection. To anyone else, it would appear to be nothing more than an expensive piece of jewelry.
The training grounds looked different in the morning light—more imposing somehow. Valen arrived to find six others already assembled: his cousins and the children of his grandfather's retainers, all of them having successfully formed their mana cores.
Only six out of the original fifteen had succeeded in becoming Rank 1 mages. Even with access to top-grade Origin Core Potions that cost small fortunes, the failure rate was staggering. This stark reality illustrated just how difficult it was to enter the world of the extraordinary.
Valen knew from the novel that with the ordinary-grade potions available in the common market, the success rate dropped to barely one in a hundred. The main protagonist had fought desperately with his cousins in his middle-class merchant family just to secure a single top-grade potion, facing opposition from relatives who thought the investment was wasted on him. Typical main character stuff, Valen thought with mild amusement.
But at this point in the story's timeline, that protagonist had already succeeded in becoming a Rank 1 Mage and was traveling toward the capital. Their paths would cross soon enough at the Radiant Academy.
I wonder what he's like in person, Valen mused. The novel made him seem larger than life, but everyone's just... human when you meet them.
Grand Warrior Theodore stood before them, his massive frame somehow even more imposing in the morning light. His scarred face broke into an approving smile as he surveyed the assembled youths.
"I should start by congratulating you six," he announced, his voice carrying easily across the grounds. "Bravo. You have crossed the threshold and entered the world of the extraordinary." He clapped his huge hands together, the sound echoing like thunder.
"Thank you for your teachings, Grand Warrior!" the six responded in near-unison, bowing respectfully.
Theodore nodded, accepting their gratitude. "Now that you've all become mages and warriors, you're eligible to join the Radiant Academy to further your growth and development."
He paused, studying each face carefully. "Some of you might be wondering—why attend an academy at all? You have an entire Duke's household behind you, access to family techniques and resources. Why would you need formal education?"
The question hung in the air. A few of the assembled youths exchanged uncertain glances.
"The answer is simple," Theodore continued. "The Ashford family's inheritance, while substantial, is ultimately limited in scope. If you rely solely on our family techniques, your growth will be stunted. You'll reach a ceiling far below your potential. This is because everybody's path is different."
He began pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. "This is precisely why all the powerful and extraordinary families of the Radiant Empire came together many generations ago to establish the Academy. Each family donated their most precious techniques and knowledge, pooling their inheritances to create a repository of power that no single family could match. This collective wisdom allows the next generation to grow without the limitations that would otherwise hold them back."
"This collaborative approach," he said with obvious pride, "is the foundation of the Radiant Empire's strength. You will grow to become the pillars that support our nation in the years to come."
And I'll get to see all of it, Valen thought. Every technique, every magical theory, everything the novel only hinted at.
"Now," Theodore's tone became more serious, "is there anyone here unwilling to attend the Academy?"
Silence. No one moved or spoke.
"Good. I'm pleased that everyone understands the opportunity before them."
Theodore's expression shifted, becoming more businesslike. "However, the Academy maintains strict admission standards. Normally, every applicant must pass through a rigorous entrance examination—combat trials, magical aptitude tests, and so forth. Only the best are granted admission."
He paused for effect. "The Ashford family, due to our contributions and standing, has been granted five recommendation slots. These five can enter directly without examination."
The atmosphere immediately changed. All six youths looked at each other with new awareness, tension crackling between them like static electricity.
"Since there are six of you," Theodore stated matter-of-factly, "someone will have to go through the normal admission process and prove their worth through the entrance trials."
The implications were clear. Being the one sent to the public examination wasn't just inconvenient—it was potentially humiliating.
"We will hold a competition to determine who that person will be," the Grand Warrior explained. "Each of you will duel every other person here. Whoever achieves the fewest victories will be the one to attend the public examination."
Valen's mind immediately connected the dots. Ah, so that's why Marcus faces the main character during the admission test in the novel.
Marcus was unique among the cousins. When he was five or six years old, he'd gotten lost with his younger sister in vast ancient ruins while traveling with his parents. According to the official account, they'd been attacked by assassins. Both children had vanished without a trace.
I'm pretty certain it was an inside job, Valen thought darkly. Marcus was from the official heir's line. His disappearance was too convenient for certain family members.
After the incident, Marcus had been presumed dead, and the succession had been adjusted accordingly. But miraculously, about a year ago, Marcus had reappeared—alone. His sister had not survived.
Marcus is basically a protagonist in his own right, Valen mused. I'm fairly sure he joins forces with the actual main character later in the story, though I only read the first hundred chapters before...
From what Valen remembered, Marcus possessed a strange inherited ability—a bloodline skill that let him see a few seconds into the most probable future. Combined with the high-agility, high-dexterity abilities granted by his preferred Origin Core Potion, he was clearly developing along an assassin's path.
"You have ten days to prepare," Theodore announced, pulling Valen from his thoughts. "The Academy begins accepting new students on the first day of Spring, which is fifteen days from today. The competition will be held on the tenth day from now, giving you five days afterward to travel to the Academy and complete your registration."
The calendar in this world was unusual. While the 24-hour clock was standard, the year consisted of only four months, each corresponding to one of the four seasons.
"All of you may use the training grounds and spar with our soldiers from morning until evening," Theodore continued. "Take advantage of every resource at your disposal. Master your abilities. Understand your limits."
He fixed them all with an intense stare. "That's all. Prepare well. Do not disgrace the Ashford name."
The four young men and two young women visibly relaxed as the briefing concluded, the formal tension dissipating.
Valen was about to leave when he heard a commotion behind him. Several voices raised in mockery, centered around a figure with distinctive features that marked him as different from the others.
"Hey, wild boy," one of the cousins sneered. "Why wait for the competition? Want us to beat you down right now and save everyone the trouble?"
"Yeah, Marcus," another voice chimed in. "Maybe you should just volunteer to take the exam. Save yourself the embarrassment of losing every single match."
"I heard you learned to fight by eating roots and running from wolves. That'll really help against trained mages."
Valen couldn't help but sigh internally. Main characters attract this kind of nonsense like magnets. Thankfully, I never participated in bullying him.
The original Valen had been indifferent to Marcus rather than hostile, which meant their relationship was neutral. In stories like this, neutral parties who didn't kick the protagonist when he was down often ended up as allies or at least avoided becoming enemies.
Rather than getting involved in the developing conflict, Valen simply turned and walked away, heading back toward the library. He had no interest in pointless confrontations, especially ones that would paint a target on his back for when Marcus inevitably rose to prominence.
On the way, however, his mind churned with a more practical concern. How am I supposed to win these duels? I don't have any offensive spells or combat techniques.
Iris's voice chimed in cheerfully. "The goblin's Soul Crystal contains the Air Bullet spell. It's a basic but effective ranged attack."
"That's true," Valen acknowledged. "I can use that. But one basic spell won't be enough against five different opponents with varying abilities. If only I could acquire more Soul Crystals with different skills..."
He patted his pocket, where exactly zero gold coins resided.
"But I'm completely broke now," he finished glumly.
"There are always opportunities, Master," Iris replied. "Perhaps we should focus on mastering what we have."
Valen considered this. She's right. I might only have one spell, but I can fire it endlessly.
A small smile crossed his face. Besides, I've always wanted to see what a proper magic duel looks like up close.