The registration hall swallowed me whole the moment I stepped through its entrance.
The space was massive, designed with the kind of architectural ambition that spoke to both function and intimidation. Vaulted ceilings stretched thirty feet overhead, their surfaces carved with intricate patterns that probably held meaning I didn't yet understand. Floating lights drifted through the air without visible support, their glow steady and clean, casting everything in sharp relief that left no shadows for concealment. The floor beneath my boots was polished marble inlaid with the academy crest, a design incorporating elements from all five kingdoms rendered in precious metals that caught the light with each step.
The noise hit me next. Hundreds of voices echoed through the chamber, conversations overlapping into a constant hum punctuated by sharper sounds: laughter, arguments, the scrape of boots on stone, the rustle of formal clothing. Multiple registration stations lined the far wall, each staffed by stern-looking administrators whose expressions suggested they'd already grown tired of dealing with noble entitlement despite the day barely beginning.
I paused just inside the entrance, using those first moments to catalog everything my enhanced perception could process.
The crowd sorted itself into visible hierarchies without anyone explicitly organizing it. Imperial heirs occupied the center of the room, surrounded by circles of students who'd already begun forming their courts. I recognized the formations from my research, the way power naturally attracted sycophants and those seeking advantage through association. The students closest to imperial heirs wore expressions of carefully calculated deference, positioning themselves to be noticed without seeming desperate.
Ducal heirs maintained deliberate distance from the imperial clusters, creating their own smaller groups. Pride prevented them from seeking imperial favor too obviously, but they still gathered followers from lesser nobles who saw ducal houses as more accessible paths to influence.
Lower nobles clustered in nervous groups near the walls, their body language defensive. They lacked the confidence of higher nobility, aware they were outmatched in resources and training but trying to project competence anyway.
And scattered throughout were individuals like me, standing alone, either too proud or too cautious to immediately seek alliances.
My Einsworth crest drew attention as I moved further into the hall. Eyes tracked the silver threading and distinctive design, recognition flickering across faces before they'd properly focused on me as an individual. The family name carried weight that transcended personal reputation.
But then came the second wave of recognition, the moment when people realized which Einsworth I was specifically.
Whispers started, not even particularly subtle, voices carrying in the echoing space.
"That's the eldest son. The disappointment."
"I heard his brother disappeared in some forest trial."
"Waste of a legendary family name. His father must be ashamed."
"Why would he even show up? Everyone knows he's incompetent."
I kept my expression cold and dismissive, the mask I'd decided to wear settling naturally into place. Let them whisper. Let them make their assumptions based on reputation and gossip. Their expectations were weapons I could turn against them later.
I chose a registration line with calculation, observing the administrators at each station before committing. The third station from the left had an older woman whose demeanor suggested professional competence rather than either excessive warmth or obvious hostility. She processed each applicant efficiently, her questions pointed but fair.
That would do.
The line moved slowly, each registration taking several minutes as administrators verified documentation and explained examination procedures. I used the time to continue my observations, noting faces that matched descriptions from my research.
A girl with midnight black hair and silver eyes stood in the imperial cluster to my right. Her formal clothes incorporated Aldorian royal colors in ways that marked her as one of the twin princesses. Seraphina or Celestia, though I couldn't determine which without hearing her speak. She carried herself with the kind of absolute confidence that came from never having her authority questioned, her posture suggesting martial training in how she distributed her weight.
Near another imperial group, a boy with features that screamed Castern nobility gestured animatedly while explaining something to his followers. Lightning occasionally sparked between his fingers in small displays that drew impressed reactions. Prince something, probably. The twin brother of the enchantment specialist princess.
I cataloged them all, building mental files on potential allies and threats, noting who deferred to whom and where existing tensions already showed in group formations.
"Excuse me."
The voice came from behind me, polite but carrying an edge of expectation. I turned slightly, just enough to acknowledge the speaker without fully engaging.
A boy approximately my age stood there, his formal clothes incorporating green and gold that marked him as lesser nobility from one of Aldoria's eastern territories. His expression mixed politeness with subtle arrogance, the look of someone accustomed to people moving when he asked.
"You're in my spot," he continued when I didn't immediately respond. "I was standing here before I stepped away for a moment."
I looked at him properly then, letting my gaze travel from his expensive boots up to his carefully styled hair, my expression making clear exactly what I thought of his claim.
"I see no marker indicating this space was reserved," I said, my tone flat and dismissive. "If you left the line, you forfeited your position. Find another."
His face flushed slightly, clearly not accustomed to being contradicted so directly. "Do you know who I am? My family serves House Ravencroft directly. I suggest you reconsider your attitude before—"
"Before what?" I interrupted, allowing my voice to drop lower, colder. "Before you report to your masters that someone didn't defer to you instantly? I'm certain they'll be devastated to hear about your trivial inconvenience. Now move along. You're wasting both our time."
Silence rippled outward from our exchange as nearby conversations paused. Students turned to watch, sensing potential conflict. The boy's hand moved toward his belt where a sword hung, his expression shifting from annoyed to genuinely angry.
I didn't move, didn't reach for my own weapon, just watched him with the kind of patient attention that suggested I was waiting to see whether he'd actually be foolish enough to draw steel in a registration hall filled with academy administrators.
The moment stretched. Then he seemed to realize exactly how stupid that would be, how drawing a weapon here would immediately disqualify him from examination regardless of who won the subsequent fight. His hand dropped back to his side.
"You'll regret that arrogance," he said, trying to salvage some dignity from the exchange. "Tomorrow's examination will reveal exactly what you're worth, Einsworth disappointment."
He turned and stalked toward a different registration line, his departure drawing quiet laughter from students who'd witnessed the confrontation. I turned back to face forward, maintaining my cold expression despite internal satisfaction.
'First test passed,' I thought. 'Established the persona without needing violence. Let them think I'm all arrogance without backing. Makes the reveal more effective when it comes.'
The line continued moving, and eventually I reached the registration desk. The administrator I'd chosen looked up from her paperwork, her expression professionally neutral until she saw my family crest. Then something shifted in her eyes, recognition or perhaps curiosity.
"Name and documentation," she said, extending her hand.
"Kaine Einsworth." I withdrew the sealed envelope from my inner pocket and passed it across the desk. "Recommendation from Duke Eamon Einsworth."
Her eyebrows rose slightly when she saw the Duke's personal seal, the wax impressed with his signet ring. She broke the seal carefully and unfolded the letter, reading its contents with attention that suggested the Duke's words carried weight even here.
"Your father writes that you've undergone significant training recently," she said after a moment, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp with assessment. "He indicates you're prepared for the entrance examination despite... previous concerns about your dedication."
Translation: despite everyone knowing I'd been a failure for years before suddenly changing. I kept my expression neutral.
"My father's evaluation is accurate. I'm prepared."
She folded the letter and set it aside, then pulled out a form that she began filling with practiced efficiency. "The entrance examination begins tomorrow at dawn in the Central Arena. You'll be tested in three stages: combat capability, tactical assessment, and mana aptitude. You must pass all three stages to gain admission. Failure in any stage results in immediate dismissal with no opportunity for retesting until next year."
Her quill scratched across the parchment as she spoke, filling in details I couldn't read from my angle. "There are approximately fifteen hundred applicants this year competing for one thousand available first-year positions. Current students are exempt from examination but often attend as spectators."
The scratching continued. "You'll be assigned temporary quarters in the applicant dormitory. If you pass tomorrow's examination, you'll be reassigned to permanent student housing. If you fail, you'll be evicted by sunset tomorrow and must arrange your own transportation home."
Brutal efficiency. No false encouragement, no sugar-coating the stakes. I appreciated that more than empty reassurance would have provided.
"Understood," I said simply.
She finished the form and stamped it with the academy seal, then handed me a brass token engraved with numbers. "Your temporary room assignment. Building C, third floor, room seventeen. A volunteer will escort you and explain the campus layout. The examination roster will be posted outside the arena at sunset tonight so applicants know their schedule order."
"Thank you." I took the token, noting its weight and the precision of the engraving. Even temporary identification received quality craftsmanship here.
"One more thing." The administrator's voice stopped me as I turned to leave. "I see your documentation mentions your brother Abel. Is he not attending this year?"
The question hung in the air, loaded with implications I needed to deflect without revealing anything useful. I turned back, my expression cold enough to make her pause.
"My brother's whereabouts are a family matter and none of your concern. Is there anything else?"
She held my gaze for a moment, clearly weighing whether to press further, then apparently decided against it. "No. That will be all. Good luck tomorrow, young master Einsworth."
I left the registration desk and was immediately intercepted by a student wearing academy colors with a badge marking him as a volunteer guide. He was perhaps a year older than me, his smile friendly but his eyes calculating as they assessed my clothes and bearing.
"Kaine Einsworth? I'm your assigned guide for the campus tour. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters and explain the facilities available to applicants."
"Lead on," I said, keeping my tone neutral and disinterested.
We left the registration hall through a side exit, emerging onto a wide pathway that cut through the floating island's interior. The volunteer began his obviously rehearsed explanation as we walked.
"The Continental Academy sits on approximately two square miles of land held aloft by the crystal matrix you can see embedded in the underside perimeter. The facility houses up to three thousand students across three year groups, plus approximately five hundred instructors and support staff."
His voice carried the practiced cadence of someone who'd given this speech dozens of times already today. I let him continue while using the walk to observe the campus itself.
The buildings were impressive, constructed from stone that seemed to absorb and reflect light simultaneously, giving everything a faintly luminous quality even in full daylight. Pathways connected structures in logical patterns that suggested careful planning. Students moved between locations with purpose, their clothes marking their year and academic focus through subtle variations in cut and color.
Training grounds appeared to my left, massive open spaces where I could see current students practicing various techniques. The sound of steel on steel rang out clearly, punctuated by the crackle of elemental magic being shaped and released.
"Those are the intermediate training facilities," my guide explained when he noticed my attention shifting. "First-years aren't permitted access until after completing their initial assessment period. You'll spend most of your first term in the basic training grounds on the eastern side of campus."
Assuming I passed tomorrow's examination and actually became a first-year student. The assumption in his voice suggested most applicants failed to make that transition.
We continued walking, passing dormitory buildings that looked comfortable but utilitarian, a massive library whose architecture incorporated more windows than walls, administrative buildings marked by their formal appearance, and what appeared to be recreational facilities including a bathhouse whose steam I could see rising into the afternoon air.
"The applicant quarters are separate from student housing," the guide continued as we approached a building that sat slightly apart from the main campus structures. "You'll have access to basic facilities: dining hall, limited training space, meditation rooms. Full campus access is restricted until you pass examination."
We entered the building, and he led me up two flights of stairs to the third floor. The corridor was plain but clean, doors spaced evenly along both sides marked with brass numbers matching the token I carried.
"Room seventeen." He stopped at the appropriate door and gestured for me to unlock it with my token.
The room was small but functional. A single bed sat against one wall, its frame simple but sturdy, blankets folded neatly at the foot. A desk occupied the opposite wall with a chair tucked underneath. A storage chest sat at the bed's foot. A small window overlooked what appeared to be training grounds, though from this angle I couldn't see much detail.
"The lock is enchanted to recognize your mana signature once you attune to it," my guide explained. "Just channel a small amount of energy into the token while standing at the door. That will key the enchantment to you specifically."
I did as instructed, feeling the token warm slightly as it accepted my mana pattern. The door's lock clicked, confirming the binding had taken effect.
"Dining hall is on the ground floor, serves meals at dawn, midday, and dusk. No alcohol, no dueling in common areas, no practicing destructive techniques inside buildings. Any questions?"
"No." I kept my response short, making clear I didn't intend to engage in extended conversation.
His smile flickered slightly at the dismissal but recovered quickly. "Then I'll leave you to settle in. Good luck tomorrow."
He left, closing the door behind him. Through the window, I watched him cross the courtyard below and approach another student, speaking briefly before both glanced back toward my building.
'Information gathering network already operating,' I thought. 'He's reporting observations to someone, probably about which applicants seem worth monitoring. Expected, but good to confirm.'
I spent the next hour organizing my few possessions, though most remained in the spatial storage ring rather than trusting the room's security. The Einsworth Family Saber I kept on my person, unwilling to be separated from the weapon even briefly. My formal clothes I hung carefully to avoid wrinkles. Everything else stayed in dimensional storage where no thief could access it.
As afternoon declined toward evening, I left my temporary quarters and made my way toward the training grounds I'd seen from the window. The examination would test combat capability first according to the administrator's explanation. Observing current students might reveal what standards I needed to meet or exceed.
The grounds were extensive, divided into sections based on combat style and rank requirements. I found a position near the intermediate section's perimeter where I could observe without being obviously intrusive.
Current students practiced in groups or alone, their techniques ranging from basic forms to complex combinations that created visible distortions in the air from released energy. I watched a girl execute a spear form that left afterimages trailing her weapon's path, each thrust precise and devastating. A boy practiced defensive techniques against animated training constructs, his barriers absorbing impacts that would have shattered stone.
Their control was impressive, their power substantial. Most appeared to be Apprentice rank at minimum based on the energy they could manipulate. These weren't first-years but older students who'd spent years refining their capabilities.
'Different league entirely from what I faced in the Saber Garden,' I thought. 'Beasts are dangerous but predictable. People adapt, strategize, exploit weaknesses you didn't know you had. Tomorrow's examination will reveal whether my training prepared me for intelligent opponents.'
"Well, well. Look who decided to grace us with his presence."
The voice came from behind me, carrying obvious mockery. I turned to find a group of five students approaching, their body language aggressive despite their smiles. All wore second or third-year academy uniforms, marking them as established students rather than applicants.
The speaker was tall, perhaps eighteen, his features marking him as nobility from one of Aldoria's southern territories. The crest on his uniform suggested minor nobility, probably baronial rank, but the way the others deferred to him indicated higher status within the academy's social structure.
"The famous Kaine Einsworth," he continued, his smile widening as his companions spread out slightly, creating a semi-circle that boxed me against the training ground fence. "We heard you'd be arriving today. Quite surprised you actually showed up after what happened to your brother."
The others laughed, the sound deliberately loud to draw attention from nearby students. I could feel eyes shifting toward our group, curious about the developing confrontation.
I kept my expression neutral, cold, waiting to see how far they'd push before responding.
"Your brother was the talent, wasn't he?" another student added, this one female with features that suggested Ravencroft connections based on her bearing. "The hero candidate. The one everyone expected great things from. And here you are instead. Must be quite the disappointment for Duke Eamon."
More laughter. Training had paused around us now, students openly watching to see how I'd respond to the provocation.
'Testing me,' I thought. 'Seeing whether I'll react emotionally, try to prove myself verbally, show weakness they can exploit. Standard dominance behavior from established social groups encountering newcomers they perceive as threats to hierarchy.'
I let the silence stretch for several seconds, my gaze traveling across each face in the group with the kind of patient assessment that suggested I was committing their features to memory for future reference.
Then I spoke, my voice flat and cold enough to make the temperature feel like it had actually dropped.
"My brother isn't here. I am. If you have concerns about my capabilities, I'm certain tomorrow's examination will address them thoroughly. Until then, you're wasting my time and yours with pointless posturing. I suggest you return to your training unless you have something more substantial to contribute than speculation about my family's private matters."
I turned to leave, making clear I considered the conversation finished and them beneath my continued attention.
The leader's hand shot out, grabbing my shoulder to stop me from walking away. "We're not done talking, Einsworth disappointment—"
His words cut off with a sharp exhale as I caught his wrist before his grip could properly settle, my reaction speed making his attempted restraint look clumsy by comparison. Our eyes met, and I saw surprise flicker across his expression as he realized I'd moved faster than he'd anticipated.
For just a moment, I let him feel the strength in my grip, the enhanced attributes that exceeded what Novice rank should provide, enough pressure that he understood he'd miscalculated.
Then I released him and stepped back, still not drawing my weapon or making any overtly aggressive move.
"Don't touch me again," I said quietly, the words carrying more weight than volume. "Next time won't end with me being polite about it."
I walked away before they could respond, leaving the group standing there with expressions mixing anger, confusion, and something that might have been wariness.
Behind me, I heard muttered conversations starting, other students discussing what they'd witnessed. Let them talk. Let them wonder whether my reaction speed was normal or whether the disappointing Einsworth might be less weak than his reputation suggested.
The confrontation had served its purpose. I'd established that I wouldn't be casually bullied, that physical intimidation would backfire, and that I possessed capabilities that didn't match my reputation's narrative.
But I hadn't revealed techniques, hadn't demonstrated actual combat proficiency, hadn't given them anything concrete to report to whoever sent them to test me.
'Just enough to make them uncertain,' I thought as I headed back toward the applicant quarters. 'Not enough to confirm I'm actually dangerous. Perfect balance for now.'
I spent the evening alone in the dining hall despite multiple attempts by other applicants to approach and initiate conversation. Each time someone tried to sit at my table, I made my preference for solitude clear through body language and curt responses until they moved elsewhere.
The food was good, better than I'd expected for temporary housing, suggesting the academy maintained high standards even for applicants who might not make it past tomorrow. I ate mechanically while reviewing everything I'd learned today, organizing information into mental categories that would inform tomorrow's strategy.
After dinner, I returned to my room and spent an hour in meditation, circulating mana through the pathways Jack had drilled into me over countless training sessions. The flow came easily now, smooth and efficient, my capacity having grown substantially from where it started a month ago.
Then I practiced ice manipulation, keeping my techniques small and controlled to avoid drawing attention from neighbors.
Water from the room's small washbasin froze solid in seconds when I focused intent and mana properly. The ice construct I created was crude, barely more than a jagged sphere, but it held for nearly twenty seconds before collapsing. My control was improving, the element responding more readily to my will with each practice session.
I coated my hand in ice next, creating a thin layer that glittered in the room's lamplight. The cold didn't bother me at all, my Primordial Chaos Physique adapting to handle the element's fundamental nature. After thirty seconds, I let the ice dissipate and checked my status.
[Ice Manipulation (Basic) - 5%]
Progress, but still far from combat ready. I'd need more practice before ice could become a reliable tool rather than a curious technique I occasionally displayed.
Around midnight, despite exhaustion from the day's travel and social navigation, sleep remained elusive. My mind kept cycling through possibilities for tomorrow, considering strategies and potential complications.
Thud. Crack. Boom.
The sounds drew me to the window, where I looked down into the courtyard below.
Two students faced each other in obvious combat, their techniques creating visible energy distortions as they clashed. One wielded fire, streams of flame arcing through the darkness. The other countered with what appeared to be shadow manipulation, darkness solidifying into shields and weapons.
No instructors appeared to stop them. No one intervened despite the fight occurring on academy grounds with sufficient noise to wake anyone nearby.
The bout continued for perhaps three minutes before the fire user landed a decisive blow that sent his opponent sprawling. The loser struggled to his feet and limped away without further contest, his humiliation complete.
The winner remained standing in the courtyard, breathing heavily but clearly satisfied. Several other students had emerged to watch, their comments carrying up to my window.
"Guess that settles their dispute about training ground access."
"Idiot shouldn't have challenged someone a full rank higher."
"Academy doesn't care as long as no one dies. Weak get sorted out naturally."
The crowd dispersed, leaving the courtyard empty again. But I noticed something else now, a figure standing in shadows across from my building, watching where the fight had occurred.
The figure turned slightly, and despite the darkness, I felt their attention shift toward my window. Toward me specifically.
I couldn't make out features, couldn't determine age or gender or affiliation from this distance with only ambient light revealing a basic silhouette. But the assessment was unmistakable, the sensation of being evaluated and measured by someone whose identity and purpose remained unknown.
We stayed like that for perhaps ten seconds, the mysterious observer and me, each aware of the other's attention.
Then they moved, stepping further into shadow and disappearing completely. I scanned the courtyard for several more minutes but saw no further trace.
'Someone's watching me specifically,' I thought, the realization creating tension I forced myself to relax through controlled breathing. 'Question is whether they're academy officials monitoring applicants, rival faction gathering intelligence, or something else entirely. Can't know without more information, but worth remembering someone considers me interesting enough to observe directly.'
I returned to bed and eventually managed to fall into light sleep, my enhanced physique recovering from the day despite my mind remaining partially alert.
Dawn arrived with brutal efficiency, gray light filtering through my window and pulling me from uneasy rest. I woke feeling better than I should have given the poor sleep quality, my Primordial Chaos Physique already working to restore full functionality.
I dressed in the formal examination clothes that had been delivered while I slept, finding them waiting outside my door. The fabric was academy blue with silver accents, designed to mark all applicants identically regardless of noble status or family affiliation. No family crests, no personal decorations. We'd all face examination on equal terms at least visually.
The Einsworth Family Saber I strapped to my hip, feeling the weapon's anticipation through our bond. The blade seemed eager for what was coming, for the opportunity to demonstrate its worth after weeks of training and hunting.
I checked my spatial ring one final time, confirming everything important remained secured in dimensional storage. Then I stood in the center of my small room and took several minutes to center myself, running through the mental preparation Jack had drilled into me.
'Five weeks since waking in the Saber Garden,' I thought. 'Five weeks since transmigrating into this body, since discovering I'd murdered a hero candidate, since gaining a legendary weapon and a System that changed everything about what I could become. From confused and terrified to standing at the threshold of the Continental Academy. From certain death to this moment.'
I walked to the window and looked out at the campus now fully visible in morning light. The Central Arena rose in the distance, its architecture designed for spectacle and accommodation of crowds. Other applicants were already moving toward it, streams of blue-uniformed figures converging on the massive structure.
Current students gathered as well, heading toward the arena's spectator sections. They'd come to watch, to be entertained by applicants struggling to meet standards some of them had barely achieved themselves.
Let them watch. Let them see the disappointing Einsworth heir attempt to pass examination. Let them expect failure based on reputation and gossip.
The arena gates stood open ahead, visible even from this distance. Hundreds of applicants would surge through those gates in the next hour, all desperate to prove they deserved one of the thousand available positions.
Most would fail. The administrator had been clear about that. Fifteen hundred applicants, one thousand spots, three stages of examination designed to filter out weakness and incompetence.
I left my room and joined the flow of applicants heading toward judgment. The weight of the legendary saber at my hip felt appropriate, its presence a reminder of how far I'd come and how much farther I still needed to go.
The arena gates drew closer with each step, looming larger until they filled my vision completely.
I stepped through them, and the Continental Academy's entrance examination began.