By the timethey left the dormitory, the academy was fully awake. Students streamed through the stone pathways in organized currents — some laughing, some whispering, others walking in stiff silence as if already aware of where they stood in the invisible hierarchy forming around them.
The morning air was cool, touched by the faint scent of cut grass and mana-infused stone.
Above, the academy towers shimmered faintly with protective sigils, their surfaces catching the sunlight like quiet sentinels watching over a fragile
peace.
Rin walked half a step behind Riven. Not intentionally, perhaps — but naturally.
He carried a small leather-bound notebook clutched to his chest, fingers gripping it as
though it offered stability. His uniform was neat, collar slightly too tight, sleeves tugged down as if to hide the thinness of his wrists.
"So… orientation is in the Grand Assembly Hall," Rin said cautiously, glancing sideways. "They said all first-year divisions will be assigned today."
Riven gave a small nod.
"I heard."
Silence returned between them, not hostile — just heavy. Rin tried again.
"Your evaluation… D-rank physical type, right?"
"Yes."
"That's… that's good," Rin added quickly. "Combat tracks have more opportunity for merit
advancement. Even if you're not noble."
Riven's gaze remained forward.
"Opportunity,"
Riven repeated quietly, as if testing the word. Rin didn't catch the weight in it. They walked beneath a row of arching stone pillars engraved with faintly glowing runes. Students parted slightly as they approached the central plaza, where the Grand
Assembly Hall loomed — a massive circular structure of pale marble and crystalline inlays that pulsed gently with mana circulation.
The doors were already open. Inside, hundreds of seats rose in curved tiers, descending toward a central platform. Instructors stood along the edges, robes embroidered with rank insignias that
shimmered subtly in shifting light. Riven stepped inside. And immediately felt it. Mana density.
Thicker here.
Layered in complex formations woven into the walls. Defensive barriers. Surveillance arrays. Suppression fields. The academy was not merely a school. It was a fortress.
"How didn't i notice it before"
Rin leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"They say the Headmaster himself will address us." Riven's eyes scanned the upper balconies instinctively. Who's watching? A hush fell
gradually across the hall. An elderly
man stepped onto the central platform. He did not
radiate overwhelming presence. He did not raise his voice. And yet, the room stilled completely. His hair was white, bound neatly at the back. His robes were simple compared to the others — but the air around him carried density.
"Welcome," the Headmaster began.
His voice carried without strain, resonating clearly in every corner of the hall. "You have
been evaluated not for what you are… but for what you may become."
A pause.
"In this academy, potential grants opportunity. Discipline determines outcome." Riven
listened, but only partially. His attention had shifted.
Across the hall. Upper tier seating — reserved section. There she was.
Qiyana.
Seated among the highest-potential students.
Calm.
Indiferent.
Untouched by the nervous energy that gripped the others around her. Riven's chest tightened, but he did not look away. He forced himself to observe her like a strategist. Her posture. Breathing. Mana
circulation. She was already training subconsciously. You were always ahead of me in raw talent, he thought quietly. His gaze lingered half a second too long. As if sensing it—Her eyes
shifted. Met his. Across the massive hall. No warmth. Just faint irritation. She turned away first. Riven lowered his gaze. The melancholy returned — quiet and suffocating.
Division Assignments . After the address, instructors began calling names. Students
were divided into foundational groups:
Combat Fiundation.
Arcane Theory.
Support Specialization.
Noble Advancement Track.
Elemental Mastery Division.
When Rin's name was called, he stiffened.
"Rin Vale — Support Specialization Division C." Rin's shoulders relaxed slightly — relief more than pride.
When Riven's name echoed through the hall:
"Riven — Combat Foundation Division Three."
A standard placement. Students began rising, filtering into designated sections. Rin hesitated.
"…We're separated."
"Yes," Riven replied.
Rin shifted awkwardly. "I'll… see you at the dorm later, then." Riven nodded once. Rin gave a
small bow before walking toward his assigned instructor. For a brief moment, Riven watched him go.
The boy's steps were uncertain but determined.
Fragile — but trying. Riven turned away. There was no room for fragile attachments. Not this time.
Combat Foundation Division Three assembled in a secondary training hall. The instructor assigned to them was a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his cheek and eyes that had seen real battle.
He did not smile. "Those of you placed here," he began, pacing slowly, "have shown potential for physical combat roles. That does not mean you are strong." His gaze swept across them. "It means
you are unfinished weapons." A murmur rippled through the group. Riven stood near the back. The
instructor stopped in front of him briefly. Studied him. Something flickered in the man's eyes. Then he moved on.
"Today," he continued, "we begin with control."
Wooden practice blades were distributed.
Riven accepted his without comment. The weight
was familiar.
"Demonstrate basic stance."
Students shifted awkwardly. Riven moved
naturally into position. The instructor's steps slowed again. Riven adjusted immediately — loosening his shoulders, slightly destabilizing his
posture, dulling the sharpness of his stance.The instructor narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
As drills began — simple footwork, basic strikes, recovery positions — Riven followed the rhythm of the class. Deliberately slower. Deliberately imperfect. And yet— His body remembered too well. Every correction came instinctively before he could stop it. Every angle aligned too precisely. Every pivot too efficient. He forced himself to stumble once. Let his blade scrape the floor.
Let his breathing grow uneven. He could not
afford to be seen. Not yet. But as the session continued, one thought settled heavily in his mind:
Even if I hide…
How long can I truly pretend to be ordinary?
Across the academy grounds, in a different hall, Qiyana's training began at a far more
advanced level.
And somewhere, high above the academy, unseen eyes continued watching.