In the large auditorium of the Academy, over a hundred new mage recruits found their seats beneath the brightly lit ceiling.
Several minutes later, a short but still intimidating soldier marched onto the elevated podium, stopping with hands clasped behind his back.
At the base of the stage, a few more soldiers stood guard as the man addressed the crowd, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. His scarred face only added to his presence.
"Good day, recruits. I am Colonel Johan, overseer of this academy. On behalf of the Royal Army, welcome to this country's military arms."
Shouts of pride erupted from some of the recruits, though many simply sat tensely.
Johan began pacing the podium, waiting for the cheers to die down before speaking again,
"As you know, the South-Land's military is divided into two factions: the Royal Army, stationed across the country, the first line of defense… and us, the Royal Magic Knights."
He stopped, turning slightly to the left.
"Yet, despite being integral to the country's military might, there are those in the Army who look down on us."
His head lowered, eyes closed.
"They see us as arrogant, outcast mages, climbing ranks through power alone, ignoring decades of loyal service with raw power. In other words…"
His eyes shifted to them, their green glowing gaze piercing, as if it could reach into their minds.
"... a disgrace to soldiers. To the men and women who put their lives on the line for their nation. And as a former royal soldier myself… I see their point."
Half the recruits murmured, some conflicted, some angered.
Dom's fists clenched instinctively. Bullshit, He thought—but someone else was faster to voice it.
"That's bullcrap!" An older recruit shouted as he shot up. "I've applied every year for a decade and got rejected until now! I went through hell to make myself stronger! How is that disgraceful?!"
"Yeah!" Another recruit shot up, her eyes just as furious. "The Knights saved my village from wild beasts! Where was the Army when my sister almost died?!"
Voices multiplied, echoing off the walls as recruits erupted in emotion.
"Hey! Be quiet!" A soldier from the stage base shouted, but his efforts were ignored.
Johan finally turned fully, his eyes closed, while his body radiated an eerie sensation.
Dom, Roger, the serious teen from earlier, and a few others felt it. A shift in the air, a weight that never existed a few seconds ago.
Then Johan opened his eyes, and a wave of green mana swept through the hall.
The first rioter groaned, gripping his head and screaming in agony. The other recruits were the same; their heads throbbed painfully, their senses fired uncontrollably.
Even Dom clutched his temples, feeling hot iron claws clawing at his skull from within.
"A mind spell?" The serious teen grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he noticed every recruit struggle under the same force.
Moments later, Johan released the spell, and the recruits collapsed into their seats, gasping as the pressure in their minds faded.
"I don't remember giving any of you permission to speak," Johan said calmly, his voice now cold and commanding.
Silence fell immediately.
His spell and glowing gaze had shut all thoughts of riot or arguments easily.
Dom rubbed his temple, intrigued by this man despite the throbbing pain in his head. This guy's no joke. He thought with a shaky smirk.
Johan gave them a moment to recover, then continued,
"It's true that power determines rank here. A recruit could become the equivalent of a General in a year if they're strong enough."
His smirk spread across his face.
"But what they failed to remember… was that power was why the Knights were created in the first place."
He gestured toward the massive portrait behind him, depicting the Monarchs in action.
"Even among the Great Monarchs, the very first Magic Knights… " He said, "Only General Anthony served in the Army. The rest were untrained commoners, nobles, and even former criminals."
Dom's smile widened as his eyes lingered on the younger Anthony in the painting.
"The Knights weren't made for soldiers. Johan continued, his voice stern.
"They were created for monsters-- mages who could do what the Army cannot: operations too small for a full squad or too dangerous for ordinary soldiers,"
He glanced at the first rioter, rubbing his aching head.
"That's why the entrance exams were so rigorous. Real Knights face much worse on the field. If you can't handle that at your base level, then you're just not cut out for this."
The rioter in question frowned, finally seeing the logic in his numerous rejections.
Johan turned to the others.
"Results matter above all else. That's this Academy's aim." He folded his arms. "Our objective is to mold all of you into monsters with enough power to succeed in any situation. No matter the risk."
The recruits remained silent, pondering over his words.
Johan closed his eyes again, his chin lifted. "An average person has E or D-class magic."
He glanced at the soldiers stationed below.
Army soldiers are usually D or C-class. There are some that go beyond that, but it's still limited. But the Knights?"
He stared at the recruits.
"Are trained to have a B-class minimum. Which means, proportionally, we hold the largest amount of our nation's strongest mages."
Dom's brows furrowed. He finally realized the implication of Johan's words. The power the Knights possessed.
Johan tilted his head, his eyes scanning each of them. "Some of you are already at that minimum." He said. "The rest will eventually reach it. You wouldn't be sitting here if you didn't have the potential for it."
Johan's gaze suddenly hardened.
"For the next three years, your training won't just focus on military skills. We'll break and shape you into monsters comparable to the Monarchs themselves."
Some recruits shuddered at the thought of reaching such unbelievable heights of power.
Johan let the statement sink in before raising a finger. "So here are a few tips. First, once you step out there, don't listen to those Army fanatics. Despite centuries of service, they could not achieve what the first Knights did in mere months. So they're just jealous."
A few cheers erupted from some recruits.
Johan raised another finger, silencing them.
"Next, power is our focus—but it's not the only one. You'll also learn the basics of an army soldier: conduct, talent, and feats. Even though the molds are different, the Knights are still trained warriors just like those soldiers."
"Yeah!" A recruit cheered, earning some smiles from the soldiers present.
"Finally…" Johan said, his scary gaze and tone once again silencing their cheers. "You must always remember that your life will be harder than any Army soldier's. They won't be able to hold a candle to the hell you're about to go through."
Whispers replaced the cheers, confusion spreading.
"I hate sugarcoating, so I'll just come out and say this." He paused as his eyes glowed threateningly at them.
"Despite their praise and attention, the Capital sees us as tools. Weapons made to make their biggest, egotistic dreams come true. We're not just soldiers or heroes… we're escorts, bodyguards, hunters and sometimes… executioners."
Dom's mind flashed back to Anthony ending Elon's life all those years ago. An act that lacked any shred of remorse or doubt as he erased a man from existence.
Johan continued, using hand gestures to emphasize his words.
"There'll be missions to maintain peace, no doubt. But there will also be missions that will be impossible to accomplish for regular humans. Some will even defy national laws or beliefs of you and other citizens."
His eyes narrowed.
"But if you break confidentiality, you'll not only lose your status— you might end up becoming a wanted criminal and hunted by other knights. Most guys who go down that path end up tortured or executed."
The recruits shared uneasy stares, the harsh reality slowly dawning on them. The serious teen closed his eyes, thinking, while Dom's gaze hardened.
"To prepare you," Johan continued, "… our training will simulate those impossible situations. And from my experience over these years,"
He looked down at them, his gaze cold and calculating.
"I can boldly say that of the 153 recruits here, fewer than thirty will graduate. The rest will drop out or die."
A recruit flinched.
Johan turned. "So consider this your final warning to leave if you don't have the balls for this." He said coldly as he walked away.
The hall remained silent, the same eerie quiet that's common in a graveyard, as every recruit froze in thought.
An annoyed soldier below the stage clicked his tongue. "I should've given that speech myself. All Colonel Johan does is scare our recruits away." He grumbled.
A snicker then drew his attention to his fellow soldier.
"What?" He snapped.
The soldier smiled at him. "You're new here, so you don't get it yet…"
The angry soldier frowned, confused.
"Most people see the Knights as a fast, easy track to fame and fortune." Another soldier commented, stepping forward. "They have no idea how hard it really is."
"If we soften our approach," A third soldier said, shrugging. "… we might get more knights—but most of them will crack under pressure when the time comes,"
"And when that happens," Johan's voice cut through their chatter as he approached, one hand tucked into his jacket, "…you won't just have weak knights. You might get a broken, deranged mage… like that Mage Cannibal six years ago."
"Sir!" The soldiers responded in unison, saluting.
"At ease," Johan said, pulling a cigarette from his jacket.
The soldiers lowered their hands as he turned to a female officer standing nearby. "Sergeant Sandra." He muttered.
The officer nodded and stepped onto the podium to continue the ceremony.
"If I may, Colonel?" The rookie soldier ventured, his eyes serious. "I understand why you're doing this, but isn't there a… more efficient way?"
Johan exhaled a puff of smoke, letting it curl lazily into the air. "You're the new trainer sent by the Council, right?" He said, glancing at the soldier. "Let me guess… they told you to find a way to produce more knights for them?"
The rookie flinched at the accuracy of the statement.
Johan then gave him a pointed glare. "Then tell those selfish bastards to forget it. I'm not changing my methods." He said boldly.
The rookie gritted his teeth. "Look at them." He pointed at the worried recruits, some visibly trembling. "The training hasn't even started, and they're already scared."
Johan rolled his eyes. "Unlike the Army, we value quality over quantity. Water down my methods, and all you'll get are liabilities. And when those liabilities cause problems, the Council will be the first pricks to blame me." He scoffed.
Another smoke cloud drifted from his mouth, making the rookie cough.
"Besides…" Johan smirked, eyes glinting, "…you're only looking at the weak candidates. The next generation of monsters is already cooking."
With that, he strode away, leaving the rookie confused while more experienced officers smiled knowingly.
Even Sergeant Sandra, now standing at the podium, noticed certain recruits as she continued the proceeding announcements.
Despite the fear and tension, a few recruits held determined expressions, including Dom, his grin wide and excited.
Thirty minutes later…
The recruits were taken on a tour of the Academy, introducing them to the facilities they will use for the next three years. But before the tour even ended, a few recruits had already quit out of fear.
Later that night, after dinner…
The recruits filed into the First-Year Dormitory, where their luggage was secured.
As the others searched for their rooms, Dom frowned, checking the paper in his hand as he walked down the hallway.
Since the Academy ran on a partnership system, he knew that his roommate would be his partner throughout the entire course until graduation or dropout.
Once he found the door that matched the number on the paper, he gripped the handle with a hopeful smile.
"Please give me a fun partner…" He whispered as he opened the door, eager to meet his new roommate—only to find that a certain serious teen was making his bed.
Their eyes met in a brief, silent, conflicted stare before Dom slapped his forehead with a disappointed groan.