Up on the city wall, just above the battlefield, an eagle soared—its golden eyes locked onto the ground below.
It had observed the entire duel. And through those eyes, so had its master.
Once Vael shook off the last of the paralysis, the bird flew away, unnoticed.
Unusually large for its kind, the eagle's wingspan stretched three and a half meters.
With a few powerful flaps, it soared above the clouds, heading east.
Toward the Academy.
Within minutes, the eagle reached its destination, gliding into the highest window of the second-tallest tower. It landed gracefully on a carved wooden perch.
A soft caw announced its return.
"Well done, Grodex," a woman's voice said gently. "Rest now."
The eagle—Grodex—settled into a more comfortable position, vigilant despite its stillness.
Inside the chamber, a long table seated five individuals.
At its center floated a glowing hologram, out of place amid the chamber's ancient decor.
"So, Sirs, Madams," said the woman—the eagle's master—"Grodex has kindly lent us a hand in evaluating our future students tonight. And thanks to that, we saw many… unusual things."
She appeared to be in her early thirties. Not quite in the prime of her youth, but striking nonetheless.
Red hair. A simple yet elegant black dress that contrasted sharply with her fiery aura.
She was the only one standing, tending to her beast.
The other five seated at the table were all remarkable in their own right.
First: a man with short brown hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and sharp eyes. Mid-forties, give or take. His attire was the most extravagant of the group—and his chair, one of only two, sat slightly elevated above the others.
He radiated authority.
And rightfully so.
This was the current king of the Sylwenne Kingdom: King Henry Aurelian Sylwenne.
Normally, meetings not involving foreign powers took place in the royal palace. But this particular pre-admission gathering was bound by tradition—to occur here, in the Academy's historic council room.
Next to him sat another figure in an identical throne-like chair: the Queen of Thandros, Sophia Helena Thandros.
Blonde hair, a sapphire-blue dress, and a gaze cold enough to make seasoned warriors shudder.
A few years older than King Henry, but just as sharp. Both monarchs were capable fighters, but their true strength lay in diplomacy and military strategy.
Of the remaining three attendees:
—One exuded the strongest aura in the room.
—One was draped in immaculate white.
—And one bore a majestic, silvery beard.
The man with the aura was James Thorne, officially ranked the third strongest individual on the continent.
A high-seventh stage core.
An archer—an anomaly in a class rarely blessed with such power.
And he was only in his late thirties.
On paper, he was unaffiliated. In reality? An enigma.
To his right sat a young girl, no older than eighteen. Out of place—whether due to her age or attire, it was hard to say.
She wore a pristine white robe that covered her from neck to toe. Her very presence radiated sanctity.
She was the Church's official delegate, Serena Locrux.
She sat comfortably, unnerved by the titans surrounding her.
And finally—the old man with the beard.
He looked frail, surrounded by an aura of quiet stillness.
But no ordinary man sat at this table.
His name was Haden.
The leader of the rebellion.
And the second strongest man on the continent.
With a core at the peak of the seventh stage, his power dwarfed even James Thorne's.
A mage of devastating ability—one who had single-handedly carried the rebel cause for decades.
Seventy-eight years old. Still one of the most feared beings alive.
Haden broke the silence, his voice cheerful.
"Miss Annie, would you be so kind as to show us the statistics?"
"Certainly, sir," the red-haired woman replied. The hologram flared to life, displaying a circular diagram.
The numbers told their story:
60% of combat applicants slept or rested
20% trained alone
15% explored the city
5% began travelling towards the academy
The diplomacy candidates showed simpler patterns — half asleep, half studying.
"Truly interesting," James remarked. "But why do we need this? Won't they be evaluated tomorrow?"
This gathering represented every major faction: the two Kingdoms, the Rebels, the Church, and the Unaffiliated.
While the rebel presence was new, the others had attended for years.
The Unaffiliated representative changed depending on influence rather than pure strength — sometimes a scientist, sometimes a mage. Today, it was an archer.
For both James and the Church's young delegate, Serena, this marked their first meeting. Their predecessors had died recently.
"We like previewing our candidates," Annie explained. "This won't affect selections, but it reveals... secrets."
Annie's position defied simple explanation.
Officially, she belonged to a minor noble family loyal to Thandros — barely powerful enough to govern a few commoners and maintain a small militia.
When the Kingdoms allied against the rebels, political marriages followed. Annie was to be wed to a Sylwenne noble.
But Annie was different. She had been born of a concubine, enduring torment in her early years.
On the last night before she was supposed to leave, the pampered noble girl — who had never fought a day in her life — slaughtered every soul under her family's roof.
Tormentors first, then all others: siblings, parents, servants, commoners. None survived to explain how she did it.
Now, she teaches at the Academy.
Most teachers weren't oddballs like her, but qualified instructors. In a matter of years, however, Annie learned everything required to be a proper teacher.
She taught Mana Conversion.
While her backstory might be… unsettling, the school was the only place that would accept her — and, it seemed, it worked out for the best.
As to why she was present at this meeting? She represented the school.
She wasn't the Principal, or even the Vice-Principal, but she was the only teacher who was (or had been) a direct noble.
That alone made her trusted enough to handle a diplomatic event such as this one.
Suddenly, King Henry spoke, breaking his silence.
"Let's resume the meeting and focus on the task at hand. Bring up the details of tomorrow's tests."
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't have to be. Henry had a presence — an aura — that drew everyone's attention.
He sounded commanding, and even slightly irritated.
Of course, a man like him could hide his emotions perfectly. The fact that he was letting his discontent show was more of a warning than anything else.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
And so, the night went on. The group of influential people spoke for another half hour about what to expect, and how the test would proceed.
Usually, the rulers attended the exam in person. But that was no longer required, thanks to the cameras.
The meeting was adjourned, each individual parting in a different direction.
The night sky had cleared; the stars shone through light clouds.
This year's exam would be entertaining, for sure.