The day had finally come.
Kaelian stood before the towering wrought iron gates of the Royal Academy of Arciméor, dressed in a simple yet impeccable outfit. His midnight blue cloak was embroidered with subtle motifs — swirling patterns evoking the depths of the sea and the vastness of the sky, symbols of freedom and profound mystery. Unlike most candidates, no royal escort flanked him. No guards, no attendants. He was alone.
Bastard. Tolerated. Watched.
The gatekeeper, an elderly mage with eyes sharp and calculating, eyed him with curiosity but no outright hostility. Without a word, he entered Kaelian's name in the register of applicants. The court had been holding its breath ever since recent events — the poisoning attempt, the swirling rumors, the sudden, unexpected alliances. But here, within the Academy's hallowed walls, merit was supposed to be the only currency. At least in theory.
Beyond the gates, the Academy's famous Hanging Gardens buzzed with the energy of nearly two hundred candidates. Sons and daughters of dukes, generals, governors, and minor nobility mingled, their conversations laced with tension and rivalry. Bastard blood was rare here, and commoners were nonexistent. Except for him — or so it seemed.
Kaelian's gaze swept the crowd. His mind, tempered by the experience of two lives, was already calculating possibilities.
Three stages. Three trials.
One mistake, and he would be rejected.
One misstep, and he would become a target.
The First Trial: The Hall of Clairvoyance
The massive door opened soundlessly, swallowing each candidate one by one.
The challenge was simple to describe but torturous in practice: cross a labyrinth woven from magical illusions designed to reveal your deepest fears, hidden desires, and mental weaknesses.
Kaelian stepped into the darkness.
Blue flames flickered to life along the walls with each step. The floor beneath him suddenly gave way, and he fell—or so his senses told him. Magic had ensnared him in an illusion.
When he opened his eyes, he was on a battlefield.
Bodies littered the scorched earth. Blood soaked the soil. At his feet lay his own adult body—the self he had lived as in his previous life—stark and motionless, a dagger plunged between the shoulder blades. Betrayal.
A whisper echoed in the air:
"You will always be betrayed. You are nothing but a pawn, Kaelian."
He drew a steady breath.
No. This time, I am the one moving the pieces.
The vision faded, replaced by another.
A royal throne.
There he was, crowned, older—alone. Everyone he had ever trusted—Lyssa, his allies, even his enemies—dead or vanished.
The price of power.
His heart didn't tremble, but its weight settled deep.
He had chosen this path.
The last illusion appeared: his father, the king, gazing at him with cold contempt.
"You are not a true son. You are nothing."
Kaelian stepped forward and whispered to the apparition:
"It is not your approval I seek. It is your throne."
The light returned. The hall had recorded his responses.
The Second Trial: The Arena of Talents
A vast circular courtyard, dominated by the scrutinizing eyes of the examiners. About a hundred candidates remained.
This round was public — brutal and unforgiving.
Each candidate had to demonstrate clever mastery of magic, intellect, or physical skill. Opponents were randomly paired. Some already favored contenders had used political maneuvering to dodge the deadliest rivals.
Not Kaelian.
His opponent was Sir Aldrim De Norveil, heir to a border marquisate. Aldrim was known for his cruel martial magic techniques and merciless demeanor.
The crowd buzzed. This was no ordinary duel — it reeked of a veiled execution.
Kaelian entered, calm and composed. He had not yet mastered grand magical forms, but he had something more—blood and cunning.
"Ready to die, bastard?" Aldrim hissed.
Kaelian only inclined his head slightly, saying nothing.
The gong rang out.
Aldrim launched a razor-sharp air blade — swift and deadly.
Kaelian rolled aside, barely avoiding the strike. He rose and threw a handful of sand into his opponent's eyes.
For a brief moment, silence.
Then muffled laughter.
A noble blinded by sand? Humiliating.
But Aldrim roared in fury, unleashing a burst of fire.
Kaelian barely managed to raise a blood barrier spell — forbidden magic activated through a thin cut on his palm. The shield shimmered, barely holding.
Don't win outright. Surprise. Survive. Manipulate.
Kaelian feigned a stumble, letting Aldrim close in, then triggered a wave of mental confusion using a small artifact hidden in his sleeve — stolen from an ancient palace chest. Illegal, yes. Effective, definitely.
Aldrim staggered.
Kaeian did not strike.
Instead, he bowed deeply to the examiners and proclaimed loudly:
"This duel is unfair. I am a scholar, not a warrior. If you seek butchers, look to the armies. But if you seek a strategist... you have found one."
Silence.
Then whispers.
Then laughter — one of the examiners, Master Elgorn himself, seated in the stands, nodded with interest.
The duel was halted.
Kaelian earned top marks in "situational control" and "defensive tactics" — far beyond mere magic skill.
The Third Trial: The Secret Interview
A stone door sealed with a royal emblem.
One candidate at a time.
Kaelian was led to a narrow chamber with a magical circle inscribed on the floor and a single chair.
An examiner, masked and voice void of emotion, began the questioning.
"Why do you want to enter here, Kaelian?"
"Because it's the only place a genius can survive in this empire."
"And what would you do if you discovered a comrade betraying the Academy?"
Kaelian fixed his gaze on the mask.
"I would use them. Then expose them when it benefits me."
A silence.
"And if you had access to forbidden magic?"
"All knowledge is a weapon. It is not the magic that is dangerous, but the one who wields it."
The room trembled. The circle glowed blood-red.
The masked examiner muttered something half-familiar to Kaelian — an ancient tongue, a blood incantation to detect lies.
The spell was activating.
Kaelian deliberately quickened his heartbeat, stirred his thoughts, but controlled his words carefully.
To tell the truth without revealing everything. Manipulate without lying.
Finally, the examiner said:
"You are dangerous, Kaelian. Too dangerous to ignore."
Then he left.
The light faded.
Results and Reactions
Three days later, the grand courtyard was packed.
The list of admitted students appeared on an enchanted stela.
Kaelian's name was not only on the list — he ranked among the top ten.
Above many influential nobles.
Protests erupted immediately.
Voices cried foul. Shouts of cheating, illegitimacy, usurpation.
But Master Elgorn descended from the stands and addressed the crowd:
"Like it or not, magic does not lie. This boy has outperformed most of you. He is now one of us."
A cold silence followed.
Then eyes filled with hatred, envy, curiosity.
Kaelian didn't care.
He had passed through the first gate.
Final Scene: The Queen and the Prince
In a private chamber of the royal palace, Queen Virella crushed a crystal goblet upon hearing the news.
"They let him in. These fools."
Beside her, Théor, pale and clenched-jawed, muttered:
"He survived the poison. The trials. The illusions. That bastard is a cockroach..."
"No, my son," the Queen replied, her eyes burning with fury.
"He's a serpent. And he's slithered into our hearts."
She stood, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"Then we must break his fangs. Crush him before he becomes a dragon."
In the shadows, a servant listened.
And in the night, Kaelian smiled.
He knew he had just ignited a silent war.
And he was ready.
End of Chapter 16 — To be continued…
______________________