"Yo. I want to join."
Axel's voice cut through the noise of the courtyard as he approached the duo.
The man glanced up from his sword, giving Axel a slow once-over. A few weeks ago, the boy standing before him had been thinner, wirier. But training had reshaped him. His frame was more defined; his arms lean but visibly stronger. His jawline was sharper now, carved clean by time and effort. Still, to someone built like a brick, Axel looked like a sturdy stick. Breakable, but with just enough durability to be used as an imaginary weapon.
"Name and year?" the woman asked, her voice crisp.
"Axel Lycan. First-year."
She tilted her head slightly. "You're not the first. We've had a lot of first years try out and eat dirt. What makes you special?"
Axel met her gaze. "You'll have to duel me to find out."
That earned a smirk from the woman. "Confident now, are we? Me or him?"
Her stance was easy but unreadable. Sharp eyes. No wasted movement. Ranked 25th compared to 46th was faster and sharper. She focused more on agility while the man was brute force.
"Him." Axel pointed at the man. The safer bet. Relatively speaking.
They stepped away from the booth and into the roped-off clearing. The crowd noticed, and a quiet ripple passed through the onlookers as space widened around them.
Like his battle with Landon, it was pure swordsmanship. No mana, no skills, no nothing.
The man reached into a nearby rack and casually tossed Axel a wooden sword which Axel caught easily.
The upperclassman rolled his shoulders and took a relaxed stance. Casual, like this was a warm-up set.
"Ready?" the man asked.
"Ready."
Three
Two
One
GO!
Axel braced. The moment "go" was called, the man moved, closing the distance with terrifying speed for someone his size. Axel barely ducked under the first swing, the wind from the wooden blade brushing his cheek.
Shit, he's fast.
He didn't even get a chance to counter as another strike came down, and Axel twisted, the blunt sword narrowly missing his shoulder. He stumbled back, catching himself, and repositioned.
The man didn't chase.
He smiled.
A test.
Axel exhaled. Okay. No rush. Just wait.
The next strike came low, a sweeping cut meant to knock him off balance. Axel jumped, his knees tucking in tight before landing cleanly, and immediately pivoted behind. He swung for the back—
but the man stepped to the side like he'd seen it coming three seconds ago.
Axel didn't stop moving. He darted back in, trying to force an opening. His strikes were faster, snaps of the wrist, sharp angles, nothing fancy. Just pressure. But every move was blocked, deflected, punished with a heavy counter that left Axel scrambling.
He was barely hanging on.
A step too slow and he'd be eating dirt.
But something was changing.
The man was breathing heavier now, not from exhaustion, but laughter. Enjoyment. Axel realized it: he was entertaining.
"Not bad," the upperclassman muttered. "You're not just swinging blindly."
Axel didn't respond.
He was waiting.
Watching.
There. A moment. A slow shift in the man's footwork after a missed side-swipe.
Axel didn't hesitate. He ducked low, swept to the left, and instead of striking with strength, he flicked the wooden sword forward in a tight arc
Thwack.
The blade tapped the man's shoulder.
Just a touch, but a clean one.
Silence fell.
The crowd leaned forward.
The man stared down at the point of contact, then at Axel.
Then he started laughing.
"Well damn," he said. "You actually tagged me."
The woman blinked, crossing her arms with an amused smile. "Guess we found our once-a-year surprise."
Axel let his blade drop to his side, chest rising and falling from the exertion.
"So… I'm in?"
The man nodded. "Yeah. You're in."
The woman stepped forward and handed him a silver pin shaped like a sword's point. "Welcome to the Sword Enthusiast Club. I'm the president, Elena Nyx, and he's the vice-president, Gerald Hiken. Try not to embarrass us."
"I'll do my best," Axel said, pinning it to his collar.
He walked off as the crowd started to disperse, murmuring to themselves.
One club down, one more to go.
But this next one wasn't in any brochure.
No floating banners. No flashy magic displays. No peppy seniors in matching uniforms.
He was going for the club that wasn't listed in the public directory. A recruitment-only club with ties to the Black Market and to a rich social circle. He had to find The Ravenveil Circle.
And it was run by Miss Turns-Everything-To-Gold, the one and only, Mico Valeine.
Officially, it was a "Special Networking Initiative for Gifted Students."
Unofficially, it was where the elites and gifted gathered to form secret pacts, trade favors, and build foundations for careers beyond the battlefield.
You didn't find Ravenveil.
Ravenveil found you.
Only the best of the best got handpicked and invited. And "best" didn't just mean raw power. They factored in everything. Background, political weight, market potential, even your social circle.
Was Axel invited?
Hell no.
But that wasn't going to stop him. He was never going to pass up on the opportunity to extort rich, second-generation heirs.