The ceremony was mercifully brief.
Noon in the main courtyard. Two hundred first-years assembled in formation. Senior academy staff on the platform. Regional commanders from Northern Command in attendance.
And at the center of it all, Arden, wearing formal dress uniform with ranger insignia freshly stitched onto the shoulders.
Grand Marshal Kane himself performed the certification.
"By authority of Northern Command, I hereby recognize Arden Valekrest, age twelve, as a fully certified ranger. Youngest in recorded history."
He placed the ranger's badge—a silver wolf's head—on Arden's chest.
"Additionally, you are designated Specialist, with autonomy to pursue unconventional combat research and development. May you serve the Northern Front with distinction."
The assembled crowd erupted in applause.
Arden stood there, feeling deeply uncomfortable as hundreds of eyes stared at him.
I hate this. I hate every second of this.
The reactions varied across the courtyard:
Admiration - from most first-years—whispers of "youngest ranger ever" and "killed a Shadow Devil" spreading like wildfire through the ranks.
Pride - from Voss, who was grinning like an idiot and giving enthusiastic thumbs up from his position in the crowd.
Concern - from Riza, whose sharp eyes never stopped scanning for threats.
Complicated emotions - from Group 1-A and the top-ranked students:
Kari was crying happy tears while waving her handmade banner with shadow and flame designs.
Serra looked quietly pleased, a small smile on her usually neutral face.
Thrain was practically vibrating with excitement.
Garrett looked relieved it wasn't him up there.
Rykard watched with interest, his three swords resting perfectly still at his side, cataloging everything.
Elara —the spirited swordsman with twin swords—was smiling with relief mixed with hope, like she'd been waiting for this moment.
Brick Hale —the blonde boy with tattoos on his forearms and neck, built like a young brawler—nodded approvingly, his massive mace resting on his shoulder.
Kane concluded with final words:
"This recognition represents Northern Command's commitment to merit over tradition. Capability over convention. Results over rank. Let this serve as proof that the frontier rewards those who earn it."
More applause.
Arden was finally allowed to step down.
Thank god that's over.
Three days after the ceremony, Arden was heading back to the barracks when someone grabbed him from behind.
"Got you!"
Before he could react, a hand clamped over his mouth and everything went dark—a sack thrown over his head.
"Shh shh shh! No struggling! This is an official kidnapping!"
What the—
He tried to use Shadow Step.
"Ah ah ah! None of that shadow magic! I've got anti-phase restraints on the bag! Very expensive! Very effective!"
The voice was male, cheerful, and completely unbothered by the fact that he was currently abducting a student.
Arden felt himself being lifted—easily, like he weighed nothing—and then they were moving at speed.
When the bag finally came off, Arden found himself in the knight division training grounds.
The man who'd kidnapped him looked impossibly young at first glance—maybe twenty, with an almost delicate appearance. Long hair in an unusual pink and blue mix. Green eyes that sparkled with mischief.
But the insignia on his shoulder read Knight-Commander, and despite the youthful face, there were lines around his eyes that suggested he was much older than he appeared.
"Hello!" He did an elaborate bow. "I'm Knight-Commander Michel! But everyone calls me Miki because Knight-Commander Michel is too formal and boring!"
"You just kidnapped me," Arden said flatly.
"I did! Very successfully too! Been planning it for days!" Miki grinned. "The rangers had ALL the fun with you! Three weeks of training, frontier missions, Shadow Devil hunting! Very unfair! So I'm rectifying the situation!"
He gestured dramatically to the training grounds where several knight instructors were waiting.
"I'm going to make you the youngest knight too! Then you'll be both ranger AND knight certified! How exciting is that?!"
This man is insane.
"Does Marshal Kane know about this?"
"Nope! But he will! Eventually! Probably after I've already finished!" Miki's smile was bright and completely shameless. "That's how I do things! Ask forgiveness later instead of permission never!"
Master-at-Arms Gareth stepped forward, a scarred veteran who looked deeply tired.
"Commander, you can't just kidnap students."
"I just did! Very effectively! Did you see how smoothly I grabbed him?" Miki looked genuinely proud. "Been practicing my abduction techniques!"
"Why," Gareth said with the patience of someone who'd had this conversation many times.
"Because the rangers are getting too smug! Captain Voss keeps bragging about his 'fire-and-shadow duo' and showing off his fancy new partner!" Miki pouted. "The knights deserve nice things too! And this one—" he pointed at Arden, "—has a pretty solid swordsmanship foundation! I saw him during the ceremony! His stance was excellent!"
Weaponsmaster Vera examined Arden critically. "His foundation IS good. Six years of family training, likely. The basics are solid."
"See?! SEE?!" Miki spun around excitedly. "That means we can train him properly! Make him a knight! The youngest ranger AND youngest knight! We'll be LEGENDARY for producing him!"
"Commander, he's already certified as a ranger. He doesn't need—"
"But wouldn't it be FUN?!" Miki interrupted. "Plus, think about it tactically! A fighter trained in both ranger and knight methodologies! Combining stealth with direct combat! It's brilliant! I'm brilliant! This is why I'm a Commander!"
He grabbed Arden's shoulders, his green eyes sparkling.
"So what do you say? Want to undergo knight training? I promise it'll be character-building! And painful! Mostly painful!"
He's completely unhinged. But...
Arden thought about it tactically.
Knights specialized in direct combat and formation warfare. Rangers specialized in reconnaissance and independent operations. Learning both methodologies would make him more versatile.
Plus, refusing might offend the knight division. And he needed all the allies he could get.
"Fine."
"EXCELLENT!" Miki released him and clapped his hands. "We start immediately! Master Gareth, assess his current capabilities!"
Gareth sighed but gestured for Arden to take up a ready stance.
"Show me your swordsmanship. Standard forms."
Arden moved through the basic sequences.
Gareth's expression shifted from resigned to genuinely interested.
"That's... actually very solid. Your foundation is excellent. Weight distribution, form consistency, mana flow integration—all textbook perfect."
"Told you!" Miki crowed. "He's got potential! Let's roll him hard!"
"Commander, please use professional terminology."
"Fine! Let's subject him to intensive accelerated training protocols that will push his limits!" Miki's grin widened. "Better?"
"Marginally."
And so began another kind of hell.
The knights, in the name of "testing his physical strength," trained him alongside veteran soldiers. They put him through discipline drills and advanced swordsmanship training.
"Haaa... haaaa..."
"Pretty solid foundation. We can teach him Imperial Knight Swordsmanship immediately."
"Agreed. His basics are good enough."
"Haa... haaa... Yes, sir."
Unlike rangers, who operated independently, knights fought in formations. Their training emphasized coordination, disciplined movement, and combining individual skill with unit tactics.
Arden was learning Imperial Knight Swordsmanship—the advanced combat style used by elite military forces. It built on basic swordsmanship but added mana reinforcement techniques and formation combat principles.
The problem was learning it while his body was already exhausted from ranger training.
"Haaa... Haaa..."
After pushing him to the point of collapse, Miki finally called a break.
"Good job! You didn't die! That's always a positive outcome!"
Arden just lay on the ground, gasping.
"Tomorrow we continue! More swordsmanship! More pain! More character building!" Miki patted his head cheerfully. "This is going to be SO much fun!"
When word reached Voss about the "kidnapping," he was furious.
"THAT BASTARD STOLE MY STUDENT!"
Riza looked up from her paperwork. "Technically, he's not your student. He's a certified ranger with independent—"
"HE KIDNAPPED HIM! FROM ACADEMY GROUNDS! THAT'S—" Voss paused. "Actually that's pretty impressive. I didn't think anyone could grab a shadow user that easily."
"Commander Miki specializes in being unexpectedly effective," Riza said dryly. "And unexpectedly annoying."
"I'm taking Arden on more missions," Voss declared. "Starting tomorrow. If the knights want to train him, they can do it on their own time. Ranger operations take priority."
"Sir, he's going to collapse from overwork."
"Then he'll collapse while getting stronger! That's fine!"
The academy professors were equally frustrated when they heard about the situation.
"The knights took him?!" Professor Aldric looked appalled. "We wanted him for intellectual development! Strategic theory! Tactical analysis!"
"He has the mind for commissioned officer work," another professor agreed. "He could make revolutionary achievements with proper strategy and tactical education! Instead, he's being rolled around by knights and rangers!"
"We need to secure time with him. Advanced theoretical classes. Command structure analysis. Strategic planning exercises."
They began scheduling additional sessions, asking Arden to assist with basic beast theory classes and tactical problem sets.
From this point on, an even more intense hell began for Arden.
Being tortured by knights. Taken on missions by rangers. Asked to help professors with theoretical work.
His schedule became:
Dawn: Knight training Morning: Academy classes (accelerated) Afternoon: Ranger missions Evening: Professor consultations Night: Collapse from exhaustion
"Heok... heok..."
"You're doing great!" Miki said cheerfully while watching him struggle through sword forms. "Most people would've quit by now!"
"Why am I like this," Arden muttered.
But contrary to expectations, Arden wasn't the only one suffering.
At first, the other first-years looked at him with pity.
"Poor Rank 1. Being rolled so hard."
"The knights kidnapped him. That's brutal."
But then something changed.
Around two months into Arden's hellish schedule, the students started noticing differences during sparring sessions.
Arden's movements had changed.
His Imperial Knight Swordsmanship—learned through the knights' intensive training—was fusing with the Imperial Basic Swordsmanship he'd been developing. The experience from ranger missions combined with systematic knight training created something more refined than either alone.
"He's getting stronger."
"A lot stronger."
"Are we just going to watch him leave us behind?"
Elara and Brick Hale —the first and second strongest after Arden—stood at the edge of the training ground with serious expressions.
"Are we going to be left behind like this?" Elara asked, her twin short swords already in hand.
"No," Brick said, his blonde hair catching the light, tattoos visible on his forearms. He hefted his practice mace. "Not a chance."
Serra had already approached the knights after finishing all her semester's theoretical work early. She was now training on one side of the grounds, her periwinkle-blue hair distinctive among the other students, undergoing the same hellish regimen with quiet determination.
Rykard was polishing his three swords with methodical precision. "If Rank 1 can undergo simultaneous knight and ranger training, the rest of us should at least match standard intensity."
He looked up, his three swords beginning their slow telekinetic orbit.
"I'm joining them."
Thrain was already pounding toward the knight instructors. "Me too! I'm not getting left behind!"
It started with the top 10.
They accelerated their theoretical studies, completing semester work in weeks. Then they approached the knights and rangers, asking for the same intensive training.
The instructors welcomed them with open arms.
And gleeful sadism.
"You want to train like Rank 1? Excellent! Let's begin!"
More students underwent the hell-like training.
"Heok... heok..."
"Is it hard? Look to your side."
The students who'd willingly walked into hell looked over and saw Arden being pushed even harder by veteran knights.
"He did this many months earlier than you. That shows how much stronger he is right now."
The students' exhausted eyes began to regain focus.
"I don't care what swordsmanship you learned before but swordsmanship is like building a house if the foundation is unstable then a poke is all it will take to knock it over.
"You can only do this much? But there's someone younger than you being rolled harder?"
"He's a monster? What about Rank 2? Rank 3? They're your age. So what about you?"
"If they're monsters, then what are you? Didn't you come here to be hailed as a genius?"
The students trained desperately, even on the verge of collapse.
Brick Hale's specialty—Progressive Annihilation —made him particularly terrifying to watch. Each strike with his mace built up power, and when he finally released it, the explosive force could shatter training dummies. The knights worked him harder than anyone except Arden, recognizing his potential.
Elara's sword dance with her twin swords made veteran instructors nod approvingly. She moved like water, finding gaps in defenses that shouldn't exist.
Rykard's telekinetic control over his three swords created overlapping attack patterns that were nearly impossible to defend against.
Serra's ice magic provided area control that made her invaluable in group exercises.
The professors devised more systematic training methods, combining their expertise to accelerate learning.
Their hell became longer.
But their growth became exponential.
Rumors spread through the upper years.
"The freshmen are monsters."
"Rank 1 and his group are leading the entire year."
"They're approaching 4th year combat levels already."
"Someone said Rank 3's mace strike broke a reinforced training dummy yesterday."
"Rank 2 can hold her own against 3rd year students."
Naturally, the 2nd and 3rd years began to protest.
They'd been hailed as geniuses. They'd endured strict training. Now first-years were being compared to them?
The 2nd year representatives—the top 10 rankers—decided to visit the first-year training area.
To establish proper hierarchy.
"Nice to meet you. I'm 2nd year's Rank 1."
The military science professor nodded when the 2nd year representative greeted him.
"It's been a while. You're looking well."
"Thank you, Professor." The 2nd year Rank 1—a tall boy with sharp features and confidence from a year of frontier experience—smiled politely. "We heard interesting rumors about our juniors. Thought we'd observe their training."
"They're at the training grounds."
"Excellent. Thank you."
The ten 2nd year representatives headed toward the training grounds.
When they arrived, they saw over three hundred first-years training under knight supervision. The intensity was immediately apparent—knights weren't holding back, treating the freshmen like real soldiers.
"This is... more violent than our first-year training," 2nd year Rank 2 observed.
"Yes. They're not being coddled at all."
"Already surpassed us in training intensity."
"Nice to meet you," 2nd year Rank 1 addressed the knights. "We heard rumors that our juniors are approaching our level. We believe in maintaining proper hierarchy. We'd like to demonstrate the gap."
A first-year stepped forward before the knights could respond.
"I think we should listen to our seniors' guidance. We accept."
It was first-year Rank 31—not even in the top 10, but a capable student who'd benefited from the intense training.
"Shouldn't it be Rank 1?" 2nd year Rank 10 asked, looking confused.
"Ranks 1 through 5 are excluded from hierarchy establishment," Rank 31 said calmly. "They're in a different category. I came out since the 10th from the seniors did."
The 2nd year representatives exchanged shocked glances.
Someone in the 30s thinks they're enough?
2nd year Rank 10's face twisted. "You're disrespecting us."
"There's no need to talk, is there?" Rank 31 took his stance.
The knight referee signaled the start.
The match was fierce.
Unfortunately, it was Rank 31's defeat.
"...Sorry."
"It's alright. We'll win after this."
But as the matches continued, the 2nd years' confidence eroded.
Each fight was closer than it should be.
Finally, 2nd year Rank 1 faced first-year Rank 10.
"Heok... heok..."
"2nd year Rank 1's victory."
The knight declared it, but 2nd year Rank 1's face didn't look bright.
He'd won.
Barely.
The score was 5 to 5.
And Ranks 1, 2, and 5—the monsters—hadn't even participated.
"Are you sure you're the best in your year?" he asked first-year Rank 10.
"...sadly, I'm not."
2nd year Rank 1 looked to where Arden, Elara, and Brick were training separately—undergoing even more intensive exercises.
"Can we see them spar?" he asked the instructors.
The knights beckoned the three over, instructing them to demonstrate against veteran knight instructors.
Arden fought with perfect fusion of ranger and knight techniques.
Elara's twin swords created surgical strikes that even the veteran struggled to defend.
Brick's accumulated strikes built to explosive releases that shattered the instructor's defensive stance.
2nd year Rank 1 watched in silence.
Finally, he spoke:
"They're monsters. Those five..." He paused, looking at the entire first-year top 10—at Rykard's three floating swords, at Serra's controlled ice magic, at the coordinated movements they'd developed through shared hell. "These guys will thrash the 3rd years."
The admission hung in the air.
The 2nd years had come to establish hierarchy.
Instead, they'd confirmed the rumors were understated.