A full month has passed, and Elyon and Cyrn are sitting in a carriage, less than a few minutes out from Faraam Academy.
Cyrn chuckled at the obvious reference Silas put in. Subtle dude, very subtle.
Cyrn turned to Elyon and asked, "So what's the format for the entrance exam again?"
Elyon turned to look at him, surprise overwriting the bored look he's had on his face since they got close. "Dud,e I've told you 8 times already, it's just a duel-based tournament. Nothing crazy.
Tons of people will be watching, though. It even gets broadcast on holo crystals across the country."
Cyrn chuckled, "Seems like overkill for a bunch of kids fighting each other."
Elyon laughed, "Yeah, but this is one of two SoulCurrent academies in the entire continent, the other being located in the Volligrad Union, but theirs is more academically based, where ours is combat-based. We help with warfronts, dungeon clearing, police work, etc. We're the strong ones, they're the smart ones, so our entrance exam has become pretty entertaining for people."
Cyrn nodded his head, taking a deep breath and mentally preparing for the duels he's about to go into.
Elyon said that there won't be anybody there stronger than him, and I've been getting my ass whopped by him for the past month now, making this sword technique. I should at least place in the top 10, maybe top 5 if I'm lucky.
Cyrn was hopeful about his placement and also curious as to how strong he was compared to people his age. Elyon was a terrible metric. He was 19 and was considered to be easily in the top 100 ranking of Soulwrights in the world, with his potential easily putting him at 1 if he fully realized it.
Cyrn spoke up, "You know I always wanted to ask, why attend the academy when you're already this strong? It seems kind of pointless if you ask me. If they wanted you stronger, shouldn't they just send you out into the field already? Clear Dungeons, fight in battles?"
Elyon shrugged his shoulders. "No clue. But I agree this is pretty pointless, I'll be stronger than most professors, with only a few elites and the headmaster himself being able to overpower me. Maybe dear ol' dad wants me to train under him while I'm here; they are pretty close."
Cyrn raised an eyebrow, "Why would they be close?"
Elyon responded with practiced efficiency, as if he's heard this story millions of times.
"The DeBeaumont household is actually incredibly young compared to other Ducal houses. We've only been around for about 30 years now. My father was originally the Earl under the Ravenswood territory, and did some dungeon diving as a 6-star warrior with a young Xavier. Xavier was a prodigy, but a commoner, and my father was willing to support his rise as the son of an earl, and next in line for the title. One day, while dungeon diving, he and Xavier found an unconscious girl, brought her back to the surface, and discovered that she was, at the time, the current princess and now Queen. She ascended soon after the incident with the help of the current king, and boom, declared my father a Duke. Father and Xavier have been close ever since."
Cyrn paused in surprise, thinking the DeBeaumonts have been around for ages, not just 30 years. "Wow, that's pretty impressive."
Elyon scoffed, "He just got lucky, then I was born, the perfect tool to solidify the power of a fresh Dukedom. Yay." He sounded exhausted.
Cyrn knew how Elyon felt about his family and his power. He didn't press the subject any further, and soon, the carriage stopped, with the driver turning to say, "We've arrived".
Cyrn and Elyon stepped out, and Cyrn was met with what he could only describe as the Roman Colosseum, only much larger, and seemingly restored to its original glory.
"Damn, this is impressive," Cyrn said in awe. Elyon just shrugged, unimpressed by the architecture. "It's alright, I've seen better. The Royal Castle is even crazier than this".
Cyrn was amazed. How the fuck do you top this?
Both entered through the main gate and walked to a viewing platform reserved for the DeBeaumont family. Cyrn looked around and saw people already down in the colosseum fighting.
"Are we late? I thought there would only be duels? This looks like a battle royal?" Cyrn asked, staring at the people fighting.
Elyon didn't take his eyes away from the arena as well, "It is a duel-style tournament. However, after the initial screening phase. Usually, there are 50 'special admits' from noble or notable houses, 51 this year because of you. Besides those 50, there are thousands of applicants, if not more, that participate in a gladiatorial-style battle royal, where only the top 50 are allowed to continue to the next dueling phase. Those 100 are all already admitted into the academy; the duel determines class placement. There are 5 different classes, 20 students each, with class 1 being the strongest, and class 5 the weakest."
Cyrn nodded his head at the info dump, then asked again, still analyzing his future opponents. "Wait, if there's an odd number of students this year, then it'll be a little harder to determine brackets, no?"
Elyon smiled, something sadistic and evil, "Well, yeah, that would be the case, but you're fighting in my place until I feel like hopping in, you can take care of my cannon fodder while I relax."
Cyrn finally peeled his eyes away from the arena, now staring at Elyon. His frustration is evident.
"What the fuck?! You treat me like a cow for butchering for an entire month, dicing me like a damn steak, only to throw me to the wolves so you don't have to work?!"
Elyon laughed, "Hahahaha! Think of it as a valuable training experience; everyone here knows I'm finishing first, so it'll be hard for them to duel me, especially in the earlier rounds. People will forfeit and be placed in a class not reflective of their skill. Plus, your sword technique specifically is very dependent on gathering information from other styles, and you've only sparred with me for the last month. Time to put that almighty adaptation to the test."
Elyon finished, his smug smile still plastered on his face.
"God's, why am I your friend?"
"Ahh, come on, you know I'm right."
"Doesn't make me feel any better, El." Cyrn gave the nickname at some point over the last month. Easier, he thought.
"Wasn't supposed to," Elyon said, snickering.
Cyrn sighed and sat down. It looked like the battle royal was calming down slightly. A few moments later, every student was held in place, unable to move, while a robed figure floated above the arena and made an announcement.
"To all participants. The first round of the entrance exam has been completed. You are now officially Faraam Academy students. However, this upcoming tournament will determine how your stay at our academy goes. Whether you rise to the top or fall into the pits of mediocrity. Good luck!"
The figure disappeared, and healers began to flood the arena, healing the remaining students and carting off the rest that weren't so lucky.
Cyrn stared in astonishment. "Wait, do people die in the first round?"
Elyon nodded, "Yep, it's frowned upon but not banned, unlike the second round where killing your opponent isn't permitted."
Cyrn's eyes blew wide in surprise. "What, why is it like that??"
Elyon shrugged. "Those applicants are seldom of noble blood, so the kingdom doesn't fund the academy enough to protect them. Not worth their time, apparently."
Cyrn clenched his jaw. He didn't say anything.
But part of him — maybe the part still tethered to Earth — wanted to scream.
Cyrn knew he wouldn't get his answer for a while, but before he could dwell on this any further, the announcer returned.
"I'd like to officially commence the start of Faraam Academy's annual placement duel! Thalen Fimblewinter and Andreas Farbridge Griffin — to the platform.".
Elyon chimed in quickly, "Hey, pay attention to those two. Thalen is considered a prodigy of this generation, and Andreas is the crown prince. This'll be interesting."
Cyrn nodded, eyes locked onto the battle.
The announcer yelled "Begin!" and in mere moments, the crown prince was on the floor, face bruised, with Thalen standing over him, hands glowing faintly blue, ice crystals forming and falling off his knuckles.
"You fucking suck, dude…" Thalen stated right to the crown prince's face. The arena went silent, and Thalen's blatant mockery of the crown.
He strolled back to the Fimblewinter box. His father looked furious, but Thalen didn't flinch.
Cryn looks on in mild surprise, "He's strong."
Elyon responded, "Yep, and I wouldn't even put him as second in the generation."
"Damn, so whose number two then?"
"Virelya. My father's favorite chess piece."
"The cold one?"
"Colder than winter steel. Strong too — though no one really knows how."
Before Cyrn could ask, he heard the announcer cut him off. "Next to the stage, Elyon Debeaumont or his acting partner, Cyrn, and Virelya Ravenswood."
Cyrn stood shocked. Just my luck to have to go against the second strongest person of this generation for my first match.
He looked at Elyon, pleading, "Hey, you wanna take this one?"
Elyon chuckled, then shook his head, "Nah, I've already beaten her in spars enough, she'd forfeit if I got on stage. This is all you. Who knows, maybe she'll even speak to you."
Cyrn dragged his hand down his face in exhaustion. "Fuuuuuck. Alright, what are my chances of winning?"
Elyon shrugged, "Right now, I'd say 20%, you're here on noble recommendation, so even if you lose, we'll just be in the losers' bracket. Can climb our way out from there to land in class 1."
Cyrn sighed, upset that his first match wouldn't be something easy. "Alright, let's get this over with."
"Go get em tiger," Elyon cheered with a wink and a thumbs up.
Cyrn stood on the stage, waiting for his opponent to arrive. He soon heard the clicks of some kind of heel. He turned his head, and his eyes widened.
What stood before Cyrn was easily the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Pitch black hair stretches to the small of her back. Eyes, a piercing blue that perfectly contrasted his own blood red. Her face looked to be sculpted in Aphrodite's visage. A nose piercing on her right nostril. Her battle uniform failed to hide her lithe and athletic form.
Cyrn stood there with his mouth agape, unable to process what he was currently looking at. This…this is a real person?
Virelya saw the gaze, filled with admiration for her beauty, with the same lustful undertone she'd grown used to seeing.
She scoffed to herself and mumbled, "Why the fuck does El vouch for him? He looks at me like everyone else".
Cyrn heard and, and averted his gaze. Fuck I was ogling. Great first impression, Cyrn, really great.
From up above, a boisterous laugh rang out. Cyrn shot his gaze upwards and saw Elyon laughing like there was no tomorrow.
Cyrn's face visibly scrunched in frustration, Asshole.
The announcer then spoke, "Begin!".
Cyrn wasn't paying attention, and soon, he felt a sharp, piercing pain bloom from the joint in his left shoulder. He looked down and saw a rapier lodged inside the joint, dislocating his left arm.
Virelya said nothing, removing the rapier and stepping back before Cyrn could counterattack.
She took a stance again, preparing for another attack, when she saw something that shocked her.
Cyrn hadn't flinched. Not when she pierced him. Not when she pulled it out. Not when the shoulder cracked and snapped back into place.
He looked up. Smiled.
"Ouch."