The carriage rolled for three days without interruption.
James barely slept.
Not because of discomfort.
Because he was listening.
The Infinite Vault had grown… attentive.
Whenever they crossed borders, whenever they passed through noble territories, whenever a powerful aura came near —
It stirred.
Testing.
Measuring.
Greed did not sleep.
On the morning of the fourth day—
The carriage stopped.
The driver opened the door silently.
"Your Highness… we have arrived."
James stepped out.
And saw it.
The Royal Academy of Asterin.
It wasn't a castle.
It wasn't a school.
It was a city built into a mountain.
White stone towers carved directly from cliffs.
Massive bridges connecting floating platforms.
Banners of multiple kingdoms waving together — not in unity, but in tension.
And above everything—
A circular structure suspended midair, rotating slowly.
The Grand Arena.
Where heirs proved they deserved their crowns.
James felt something immediately.
Pressure.
Not magical.
Political.
Ambition saturated the air.
Hundreds of Desire Cores burned within these walls.
Pride.
Hatred.
Fear.
Ruthlessness.
The Vault pulsed.
Hungry.
"Yes," the voice whispered inside him.
"This place is fertile."
James walked forward.
Students were arriving from every direction.
Carriages with royal insignias.
Military escorts.
Aristocrats surrounded by guards.
And then—
A commotion to the right.
A carriage adorned in deep crimson and gold.
The Varhen crest.
The door opened.
She stepped out.
Tall.
Composed.
Silver hair tied neatly behind her back.
Sharp violet eyes that judged everything instantly.
Seraphine Varhen.
Her posture was flawless.
Her aura—
Pride.
Not loud.
Not arrogant.
Cold.
Refined.
Controlled superiority.
She did not scan the crowd nervously.
She evaluated it like inventory.
Her gaze moved…
Paused.
On him.
James did not look away.
Neither did she.
The world around them continued moving.
But for a few seconds—
There was only measurement.
The Vault reacted.
Not hunger.
Curiosity.
"Interesting," the voice said softly.
Her core did not waver under his gaze.
Most people's did.
She took a step forward.
Walked toward him directly.
No hesitation.
The nobles around subtly shifted aside.
Duke Varhen's daughter was not someone to obstruct.
She stopped three steps away.
"First Prince James of Kollar."
Her voice was calm.
Even.
No flirtation.
No warmth.
Just acknowledgment.
"Lady Seraphine Varhen."
He inclined his head slightly.
"You've grown."
A subtle challenge.
She did not react.
"You haven't changed."
A counter.
Silence stretched.
Their cores brushed.
Testing.
Neither yielded.
Then she said quietly—
"I assume you intend to dominate this place."
Not a question.
A statement.
He replied calmly,
"I intend to graduate."
A small pause.
The faintest flicker in her eyes.
Amusement?
Perhaps.
"Ambition disguised as modesty," she said.
"And pride disguised as composure," he replied.
For the first time—
Her lips curved slightly.
Dangerous.
Controlled.
"I look forward to observing you."
"And I you."
They stepped past one another.
But neither turned their back fully until distance forced it.
Political tension.
Not romance.
Not yet.
But something had been established.
Equality.
Danger.
Future collision.
A bell rang across the Academy grounds.
Deep.
Ancient.
Students began gathering toward a massive stone courtyard.
At its center stood a monolith carved with thousands of names.
Some glowing faintly.
Most dark.
James approached.
A student beside him whispered to another,
"Those glowing names are graduates."
"And the dark ones?"
"Dead."
James paused.
Interesting.
An elderly man stepped onto the central platform.
White robes.
Sharp eyes.
No visible Desire Core.
That alone made him terrifying.
"Welcome," the man said calmly, voice echoing naturally across the courtyard, "to the Royal Academy of Asterin."
Silence fell instantly.
"You have been sent here because you are heirs. Prodigies. Future rulers."
A pause.
"You are wrong."
Murmurs rippled.
"This Academy does not polish crowns."
He gestured toward the monolith.
"It removes the unworthy."
The air grew heavier.
"Within these walls, authority means nothing."
"Lineage means nothing."
"Titles mean nothing."
Only one thing matters."
His eyes swept the crowd.
"Survival."
The Vault stirred violently.
James felt it.
This place was not symbolic danger.
It was literal.
The elderly man continued:
"You will form factions."
"You will betray."
"You will compete."
"And some of you…"
His gaze lingered across the crowd.
"…will die."
No one laughed.
No one dismissed it.
Because the names behind him proved it.
Then—
His gaze stopped.
On James.
Just for a fraction too long.
And then—
Shifted.
To Seraphine.
Then moved on.
He knows.
About something.
The bell rang again.
"Orientation begins tomorrow."
"Tonight, you are free."
The crowd slowly dispersed.
Whispers erupted immediately.
James stood still.
The Vault pulsed once.
Slow.
Measured.
This was no longer palace politics.
This was predator territory.
And predators were not born equal.
From a nearby balcony—
Seraphine watched him.
Not openly.
Subtly.
Evaluating.
Her Pride was intrigued.
His Greed was interested.
And far above them—
In the rotating Grand Arena—
Something ancient watched as well.