Chapter 23

  The results were posted early in the morning, pinned to shimmering mana boards in the main plaza.

  Students crowded around the glowing displays, some holding their breath, others whispering excitedly or pale with anxiety.

  Ren pushed through the crowd, heart pounding. Leo and Davian flanked him, silent but tense.

  The results shimmered into focus.

  1st — Arlen Vaelor

  2nd — Sylvie Dranholt

  3rd — Roland Evercrest

  …

  7th — Ren Darvell

  Ren stared at the neat lettering. His name felt surreal, so formal and distant up there.

  Leo let out a whoop and clapped him on the back. “Seventh! You’re a monster!”

  Ren shook his head, trying to breathe. “You’re — ?”

  Leo scanned the list. “Thirteenth.” He beamed. “I’ll take it.”

  Davian’s name appeared in 19th place. He exhaled quietly and gave them a small smile.

  All around them, other students burst into cheers, tears, or stunned silence.

  Just below the rankings, a second announcement shimmered into view.

  All top twenty students are hereby invited to the Grand Selection Ball, to be held at the Imperial Academy Hall tonight.

  Attendance is mandatory.

  Ren swallowed.

  “Looks like they’re really making a show of it,” Leo said, grinning nervously.

  Davian’s smile was tight. “The real tests are just beginning.”

  They spent the afternoon receiving instructions: formal wear would be provided, carriages would arrive at dusk, and strict protocols were outlined.

  Ren found himself pacing in his room, holding the sealed letter of invitation in one hand, the runic note from Obsidian Hall tucked away in his drawer, burning in the back of his mind.

  He sat down at his desk, staring at his books. Studying felt impossible.

  Instead, he allowed himself one deep breath.

  “I can’t control everything,” he murmured to himself. “Just do what I can… and watch.”

  Evening came.

  The sky was a swirl of indigo and gold as enchanted carriages lined up along the Academy’s gates.

  The students, clad in pristine formal wear, gathered in small groups, nerves on edge.

  Ren adjusted his collar, fidgeted with the unfamiliar cuffs, and tried not to think too hard.

  Leo looked over. “You ready for this?”

  “No,” Ren admitted.

  “Same.”

  Davian chuckled softly. “Good. That means you won’t underestimate anyone.”

  The grand gates opened.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  And the ball began.

  _

  The Grand Ballroom of the Imperial Academy gleamed like a dream brought to life.

  Massive crystal chandeliers hovered mid-air, casting soft golden light across polished marble floors. Intricate magical runes glimmered beneath the surface, cycling through elegant patterns that only the most experienced mages could decipher.

  Ren found himself standing near the grand staircase, wearing formal robes heavier and more ornate than anything he’d ever worn before. His collar itched, and the unfamiliar weight of decorative mana crystals sewn into his cuffs felt like wearing a foreign armor.

  Leo appeared beside him, fidgeting with his sleeves. “We look ridiculous.”

  “We look like bait,” Ren muttered back.

  Davian laughed softly. “No, we look like prizes.”

  And that’s exactly how it felt.

  Noble heirs, powerful merchants, and high-ranking Academy figures filled the ballroom. Conversations flowed like carefully rehearsed duels — smiles veiling sharp barbs, pleasantries layered with hidden implications.

  The students who had placed in the top twenty were the center of attention. Elegant ladies and sharply dressed young men approached one after another, offering compliments and subtle invitations.

  Ren nodded politely, careful not to commit to anything, but every conversation felt like being measured, weighed, and filed away for some future agenda.

  At the far end of the room, a raised platform stood with velvet drapes and a shimmering mana barrier that pulsed faintly. A golden podium waited, and seated behind it were the Academy’s highest-ranking instructors, along with several unfamiliar dignitaries.

  Headmaster Lysander took the stage.

  His voice rang through the hall, smooth and commanding. “Tonight, we gather not just to celebrate excellence but to reward it. The future of our Empire stands here among us. And so… we honor the brightest stars.”

  One by one, the top five students were called to the stage and presented with their awards — rare spellbooks, custom-tailored artifacts, and items that could shape entire careers.

  When they called Rank 7, Ren’s heart skipped.

  The spotlight crystal shifted, illuminating him as the crowd gently parted.

  He ascended the stage slowly, the world blurring at the edges.

  Lysander handed him a small velvet box. “For exceptional skill, diligence, and promise.”

  Ren opened it carefully. Inside rested a palm-sized mana crystal — but not just any crystal. Its core pulsed with shifting hues, and faint runic lines etched along its surface seemed to twist and reform as he looked at them.

  He didn’t recognize the script.

  “The Sigil of Foundation,” Lysander explained softly. “A gift rarely given. It strengthens memory, clarity, and control — all things you will need.”

  Ren bowed, unable to find words.

  He descended the stage and returned to his place, his mind still spinning.

  The ball resumed.

  Noble children approached him with smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. “I hope you’ll consider studying abroad.”

  “Perhaps my family’s estate would be a good place for your training.”

  “We’ve heard much of your talent.”

  Leo clapped him on the back, laughing in relief. “You survived.”

  They retreated to the side of the ballroom, away from the heaviest scrutiny.

  Ren finally let out a long breath. “This is exhausting.”

  “That’s politics,” Davian murmured, sipping something sparkling from a thin glass.

  Ren caught a strange flicker of expression on Davian’s face — almost like regret.

  Then, a small hush fell across the room as representatives from Obsidian Hall stepped forward.

  A young woman with silver hair and violet eyes — unmistakably noble — addressed the room.

  “We at Obsidian Hall extend our congratulations to the Empire’s rising stars,” she said smoothly. Her gaze lingered on Ren for half a heartbeat too long. “Know that doors are open for those who seek greater paths.”

  Polite applause followed, but Ren felt his heart tighten.

  The rest of the night passed in a haze of formality, careful conversations, and delicate footwork.

  As the ball drew to a close and most guests drifted toward carriages and shuttles, Ren slipped out onto the balcony. Cool night air brushed against his face.

  He closed his eyes.

  Leo appeared beside him. “Tomorrow,” he said quietly.

  Ren nodded. “Tomorrow.”

  They turned to head back inside.

  And that’s when the Headmaster’s voice rang out once more from the stage, clear and sharp, cutting through the night like a blade:

  “One final announcement.”

  The entire ballroom stilled.

  Headmaster Lysander’s gaze swept the room. “All those who have been invited tonight… will gather at the main gates at dawn.”

  He smiled faintly.

  “The Academy has prepared a dungeon exploration trial.”

  Gasps, whispers, a ripple of unease.

  Ren’s heart dropped.

  And just like that, the night ended not with celebration — but with the weight of what was to come.