The Academy ceremony was in full swing. Sera watched intently as participants, who had spent the entire year preparing for this moment, poured everything they had into the power test.

  To the onlookers in the stands, it was little more than an exhilarating spectacle, a grand colosseum where the younger generation showcased their talents. Pass or fail, it was all entertainment—an opportunity to witness budding mages and warriors wield their abilities and magic in a bid to secure a passing grade.

  But to the participants themselves, this wasn’t a mere show. It was a crucible, a place where futures were forged or shattered. The air was thick with tension, heavy as a mountain pressing down on their shoulders, threatening to crush them before they even began.

  For commoners, success meant transformation. Passing the test wasn’t just personal—it was generational. It meant land, a monthly stipend for their family, and a newfound status that would inspire awe and admiration in their village or town. A single victory could rewrite the story of an entire bloodline.

  For nobles, however, it was war. A clash of egos, a proving ground where failure wasn’t an option. Anything less than excellence would invite ridicule and shame upon their household. The strength of their young was more than a personal accomplishment—it was the lifeline of their family’s future.

  A house guided by a phoenix wouldn’t turn into a barn.

  “Lady Sera,” a voice perked up next to her: Lady Lila of the Stormshadow family. “I hear you used your recruitment token on a village boy. The Lindar family’s youth must be struggling. You know the Stormshadow family is always here to help. We have always been good friends, have we not?”

  Sera smiled in response to the hidden jabs. Inwardly, she sneered. The noble families were all the same. “Indeed, I did,” Sera said, keeping her focus on the testing grounds. It was a simple test: strike the dummy and receive a passing grade. But it wasn’t so simple. She continued, “I assure you, the Lindar youth is far from struggling. Here we are, Rain, my favourite nephew.”

  A young man, around the age of 13, stepped onto the stage. Hands behind his back, head tall, with long golden hair—a common sight in Lindar children—he displayed the grandeur of a noble family. He looked up at Sera and gave a cheeky smile.

  Lady Lila’s brows perked up. “Second Tier?”

  Sera relaxed in her chair. “The reason I haven’t had to use my token until recently was, well, because there was simply no reason to.” Sera glanced at Lady Lila. “You’ve spent too much time in the political sphere. Picked up bad habits.”

  They looked at each other for a few moments, before both of them broke out in laughter.

  “Yes,” Lila said. “I suppose I have, haven’t I? I heard about your mission. What happened to that village? Strange things are happening all over.”

  Sera nodded. She could say that again. And she hadn’t even seen the weirdest thing around: Levi.

  Lila asked the question Sera had been worrying about for a while now.

  “So, where is your chosen? Is he already down there?”

  Sera scanned the arena, but she didn’t see him.

  Where are you, Levi? She thought, trying her best not to nibble on her lip. Please don’t be hurt.

  An annoying laugh tugged at Sera’s ears. She glanced behind her, and it took all her strength not to scowl. A young man nearing his thirties, wearing gilded leather armour looked straight at her along with gaudy hanging earrings to match, making no attempt to save face.

  “That’s what you get for taking in a country lad, Sera.”

  Today was really testing her patience.

  Sera rolled her eyes. “I assure you, Alexander. The young boy I’ve chosen is more than adequate. Not that I’m interested in the games of idle nobles, anyway.”

  Alexander nudged his nose at Rain, who was now standing in front of the dummy. “You may not be interested in the games, Sera. But can the same be said about the higher ups of your family?”

  Frowning, Sera watched as Rain readied himself. What Alexander said was true. Sera was rarely home. She detested the noble circle. What she said was the truth: she didn't—wouldn’t—play their games.

  She glanced over to the private booths where the higher ups of the noble families were busy watching the events unfold. No doubt the patriarch would be watching in concern. Rain, as the most talented child in the Lindar family, was their hope for the future.

  Rain started.

  All eyes were on him. The students, the civilians… the high families.

  Sera could only imagine the weight he must have felt. She knew, because she had experienced it herself. It was suffocating. She was just glad she got out of it without drowning.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Mana swirled around Rain. He summoned a huge two-handed hammer made entirely of ice—his specialty. He stepped forward, and a geyser of water shot out the back of his hammer. He yelled out, swinging his hammer in a savage arc until it collided against the dummy.

  “Initial Second Tier, Rain Lindar. 13 years old.,” said the announcer, eliciting a few murmurs from the crowd. The commoner class students gazed up at Rain in two parts: awe and jealousy.

  Sera nodded to herself. 13 years old, Second Tier. It wasn’t bad.

  “Not bad,” Alexander said, stroking his chin. He perked up in his chair. “Ah, here comes my nephew.”

  Another boy appeared looking to be the same age as Rain, head raised high. The young man radiated confidence.

  Unlike Rain, who had used a weapon, the boy used nothing but his own fists. Despite his tender age, the boy was covered in dense muscle.

  Those muscle brains, Sera thought. Always going over the top with Strength Ingredients.

  The boy screamed out and thrust a massive right hook to the dummy. It shook violently, causing numerous gasps of amazement to ring out within the colosseum. Rain glanced up at the Lindar family booth and bit his lip in frustration.

  Sera sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. There was always going to be someone better than you. It was a lesson all but one learned every year.

  Alexander, seated beside her, shot her a knowing look, the meaning behind it unmistakable.

  “Mikeal Cherno, Mid Second Tier.”

  Alexander crossed his arms, the smugness practically dripping off him. “Well, how do you like that? It seems like we’re ahead this generation.”

  “Well done,” Sera replied, her tone laced with sharp sarcasm.

  The ceremony moved on. Some of the youths received results they expected, as they already knew their stage of power. But most failed. Even if they managed to reach the first stage, the dummy wasn’t so simple. It not only gauged raw power but the mastery behind their technique as well.

  There were even cases of Second Tier students failing due to their lack of control—a grim reminder of the dangers of rushed growth. Sure, they were Second Tier, but what good was it if their potential was permanently stunted?

  Where is Levi?

  Sera’s gaze wandered, her worry gnawing at her. The ceremony was nearing its end. She could feel the stares of the other noble families pressing into her like daggers. Levi wasn’t one to be late. He was mature for his age—too mature, perhaps. He was a good kid. He wouldn’t miss this.

  Would he?

  She just hoped he was safe.

  The crowd stirred suddenly, breaking Sera’s thoughts. Everyone leaned forward in their seats.

  What’s happening?

  Her attention snapped back to the stage. A girl, barely thirteen, stepped forward. Despite her youth, she moved with the poise and grace of a born princess. It wasn’t the result of etiquette training, though most noble ladies went through that. No, this was innate.

  Anastasia of the esteemed Forth family. Royal blood coursed through her veins.

  She approached the dummy and withdrew a two-handed longsword from her spatial ring. With a grunt, she swung. The dummy groaned under the force of the strike.

  For a moment, it seemed unharmed. But then—a deep gouge appeared, carved from shoulder to waist.

  Sera gripped the arms of her chair, her nails biting into the fabric. No way. Was she in the Third Tier?

  With bated breath, she waited for the result.

  The announcer bowed deeply to the girl before declaring, “Anastasia Forth, Peak Second Tier. Twelve years old.”

  Silence hung heavy in the colosseum, broken only by the thunderous eruption of voices as the audience processed what they’d just witnessed.

  Twelve years old. Peak Second Tier.

  Sera could hardly believe it. For a moment, she even forgot about Levi’s absence. Almost.

  “Next up,” the announcer called, his voice carrying above the commotion. “Levi Caddel.”

  Every eye turned to Sera.

  “Even if the boy hasn’t reached the First Tier, he should at least show up,” Lila murmured, her tone dripping with disdain.

  “Bah, can you blame him?” Alexander added, smirking. “Sera found him in some village on the outskirts of the kingdom. I hear they don’t even have proper food out there. Unless they fed their Seeds dirt as an Ingredient.”

  Sera’s mana flared, sharp and dangerous. “That’s enough,” she snapped, and Lila shrank back. Alexander, however, was less easily cowed.

  “Did you even bring him to the Imperial City?” he pressed. “Or are you too ashamed to show him to us?”

  Sera turned to him, her eyes blazing. The leather of her seat tore under the weight of her aura.

  “Sheesh,” Alexander muttered, leaning back in mock surrender. “You must really care for this boy, huh?”

  “If you know, then keep your mouth shut.”

  “Is that him?” Lila pointed.

  A figure emerged from the crowd—a tall boy with tattered, mud-streaked clothes and no shoes. His white hair, cascading past his shoulders like ash, was the only pristine thing about him.

  Levi looked up at Sera and smiled, but his expression faltered when he caught the judgmental gazes of the nobles surrounding her.

  “Levi,” Sera whispered. Her heart twisted. What had he been through to look like this? He didn’t seem twelve anymore. He looked older—fourteen, maybe fifteen—and stood nearly 5'9".

  Levi’s smile vanished as he ascended the stage with steady, unhurried steps. Anastasia glanced at him, but he didn’t spare her a second look. To him, she might as well not exist.

  “You’re Levi?” the announcer asked, his voice hesitant.

  Levi nodded.

  “You may begin—”

  A flicker of flame bloomed around Levi’s fist, modest at first. But when he struck the dummy, the entire colosseum trembled.

  The dummy—no, the entire stage—was obliterated in a single, devastating blow.

  Dust and silence filled the air. When it cleared, Levi turned to Sera, bowed deeply, and said nothing.

  The announcer’s voice wavered as he declared, “L-Levi Caddel… Mid Third Tier. Twelve years old!!”

  The colosseum erupted once more, louder than ever, but Sera couldn’t hear it. Her eyes locked on Levi, her heart pounding as a single thought echoed through her mind.

  What have you become, Levi?

  Book 1 end.