---

  After Selene Evernight and Michael joined Marcus' faction, everything ended in a swift conclusion. Both Valen's and Marcus’ factions advanced to the second phase of the Imperial Academy selection—“The Might of Champions.”

  The scene shifted to the Imperial Academy’s professors and deans.

  Professor Randal spoke first, astonished. “This generation has passed the first phase faster than any other—faster even than the generation that produced five 7th Realm masters. Not even they could complete it in this little time.”

  Professor Helen, frowning, added, “And more importantly, the Two-Headed Dragon walks among them. We don’t even know if a third head has grown. Do you remember the prophecy spoken by the Imperial Guardian Dragon? It said: ‘The clashes of this generation shall shatter even the mightiest heavens.’ We don’t know who it refers to… even the Emperor fears this could mark the beginning of an age of destruction.”

  Tension filled the room—until it was cut by a calm yet heavy voice.

  Dean Ollivier stepped forward and said, “That’s not the only prophecy. The Imperial Dragon recently shared another with the Imperial Family… ‘The King of the Deepest Hells will rise in four years.’”

  Silence gripped the chamber. Shock beyond reason took over.

  “If that thing descends upon our world,” a professor muttered, “it’s doomed. First, the Three-Headed Dragon… now, the King of the Underworld… we are standing on the edge of a storm we cannot stop.”

  Dean Ollivier straightened his posture. “That is why I will personally test this generation in the third phase. We must show them that war is never fair—it doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It only demands that you win.”

  ---

  Scene shifts back to the Selection Exam

  The announcer took the stage.

  “As you all know, this academy is not about glory—it is about survival. We will not have rankings here. Just remember: if you survive, that’s enough. The second phase is titled ‘The Might of Titans.’”

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  He continued, “This phase will be one-on-one combat. Drugs or poisons are banned unless you made them yourself. Only 24 participants will duel—starting in twenty-four hours. And three participants will pass without taking any of the tests.”

  At this, chaos erupted among the ordinary students. Protests flared across the grounds.

  Dean Ollivier flew into the air, voice booming. “Enough! Do you even know who they are?”

  He raised his hand. “The first is His Highness, Crown Prince Alexander August Verdian. The other two are Seraphina Lysander and Cyril Morvan. Aside from the Prince, both Seraphina and Cyril are support-type specialists—and they proved their worth in the first phase. And the Crown Prince… he bears the blood of the Imperial Family.”

  At the mention of the royal family, silence spread like wildfire. But not all were pleased.

  Two individuals clenched their fists in fury.

  ---

  [Insert Flashback Scene Begins]

  [Year 0, Founding of the Empire]

  Once, the continent had been ruled by the Alderwood royal family—a just but fading dynasty. During a time of war and chaos, the noble House Veridian, then merely a Count House, led a rebellion against the empire.

  The head of House Veridian, wielding unmatched power and the blessings of Ares and Thanatos, crushed the weakened Alderwoods. The final king fell at the gates of the capital.

  However, instead of claiming all power for himself, the Veridian patriarch did something unexpected—he crowned his elder brother as the Emperor and chose to become the Duke of the Veridian Line, ruling from the shadows.

  But the scars of betrayal never faded.

  In the present, Marcus Alderwood—the last surviving heir of the Alderwood line—stood in silence, his fists clenched as he stared at the royal crest. Valen, standing nearby, had a similar gaze, but for reasons far different.

  Marcus muttered under his breath, “They call themselves righteous... but their throne was built from our blood.”

  Valen simply said, “They only sit where we allow them to.”

  [Insert Flashback Scene Ends]

  ---

  Dean Ollivier noticed the hostility but let it go. As he was about to leave, he noticed a familiar figure in the distance. His eyes narrowed.

  “You’re just like your father, Michael. Never backing down… what a shame. Even you will taste despair, my dear grandson.”

  He vanished with the wind.

  Watching him leave, Michael clenched his fists and thought, “Grandfather… I still haven’t forgiven you for that day. One day, you’ll suffer the same fate.”

  The announcer resumed. “Now that the confusion is over, all of you should rest. As for your lodging—build your tents outside the academy. Build them wherever you want. We don’t care.”

  ---

  Most of the students were too drained by the day’s events to speak.

  Except one.

  “HAHAHAHA! Build tents? I’m gonna spend the whole night hanging out with my friends! Hahaha!”

  ---

  Inside Valen’s faction’s tent

  “So, Lucian,” Valen asked, “how should we pass the time?”

  Lucian shrugged. “Maybe we could play chess or something.”

  Valen rolled his eyes. “Why are you acting like a 200-year-old man? Let’s play truth or dare instead.”

  Lucian smirked. “How about a game where we each share our fears and our goals?”

  “That sounds awesome,” Vesper said immediately.

  “I’m down,” Valen nodded.

  Lucian began. “I’m Lucian Caelum, son of the Marquis. My goal is to become the greatest warrior of the skies. And my fear is... deep oceans.”

  Vesper blinked. “Really?”

  Lucian nodded. “That’s why I love the sky.”

  Valen went next. “I’m afraid of a recurring nightmare… where a child stands next to a dead woman. I don’t know why, but it feels like a lie disguised as a memory. As for my goal—first, I’ll eliminate my father. Then, I’ll become Duke. And after that… I’ll overthrow the Royal Family and become Emperor, to restore the honor of my ancestors.”

  Vesper and Lucian glanced at each other, impressed. “That’s one hell of a goal.”

  Vesper leaned back. “As for me—my goal is to uncover the true structure of the world. My fear… is ghosts.”

  The tent burst into laughter.

  “Hahaha! Are you a kid?” Lucian teased.

  Vesper shrugged. “Well, we all are kids. We’re only fourteen.”

  Lucian grinned. “Fair point. Still—no matter what happens, we’ll support each other’s dreams, right?”

  All of them nodded.

  ---