After leaving the training room, Karles and Lilina gave Nerion their contact details and agreed to meet at the school gates the next morning.

  The spar had forged something new between them. What began as cautious curiosity had become genuine camaraderie. As they walked the Lyceum’s wide corridors, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, they spoke freely.

  They told Nerion about teachers to be wary of—and those worth courting. About students who smiled politely while counting knives behind their backs. About alliances, rivalries, and the subtle hierarchies that existed even within the Inner Class.

  They described the special training rooms with environments tailored to every technique: blazing deserts for fire arts, frozen caverns for ice, wind-swept peaks for movement, and even rooms with crushing gravity.

  There was the Skill Repository, a vast archive containing martial techniques and spell formulas gathered from across the continent. Some were incomplete, some experimental, some forbidden except to those with sufficient contribution points—or the right patronage.

  They spoke of the Alchemy RoomRune Crafting LoungeBlacksmith Oven

  Nerion listened intently. He had only glimpsed the surface of the Lyceum’s possibilities. The school was a living fortress of knowledge, and he had barely scratched its walls.

  After a while, Lilina slowed down and turned to him, voice softer than usual.

  “Nerion,” she said at last, tone unusually restrained. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  She stopped walking. Karles followed suit.

  “But let’s be honest. You’re a genius. No—more than that. You’re at least on par with most of the Inner Class, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you could challenge for a Core Class seat in the future.”

  She met his eyes directly.

  “So why all this nonsense about the Royal Military Academy? About you being ‘unqualified’? About you not making the cut? Also… Why are you using both Qi and Mana? Are you a Warrior or an Adept?”

  Silence fell.

  Karles watched Nerion carefully, interest plain on his face.

  Nerion said nothing for several long moments. Lilina and Karles exchanged a glance. Disappointment flickered in their eyes — imperceptibly, but there. A small wall began to rise in their hearts.

  Before they could turn away, Nerion raised a hand to stop them.

  He had made a decision.

  If he wanted true friends — true allies — who would stand with him and Elisha in the years ahead, he had to start trusting. Not everything could be shared, not yet. But complete silence would breed only distance. He could not expect loyalty without offering some vulnerability in return.

  This was a test of his own wisdom, to judge who could be trusted, and who must remain at arm’s length. A test he would face alone.

  So he chose to open the door, albeit just a little.

  He looked at them both, voice steady, “I can’t tell you everything.” Nerion paused. “Not yet.”

  Lilina’s posture eased slightly.

  “But,” he continued, eyes steady, “I can tell you enough for you to decide whether you still want to walk beside me… And I won’t lie.”

  The corridor was quiet.

  Karles exchanged a glance with Lilina. Then nodded once.

  “That’s fair.”

  Lilina crossed her arms, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “We’re listening.”

  And Nerion knew—

  Whatever he said next would change the shape of their friendship forever.

  “Well… it’s nothing too complicated,” Nerion began, voice steady.

  “I’ve always been drawn to the idea of walking both paths — Warrior and Adept. It’s been my dream since I was small. And whether by luck or curse, after an incident when I was a child, I’ve been able to train in both since I was six.”

  Karles and Lilina stared at him, eyes wide as saucers.

  This wasn’t rare. It was .

  No—worse. It was something that, according to everything they had been taught, simply should not exist

  Trying to walk both paths usually ended in mediocrity, madness, or death. That was common sense. That was doctrine.

  Then again, nothing about Nerion had followed common sense so far.

  “When I turned twelve,” Nerion continued calmly, “I decided it was time to test myself properly. So I went looking for my brother. After we reunited in Ansem, we discussed what to do next. At first, Elisha recommended me for the Royal Military School’s new project.”

  He hesitated briefly.

  “When we arrived, we met a faculty member—Selene De Mora.” His tone did not change, but something colder slipped into it. “And that’s when things went wrong.”

  Nerion recounted what followed without embellishment.

  The recommendation. The testing. Selene’s growing hostility once she learned of his cultivation path. The obstruction. The humiliation. The quiet attempts to bury his results.

  He added nothing that had not happened. He omitted nothing that mattered.

  When he finished, silence reigned.

  Karles and Lilina were staring at him, stunned. Then—unexpectedly—anger flared in their eyes.

  “That—” Lilina began, fists clenching. “That woman—”

  After a heartbeat, she snapped.

  “What a .”

  Nerion blinked, startled.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Language…” Karles muttered while rubbing his temples. Though his tone held no reproach.

  “I’ll say whatever I want,” Lilina shot back. “Selene De Mora is nothing but a remora clinging to power. Always sucking up to whoever she thinks can carry her higher.”

  She turned to Nerion, fury sharp in her voice.

  “You should know—she was stationed near the Barbarian Border once. She tried to latch onto my father and brothers. Always angling for safer assignments. She nearly caused a catastrophe. My third brother almost died because of her—”

  She trailed off, fuming. Karles gently covered her mouth with his hand. Lilina struggled, muffled protests escaping.

  “I know you’re upset,” Karles said calmly, “and after hearing Nerion’s story, I’m angry too. But what’s done is done. Look at the silver lining — because of that mess, Nerion is here now, and we’ve become friends. Selene made a terrible mistake. The rumours won’t hold forever. In time, everyone will see Nerion is a true genius, and she’ll pay dearly for what she did. With interest.”

  Then, with a pointed look, he added, “And try to speak like a lady.”

  Lilina wriggled free and snorted. “Bite me.”

  Nerion couldn’t help it — he laughed. The incongruity of Lilina’s dainty appearance and her filthy mouth was too much. He was beginning to like this hot pepper of a friend more and more.

  “Actually,” Nerion added quietly, “she’s already started paying for it. Part of her punishment was to transfer resources to me — half of what her brother Hansel was supposed to receive as the Super Soldier seed. It was complicated to deliver directly, so they arranged for me to receive a large monthly stipend of contribution points instead. And I mean… a lot.”

  He smiled faintly.

  Karles’ breath caught.

  “…How many?”

  Nerion shrugged lightly. “Enough that I paid for lunch today without blinking.”

  The shock on Karles and Lilina’s faces was almost comical. They stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

  Karles recovered first, voice urgent.

  “Nerion. Nerion — do you realise what this means? You have almost as many points as a Core student. You can do incredible things to grow stronger, fast. Do you trust me?”

  He leaned in.

  “My short-term goal has been to gather enough contribution points for a special project — one that would multiply them several-fold and let us advance at an incredible pace. I’ve only shared parts of it with Lilina and one other confidant. But if you’re willing to help, we can start sooner — and the returns could be even greater. Please, hear me out. Tomorrow after lunch, I’ll lay out the full plan. I’ll make a chart so you can maximize your points. I may not be the strongest in combat, but when it comes to business and resource management — if I say I’m second, not even Julieta De Corina can claim first.”

  The confidence radiating from Karles was contagious — and imposing. Nerion felt a flicker of hesitation, but he nodded.

  “I’ll hear you out. Then I’ll decide.”

  Lilina, standing beside them, gave a reluctant nod, as though she agreed with Karles’ words, even if she didn’t fully like the idea.

  Nerion’s first day at the academy had come to an end.

  After saying goodbye to his new friends, he set off for home, the long walk to the Army Headquarters where Elisha still resided.

  Along the way, students departed in splendid convoys—beast-drawn carriages of spiritual wood and engraved metals. Grand Horned Horses from Rhodar. Lion Mane Oxen from Murmur. Even a sedan borne by four TAO Praetorians.

  As they departed, several glanced at Nerion walking alone. Contempt flashed openly on some faces.

  Others simply ignored him, as though he were air.

  Nerion disregarded it all.

  His first day at the Lyceum had exceeded all expectations.

  He had found challenge. He had found allies. He had found direction.

  And perhaps, someday… Answers.

  The sky over the Lyceum bled slowly into hues of orange and rose as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

  At the very heart of the academy grounds, nestled within a forested rise, stood a small mountain. At its peak rested a pavilion of stone.

  It looked as though it had been carved from a single block.

  No seams. No joints. No imperfections.

  Every surface, inside and out, was smooth, uninterrupted, almost unnervingly precise. The kind of craftsmanship that suggested the rock had not been , but into shape.

  Inside the pavilion, a rocking chair creaked softly.

  A man sat in it, legs stretched out, posture lax. His presence alone bent the air in the room, though nothing outward betrayed it. Nearby, another figure poured a potent-looking spirit into three cups, its sharp scent cutting cleanly through the evening breeze.

  The third stood near the chair, gazing outward at the fading light.

  “This has always been my favourite sight in the Lyceum,” he said at last. “It almost makes me want to recite poetry. Is this why you like staying here, Headmaster?”

  “You make it sound far too complicated, Samuel,” came the reply—a raspy voice, amused and dry. “Poetry, really? I just find the booze tastes better up here. Everything else is hogwash.”

  The man in the chair chuckled as he accepted his cup.

  “So,” he continued, taking a long sip, “it’s that time again. The All-Youth Grand Continental Tournament. Remind me, how did we do last time?”

  “We barely scraped into the top ten,” answered the third person, her voice smooth and melodic. She was a mature woman, beautiful and voluptuous, with a calm grace that belied something far more dangerous beneath. “Sixth place came from the Royal Military School.”

  The man in the chair snorted.

  “I miss the days when Lirian was here,” he muttered. “That rascal caused me endless trouble, but damn if he wasn’t dependable.”

  The silence that followed was heavy.

  Samuel’s face twisted into a grimace.

  “Sir,” he said stiffly, “that man betrayed Ansara. His actions were more than questionab—”

  He never finished.

  BAM.

  Samuel barely managed to raise his arm in time as a thunderous kick crashed into him, the force monstrous enough to flatten a mountain ridge. The shockwave alone should have devastated a good portion of the capital.

  Instead—

  Nothing.

  The pavilion did not tremble. The forest outside did not stir. Not even a sound escaped its walls.

  The woman stood where she had struck, eyes blazing with barely restrained fury.

  The man in the rocking chair didn’t even blink.

  Then he burst out laughing.

  “Hahahaha! Samuel, badmouthing Lirian in front of Anastasia? I’ll give you this—you’ve grown balls of steel.”

  He turned lazily toward the woman.

  “That’s enough, little girl. Behave yourself. People will always talk shit about Lirian. You can’t fight them all to the death.”

  He waved his cup dismissively.

  “If you want to be useful, train harder. Become a Legend. Then maybe you’ll actually be able to do something for him. Until then, stay a good girl and keep teaching the pups.”

  Anastasia’s fists trembled, but she stepped back. The look she gave Samuel could have frozen blood.

  Samuel swallowed—but did not recant. He had his pride.

  He opened his mouth again, but the Headmaster spoke first, as though reading his thoughts.

  “You stop too, Samuel. I know you and Lirian were rivals back in the Academy. In more ways than just fighting for first place.”

  Both Samuel and Anastasia lowered their gazes, faces and thoughts unreadable.

  “You, of all people,” the Headmaster continued quietly, “should know better. You fought him the most. And you fought beside him the most. Don’t let jealousy rot your tongue.”

  He sighed, leaning back. “I’m too old for this nonsense.”

  Then, with renewed interest:

  “So, any good seedlings this time? I’m tired of that bum from Rhodar and that old hag from Avi-Sena gloating every time we meet. Last time they wouldn’t shut up about some ‘unprecedented geniuses’ they’re raising.”

  He spat on the stone floor.

  “Bollocks.”

  Samuel and Anastasia exchanged a brief glance.

  ; they both thought—and wisely kept it to themselves.

  “There are a few promising ones,” Anastasia said calmly. “Fourth- and fifth-year Core students are out. Otherwise, the Eldest Senior Brother would dominate outright. A pity he was too young last tournament.”

  She continued, composed once more.

  “There is a new Core student who entered the Lyceum eleven months ago, shortly after the beginning of the second year. Headmaster was in seclusion then, so you haven’t met him. He entered the Core Class right before the start of the third year. He’s fourteen now—a TAO Praetorian, very close to Centurion rank. His name is Marcus Severus.”

  Samuel picked up seamlessly.

  “The rest of the Core Class is ineligible due to age. As for the Inner Class, there are three or four worth watching. The younger heirs of Houses Varona, Alara, and Corina are strong. Julieta De Corina, in particular, is an exceptional Adept—likely to enter the Core Class soon.”

  He hesitated briefly.

  “There are also two promising students from the third and second year. And a couple of new entrants who show talent. They’re still young, though — too disadvantaged for now.””

  The Headmaster hummed.

  “The tournament allows one hundred and twenty-eight contestants this time, correct?”

  “Yes,” Anastasia replied. “Twenty per Major Territory—one hundred total. The remaining twenty-eight are distributed among Minor Kingdoms and sects. There’s even a rumour of a Barbarian contestant.”

  The man in the rocking chair smirked.

  “…Is that so?”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “Maybe this time I’ll get involved.”

  Both Samuel and Anastasia stiffened.

  “Nine months,” the Headmaster muttered. “Preparations, selections, training. What a drag.”

  Inside, both subordinates felt a surge of excitement.

  If the Headmaster personally intervened, Ansara’s chances would rise dramatically.

  Then he sighed.

  “I shouldn’t have made that bet with those old hustlers.”

  Samuel and Anastasia nearly facepalmed in unison.

  Some things never changed.