Think of this as a magical world with swords, dragons, and mana flowing like rivers, where to be accepted into a prestigious academy you must possess the greatest of skills—
Bang! Bang!
"Eept—ah!"
"WHAT THE HELL!"
That, apparently, is one way to interrupt someone's grand monologue: by firing off a couple of gunshots.
The man responsible stood not far ahead, suspicious as always, a hood shadowing his face as if he were desperately trying to look cool. Blood streaked across his clothes in crimson stains, the metallic scent clinging to him as if he wore it like perfume. In his hand he carried a modified flintlock pistol, its barrel still faintly smoking as he let it hang in a relaxed, downward grip. Around his boots lay the corpses of wolves, a small pack he had just finished cutting down with calm, surgical precision.
And me? I was right below him—Chloe Valastine. Blood and dirt smeared across my uniform after helping subjugate those same wolves alongside this so-called hunter. I was exhausted, my throat dry, longing for nothing more than a cold drink of water and perhaps a warm bath. Just your average eighteen-year-old girl with a dumbfounded look plastered on her face—oh, and a third-year student at the most prestigious academy in the empire: Unicrest Academy.
Trying to catch my breath, I pointed a finger at him, my voice cracking between indignation and fatigue. "I was trying to monologue here!"
He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in the back of his head. "Try saying that to the wolves."
"What?" I blinked.
And then I heard it. The growl. My heart sank as the sound multiplied—one growl, then three, then an entire chorus rising from the treeline. My eyes widened in disbelief as I realized there was another pack, larger than the first, prowling closer with gleaming fangs and eyes like hungry embers.
"You've got to be kidding me…" I muttered, shoulders slouching, my sword nearly slipping from my sweaty grip. The color drained from my face, tears threatening to form as I whispered to myself.
How… how could a sweet, beautiful, perfectly ordinary girl like me get stuck with such a terrifying, gloomy man?
The sun shone brightly over a small village, wrapping its cottages and fields in the gentle warmth of spring, though the faint touch of autumn lingered in the breeze. Birds sang from the rooftops, children's laughter echoed faintly in the distance, and all appeared peaceful—except within one modest little home.
Inside, a girl tossed and turned in her bed, her breath quickening, her face damp with sweat. Whimpers escaped her lips, then soft cries. She was caught in the grip of a nightmare—one she had suffered through countless times before and still could not escape.
"No… nooo… not again…" she sobbed.
With a sharp gasp, she woke, sitting upright, heart pounding as if it were trying to break free from her chest. Tears streaked her cheeks as she rubbed them away with the back of her hand, whispering to herself in a trembling voice.
"Not again. I keep… I keep having the same nightmare."
But today was not just any day. She wiped her face and forced herself to breathe steadily, remembering what lay ahead. Today is my first day at the Unicrest Academy…
Well, not exactly at the academy. Today was the entrance examination—the trial to see whether she would even be allowed through its gates. A dream every child in the kingdom secretly wished for, and a nightmare if one failed. Pass, and her life would change forever. Fail, and everything she had hoped for would vanish.
It hadn't always been her dream. A while back, a professor from the academy had traveled to her small village to conduct evaluation tests on the local children, searching for candidates with potential. At first, she hadn't intended to try. What chance did a village girl like her have? But her friend had urged her on, practically dragging her into it.
And against all odds, she had passed.
She could still recall the professor's words, as clear as if he stood before her now: "I think your skills are something this academy could use."
Her lips curved into a faint smile at the memory. She had been the only girl in the village who truly cared for swordsmanship, often teased for it, but in the end, she had managed to impress even a professor of the Unicrest Academy.
Still, acceptance wasn't so simple. The academy was as cruel as it was prestigious. The first year was free, meant to test the students and break the weak through rigorous training and impossibly high expectations. One mistake, one failure, could end not only their chances at success but their entire future.
The following four years, however, came with a price. Tuition was steep, far beyond anything a lower-born villager like her could ever afford. Yet there was hope: with outstanding grades, recognition, and enough grit to earn the professors' respect, one could secure a scholarship and continue without paying a single coin.
That was her path. That was her only chance.
She clenched her fists, determination flickering in her tear-streaked eyes. "I'll make it. I have to."
I glanced up at the clock hanging crookedly on my wall. The hands pointed to half past noon.
Tick, tick, tick.
"Shit…"
Panic gripped me instantly. Of all days to oversleep, this had to be the one. My hair—a darkish lavender mess that looked like it had gone through a windstorm—framed my pale face and tumbled into my eyes. Dressed only in my undergarments, I scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the blanket twisted around my legs. My reflection in the mirror caught my attention for just a second—blue-mint eyes wide with alarm, skin ghost-pale from sleep deprivation and nerves.
I bolted to the door and leaned over the railing, shouting down to the kitchen. "What the hell, Mom?! You were supposed to wake me up!"
From below, I caught the faint, calm sound of clattering pans and my mother's maddeningly cheerful voice.
"You're seventeen now, sweetie. It's time to learn independence. Waking yourself up is your responsibility. You can't rely on me forever."
"Ughhh…" I groaned, dragging both hands down my face. Why did she have to be right all the time? From sixteen to twenty, people in Unicrest were technically still considered teenagers, but that never stopped them from drinking, getting married, or signing up for duels they couldn't win. Independence was expected, whether you liked it or not.
I clenched a fist, stomping a foot in frustration. My hair stuck out in tangled clumps, no time left to brush it smooth. With a grunt, I pulled on the academy uniform that had been neatly folded at the foot of my bed—how they managed to know my exact size, I couldn't even begin to guess. That was a mystery for future me to unravel.
Right now, all I could think was: Don't be late on your first day. Don't screw this up.
The female academy uniform I had been given was simple but elegant: a crisp white skirt trimmed with a seafoam-blue outline, matched with a white collared shirt embroidered with the Unicrest crest upon the chest. The same delicate outline ran along the shirt's hem and cuffs, tying the look together. It was both modest and striking, a clear symbol of belonging—or at least, the hope of belonging.
But there was no time to admire it now. No time for breakfast either. I dashed past my mother in a blur, nearly slamming straight into the table.
"Don't forget your katana, honey!"
She tossed it toward me, and with reflexes born of countless training drills, I snatched it midair. The familiar weight settled against my palm, grounding me for just a heartbeat. With a quick spin on my heel, I bolted back toward the door, slamming it shut behind me with a loud thud.
My sandals slapped against the dirt road as I sprinted, lungs burning, heart hammering. The minutes blurred together—ten, twenty, thirty—until I crested the final hill.
And there it was.
The horizon opened before me, revealing the glimmering expanse of the great lake. Sunlight danced across its waters, sparkling like a thousand stars strewn across liquid silver. Beyond it, looming in the distance, stood the massive silhouette of a castle-like structure that seemed to pierce the very sky. Its towers rose like spears of stone and magic, its banners swaying proudly in the wind.
The Unicrest Academy.
Isolated from the rest of the mainland, the academy stood alone, a fortress of knowledge and power. The only path forward was a colossal stone bridge that stretched across the water, guarded at either end by armored knights whose armor gleamed beneath the sun.
It wasn't just a school.
Within its walls lived more than five hundred students, each one chosen for their potential. Training grounds, sprawling courtyards, alchemical shops, spirit gardens—everything a young mage, swordsman, or scholar could ever dream of. Guarded by vigilant professors and a legion of knights, its reputation as the Citadel Academy was no exaggeration. In all of Unicest, there was no safer—nor more demanding—place.
And today, I was about to see if I truly belonged there.
Unicrest wasn't just a school—it was the gateway to a better life. Anyone who managed to graduate from its halls would find doors opening across the empire: government positions, knighthood, merchant connections, even noble patronage. For me, though, there was only one reason to endure it all.
To support my mother.
We had always been poor, lowly commoners scraping by while others lived comfortably under the empire's blessings. My mother worked herself to the bone just to keep food on our table and a roof above our heads. Every scar on her hands, every line of exhaustion etched into her face—I owed her more than I could ever repay. If I graduated, I could earn steady pay, maybe even rise high enough to give her the life she deserved.
That was my goal. Not fame, not glory, not chasing childish dreams of becoming a legendary hero.
"My only goal," I muttered under my breath, clenching my fists tight around my katana's hilt, "is to graduate and get a job!"
Tasks for students came with risk—subjugating beasts, demonic creatures, or bandits in the surrounding lands—but they also came with money. Enough, perhaps, to start lifting us out of poverty. Enough to show my mother her sacrifices weren't in vain.
Finally, I reached the massive iron gates of the academy. Two guards in polished steel stood watch, their armor gleaming like silver beneath the noon sun. They were knights—Unicrest-trained, no doubt—stern-eyed and unmoving as statues.
I hurried forward, fumbling to present the temporary identification card tucked into my uniform. A plain card, unimpressive in design, with only the words "New Student" printed boldly across it. Proof of nothing more than a chance.
The first guard accepted it, scanning the card briefly before nodding.
"Clear. Go on ahead."
Before he could even hand it back properly, I snatched the card from his fingers, bowing clumsily as I swept past.
"Hey—!" the guard grunted, glaring at me for my rudeness.
But I was already gone, feet pounding against the paved courtyard stones, too focused on the thought burning in my head to care.
Don't be late. Don't fail. Not when everything is riding on this.
I barreled onto the academy grounds without a second to spare. There was no time to admire the spires or the gardens—upperclassmen drifted through the courtyard like tide pools of confidence, and I shoved past them like a small, frantic storm. A few gave me icy glares; some barely glanced over their shoulders. I didn't care. I ran like a lunatic, weaving between armor-clad knights-in-training and students who looked far too calm for the apocalypse I felt inside my chest.
The front campus was a bustle of first years: clusters of nervous faces, games half-playing, others sitting stiff-backed and waiting for announcements. I skidded to a halt when a familiar voice called my name.
"Chloe!"
I turned. There she was—Lilia—without question the best person on this planet (besides me, obviously). Blue eyes like clear water, black hair pulled back, wearing the same crisp Unicrest uniform. She had the sort of quiet kindness that made people breathe easier. Lilia and I had been inseparable since childhood—our parents used to scold us for vanishing into the forest for hours. Where I saw trees, she saw companions; where I saw a path lost in scrub, she recognized the spirits that hid there. She always knew the best fruiting branches and the safest shortcuts home.
Her hands were gentle as she brushed the tangles from my lavender hair, and I could feel my cheeks heat under her touch. "You were almost late," she said, eyes amused. "That's not like you, Chloe—and your hair is a mess."
"Yeah, well—" I tried to laugh it off, a nervous, high little sound that only made me look guiltier. We sat on a nearby bench; she reached up and tied my hair into a ponytail so neatly it could have been braided by a master.
Lilia's talent for spirit arts was whispered about in the village. She could call lower spirits and coax a few middling ones into companionship—something most students at Unicrest couldn't do without years of training and a massive mana pool. Spirits were invisible to ordinary eyes; one had to pour mana into their vision to see them, and even then the spirit needed to feel a sympathetic resonance. It wasn't common — which was why, sometimes, I thought the professors might wave her through without the exam.
"What would I do without you?" she asked softly, a smile that felt like home.
I hugged my katana to my side and tried not to cry from the relief in that smile. "Probably sleep through my life," I muttered, and for the first time that morning, I felt steady.
"Anyway," I said, shifting on the bench, "I wonder when they're going to call us for the examination."
Lilia shrugged, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Not too sure. We've been sitting around for the past thirty minutes already."
Before I could respond, a loud, piercing screech cut through the air, immediately snapping everyone's attention to the front of the academy. It was followed by a deep, resonant voice that boomed across the courtyard:
"IF ALL STUDENTS COULD REPORT TO THE FRONT OF THE ACADEMY GARDEN FOR THE MANA EXAMINATION!"
Mana. It was the very heartbeat of this world. Every being, from the smallest insect to the mightiest dragon, contained it. Those with the skill to shape it could perform extraordinary feats—mana techniques, known as arts.
Most students specialized in elemental arts, manipulating a particular type of elemental mana. Pyro, Anemo, Hydro, Geo—there were many, each requiring a unique affinity and precise control. My own attributes were Pyro and Anemo, a volatile combination that I had been training to master since I could remember. Fire and wind danced at my fingertips whenever I poured my mana into them, a restless duet of destruction and freedom.
Hundreds of students began converging toward the entrance hall, the crowd buzzing with nervous energy. The examination was organized carefully: twenty students were called at a time to have their mana evaluated. Depending on their resonance, they would either pass the test, require a different assessment, or, in some cases, be assigned a specialty test if they exhibited rare or unusual abilities.
I gripped my katana instinctively, feeling the familiar hum of my mana pool just beneath the surface. Today, my skills would be measured—not against the weak, but against those who could one day shape the very world.
All of the students here were visibly nervous. I could feel the collective tension like static in the air. My legs wobbled beneath me, and I was on the verge of fainting. I had never seen such a massive crowd before—so different from the small, quiet village I grew up in.
Deep breaths… I told myself, inhaling slowly, letting the air fill my lungs. In… and out…
Today was the basic elemental mana resonance test. The thought of failing made my chest tighten. Everything I had worked for, every sacrifice my mother had made, all the dreams I had been chasing—it could all vanish in a single moment. I couldn't let that happen.
A loud voice echoed across the room:
"CHLOE VALASTINE!"
My name. My heart leapt, and my stomach felt like it had dropped to the soles of my shoes. I stepped forward, trying to steady my shaking hands. Nothing could truly express the weight of the stress I was feeling.
A professor stood to the side, his expression calm but scrutinizing. In the center of the hall floated a shimmering mana orb, suspended by invisible forces. I had only to place my hand upon it and hope that my mana resonance qualified me.
Not stressful at all. TOTALLY. I mumbled sarcastically under my breath.
I lifted my hand and let it hover over the glowing orb. Instantly, bright colors erupted across the room—red, light green, and an unexpected white glow shimmering between them. My eyes widened. Red and green were familiar—Pyro and Anemo—but the white… I had never seen or even heard of a white elemental attribute before.
The professor's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his otherwise composed face. The orb pulsed gently beneath my hand, almost as if it were alive.
Finally, the professor spoke:
"Pass. Go ahead to the ceremony room, down the hall, and to your left."
I froze for a moment, disbelief washing over me. Then, joy exploded inside my chest.
I… I passed! I whispered, tears threatening to form in the corners of my eyes. Never in my life had I felt such elation. My dream—my hard work, my sacrifices, my mother's hope—was one step closer to reality.
For the first time that day, I allowed myself a genuine smile. Today, the impossible felt just a little bit possible.
The professor paused as I walked by, eyes narrowing slightly. A resonance for Anemo and Pyro mana… and a strong resonance for Mantra… he muttered silently, frowning in thought. How rare.
I passed through an ominous hall, the high ceilings and stone walls echoing every footstep. After a while, a shed of sunlight spilled across the floor. Lilia stood there, waving her hand and catching my attention. Around us, the hall buzzed with students: some crying with joy at passing, others bouncing with excitement, and a few shouting grand declarations like, "I will be a legendary knight someday!" I rolled my eyes; let them dream.
"Seems you passed, as expected, Lilia," I said, walking up beside her.
"You're giving me too much credit," she replied, blushing faintly.
Before we could say more, a sharp, commanding shout echoed through the hall: "EVERYONE QUIET!"
The crowd instantly stilled. A man in a black suit ascended the stage. His light-red hair caught the afternoon sun, and his curled mustache twitched with authority.
"Greetings, students, and welcome to Unicrest Academy," he began, his voice booming over the crowd. "I am your principal, Iris Zoff, working alongside the academic faculty. Should you have questions or complaints, direct them to your professors. We expect excellence. Failure… or negligence… will have consequences, including death in extreme cases, throughout the years you remain here."
A brief murmur ran through the students at that.
"Ahem…" Another figure appeared, walking onto the stage with deliberate grace. The older gentleman's bald head shone under the hall lights, and a long, white beard framed a gentle, gleaming smile. He wore a pristine white mage's robe and glasses that caught the light in small, bright flashes. The aura he exuded seemed to quiet the entire room, easing the nervous hearts of the new students.
He was The Author, the greatest sorcerer in the country. Having mastered all branches of mana arts, he had been granted the title by the king himself. As the current head of Unicrest Academy, he outranked even the principal. His predecessors—Lucia Silva, Jacob Everharts, and Kira Hein—were legendary figures recorded in the World History books. Lucia Silva, the first author, had even founded the academy alongside a great swordsman whose name had been lost to history. A statue of her still stood in the middle of the Citadel Square, watching over the grounds like an eternal sentinel.
As the author continued speaking, my vision blurred for a fleeting moment.
『Forced Partial Activation: Perfect Vision』
A faint glimmer appeared in my eyes, barely noticeable to anyone, not even me at first. For a split second, I saw something—a figure in the distance, emanating dark, swirling particles. My breath caught in my throat.
I rubbed my eyes, hoping the vision would vanish. "Was I seeing things?" I murmured under my breath.
Lilia, sensing my unease, leaned close and whispered, "Is everything alright?"
I swallowed, uncertain, trying to steady my racing heart. Could it have been a glimpse of danger? Or was it just my imagination?
"Y-yeah…" I murmured, still a little dazed.
The Author raised his hand and addressed the students again. "Hello, students. I wish to announce a few notable individuals who achieved the highest evaluations: the crown prince, Lucas Crest; Saintess Aria Louisbarne; Candice Hart, of the Absolute Noble family; Silena Slike; and perhaps most importantly, the newly appointed Hero, Kaioh Ryio."
Titles in the academy carried weight. Beyond the Author, there were others—Hero, Sage, Counsel, Runic, and Sentinel. During the golden era, these titles had lain dormant for over two centuries. No one had earned them since. To receive one, a student must gain approval from all the continent's arbiters—a fact considered common knowledge across the lands.
The Hero, however, was different. Every two hundred years, a Hero is born, destined to rise against the Demon Lord—an entity said to be the strongest threat to humanity. Each time the Hero is born, so too is the Demon Lord, reborn to challenge humanity anew.
I shoved the thought aside. Not my problem, thankfully. And hopefully never will be.
"I hope you all treat these individuals with respect," the Author concluded.
With that, the students began filing out of the hall, returning to their dorms and homes. More information on rooms, schedules, and rules would come the next day. I trudged back to my bedroom, arms slouched, katana resting against my shelf, and collapsed onto my bed, utterly exhausted. The principal's hour-and-a-half speech after the Author had drained me mentally—hopefully, never again.
I stared at the ceiling as the clock ticked steadily. I weighed the risks and rewards: danger and possible death, yes—but also scholarships, money, and a chance to support my mother. All of it felt worth the risk, even my own life.
But the dark particles lingered in my mind. The shadowy figure I had seen… I was certain it was real.
Morning came with the sun glaring through my window, pulling me from a restless sleep.
"Ugh…" I groaned, rubbing my eyes. "I hate mornings."
I sat up, lavender hair in its usual tangled chaos. The clock told me I still had time. I threw on my collared shirt, straightened my tie, and zipped up my skirt. Downstairs, the aroma of breakfast made my stomach rumble.
"Morning," I yawned, trudging down the stairs.
"Morning, honey," my mother greeted, noting my readiness. My katana was already strapped to my waist.
"Leaving already?" she asked with a teasing glance.
"Yeah," I said, opening the door halfway. "I don't want a repeat of yesterday."
She smiled, a faintly devious smirk, glancing at the clock. "Have fun then."
I stepped out, stretching, and letting the bright sunlight wash over me. The scent of fresh grass filled the morning air, carrying hints of fall approaching. Townsfolk bustled about in their usual routines, indifferent to the academy that towered just beyond the horizon. It was a
I handed my identification card to the guards at the front gate. One of them gave me a strange, suspicious look, leaning close to whisper to the other.
"Isn't that the crazy girl from the other day?"
"Shush your mouth!" the second guard hissed.
I pretended not to hear, keeping my expression neutral and waiting patiently.
"You're clear to go, ma'am," the first guard finally said.
Passing through the town, I expected to see other students streaming toward the academy, but the streets were almost barren. Only local patrol knights and a few upperclassmen wandered the empty roads. Where was everyone?
The academy itself was equally deserted. Its massive stone walls and towering spires seemed to loom over me, yet not a single soul was in sight. Tick tock… tick tock… Time passed. And passed. And still, no one showed up.
Curiosity—and a creeping impatience—got the better of me. I tried pushing on the massive doors, but they didn't budge. Brute force alone wouldn't open them. If only I could see a way in…
『Forced Partial Activation: Perfect Vision』
Runes shimmered into existence across the center of the door. My hand moved almost on its own, pressing against the largest rune. Immediately, my mind went fuzzy, a wave of dizziness washing over me. Mana seemed to drain from my body in slow, cruel increments. The minutes stretched into what felt like years, each one sapping my energy.
When I finally pulled my hand away, I gasped. Not all of my mana had been drained—it felt like something deeper, something other, had been pulled as well. The heavy door groaned and slowly swung open. I smirked weakly, trying to mask my exhaustion.
"Not like anyone here can stop me anyway," I muttered, stepping inside.