I opened my eyes to chaos.
The room around me was a wreck. A couch leaned against the wall, completely upside down as though some madman thought gravity was optional. A bookshelf had collapsed on its side, its shelves splintered, its books scattered across the floor like broken feathers. Only some of them weren't books anymore. Whole chunks of the shelf flickered, transparent, as if they were fading out of existence.
I staggered toward the window, hoping for some kind of grounding sight. Anything.
Nothing.
Just darkness. A black, infinite void pressed against the glass, swallowing all sense of horizon. No city. No stars. No forest. No sound. Only silence, thick and suffocating.
Before I could even curse, a voice broke through the emptiness.
"...Hello?"
I froze.
The sound was meek, fragile yet it rang like crystal.
I turned sharply, claws ready to tear, and found myself staring at… a rock.
No. Not just a rock.
A geode.
It hovered in the air like some lazy spirit, its surface cracked open to reveal jagged crystals glowing a faint yellow. The light pulsed in time with its words.
"Hello?" it repeated, the glow dimming with each syllable. "Who… are you?"
I said nothing. My throat locked, and for once, my mind clawed for sense.
The geode floated closer, tilting like it was curious. Each time it spoke, the crystals dimmed as if the words drained its strength.
I opened my mouth finally ready to snarl, to demand, to understand
And then I woke up.
I heard the faint footsteps of Ryn's daughter as she left the room, no doubt racing off to inform him that I was awake.
As she disappeared down the hall, something convenient almost absurdly so happened. My clothes shifted, reshaping themselves into the sleek, black suit I had grown accustomed to wearing in public. No thought required, no struggle. Just… convenient.
I rose and left the guest room, my boots clicking against the polished floors of the sprawling house. The living room was massive, stretching out like a gallery, with walls lined with strange curios and furniture that could have belonged to an aristocrat or a king. Light poured in from tall windows, falling across the polished wood and shining metal accents.
I moved through it without hesitation, my gaze sliding to the dining room beyond. Its table could seat a dozen, maybe more, and it was set with the meticulous precision of someone who either valued order or feared chaos or perhaps both.
And then I thought of Ryn.
A hunter. One of the highest-paying jobs in this city, apparently.
I paused mid-step, claws flexing in irritation. How? How could this… fragile creature, the one who had fled in terror from a Pyre Sabyr, manage to become one of the city's top hunters? The contradiction made no sense. His hands soft, untested now supposedly commanded authority in a profession built on tracking, fighting, and killing creatures that would tear a normal man to pieces.
Yet here he was, with a house like this, a daughter running errands without fear, and apparently a reputation solid enough to earn the highest wages in the city.
I shook my head, trying to ignore the gnawing thought that this world was not only chaotic but absurdly unfair.
We ate in quiet, the clinking of utensils the only sound in the dining room. Ryn's wife was absent, busy with her duties as a general, so it was just the three of us: him, his daughter, and me.
After a few minutes, Ryn broke the silence.
"So… uh, sir… what are you going to do now?"
I shrugged, unconcerned. I didn't know. Honestly, I hadn't thought that far ahead. My plans rarely involved what ordinary humans might call 'next steps.'
That was when his daughter piped up, her voice light and hopeful:
"How about you join the Elyndral Academy? You look like the right age to enroll, Mr.—uh…"
Her suggestion caught me off guard. Elyndral Academy? The name sparked something unfamiliar in me, curiosity threading through the haze of irritation I carried like armor.
I looked to Ryn. "Elyndral Academy?" I asked. "What is that?"
Ryn's expression softened as he leaned back, fingers drumming the table absentmindedly. "It's a school… very prestigious. Extremely hard to get into. Facilities and research there are unmatched, the most advanced in the entire world. They study everything, but especially Endowals."
Ryn continued. "But it's more than that. The leaders of nations, conglomerates, royalty… many of them come from this school. If you were to attend, you wouldn't just learn. You'd be positioned to influence the world, to move it in ways most people can't even dream of."
I considered his words, silent. The idea of power, of learning and mastering something beyond mere destruction… it intrigued me.
I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms as I pressed Ryn with more questions.
"So… this Academy," I began, tone casual but sharp. "What sort of facilities does it truly have? Or is it just a school in name, feeding its students fairy tales?"
Ryn gave a small chuckle, though his eyes betrayed how seriously he took my words. "Oh, it's no ordinary school, sir. Elyndral has entire research wings bigger than most city districts. They've got combat simulators, laboratories for Endowal studies, even specialized training arenas. Everything from medicine to engineering to… well, anything you can imagine. And—" he paused, as if waiting for my reaction "there are no tuition fees."
That caught me off guard. I narrowed my eyes. "No tuition? For something this… prestigious?"
Ryn nodded. "Funded by the royal family and global consortiums. The idea is simple: talent shouldn't be wasted because of coin. If someone has potential, Elyndral wants them."
I hummed, filing that away. Convenient. Too convenient.
Still, as I pried further, something peculiar stood out. "And these… 'houses'?" I asked.
Ryn scratched his cheek. "Ah, yes. Elyndral likes to divide students into houses to spark competition. Though… it's optional. You can choose to remain unaffiliated, but most join because the houses compete in tournaments and earn prestige. They say it's about fostering ambition, drive… but everyone knows it's a stage to build reputation."
Interesting. Petty rivalries institutionalized. A perfect arena for testing strength and ambition.
Before I could say more, his daughter suddenly leaned forward, her eyes lighting up with childlike wonder.
"If you go there, Mr. Sanghāta, that means you'll get to meet Princess Tristan and the Solar Vanguard!"
She practically bounced in her seat, smiling wide. "That would be so cool!"
The name lingered. Solar Vanguard.
I raised a brow, voice dry. "Solar… Vanguard?"
She nodded eagerly. "They're the most famous Hero group in the city! The Academy sponsors them, and they're always protecting the kingdom. Everyone loves them they learn at Elyndral!"
Her enthusiasm washed over me like a wave I had no interest in swimming through. But the mention of royalty and power recognized by an entire world wasn't something I could ignore.
◇◇◇
I sat alone in Ryn's massive personal library, the place quieter than any battlefield I had ever known. Shelves stretched to the ceiling, every inch crammed with knowledge. History, science, politics, Endowal theory it was all here.
My decision was already made. I would go to Elyndral Academy. If this world valued knowledge and power in equal measure, then I would claim both. The only question left was where to start.
I reached for a book. Then another. But before I could open it, my hands began to shift skin rippling, dissolving into a black mist. Shadows bled outward, slithering like tendrils across the library. They spread, caressing the spines of every book, seeping into every page.
And then it hit me.
A flood of knowledge, raw and unfiltered, coursed through me. Words, diagrams, theories, entire tomes pouring into my mind at once. My skull throbbed, but I couldn't stop it. Every book in the library all of them were devoured by my shadow.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the shadows recoiled. My hands reformed, solid again. I was left staring at them, breathing slow, controlled.
And then I heard it.
That same meek, crystalline voice. Faint. Gentle. Almost childlike.
"Information has been received."
I froze. "You… again."
Silence.
"Who are you?" I pressed, my voice low.
But the geode voice didn't answer.
◇◇◇
I lounged in the exam hall, hands crossed behind my head, legs stretched out across one of the long benches.
The test had just arrived. Everyone else frantically scribbling, chewing pens, flipping pages.
Me? I had answered every single question the moment it appeared. Every. Single. One.
So now I was bored. Pure, unadulterated boredom. I leaned back, letting my gaze drift lazily over the others, just waiting. Waiting for someone to stand up, present their papers so I could follow suit and place mine on the pile like the effortless shadow I was.
Three hours passed.
Three. Bloody. Hours.
Finally. Someone. Some poor, trembling fool rose to submit their answers. I lifted a brow, rose lazily, and dropped mine beside theirs. Done.
I strolled into the practical hall at my own pace. Groups of students filtered in from other exam rooms, buzzing with nervous energy. They circled a figure probably the princess. Doesn't matter. I didn't care. Not in the slightest. I found an empty bench, sat, and simply waited.
Another five hours.
Five. Bloody. Hours.
Everyone else eventually arrived. I yawned. I stretched. The concept of patience had taken on a new, almost torturous meaning.
And now, the real test began.
One by one, students would fight monsters in simulation. The challenges would start simple, trivial even but with each successive opponent, the difficulty escalated. Until eventually, they could no longer proceed.
Eight hours since the written exam. Four more hours waiting for my turn. Twelve hours total.
Half a day.
Half a damn day just to swing a blade in a glorified game of monsters. I don't know how these humans don't collapse from hunger or boredom, but somehow they endure.
Finally—finally—my turn.
The doors shut behind me as I stepped into the simulation chamber. A sterile voice chimed over the PA system, flat and mechanical:
"Stage 1. Monster: Howler Imps. Quantity: two."
Howler Imps. Monkey-sized creatures, weak when alone, but devastating in groups. Nuisances.
I picked up a sword from the rack, weighed it in my hand. Too light. Too fragile. But good enough.
The two creatures screeched as they leapt at me. I slashed once, twice clean cleaves, bodies split mid-air before they even touched me.
And then the real boredom began.
"Stage 3."
"Stage 5."
"Stage 10."
"Stage 20."
On and on, the voice droned, stage after stage, imps pouring in, their shrieks becoming nothing more than background noise to the rhythm of my blade. Slash, stab, rend, repeat.
"Stage 50."
"Stage 100."
"Stage 500."
Time blurred. I didn't count kills. I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the monotonous chime of the PA, climbing ever higher as the sword carved through the horde.
"Stage 3000. Finished."
I dropped the sword back on the rack, unmarked, unstained. Just a piece of metal. Then I walked out.
The silence hit first.
Dozens of eyes. Wide, unblinking. Their stares clung to me as if I had sprouted wings and horns. Shock. Fear. Awe. Whatever it was, I ignored it. I went back to my bench, sat down, and closed my eyes to rest.
Children, I thought. Twenty-year-olds, gasping like I'd done something impossible, when all I'd done was swing a blade for longer than usual.
Their whispers cut off when she walked in.
Princess Tristan.
The crowd's mood shifted instantly, their starved attention latching onto her like moths to flame. I cracked an eye open, just enough to watch.
She fought well, I'll admit. Her strikes were clean, her aura sharp. She pushed through stage after stage, until eventually, at stage 500, she surrendered.
The hall erupted into cheers and clapping. Applause, laughter, celebration.
For what? For five hundred?
When the last name was called and the last round of cheers died down, I left.
No ceremony. No chatter. No wide-eyed gasps about "what stage I reached." I simply stood, walked past the gaping students, past the instructors whispering like frightened birds, and stepped out of the academy gates.
The air outside was cooler, tinged with the scent of late evening.
Around me, the others spilled out in clusters. Faces flushed, voices bright. Some ran straight into the arms of waiting families, clinging, laughing, sobbing with relief. Others chattered in groups, animatedly recounting their battles, exaggerating their victories as if the day hadn't been a tedious crawl of waiting punctuated by mediocrity.
I watched them briefly. Their joy. Their pride. Their relief.
Then I turned away, hands in my pockets, and walked back toward Ryn's home.
The streets felt quieter in comparison, lantern light flickering against stone and asphalt. My steps echoed alone, steady, while behind me the echoes of laughter and reunion carried on.
◇◇◇
I woke up as usual, sunlight streaming through the tall glass windows, and immediately the maids descended upon me. They bathed me, combed my hair, and helped me into my dress. It was embarrassing always embarrassing but I endured it as I always did.
When they were done, I left my chambers and walked through the grand hall of the palace. The marble floors gleamed, the chandeliers sparkled, and I could hear the faint sounds of guards drilling in the courtyard.
And then I saw her.
My big sister, Tristan Luca Beaumont.
Without thinking, I ran to her and threw my arms around her. She smelled faintly of steel and lavender, her embrace warm but still stiff from exhaustion. She had been gone all of yesterday, taking the Elyndral Academy entrance test.
"Welcome back, sis!" I said, holding her tight.
Before she could respond, disaster struck.
Our parents His Majesty and Her Majesty appeared, both of them grinning like mischievous children. And then they scooped us both up in a crushing bear hug.
Air. I needed air.
The tighter their grip grew, the more desperate me and Tristan became to escape. We looked over their shoulders to our older brothers, silently begging for help. But our brothers only gave us pitying looks before looking away.
Traitors.
When at last we were freed, Tristan and I staggered to the dining table. Plates were already waiting, filled with steaming food. We sat, ate, and laughed. My brothers spoiled me as usual passing me the best cuts, sneaking me extra desserts while Mother pretended not to notice.
It felt… happy. Comfortable.
But then I remembered.
Today, the results of the Elyndral Academy entrance test would be announced. In the game, I knew exactly how this played out. Big sis Tristan would take first place with a score of 4900. It was the foundation of her legend the first step into her story.
Because I wasn't just a princess.
I was transmigrated.
This world was the setting of the most popular game of my past life: Crown Eternal: Radiance of the Throne.
It followed big sis's journey her time in the academy, her rise to power, her adventures beyond. The game was beloved for its sheer depth. Even three years after release, people were still uncovering hidden routes, secret bosses, and new layers of lore.
That was why I knew today. Today was the day Tristan would be announced as first place.
Or so I thought.
The butler entered, carrying a sleek tablet in his gloved hands. He cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.
"By order of the Elyndral Academy Board, the entrance exam results are as follows," he intoned.
My heart raced in excitement, waiting to hear Tristan's name at the top.
"First place: Sanghāta Elion … with a perfect score of 5,000."
The words didn't make sense. My fork clattered to my plate.
What?
5,000? That wasn't even possible. There was no such name in the game. No Sanghāta. No outlier. This shouldn't be happening.
The butler continued, as if nothing was wrong.
"Second place: Tristan Luca Beaumont, with a score of 4900."
The dining hall buzzed. My siblings cheered. Tristan bowed her head gracefully at the praise. Father and Mother laughed proudly.
But I sat frozen.
In the game, Tristan was always first. Always. She was the cornerstone of the story, the unbeatable prodigy.
So who in the world was Sanghāta?
And why did I have the sinking feeling that this wasn't just a small change?