The conference hall of the Four Stars Academy was filled with quiet authority. Wide banners representing each of the four great academies swayed gently in the air — Four Stars, Hero, Ranger, and Bloom Knights — their colors glinting beneath the enchanted chandeliers.
At the round obsidian table, eight instructors sat, their faces lit by the floating light runes.
Kime leaned forward, tapping a finger on the crystal tablet before him. Beside him stood his assistant, a quiet man whose eyes never stopped scanning the holographic projections hovering over the table.
Across from him, Sensei Pwain sipped his tea in silence, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. To his left sat St. Bzeekl — the hawk-eyed instructor from Ranger Academy — a tall, lean man in white military robes, his aide, a short woman in a sharp black suit, flipping through her notes with brisk efficiency.
At the far end, sat Meris Veyna and Master Gendric from Hero Academy — both composed, but the faint aura of divine energy that surrounded them made the air heavier.
Lastly, the two representatives from Bloom Knights Academy — the silver-haired Sir Renar and the massive, armored instructor Doldan Fyrecrest — sat in grim patience, as if any word from Kime might decide the fate of nations.
"We'll begin." Kime said.
The projections shifted, revealing a glowing map of the central coliseum still under construction — an immense ring carved into the heart of Lestrel City, with cranes and mage lines weaving through its skeleton.
"Preparations for the Continental Tournament are nearly complete. The arena will be ready in two weeks. This year, the competition will take a new structure — three stages."
A low murmur rippled across the table.
"Three stages?" Meris Veyna asked.
Kime nodded. "Yes. The first will be team battles. Each academy will select fifteen trainees — five from each year. Matches will be randomized. No class protection. A first-year could face a third-year."
Sensei Pwain chuckled. "Harsh. Just the way I like it."
Kime ignored him. "By the end of that round, six teams should remain — roughly thirty participants in total."
He swiped his hand across the tablet. The projection changed again — this time showing the outline of a fog-shrouded forest and the glowing silhouette of a white-furred beast.
"Stage two — Dungeon Expedition. All remaining teams will enter the Frostfang Den. Their objective is to retrieve one of two items: the horn or saber tooth of a White Grizzly Tiger — an AA-class demonic beast — or the four flame cores of Fire Salamanders. Either of those earns an instant pass."
The Ranger aide looked up from her tablet. "And if they fail?"
"Then they're out. The time limit is four hours."
A tense silence followed. Even the seasoned instructors felt the weight of it — Kime wasn't designing a test. He was forging soldiers.
Finally, the image shifted once more, revealing a massive circular stadium brimming with people.
"The final stage is individual combat. The last survivors of the dungeon will face each other before the two monarchs — the King of Brandish and the King of Falmouth. Both have confirmed their attendance."
A ripple of awe ran through the room.
Sir Renar of Bloom Knights leaned back. "So… this isn't just an academy competition anymore."
"No," he said, his eyes glinting coldly. "This is a stage to show the world who its future champions will be."
---
Within the gilded marble palace of Brandish, the air was heavy with incense. The King sat atop his throne, leaning lazily against the gilded armrest, fingers drumming the hilt of his jeweled sword. Before him, the High Priest knelt, his robes shimmering with cursed runes.
"The deal with that red-haired Ransthrol… did it come through?" King Quinnson Guel demanded of the High Priest.
The High Priest's voice was deep and resonant. "Yes, Your Majesty. The Zengas are complete. Hundreds of them now — enhanced and mindless, awaiting command."
The King's golden eyes flickered with amusement. "I hadn't thought that red-haired fool had it in him. It seems he's more than mere noise."
"Indeed. The army has reached full capacity — over five hundred units, with more forming. Their will is bound to your mark."
The King rose, his cape sweeping across the crimson carpet like a living flame.
"Then the time has come… to reclaim what is ours." King Quinnson Guel said with a smile.
The priest bowed his head. "The God of Light, Iron has blessed your path my Lord. Four Stars Academy will stand no chance against our army, my King."
The King's smirk sharpened. "Indeed. And when we take him—Kutote—Four Stars will burn from the inside."
---
Back at Four Stars Academy, the courtyard was overflowing. Hundreds of trainees — first, second, and third years — gathered beneath the central crystal dome. The afternoon light poured down in threads of gold and blue.
Kime stood on the marble podium, the wind lifting the ends of his long white coat. His presence alone silenced the crowd.
"This year marks the first time in decades that Four Stars will face all three academies at once. The continent is watching. The kings are watching. And whether they call us arrogant or cursed, we will show them why we stand above all others."
He raised his hand, and the crest of Four Stars flared behind him — four burning orbs circling a central star.
"Each of you was chosen not for talent, but for resolve. Remember that when you step into the arena. There are no guarantees. Only glory for those who refuse to break."
The trainees straightened, energy pulsing through the field.
Then, he began calling the names.
"First-Year Trainees:
Itekan Líe, Itoyea Pilton, Binturu Binturu, Cheim Nell, Avery Ransthrol
Second-Year Trainees:
Illiopo Sengares, Bukanami Ao, Konacho Ojoche, Tendo Kech, Tobi Fustavo
Third-Year Trainees:
Korimer Ransthrol, Nuelle Ness, Candice Laīde, Jokovik Martennel, Great Man"
---
The names echoed through the courtyard. Each one carried a spark of weight, pride, and expectation.
When the list ended, Kime looked across the sea of faces.
Kime: "Your opponents will not hold back. They will come to crush your pride and test your hearts. So fight not as students — but as warriors of Four Stars."
The emblem behind him blazed brighter, and the crowd erupted into cheers that rolled across the academy like thunder.
The tournament had begun — and unseen to them, so had the war.
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