Ava dropped Feng and Maria at the plaza before the South Wing Hall, her presence trailing like a storm. The soft gust she left in her wake stirred robes and sent whispers curling through the gathered students.
The plaza was alive—first-years clustered in nervous knots, others trickling in from cobbled paths lined with floating lanterns and whispering banners that shifted as though alive. Every voice seemed hushed by the weight of what lay ahead.
The South Wing Hall loomed beyond, a titan of arcane stone. Its walls shimmered faintly, absorbing and bending the shifting light, while spires pierced upward into a sky where slow-moving clouds drifted lazily. Yet it wasn't size alone that gave it authority. It was the aura. The silence that grew heavier as one drew closer. Leaves seemed to fall slower near its walls, birds curved their flight paths away from its roof. The Hall didn't ask for reverence—it commanded it.
"Okay… see you guys at home later," Ava said, her voice light but tinged with the thrill of flight. Her wings unfurled, veins of lightning flickering through the feathers. In a single motion, she launched skyward, faster than she'd ever shown them before.
Feng tilted his head, watching her vanish into the clouds. Guess she was holding back for us.
Beside him, Maria's eyes lingered on Ava's fading figure before she caught Feng's glance and gave a smile—slight but brighter than her usual calm mask. He had learned, after a month together, to catch those small shifts.
"Okay… let's go, Feng. A lot of people are already inside."
He nodded, steady as ever. "Yeah. Let's go."
The doors opened without touch. Cool, enchanted air rushed past as they stepped in. The hall swallowed them whole.
Inside, the space was cathedral-like. Columns carved from dragonbone rose into infinity, supporting a vaulted ceiling painted with ever-shifting constellations. Whispering lights drifted above, scattering starlight across rows of benches filled with students. Every surface seemed alive, humming with centuries of Qi engravings.
They chose seats midway up the right side, settling quietly.
It only took seconds. Heads turned. Whispers spread like fire leaping across dry grass.
Feng—the top scorer from the entrance exams.Maria—the runner-up with her team.
Dozens of eyes burned into them, but neither flinched. Calmly, they sat.
A sharp voice cut through the murmurs.
"HEY! Maria!"
Maria startled upright, eyes searching until they landed on a familiar figure weaving toward them. Recognition softened her face into a warm smile. "Oh—Rose! Good morning."
She glanced at Feng, then back. "This is Feng. Feng, meet Rose."
Feng rose to his feet and offered a small, formal bow.
Rose tilted her chin, her silver-blue hair catching the starlight above. A long spear rested across her back, bound with violet string. Her presence radiated proud confidence—the unmistakable aura of the Lightning-aligned werewolf clan, one of the Central Ten Great Families. She gave Feng the barest nod, her golden eyes appraising but not unfriendly.
The three of them settled together just as the overhead lights dimmed.
Then came the weight.
The instructors had arrived.
A hush cascaded through the hall as a single, towering figure stepped onto the stage.
David Johnson. Head of Combat Classes.
He was massive—an East-Middle European wall of muscle and grit, nearly 2.7 meters tall, built like a fortress. His presence filled the room even before he moved.
He raised one hand.
Qi erupted—not as thunder, but as weight. A pressure that carried the exhaustion of training yards, the screams of battlefields, the grit of a thousand drills. Conversations died mid-breath. Even the floating lanterns flickered, bowing beneath the gravity of his aura.
When he spoke, his voice rolled like stone grinding against stone.
"Now that you're listening…" His eyes swept the sea of faces. "I am David Johnson, Head of all Combat Classes."
Another step forward. The air thickened, like walking through water.
"You will now be sorted into your classes—Combat and Non-Combat—based on your exam performance. From this moment, your instructors will shape your path. Training. Survival. Future. It begins now."
Excitement buzzed beneath the silence. Every student sat straighter, eyes locked.
David unrolled a glowing scroll. His deep voice carried effortlessly.
"We begin with the Arcane Class—the only one this year."
A ripple of curiosity shot through the crowd.
"When your name is called, proceed to the entrance. Your instructor awaits."
He read:"Feng Jian. Maria Shulin. Loreto. Rose Lathra. Concor. Lucaa. Nick. Iris. Chloé."
Gasps spread instantly. The Arcane Class was small—only nine. And Feng and Maria, first and second in the exams, were both on the list.
Feng stood without hesitation. Maria rose beside him. Rose followed, her spear shifting against her back. The others scrambled up quickly, trying to match their composure.
Whispers flooded the hall. Every gaze tracked them as they walked toward the front.
At the entrance, a small figure awaited. Barefoot, white-haired, no taller than a child. Her pointed ears twitched as her arms crossed impatiently. Lantern-light glimmered against her pale skin.
"Okay…" she said, scanning them with a foxlike grin. "Is everyone here?"
No one dared speak, but she nodded anyway.
"Good. I'm Miss Hareko. Your instructor."
She clapped her hands once.
A circle of dark-purple Qi flared beneath their feet—shaped like broken lightning threads. The floor dissolved. In a blink, they were gone.
Gasps and cries erupted from the hall as students craned to see. Only the shimmer of fading light remained where the nine had stood.
David didn't so much as blink. His gaze swept the crowd again.
"Coming up next…" he said, rolling the scroll to its next set of names.