The courtyard of the academy was brimming with youth—hundreds of students clad in fresh uniforms, their faces marked with a blend of nervousness, awe, and quiet ambition. The morning sun hung low, casting long shadows behind the towering marble gates.
Then, without warning, silence fell.
A man with a flowing white beard stepped onto the raised platform before the crowd. His presence alone sent a ripple through the sea of students, as if gravity itself had bent slightly toward him.
Whispers erupted.
"Isn't that the Head Principal?"
"I think his name was… Horde Friz?"
"I heard he's a Tier 2 magician."
"Tier 2?! Isn't that ten times stronger than Tier 3?!"
Trav stood quietly among the crowd, catching every murmured word.
*Ten times stronger? Does that mean… each tier is tenfold more powerful than the last?*
His eyes narrowed, brain already racing. *If Father is Tier 3… then that man is a walking storm.*
Then, it happened.
Without lifting a single finger, without any visible movement at all, the man spoke—and his voice boomed across the courtyard like thunder wrapped in command.
"Good morning, upcoming students of my school."
A pulse of mana flowed outward from him, subtle yet undeniable. It wasn't just an amplification spell—it was refined authority, pressed into every syllable.
Gasps scattered across the field.
"I am Horde Friz," the man continued, his tone precise, his cadence unnervingly calm. "Head Principal of this academy. You'll be seeing me often—so it is best we get acquainted now."
His gaze swept over the students like a blade over grass—brief, but sharp enough to cut.
Trav felt his spine straighten on instinct.
*This man didn't demand respect. He pulled it from your lungs with his mere existence.*
*So this is what a Tier 2 magician feels like…* Trav thought.
*It's like standing in front of a mountain that decided to grow eyes.*
The ceremony had only just begun, but something inside him shifted.
This wasn't just a school.
It was a battlefield where monsters learned to sharpen their claws.
"We only have three major rules in this academy," the principal declared, his voice booming like divine law etched into the skies.
The courtyard fell silent again, all ears sharpened, all backs stiffened.
"One. You shall not kill other students. If you do… make sure we never find out."
A ripple of nervous laughter swept the crowd, but his expression didn't change.
"Two. You shall not allow other students to secretly kill you."
That one landed heavier, like a boulder dropped from nowhere.
"And three…" The principal's tone dropped to a grim seriousness. "You shall not become weak."
The silence afterward was deafening.
"Here, we will teach you everything necessary to become men," he added, as if warping the very definition of the word 'education.'
Then, raising one hand to the sky, he concluded,
"Now then… Glory to the Orc Slayer, Aidyn!"
"RAHHHHHH!!!"
The crowd roared like beasts uncaged, the air thick with reverence and adrenaline.
Trav stood there, stunned.
*Amazing… How did he flip the mood like that? It's like watching an admiral in Two Piece commanding a fleet with his voice alone.*
---
**30 Minutes Later…**
Room 308… 308…
Trav paced the hallway, dragging his luggage behind him.
"…Must be this one."
He stopped before a plain wooden door, then turned the knob.
As the door creaked open, Trav found a man sitting cross-legged beside one of the beds—fiery red hair, muscles like he bench-pressed carriages for breakfast.
"You took your sweet time," the man said without looking up. "You my roommate?"
"Uh… yeah. Got a bit lost on the way," Trav replied, starting to unpack his luggage.
"I'm Regie Augi. Heavy sword user," the redhead said flatly.
Trav's eyes widened slightly. "Augi…? As in the noble family Augi?"
Regie let out a small laugh. "Nah, I got disowned. I liked swords more than gauntlets. Apparently, that's sacrilege or whatever. Doesn't stop me from aiming high, though."
"Oh. You're right, it shouldn't," Trav said, impressed by the guy's straightforwardness. "I'm Trav Resonia. From the Resonia family."
"Resonia?" Regie blinked. "Never heard of it. Don't care either. I just like swinging my sword."
"…Fair enough."
Trav gave a weak chuckle.
The air between them settled into a somewhat awkward, comfortable silence.
Until—
**BOOM!**
A sudden, thunderous bang exploded from the room next door, shaking the floor beneath their feet.
"What the hell was that?" they both blurted in unison.
Without hesitation, they shot up to their feet, darting to the hallway. Trav knocked hard on the door next door.
**Knock knock knock.**
"Hey! Are you guys okay in there?! We just heard a loud bang!"
Silence.
Then, a slow… creaking… sound from the door hinge, as if something—or someone—was about to open it.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing a thin trail of smoke drifting lazily into the hallway.
A boy with messy green hair and comically large, thick-rimmed glasses poked his head out, coughing lightly with soot on his cheek.
"Oh, my bad," he said, adjusting his oversized spectacles. "I was… experimenting with some materials from Alchemy class, and this guy"—he jerked his thumb behind him—"accidentally slipped and mixed two unstable substances together. Kinda went kaboom."
Behind him, another figure groaned, half-buried under a broken table.
Trav blinked. "Oh. Are you guys… seniors?"
"Yeah," the green-haired boy said, casually brushing soot from his coat.
*They're seniors?* Trav's eyes flickered with curiosity.
Regie, already leaning against the doorway, crossed his arms.
"Does that mean you've already gotten your singularity?" Regie asked, eyes narrowing with interest.
"Yep. We did."
The green-haired boy smiled awkwardly.
Trav's face lit up, stepping forward. "Oi oi! Can you tell me what you got? That sounds amazing!"
But before the question could hang in the air too long, a deeper voice interrupted.
The boy standing behind the green-haired one—taller, leaner, with dark black hair and half-lidded eyes—clicked his tongue and stepped forward.
"Oi. That's enough. You're not supposed to ask that kind of question in here," he said sharply, voice cool and slightly threatening.
Trav froze. "Huh? Wait, it's… rude?"
"Extremely," the black-haired boy replied, narrowing his eyes.
"Ah—sorry! My bad! I'm new here… didn't know," Trav said quickly, scratching the back of his head and offering a sheepish smile.
Regie let out a short grunt. "Tch. Guess this school's got more unspoken rules than an imperial banquet."
The green-haired boy waved dismissively. "Eh, it's fine. You'll learn eventually. Anyway, sorry about the noise. We'll clean it up."
With that, the door slowly shut again, leaving Trav and Regie standing in the hallway, the smell of burnt herbs still lingering in the air.
"…So," Trav whispered. "I guess not asking about someone's singularity is rule number four?"
"Apparently," Regie muttered. "Add that to the list."