Once the top four had their moment, Davy resumed the roll call.
"Alina!"
The Ice Witch stepped forward, her expression as frigid as her magic. Unsurprising.
"Sylas!"
The white-haired "wimp" from the courtyard climbed the steps, avoiding everyone's eyes. Admitted for his reality-warping gift, not his courage.
"Bernard! Rob!"
The axe-wielder and the surviving twin joined the ranks—Bernard's hands still trembling, Rob's gaze deliberately avoiding Vael.
"Thiery!"
The mountainous man from the courtyard.
The rest were a blur of faces Vael barely recognized—some he'd killed once, others finished off by Kiera or Arconis. A few lucky survivors who'd simply outlasted the chaos.
In total: thirty-six.
A standard harvest for the Academy. Not the largest class, but far from the weakest.
Vael's eyes scanned the new admits—future allies, enemies, or obstacles. The real test started now.
Beyond a handful of genuine threats like Arconis or Alina, only one group truly demanded caution: the nobles.
The Academy's class structure made that clear.
Viscounts, Barons, and lesser lords—regardless of talent—were grouped separately. Bloodlines outweighed skill.
Marquises, Dukes, and royalty formed their own elite tier, a world apart even from other nobles.
That left commoners and rebels shoved into the same classroom—a powder keg of resentment and distrust. Forced to sit beside the very "enemies of the state" the kingdoms vilified, yet expected to uphold the system that scorned them.
It was a political tightrope. Siding with nobles offered no real reward—only subservience. Siding with rebels meant isolation, a target on your back before the real games even began.
The group dwindled down to twenty-seven students, after the nobles left.
Vael exchanged a glance with Kiera. They'd survived the forest.
Now they had to survive the politics.
The next step was finally settling into the dorms.
Ranking didn't buy you luxury here—points meant nothing when it came to housing.
The Academy housed roughly 260 students across its four years of study, and each one got a private room. A small mercy—or a quiet prison—depending on how you looked at it.
Vael wasn't sure how to feel. For nearly a year, he'd always had Kiera nearby—sharing campfires, cold nights, and whispered plans in the dark. Her presence had become a quiet anchor in the chaos. Now, for the first time since their escape, there would be a wall between them.
The thought left an odd hollow in his chest. The silence of a private room sounded heavier than he expected.
His room was a mix of simplicity and quiet luxury. Polished wooden floors gleamed under the soft light, the faint scent of varnish still lingering. A bed sat against the wall—large enough to fit two without issue—its fresh sheets practically inviting him to sink in.
A sturdy desk and a wardrobe stood nearby, already stocked with the Academy's uniforms and essentials. One detail caught him off guard, though: hanging neatly inside was a flawless replica of his old, ripped coat. Someone had taken the time to recreate it stitch for stitch.
Vael didn't dwell on it for long. With two whole hours of free time, there was only one thing on his mind.
A shower. A proper one.
He hadn't had one since… the lab. Rivers didn't count. The thought alone made his skin crawl, as if the grime of that place still clung to him even now.
Vael released Oculor from his prison, letting him roam around.
"An upgrade… though nothing worthy of the All-Seeing Serpent's contractor, of course. At least that woman's gone."
Vael promptly ignored his scaled companion's antics, as usual.
The bathtub, carved from some dark blue stone Vael couldn't even name, looked almost out of place in the simple dorm room—like a relic stolen from a noble's manor. Its surface shimmered faintly under the lamplight, smooth and cool to the touch, leagues ahead of the splintered barrel they'd used back at the inn.
He stripped without ceremony and stepped into the steaming water.
Heat wrapped around him like a cocoon, seeping into his sore muscles, chasing away weeks of grime and tension. For the first time in months, Vael felt his body loosen, his mind quiet. The constant weight on his chest—the memories, the plans, the scars—dulled under the water's warmth.
For once, he didn't need to think. He just breathed.
"Heaven."