The Academy didn't preach equality. But it did promise some semblance of fairness.
Where fairness ended and superiority began, however, was always vague. Tonight, the line had revealed itself.
Royals were the exception, as expected. Sharing a roof with them never meant sharing treatment.
The night was still young, and Vael's attention lingered on the arrivals — especially Princess Olivia.
Because Vael knew. How carnivorous plants sweeten their trap with nectar.
He wasn't a man of politics, not really. But even he understood: someone like Olivia shouldn't exist here. The kind, the soft, were devoured before long.
And yet, here she was. Not only surviving — but thriving. Which could only mean the sweetness was a mask.
She sat like perfection sculpted in flesh. Effortless grace. Effortless power.
Across the floor, nobles and commoners knelt together. Still waiting. Still bowed.
Then came the sound that broke the hush.
BONG. BONG.
The students rose as one, straightening their backs.
In the center of the hall, space had formed naturally — a perfect circle, three meters wide, empty of all but anticipation.
Then, just as the thrones had appeared, the void filled. A figure materialized from nothing.
Beardless this time.
Vael's eyes widened. Atsuna?
Disbelief clung to his face. Wasn't she just a core evaluator? What was she doing here, standing at the center like she owned the room?
"Greetings, students. Faculty."
Her voice was steady, unhurried. Wrinkled features caught the light — a living testament to time, and the wisdom it carved.
"I am this wonderful Academy's Vice-Principal. As for why I'm here… it's simple, really."
Her feet left the ground without so much as a ripple of mana. She floated upward, effortless as drifting smoke, until her gaze swept across the entire hall. No one could pretend not to see her now. No one could pretend not to hear.
"For most of you, the next four years of your lives will be spent within these walls. Four years that will decide whether you rise into greatness… or collapse into obscurity."
The silence that followed wasn't enforced — it was natural. Every pair of eyes was fixed on her, as if the wrong blink might mean missing something crucial.
"Now, I won't pretend to know who you are, where you came from, or what drives you.
Perhaps you're here to better yourselves. Maybe family matters weigh on your mind. Or perhaps…" She let her eyes linger on Vael a moment longer than the rest. "…a personal vendetta."
"Whatever it may be, this institution exists to help you pursue it. I won't bore you with a grand speech about perseverance. Instead, I'll tell you the rules—simple, but absolute.
First, an average below fifty percent in any trimester means immediate expulsion.
Second, killing another student is forbidden—unless you were not the instigator and acted purely in self-defense. In the eventuality that you do, in fact, kill someone, the Academy will do everything in its power to protect you from any backlash.
And finally, curfew is at ten sharp. If we catch you wandering after hours… expect consequences."
That second rule might as well have been a giant elephant crammed into a very small room.
It was a loophole, plain and simple—a sanctioned chance to remove anyone who angered you. Provoke them into striking first, or simply twist the truth about who started it.
For commoners, this was monumental. Their one real opportunity to kill a noble without facing punishment.
Goddess Natela, or whatever your name is, you truly bless me, Vael thought, a smirk already tugging at his lips.
"Now," the instructor continued, "before you all start panicking, know this—student deaths are rare at this Academy."
A moment of silence.
"But not unheard of."