If not for Zora's sudden rise, if not for her brilliance in both the Spirit Warrior and alchemy trials, Imperial Academy would have been crushed again this year, leaving no dignity behind.
That sense of helplessness had weighed on him heavily.
But Alaric Von Seraph was not the type to collapse under pressure. In his world, falling behind was not shameful. The only shame was giving up.
With that thought, he took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"I'm going."
The moment those words left his lips, he walked straight toward the high platform without hesitation. His back was upright, his footsteps firm, and his aura carried the cold sharpness of a blade unsheathed.
Sylvandria watched him go, her gaze lingering on him. She seemed to want to say something, but in the end, she remained silent. In her heart, Alaric Von Seraph had always been someone she admired, someone who carried a strength far deeper than mere cultivation.
