Valen spent the following day confined to his mansion, allowing his body to recover from the previous night's extended casting session. The spirit summoning had costed nothing but drained him mentally.
They would depart for the Radiant Academy tomorrow at noon. Enough time to rest properly.
One last day of luxury before years of Academy dormitories, Valen thought as servants brought dinner—roasted pheasant glazed with honey and herbs, fresh bread still warm from the ovens, wine that cost more than most families earned in a month. He ate slowly, appreciating flavors he wouldn't taste again for a while.
Iris had spent most of the day in her ghostly owl form, flitting between rooms and hallways, gathering gossip from servants who couldn't see her. She'd developed an almost obsessive habit of eavesdropping—though Valen had to admit the intelligence she gathered proved consistently useful.
After dinner, Valen sat at his desk and withdrew the Chaos Crystal Theodore had given him. He turned it slowly in the lamplight, watching the chaotic colors swirl inside like trapped storms refusing to settle into any recognizable pattern.
Indistinguishable from other Soul Crystals in shape and structure, he observed, comparing it mentally to the crystals already in his possession. But the energy inside moves differently. More... volatile.
"I will have to wait until I reach the Academy to research what makes these different from normal Soul Crystals," he murmured.
"Agreed, Master," Iris replied from her perch on his bookshelf, still in owl form. "The library here contains nothing substantive about Chaos Crystals beyond basic acknowledgment of their existence."
Valen woke early the next morning to sunlight streaming through tall windows. He bathed carefully, taking time to ensure he looked presentable for the journey. His hair had grown longer than he preferred over the past weeks—he cut it short with scissors, combing it neatly after applying oil that made it shine.
His traveling clothes had been laid out the previous evening: comfortable woolen trousers tucked into leather boots worn soft from use, a black cotton shirt that allowed freedom of movement, black gloves to protect his hands, and a leather vest for warmth. Over everything went his mage's robe—enchanted fabric that suppressed mana fluctuations, making it harder for others to sense when he was actively casting. The robe had arrived shortly after his awakening, standard issue for newly promoted mages in noble families.
He fastened a belt with an attached pouch for his Soul Crystals, checking each one carefully before securing the pouch closed. Finally, he strapped a short sword in its scabbard to his waist—emergency backup for situations where magic proved impractical.
Not that I know how to use it properly, Valen admitted to himself. But wearing it sends signals. Armed means dangerous. Dangerous means leave alone.
Outside, his private carriage waited in the mansion's courtyard. All the servants and household staff had assembled to see him off—maids in neat uniforms, butlers with practiced dignified expressions, groundskeepers and stable hands standing respectfully at the edges.
The head maid stepped forward, her stern face softening slightly. "Young Master has grown into a fine mage. We are all very proud."
"We'll miss you, Young Master!" one of the younger maids called out, voice thick with emotion.
"Study hard!"
"Show them what House Ashford can do!"
The chorus of well-wishes followed him as he climbed into the carriage. Valen nodded acknowledgment, maintaining the appropriate dignified expression expected of someone in his position, though part of him found the formality slightly absurd.
They're genuinely emotional, he observed, watching faces through the carriage window. Not just performing duty. Strange how household staff become attached to people they serve.
His carriage rolled smoothly through the internal lanes of the grand Ashford estate, eventually meeting the other cousins' carriages near the main gate. A contingent of guards and servants in additional carriages formed up behind them—protection and support for the journey ahead.
The head guard conducted final checks with methodical precision, inspecting each carriage's wheels, confirming supplies were properly secured, and verifying the route with his subordinates. Only when satisfied did he give the signal.
The procession rolled out through the estate's massive gates.
The noble estates occupied the inner city of Luminspire—wide paved roads clean enough to eat from, buildings spaced generously apart with gardens between them. Their carriages moved swiftly through streets where every surface reflected wealth and power.
Valen observed the transition as they moved outward. The inner city gradually gave way to the outer districts where most of the capital's population actually lived.
The difference was striking.
Buildings pressed against each other like they were competing for space, three and four stories tall with narrow dark alleys between them barely wide enough for a single person to walk through. Laundry hung from windows on lines stretched between buildings. The smell changed too—cooking fires, sewage, too many people living too close together.
Almost everyone wants to live inside the walls, Valen recalled the coachman's earlier explanation. Even if it means entire families squeezed into single rooms.
Their procession moved down the main thoroughfare—the only road wide and clean enough for multiple carriages. Common citizens noticed the Ashford crest on their carriages and moved aside quickly, clearing space with practiced efficiency. Some bowed. Others simply watched with carefully neutral expressions that could mean anything.
Respect? Fear? Resentment? Valen wondered, watching faces pass. Probably all three mixed together. That's how power works—nobody's reaction is ever simple.
After roughly an hour of travel through increasingly crowded streets, they reached the eastern gate of the city.
Valen's eyes widened slightly despite his usual composure.
The fortifications were far more extensive than he'd imagined. Multiple walls rose one after another—massive structures of earth and stone that dwarfed the buildings around them. Sentry towers interlaced between the walls at regular intervals, guards visible on every platform. The defensive layers extended so deep that the actual gate was barely visible from the approach.
This is military-grade fortification, Valen realized. Not just discouragement for bandits. This is built to withstand sieges from serious threats.
He couldn't help his curiosity. Leaning toward the small window connecting the passenger compartment to the driver's bench, he called out: "Why such heavy fortifications just at the city border?"
His coachman—an older man who'd served the family for decades—glanced back. "You'll learn more once you enter the Academy, Young Master. But the simple truth is that dangers are abundant outside the city walls. Monsters, corrupted beasts, or worse, corrupted humans—any of them can appear without warning. Hence why everybody wants to live inside, even if they have to squeeze into tiny rooms. The walls keep them safe."
Safe from what exactly? Valen frowned, processing this. The novel mentioned reality mergers causing problems, but it never emphasized how dangerous the world actually is outside civilization's boundaries.
"Is it related to the realm convergence effect?" Valen asked, remembering the novel's central mechanic.
The coachman was surprised that Valen knew about it.
"That's part of it, Young Master. Small-scale convergences can happen anywhere outside the walls. Inside the city, something suppresses them."
Iris's voice chimed in his mind, her tone thoughtful. "My analysis suggests it is likely related to the Chaos Crystals somehow. The suppression effect extends exactly as far as the fortifications—too precise to be coincidence."
Valen pulled out the Chaos Crystal Theodore had given him, staring at its swirling depths as the carriage passed through the final gate.
Connected to city-wide protective effects? That would make them incredibly valuable. But how?
"Guess we'll have to wait for Academy lessons to find out," he murmured quietly.
After crossing the fortifications, their procession rolled swiftly along a paved road that cut through dense forest. The trees pressed close on both sides—ancient growth that blocked most sunlight, creating perpetual twilight beneath the canopy.
Valen observed the forest carefully. The road itself was well-maintained, smooth stone that allowed their carriages to move at good speed without jolting. But just beyond the road's edge, the forest looked wild and untamed. Massive roots crossed and recrossed like natural barriers. Undergrowth grew thick enough to hide anything larger than a rabbit.
Perfect ambush terrain, he noted clinically. Anyone hiding twenty feet into those trees would be invisible until they attacked. The paved road is probably the only safe passage.
Something caught his attention—a break in the tree line where sunlight streamed down into a small clearing. In the center stood a massive tree unlike anything around it, easily three times the width of its neighbors. Its bark gleamed silver-white in the light, and its leaves were a blue so vivid they looked almost artificial.
The tree's roots had broken through the road surface, forcing the paved stone to curve around them rather than cut through. Several roots were thicker than Valen's torso, covered in luminescent moss that pulsed with faint light.
They paved around it instead of removing it, Valen observed. Which means either it's too dangerous to cut down, or it's protected for some reason. Possibly both.
"Master, that appears to be a Spirit Tree," Iris announced, her voice carrying interest. "Extremely rare. They form when a convergence point stabilizes after all the mayhem. The tree absorbs chaotic energy and converts it into pure spirit essense. Very valuable for alchemists and enchanters."
Valen just watched with wonder. The carriage rolled past and the tree vanished behind them.
By evening, they reached a relay station—a fortified compound built specifically for travelers moving between the capital and the Academy. High wooden walls surrounded multiple buildings: a main inn, stables, guard barracks, and what looked like a small shrine.
Valen disembarked, stretching muscles cramped from hours of sitting. The air smelled cleaner here—less smoke and sewage than the capital's outer districts, more pine and earth.
His room had been reserved in advance, marked with his name on a small plaque on the door. Inside was simple but clean: a bed with fresh linens, a small desk and chair, a washbasin with cold water, and a single window overlooking the mystical forest.
Adequate, he concluded, testing the bed's firmness. Better than sleeping in the carriage.
He ate a quick meal in the common room—venison stew and bread, nothing fancy—then returned to his room and collapsed into bed. Sleep came quickly.
A guard's knock woke him at four in the morning, well before dawn.
"Young Master, we're departing early to reach the Academy by noon."
Valen groaned softly but forced himself up. Cold water from the washbasin helped wake him fully. He dressed quickly in the same traveling clothes, secured his belongings, and headed outside where servants were already loading carriages by torchlight.
The horses neighed softly as they were hitched, breath misting in the pre-dawn chill. Guards moved with quiet efficiency, checking weapons and supplies one final time.
Their procession rolled out into darkness, the road ahead visible only by the light of lanterns mounted on each carriage.
As dawn approached, Valen noticed the forest changing. The wild, chaotic growth gave way to something more organized—trees spaced at regular intervals, undergrowth cleared away, the ground covered in neat moss rather than tangled roots.
Cultivated forest, he realized. We must be getting close to Academy territory.
The sun rose slowly, painting the cultivated forest in shades of gold and amber. Morning mist clung to the ground, swirling around tree trunks like ethereal serpents. Birds began singing—not the harsh cawing of crows, but melodic calls that sounded almost musical.
Valen watched a deer step delicately through the mist, completely unbothered by the passing carriages. It paused to look directly at him, eyes reflecting intelligence that seemed almost aware before it bounded away into the trees.
Even the wildlife here is different, he observed. Less afraid. Like they know this area is protected.
They arrived at their destination precisely at noon.
The moment Valen stepped down from the carriage, he felt the temperature change—noticeably cooler despite the spring season. His mage's robe provided some insulation, but he was grateful for the multiple layers beneath.
The scene before him resembled organized chaos.
A massive clearing stretched out, easily three times the size of any marketplace in the capital. Thousands of people had already gathered—young men and women around Valen's age, along with accompanying family members and servants. Tents covered nearly every available space, creating temporary camps where families rested while waiting for the admission process to begin.
This is what a proper high fantasy setting looks like, Valen thought with barely suppressed excitement. Finally.
Fights had already broken out in several areas. Valen watched two young warriors sparring with practice weapons, drawing a crowd of spectators who cheered or jeered depending on which fighter they favored. Nearby, a mage was demonstrating fire manipulation to an impressed audience, creating shapes and patterns with flames that danced in midair.
The diversity surprised him. Not everyone wore expensive clothes or traveled with servants. Plenty of common-born applicants clustered in smaller groups, their worn travel gear and nervous expressions contrasting sharply with the confident nobles.
The entrance examination must allow commoners to prove themselves, Valen realized. These people came here hoping skill matters more than bloodline.
The main protagonist should be among them. Valen thought without particular enthusiasm. Good for him. I'll meet him when the plot demands it.
He followed the rest of his group toward a large mansion in the distance—a massive structure that dwarfed everything around it. Dark granite walls covered with ivy rose four stories high, decorated with gold inlays that caught the sunlight and made the entire mansion seem to glow. The Ashford group moved with practiced ease, servants clearing a path through the crowd.
Inside was even more impressive.
The entrance hall stretched upward at least three stories, the ceiling decorated with murals depicting famous battles and magical achievements. Granite covered every surface, polished until it reflected like mirrors. Gold decorations accented columns and archways—not excessive exactly, but certainly extravagant.
They really want to impress new students, Valen observed. Demonstrate the Academy's prestige immediately.
The hall was mostly empty except for a few small groups like theirs—other noble families who'd arrived early or secured direct admission through recommendations.
On one of the balconies overlooking the hall, two figures in brown mage's robes leaned against the railing, watching the new arrivals gather below.
"Look at them," the younger mage muttered, gesturing toward the Ashford group with obvious distaste. "Walking in like they already own the place. Probably never fought for anything in their entire pampered lives."
His companion—older, with gray streaking through his beard—chuckled dryly. "Still bitter about your entrance examination?"
"You're damn right I'm bitter! I spent six months preparing, fought through three elimination rounds, nearly died during the practical combat test—and these noble brats just... walk in. No examination. No proving themselves. Just family connections and gold."
"You passed though. Which means you earned your place legitimately. They have to live with knowing they never proved they deserved to be here."
"That doesn't make it fair!"
"Fair?" The older mage laughed outright now. "When has the world ever been fair? These noble families fund the Academy. Their donations pay for your training, stock the libraries, hire the best instructors. The five recommendation slots they receive are just cost of doing business."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Nobody said you had to like it." The older mage pushed away from the railing, preparing to descend. "But pragmatism matters more than righteousness. The nobles provide resources. We receive education. Everyone benefits. Simple transaction."
"You're way too cynical."
"I'm way too old to pretend the world operates on merit alone." He started down the stairs, calling back over his shoulder: "Besides, plenty of these noble children wash out by second year. Bloodline doesn't guarantee competence."
The younger mage followed reluctantly, still scowling at the assembled nobles below.
When enough new students had gathered in the hall, the two brown-robed mages descended from the balcony. The older one moved with practiced ease, while the younger one jumped down the last six feet—showing off slightly with an agility-enhanced landing that drew a few impressed glances.
"Welcome to Radiant Academy!" the older mage announced, his voice magically amplified to fill the massive hall. "I am Instructor Aldric, and this is Instructor Seth. We will be handling your orientation and initial placement into various departments."
He gestured broadly to encompass everyone. "You are the newest generation of mages and warriors who will shape our Empire's future. Regardless of how you arrived here, you all stand at the same starting point now."
Diplomatic phrasing, Valen noted.
"First," Aldric continued, "please collect your Academy-issued gray robes. New students wear gray. Senior students like us wear brown."
He pointed toward several tables that had been set up along one wall, each one staffed by Academy personnel distributing neatly folded gray robes.
"After receiving your robes, you may rest in the guest rooms for the remainder of today and tomorrow. Rooms have been assigned based on your registration—check the boards near the tables for your room numbers."
"Those participating in the entrance examination," Seth added, his voice carrying less warmth than his senior's, "must gather in the square early tomorrow morning before sunrise. Don't be late. We don't wait for stragglers."
"For everyone else," Aldric resumed, "please return to this hall the day after tomorrow for the final admission test."
A hand shot up in the crowd—one of the noble students who'd arrived separately from the Ashford group. "Instructor, we have to take another test? But we were already admitted!"
"Yes," Aldric replied with practiced patience. "The final test is mandatory for all students, regardless of admission method. It determines your department placement and resource allocation."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled students. Valen noticed several noble children exchanging worried glances.
"Fear not," Aldric added with a slight smile. "The rejection rate for the final placement test is extremely low. It exists primarily to assess your current abilities and place you in appropriate classes. Unless you demonstrate complete incompetence or dangerous instability, you won't be expelled."
"That said," Seth interjected sharply, "complete incompetence or dangerous instability will result in immediate expulsion, family connections or not. The Academy's reputation matters more than your parents' gold."
So there is some merit-based gatekeeping, Valen thought. Just delayed until after the nobles are already invested in being here. Clever compromise.
"For now," Aldric concluded, "rest after your journeys. Explore the grounds if you wish, but stay within the designated areas."
The crowd began dispersing immediately—some heading toward the robe distribution tables, others looking for the room assignment boards, a few simply leaving to explore.
Valen joined the line for robes, collecting his gray garment and checking his assigned room number: 347, third floor, eastern wing.
His room was small but private—a narrow bed, a desk with a single chair, a wardrobe barely large enough for his belongings, and a window overlooking the cultivated forest. Simple, functional, adequate.
After unpacking and arranging his belongings, Valen headed to the shared bathhouse at the end of his floor. The hot water was a luxury after two days of travel—he scrubbed away road dust and carriage smell, feeling almost human again afterward.
Dinner was served in a large communal dining hall: roasted chicken, root vegetables, fresh bread, and clean water. Nothing fancy, but well-prepared and plentiful.
Valen almost felt bad for the commoners camping outside.
Finally, properly clean and fed, Valen returned to his small room and sat cross-legged on his bed.
Two days until the placement test, he thought, settling into meditation posture. Whatever happens with the entrance examination tomorrow, I need to maintain my own training.
He began his breathing technique—the rhythmic pattern he'd practiced for years, now second nature. With each breath, he drew ambient mana into his body, circulating it through his channels, gradually strengthening his spirit.
Outside his window, the cultivated forest swayed in evening breeze. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear other students talking and laughing, nervous energy before tomorrow's trials.