Morning arrived without haste.
Yet it did not grant anyone the luxury of lingering for too long. Sunlight passed through the tall windows of Aurelthia Academy, falling in long streaks across the cold marble floor. The air still carried traces of dew, thin, almost imperceptible.yet enough to make each step sound clearer than usual.
The first day.
No longer as guests.
No longer as examinees.
But as students.
And strangely… not everyone felt ready for that.
Along the long corridor leading to the Enlightened building, new students began to appear from different directions. The sound of footsteps, the friction of fabric, and quiet murmurs layered together into a restrained liveliness, like an orchestra that had yet to fully begin.
Cillian walked slower than most.
He was not late, nor was he early.
He chose the interval deliberately.
Not too early. Not too noticeable.
Arriving too early on the first day… was cliché.
His gaze shifted lightly from side to side, capturing fragments of the world he had just entered, groups of nobles walking with lifted chins, commoners slightly stiff but trying to appear natural.
That fast.
Not even a full day… and the social structure had already begun to form.
Humans were efficient when it came to dividing themselves.
The uniform Cillian wore moved with his steps.
Black and white dominated, yet neither stood alone. both were bound by fine but firm gold lines, forming a contrast that was not merely aesthetic, but symbolic.
The upper garment was layered.
The right side was pure white, the shoulder protected by a curved golden ornament shaped like a small, rigid yet elegant wing. A thin golden chain hung from that shoulder, swaying gently with each step, reflecting light like a fragmented timeline.
The left side was the opposite.
Pitch black, merging into a long coat that fell to his knees, visually dividing his body into two separate worlds. Gold buttons lined the front neatly. not only as fasteners, but as focal points that guided the eyes of anyone looking at him.
His white trousers were clean almost too clean, supported by a brown belt with a simple yet sturdy gold buckle.
Everything… was too orderly.
Too perfect.
Like this academy's system.
Cillian ascended the stairs.
His steps remained steady, but his thoughts began to move deeper.
Mixing new students with existing ones…
He recalled yesterday's explanation.
Grade.
Not based on year of entry, but capability.
Logically… efficient.
Practically… unreasonable.
He stopped briefly in front of the class board.
Knight — III
His gaze lingered there longer than necessary.
So this is where I belong.
Without expression, he opened the door.
The room was already occupied.
Not full, yet not empty.
And what was immediately felt was not sound… but pressure.
Not physical pressure.
More like social interference.
New students and existing ones.
Two worlds.
Within one space.
This… is strange.
"Cillian!"
The voice came from above.
Too loud.
Too cheerful.
Cillian did not need to look to know who it was.
Aider stood from his seat, waving as if calling a merchant in a marketplace.
"Over here!"
Several heads turned immediately.
Gazes began to gather.
Cillian exhaled softly.
It has started.
Beside Aider, Blane sat in a posture almost too relaxed for the situation. His blond hair was still slightly damp, his eyes half-open, as if the world was not yet interesting enough to fully wake him.
Below their line of sight.
Omnia.
Her gaze was fixed directly on Cillian.
Unwavering.
Unhesitating.
"…Magnus."
Her voice was quiet.
But audible.
There was something in that tone.
Not merely recognition.
More… like confirmation.
She still did not believe it.
Or perhaps, did not want to.
Cillian began walking upward.
Slowly.
Not hurried.
Yet each step felt measured.
Gazes followed.
Some filled with curiosity.
Some with judgment.
Some… not bothering to hide their interest.
His name… and evaluation results.
They spread quickly.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Not to avoid.
But to restrain himself.
Aider immediately shifted aside when Cillian arrived.
"Sit here!"
He pointed to the middle seat.
Cillian looked at him.
"…What are you planning, Erizon?"
Aider blinked. "Nothing."
"Call me Aider," he added quickly. "We share a room."
Blane sighed beside them.
"At this rate… this seat will graduate before we do."
Cillian sat.
In the middle.
Between two sources of problems.
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Thirteen minutes," Blane answered without thinking.
Cillian nodded slightly.
"So there's still time."
Aider could not stay still.
His eyes moved constantly, scanning unfamiliar faces.
The same thing was happening throughout the room.
Observation.
Evaluation.
Classification.
All of it occurred without sound.
Yet it was felt.
At the corner of the room.
A group of girls whispered.
"That's Blane Evalin, right?"
"Yeah… he looks really composed."
"And calm…"
"Who's next to him?"
"The one who looks… a bit stupid?"
"Don't say it out loud…"
"And the other one… Magnus."
"His aura… is strange."
"Not strange… more like mysterious."
"He's handsome…"
"Have you noticed?"
"What?"
"His hair and eyes…"
"So sharp… like-"
A soft cough.
They all fell silent instantly.
Omnia.
She did not need to speak.
Her presence alone… was enough.
Ketty, beside her, turned toward Aider.
"Hey, you."
Aider pointed at himself. "Me?"
"Yes."
"What?"
Ketty smiled.
Friendly.
Too friendly.
"Your face… looks stupid."
Silence.
Absolute.
Blane suppressed laughter.
Cillian nudged him.
Elyria sighed. "Ketty…"
Aider froze.
His face slowly turned red.
"What did you say?!"
Ketty had already sat back down, still giggling lightly.
Aider turned toward the window.
Silent.
Cillian and Blane spoke at the same time,
"Don't turn away from us."
Aider did not respond.
The door opened.
Footsteps.
Firm.
Heavy.
Everyone reflexively turned.
A man stood in front of the board.
Beside him, a woman.
Their auras were different.
Yet equally… impossible to ignore.
The man spoke.
"You should still remember me."
Silence.
He folded his hands behind his back.
"As a final reminder"
He paused.
His gaze swept across the room.
"My name… is not important."
Several students blinked.
"What you need to remember…"
His tone hardened.
"…is that I am Instructor Reginald."
He tapped the board lightly.
"Your homeroom instructor. Knight Grade 3."
The woman beside him stepped slightly forward.
"And this… is the assistant instructor."
Reginald's gaze returned to the students.
Deeper.
Sharper.
"I hope…"
He paused.
Letting the silence settle.
"…you do not regret coming this far."
Silence.
No one answered.
"Because starting today-"
His voice lowered.
Heavier.
"…you will no longer be judged by potential."
His gaze halted briefly.
On a single point.
Unclear on whom.
"But by results."
Cillian leaned back slightly.
His eyes half-closed.
This… is indeed strange.
And for the first time, he felt it clearly.
This strangeness.
had only just begun.