After nearly four exhausting hours, the sparring matches finally came to an end.
The difference in reactions among the participants was immediately apparent.
The commoners who had managed to secure victories could barely contain their excitement. Some laughed openly, others clenched their fists in triumph, and a few simply stood still, stunned that they had made it this far. For them, victory meant validation—proof that they had a place in Regia Nevaris despite lacking noble lineage or powerful backing.
Those who lost, however, wore expressions heavy with disappointment. Some accepted their defeat with quiet dignity, while others struggled to mask the bitterness in their eyes. A few stared blankly at the ground, fully aware that this loss might mark the end of their aspirations.
The nobles, on the other hand, reacted very differently.
There were no cheers. No visible joy. No despair either.
Most of them displayed indifference, as though the results were nothing more than a formality. And in many cases, they were right. Matches involving nobles—especially those from influential families—had unfolded in largely predictable ways.
When nobles faced commoners, the outcome was rarely in doubt.
Even in cases where a noble struggled initially, the gap in resources soon made itself known. Family artifacts—supportive rings, enchanted weapons, reinforcement charms—were activated without hesitation. Their use was fully permitted under Academy rules, and nobles were trained from a young age to wield such tools efficiently.
Commoners, by contrast, almost never used artifacts.
Not only were they exorbitantly more expensive, but controlling them required specialized training. A poorly handled artifact could easily injure its user or destabilize a battle. Nobles, raised with access to tutors and instruction from childhood, held a natural advantage in this regard.
It was a reminder of an uncomfortable truth.
Talent mattered—but upbringing mattered just as much.
As the final match concluded, Vice Headmaster Yasura Megumi stepped forward once more. Her voice echoed across the vast arena, amplified by controlled mana.
"The matches I have witnessed today were splendid," she said evenly. "I trust they have ignited your competitive spirit as well."
She paused deliberately.
"But this is not the end."
The nobles, in particular, straightened subtly at those words. Many of them already suspected what was coming.
"This year," Megumi continued, "direct descendants of our Kingdom's Duke families—the future leaders of these prominent houses—will be enrolling in Regia Nevaris."
A ripple of excitement coursed through the noble ranks.
"As tradition dictates, matches involving these heirs will be held tomorrow," she added. "The general public, as well as noble families, are invited to attend."
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
This—this—was the true highlight.
The sparring matches held today were little more than preliminaries in comparison. The arrival of the Duke families' heirs marked the real spectacle, an opportunity for the strongest magical bloodlines to display their future pillars and elevate their standing.
It was a chance to show dominance.
To inspire awe.
To remind everyone why the Duke families sat at the pinnacle of Arcanora.
Megumi allowed the excitement to settle before continuing.
"However," she said, her tone calm but deliberate, "there will be an exception this year."
The murmurs quieted.
"Alongside the six direct heirs of the Duke families," she announced, "the headmaster's adopted grandson will also be participating in tomorrow's match."
Silence descended upon the arena.
Not a single voice rose in protest, though many nobles clearly wanted to object. Faces stiffened. Eyes narrowed. But no one dared to speak out.
Regia Nevaris was known for its absolute adherence to fairness. The Academy did not bend its rules lightly—especially not in public.
Megumi seemed unsurprised by the reaction.
"You may be wondering why such an exception is being made," she said. "There is no need for concern. His abilities have already been verified by the head of our Magic Department."
A faint smile crossed her lips as she surveyed the crowd.
"I am certain many of you are curious about the talent of the grandson of the previous Hero."
That single statement altered the atmosphere once more.
Hushed whispers spread.
Everyone knew of Takamura Hikari.
Even those who had never met him understood his reputation. A man who had once stood at the apex of the world as a Hero. A Sword Saint. A figure so formidable that even after losing his Heroic powers, he still commanded respect across kingdoms.
It was said—quietly—that he was the only individual in Arcanora whom that woman of the Invictus Kingdom still took seriously, despite his fall from divine favor.
Megumi's gaze sharpened slightly.
"I am confident all doubts will be dispelled once you witness him fight tomorrow," she said. "The results of the entrance examination will be announced three days from now. You will be notified through your personal identification artifacts."
"There is no need to return to the Academy simply to check the results."
She inclined her head slightly.
"Good luck to all of you."
With that, Vice Headmaster Megumi vanished, followed closely by two instructors.
The remaining three instructors and the two healers stayed behind, ensuring every student was escorted out safely and that no injuries—no matter how minor—were left untreated.
------------------
buzz
Kazuki's ID vibrated.
He glanced down and opened the message.
It contained the time and location of his spar the following day.
But something else caught his attention.
The message specifically requested that he select a "nice, presentable outfit"—one that would not hinder his movement during the match.
Kazuki frowned.
The practicality didn't bother him.
The wording did.
Why the emphasis on appearance?
By the time he returned home, the mystery deepened.
Kuroha informed him calmly that Hikari had already chosen the outfit he would wear the next day.
When Kazuki saw it, he immediately realized this was no ordinary training attire.
The fabric was unmistakably crafted from the pelt of a high-tier monster. Durable. Flexible. And unmistakably expensive. The design was refined, bordering on elegant—something that could easily be worn to a formal gathering without raising suspicion.
This wasn't gear meant solely for combat.
It was meant to be seen.
A chill crept up Kazuki's spine.
Something felt off.
The sense of unease lingered as he resumed practicing his sword forms in the private training grounds behind his house. His movements were sharp, precise—but his mind refused to settle.
Hikari was hiding something.
As always.
He often said it was part of the training—to be prepared regardless of how much information one had. To adapt, no matter the circumstances.
Kazuki had long since learned that prying was pointless. Any attempt to gather information without Hikari's approval usually ended with subtle interference—or outright misdirection.
Exhaling slowly, Kazuki sheathed his sword.
Whatever awaited him tomorrow, he would face it head-on.
Because one thing was certain—
This would not be a normal spar.
And somewhere deep down, Kazuki knew that once he stepped onto that stage, there would be no turning back.
AN: And he was proven right, something he didn't appreciate at all!