Sisiliya appeared from the northern entrance with a presence that immediately shifted the atmosphere of the entire Grand Stadium.
Her crimson coat flowed behind her like a controlled blaze, catching the morning wind and trailing in a streak of refined fire. It wasn't dramatic in movement, it was deliberate, but measured. The sunlight struck the fabric at just the right angle, making the deep red shimmer faintly against the pale marble arena.
Her expression was calm, yet razor-sharp.
There was elegance in her posture, but authority in her gaze.
Her brown hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, strands catching the light as she walked toward the center of the arena. She didn't rush. She didn't need to.
Every student's eyes were drawn to her naturally.
Conversations thinned. Laughter faded. Even the restless shifting of armored boots gradually stopped.
When she reached the center, she planted her staff firmly against the ground.
Tap.
The sound was not loud, but the effect was immediate.
A faint ripple of mana spread outward in a circular wave, subtle yet undeniable. It brushed against the formations like a calm tide sweeping across the shore.
The noisy stadium fell completely silent.
"Good morning, everyone."
Her voice carried effortlessly across the vast stadium, clear and composed, amplified just enough by mana to reach even the highest tiers without distortion.
"You've completed your preliminary phase."
She began walking slowly as she spoke, staff resting lightly in her hand.
"Basic conditioning. Mana circulation. Mental control. Beginner combat drills."
She paused.
"That was merely the foundation."
The remaining whispers disappeared entirely.
No one dared to interrupt.
"From today onward," Sisiliya continued, her tone steady yet heavier, "you will enter the Advanced Curriculum."
A subtle shift ran through the students.
"You will learn real combat dynamics, not theoretical simulations."
Her gaze sharpened.
"You will face live opponents."
A few students swallowed.
"You will participate in class duels."
Some straightened instinctively.
"You will undertake tactical missions supervised by your professors."
The wind carried her words across the stadium like a decree.
"Your schedule will be divided into three sections."
A holographic projection flickered faintly behind her as she continued.
"Morning — group training for coordination and multi-type combat."
"Afternoon — specialized lessons based on your class."
"Evening — free duels and mana calculation sessions."
A mixture of excitement and anxiety rippled through the ranks.
Then her voice turned firmer.
"During this phase, failure is expected. But running away will not be tolerated."
That single sentence tightened the air.
A few students who had been grinning earlier now looked forward with narrowed eyes.
Sisiliya's gaze softened just slightly, not in weakness, but in clarity.
"Every one of you may fall at least once."
She let the silence linger.
"What matters is how quickly you stand back up."
Her staff glowed faintly.
"Our goal is not perfection."
The projection behind her shifted.
"It is progress."
Behind her, an image materialized; fifty silhouettes walking toward the academy's emblem, their forms gradually sharpening into detailed figures.
"And now," she said, lowering her staff, "there is another matter to address."
The gates at the far end of the stadium opened with a deep metallic clang that echoed across the marble.
Heads turned instantly.
From beyond the blinding sunlight at the entrance, fifty figures emerged in disciplined ranks.
Their movements were synchronized, precise, and controlled.
Each wore the academy uniform, but their capes were dark crimson. A color reserved only for those who had completed isolation training.
There were a few elves among them, ears sharp and posture regal. Two beastmen walked within the ranks, their presence firm and steady, fur-lined cloaks moving in rhythm with their steps.
The air grew heavier as they approached.
"These are your seniors," Sisiliya announced, pride clear in her tone.
"They have just returned after a year of isolation training in the Outer Frontier."
A murmur spread instantly among the first-years.
"One year…?"
"In the Outer Frontier?"
"I heard only one in ten returns after completing it successfully…"
"Look at their eyes…"
Indeed, their eyes were different.
Calm.
Experienced.
Measured.
"They survived in regions where mana disasters, beasts, and corruption are part of daily life," Sisiliya continued.
"From this day forward, they will assist in your training and supervise the upcoming combat examinations."
Ashan opened his eyes slowly and observed them carefully.
Their breathing was steady.
Their shoulders relaxed yet ready.
They weren't just students anymore.
They were veterans in everything but title.
Sisiliya gestured toward the front row.
"Today, you will be divided into small groups, twenty students per group."
"Each group will be assigned one senior mentor."
She paused deliberately.
"They will evaluate your fighting spirit. Your teamwork. Your individual adaptability."
Her gaze swept across the field.
"Some of you may feel intimidated. That is natural."
Her tone sharpened again.
"But remember this, they were once standing exactly where you are now."
She pointed subtly toward the seniors.
"The difference between you and them is how far they were willing to go. And there is no one in this academy closer to your position than they are."
She let that sink in.
"Prove that you deserve this academy's name."
Her voice carried authority.
"The next six months will determine your place here… or whether you leave it."
The seniors stopped in perfect formation behind her.
The pressure in the air thickened.
It wasn't killing intent.
It was experience in a materialized form.
Visible even to untrained eyes.
Some first-years unconsciously straightened.
Others avoided eye contact.
Sisiliya's tone softened again, just slightly.
"Your new mentors will begin introductions now."
She stepped aside.
"Each mentor will step forward and declare their division."
One by one, the seniors advanced.
Some radiated calm confidence.
Others bore scars across their arms or faces, visible proof of survival.
Each presence was distinct.
Polished.
Tempered.
Refined by real battle.
Then,
Ashan's lips curved the moment he saw him.
Among the formation stood a man with a strong build, posture straight yet relaxed. His black hair was slightly wavy, falling just above his shoulders. High cheekbones, a well-proportioned face, sharp hunter-like eyes, and a jawline carved with natural precision gave him a striking presence.
But what stood out most were his eyes.
Calm.
Disciplined.
Wise beyond his age.
Two swords rested across his back, crossed diagonally.
He looked toward Sisiliya and gave a composed, respectful smile.
Whispers began immediately.
"Hey… isn't that Professor Sisiliya's and Professor Aren's son?"
"I think his name is Coren Redmarsh."
"He's a big shot among seniors."
"He has an A-rank badge."
Indeed, a purple badge gleamed faintly on his uniform.
"That badge is only given to A-rank veterans."
"Those who achieved the title of honored student."
Ashan's eyes sharpened.
'There he is.'
'Coren Redmarsh.'
'Aside from Draven… one of the four deuteragonists.'
'The true hidden protagonist of this world. The one who will step forward to stop the destruction of this world. The one who sacrifices his life for the greater good… before Eirena removes her seals.'
His gaze remained steady.
'In terms of importance and reputation, he is like Gojo.'
'And Eirena… is like Yuji Itadori.'
His lips curved faintly.
'What's more interesting is that Coren will become Eirena's future fiancé.'
'A blessed relationship. A powerful alliance.'
Ashan folded his arms.
'I have got my eye on him. He will play a major role in the future.'
'I need him on my side.'
His eyes gleamed slightly.
'And that won't be difficult. My goal is to save this world's future. So he'll definitely end up backing me.'
When the last senior finished introducing himself, Sisiliya raised her staff once more.
"From today onward," she declared, "you will train under their supervision."
Her voice echoed clearly.
"Consider them your instructors."
A pause.
"Your rivals. And, if you are fortunate… your comrades."
A subtle warmth entered her tone.
"Prepare yourselves."
"This is where true growth begins."
The crowd erupted into determined cheers. The sound thundered through the colossal stadium walls.
Excitement.
Fear.
Ambition.
Resolve.
Ashan did not cheer. He simply looked upward toward the clear blue sky.
His eyes gleamed faintly beneath his lashes.
"Now this…" he murmured softly to himself.
"…this will be fun."
At Sisiliya's signal, thirty senior students, including Coren, stepped down from the stage and aligned themselves in a straight line across the arena floor.
"These seniors will now instruct you," Sisiliya announced.
"We have already divided you according to your categories."
A massive screen nearby flickered to life.
Names. Numbers. Divisions.
"We are about to display each team's information," she continued. "Please pay attention and approach your assigned instructor. Each senior carries a unique identification number."
Students leaned forward eagerly.
Some whispered prayers. Others clenched their fists.
Ashan yawned lazily.
'Well… let's see who ends up as my senior instructor.'
His eyes scanned the line again.
'I'll welcome anyone.'
A faint smirk appeared.
'Unless.. the person is a troublemaker.'