They were led into another chamber shortly after.
It was wide and quiet, its walls lined with stonework polished smooth by age rather than decoration. At the front of the room stood a massive board—no, not a board, but a mounted relief map. A continent carved in careful detail stretched across it, mountain ranges raised in stone, coastlines etched sharply, rivers thin and deliberate.
Several smaller diagrams were positioned beside it—regional breakdowns, trade routes, borders marked by subtle grooves.
The instructor, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Louis paused as he stepped inside.
For a moment, he was genuinely surprised.
Given how the Empire had treated them so far—escort knights, prepared rooms, structured schedules—he had expected whoever was teaching them to already be waiting. Late arrivals didn't seem like something this place tolerated.
But the thought didn't linger long.
Probably intentional, he reasoned after a moment.
Give us time to absorb things. Or to panic quietly.
Either way, it wasn't worth dwelling on.
He let his gaze drift back to the map, then inward.
Alright, he thought, grounding himself. Back to reality.
As things stood, he saw only two real paths forward.
The first was simple: sink into the background completely. Stay quiet. Avoid notice. Handle everything alone.
He discarded it almost immediately.
Every novel he'd ever read had taught him the same lesson—trying to disappear only ever made people stand out more. The lone types always ended up noticed, targeted, or dragged into things whether they liked it or not.
The second path was subtler.
Blend in.
Not vanish—but merge. Be present without being central.
That, at least, he knew how to do.
Before he'd become a shut-in, before his world had narrowed to screens and routines, he'd never had trouble existing inside a group without becoming its focal point.
The problem now was choosing which group.
His eyes drifted, briefly, toward the heroes.
Joining Kirian's circle wouldn't be difficult. Standing behind the hero—literally or figuratively—was a proven survival strategy.
But just imagining it made something in his chest tighten.
That would drain my will to live, he decided flatly.
Too much energy. Too much expectation. Too many conversations filled with optimism and collective purpose.
No.
His thoughts shifted instead to earlier—while they'd been walking.
To the woman accompanying Luke.
The paladin.
He hadn't meant to inspect her at the time. It had been reflex.
The status had flashed only briefly.
Luminous Templar
Rank: Practitioner
Level: 69
That alone had been enough to make him pause.
Not just a paladin—but a specialized one.
He remembered how, the moment the inspect had registered, she'd turned her head slightly. Silver hair catching the light. Blue eyes sharp and knowing.
She'd looked straight at him.
Then clicked her tongue.
The memory made his lips press thin.
Right. Experts notice things.
And druids—by nature—didn't worship.They didn't pray for power. They listened, observed, aligned.
That alone put him at odds with people like her.
Still—
The image surfaced unbidden.
Silver hair. Clear blue eyes. A presence that was rigid but undeniably striking.
He shook the thought away almost immediately.
Dangerous, he reminded himself.
Even back in his old life, the most dangerous people had always been the devout ones—the ones who believed without hesitation, without doubt.
Faith that absolute didn't leave room for compromise.
Louis exhaled quietly and turned his attention back to the map.
That left him with only one real option.
He couldn't overthink this. There was no way he was going to walk up to a group of girls and start asking questions like some protagonist fishing for flags. That wasn't him. Never had been.
So instead, he turned his head.
His gaze landed on John.
John was standing with a small cluster of others—people Louis had subconsciously grouped together the moment he'd noticed them. Not because they were weak, but because of the way they spoke, the way their eyes lingered on the map, the way they leaned in toward information.
Geeks, he labeled them without malice.
After a brief pause, Louis walked over.
He didn't announce himself. He simply stepped into the loose circle and listened.
Funnily enough, the topic of discussion was the Empire itself—how well they were being treated, how smoothly everything had gone so far, even speculation about the quality of the rooms and food.
Louis was honestly a little shocked at how openly they spoke.
No lowered voices. No careful glances around.
They talked as if they weren't standing in the middle of an imperial facility.
Bold, he thought.
Still, he'd already stepped onto the ship.
There was no point hesitating now.
He nodded when appropriate, offered short responses when needed, and let the conversation carry him along. Whether this was the right choice or not didn't matter anymore—he'd committed.
It didn't take more than five minutes.
The door at the front of the room opened.
Conversation died instantly.
The instructor entered.
Louis straightened slightly, attention snapping forward—not out of fear, but habit.
The man wore imperial robes, layered and dignified without being ostentatious. He carried himself with the calm authority of someone used to being listened to.
Behind him followed two others.
Assistants, most likely.
Louis did inspect him.
The name barely registered.
Archmage Seraphel Dorn
Level: 94
The level alone made him stop.
Nothing else mattered.
Right, he thought. That kind of person.
He didn't bother digging further. Inspecting everyone like that would only turn into a bad habit.
His gaze shifted instead to the two assistants.
A boy and a girl, both roughly around his age judging by appearance. The girl wore glasses and clutched a stack of notes; the boy stood straight-backed, expression neutral.
Neither seemed particularly noteworthy.
Louis turned his attention back to the front and listened.
The lecture itself was… grounded.
Unexpectedly so.
Seraphel spoke about the Empire—its name, its borders, its surrounding territories. He detailed geography, political stability, trade routes, and strategic importance. Nothing dramatic. Nothing apocalyptic.
Just facts.
It was almost reassuring.
Louis listened carefully. This wasn't information he could afford to ignore. This was the foundation everything else would be built on.
By the time the lecture wrapped up, it was already past noon.
As people began shifting in their seats, preparing to leave, Seraphel raised a hand.
"Before you go," the archmage said calmly.
The room stilled.
"This concludes only the first portion of your orientation," he continued. "From now until evening, we will move on to skills and classes."
The reaction was immediate.
Excitement rippled through the group. Whispers broke out. A few people visibly straightened in their chairs.
Seraphel's gaze swept the room.
"Who wishes to begin?"
Kirian stepped forward without hesitation.
The archmage nodded. "Your skills. All of them. We will need a full understanding if we are to guide you properly."
Kirian hesitated.
The earlier words about hiding status surfaced in his mind.
He voiced the concern.
Seraphel looked genuinely surprised.
For a moment, he studied the group in silence.
Then he exhaled softly.
"I see," he said. "You misunderstand something fundamental."
He looked around at them all.
"Your levels are low," Seraphel said plainly. "Low enough that anyone significantly above you could identify your skills with a simple inspect. Whether you hide them or not makes little difference at this stage."
A few people stiffened.
"So rather than worrying about concealment," the archmage continued, "you should be focused on mastery."
He turned back to Kirian.
"Power unused is meaningless. Power misunderstood is dangerous. Learn how to use what you've been given."
The room fell quiet.
Louis absorbed the words without comment.
That makes sense, he thought.
Hiding came later.
Survival came first.