Namer Academy
Academia city,
Namer Island
15th September 385 Post Global Unification
Eighteen years after the Hailey Incident
As Eren and Rhea stepped down from the stage, Rey turned her attention back to the rest of the class. Her gaze swept across the gathered Hunter candidates, measuring them.
"Well?" she said lightly. "Who's next?"
"I challenge Asher Asterion."
The voice came from Nox Havok.
Victor Jaeger's head snapped toward him, fury flashing across his face, but Nox didn't spare him a glance. He knew full well that Ash had been Victor's target—and he didn't care. If anyone was going to test the Asterion heir, it should be someone who could keep his emotions in check.
"Very well," Rey said, turning toward Ash. "What do you say, Mr. Asterion?"
Ash met Nox's gaze for a brief moment—calm, unreadable—then nodded. He stepped past Eren and climbed onto the stage. Nox followed, rolling his shoulders as the containment runes flared to life once more.
The fight was over almost as soon as it began. Nox exploded forward, his body cultivation pushing his speed to terrifying levels. His movement was a blur—raw, overwhelming acceleration meant to crush opponents before they could react.
Ash didn't retreat. Though he was a magic cultivator—a caster by classification—his reaction speed was extraordinary. His eyes tracked Nox perfectly, his body moving with just enough precision to stay ahead of each strike. Where Nox dominated in travel speed, Ash compensated with timing, spacing, and ruthless efficiency. They exchanged a brief flurry of blows—fists snapping, auras colliding. Then it ended.
Ash slipped inside Nox's guard, redirected a strike, and drove him to the ground in a single seamless motion. An anima-forged blade formed at Ash's fingertips, resting lightly against Nox's throat. The arena fell silent.
"I give up," Nox said without hesitation.
Ash stepped back immediately, dismissing the blade as he offered Nox a hand up.
Rey nodded in approval.
"Efficient," she said. "Next."
Around them, the class buzzed quietly.
"I challenge Victor Jaeger," Reo said.
There was no hesitation in his voice, no need for emphasis. He stepped onto the stage as if the outcome had already been decided. Victor's smile widened as he followed. Reo Rykkel had always been his real target—ever since the evaluation, before the Cursed one had gotten in the way. This was the fight Victor had wanted. It ended almost as soon as it began.
Reo moved. Faster than Ash. Too fast. His swordsmanship was strange—alien even. The blade didn't follow conventional lines or rhythms. Each slash carried an unnatural velocity, sharpness, and timing that refused to settle into a pattern. Victor barely had time to raise his guard before it was torn apart. Unlike Eren, who had managed to see through the style during their brief clash, Victor never found the thread. He couldn't read it. Couldn't adapt. Steel flashed. Victor's shield gauntlet broke down from the impact. A heartbeat later, he hit the ground. Silence swallowed the arena.
Another heir of a Great Family—defeated. Victor didn't even have time to speak.
Rey stepped in immediately. "Victor Jaeger is defeated."
Reo sheathed his sword with a soft click, then offered Victor a polite bow—neither mocking nor triumphant—before turning and leaving the stage. Eren watched without expression. Whatever interest he'd had in Victor Jaeger drained away completely. Compared to what he'd just seen, Victor felt… small. If anything, Rhea Morgarin was stronger.
Eren turned—and found her already looking at him. She gave him a faint, wry smile. And in that moment, Eren understood.
So that's what this was.
Her challenge hadn't been about pride or provocation. It had been a message.
You don't need to waste your time on Victor.
Eren looked back toward the empty stage, then away. For the first time since arriving at Namer Academy, the hierarchy was becoming clear. And it was far more dangerous than he'd expected.
There's no doubt the Great Families won't be pleased, Rey thought. Two Heavenly-blessed had just defeated their blood. The ripples from this session would travel far beyond the Fracture Arena.
"Next," Rey called.
Percy Osborn raised his hand immediately. "I challenge Annabelle Satou."
A murmur passed through the crowd. Percy was a swordsman—a Magic Warrior whose specialty lay in close-quarters combat. Strong, disciplined, and aggressive. Belle, ranked tenth, stood above him, but not by an insurmountable margin. To Percy, this was an opportunity. If he won here, his rank would rise. If he lost… well, that was a risk he was willing to take.
~
"Huh?"
That was all Percy managed to say. His sword was gone, not knocked aside, not redirected. Broken. The weapon lay shattered several meters away, broken as if it had been made of brittle glass. Percy realized—far too late—that he was no longer standing. He was upside down. His arm was trapped in Belle's grip, locked at an impossible angle, while her knee pressed firmly into his face, pinning him to the stage. Her balance was flawless. Her expression was calm.
The fight was over. Percy's mind raced as the reality sank in.
She read me.
Not guessed.
Read.
During the evaluation, Belle had used Makina—her grimoire—to analyze the combat patterns of every student in the forest. For the strongest candidates, the data had been incomplete. Too many variables. Too much adaptation. But for those below her? She had gathered more than enough. Movement habits. Preferred openings. Recovery lag. Muscle memory. Percy Osborn's entire fighting style had already been mapped. Belle had known exactly when he would commit—and exactly how to dismantle him. She released him and stepped back.
Rey nodded once. "Annabelle Satou wins."
The arena buzzed, quieter now—more cautious. Another one defeated. Another certainty shattered. And for the watching students, one truth was becoming painfully clear: This class wasn't about testing potential. It was about exposing reality.
The next few challenges followed, with several Magic Warriors facing off against Casters. This time, however, the outcome was very different. Unlike Ash, Reo, and Belle—who had dominated the Magic Warriors at their own game—the balance shifted in the opposite direction. It quickly became clear that not every Caster was proficient in Simple magic. One by one, several of them were overwhelmed by opponents who had built their foundations through physical conditioning and fundamental techniques. When the final challenge concluded, Rey stepped onto the stage and faced the class.
"Looks like the ranking system has changed," she said, her gaze sweeping across the students, "though not so much at the top."
The top ten remained unchanged, but several names had shifted within the broader rankings—some climbing higher, others falling.
"Can anyone tell me the point of this exercise?"
"To show us the importance of Simple magic," Hayden Cross answered. He was one of the top ten—a Caster who had defeated another Caster through sheer fundamentals.
"Correct," Rey said. "Most mages—especially Caster-types—tend to overlook Simple magic. They believe everything begins and ends with Anima circulation, so they rush toward advanced spells. But that mindset is flawed."
She paused, letting her words settle.
"The physical and metabolic foundations required to cast complex magic are vastly amplified by mastery of Simple magic. What today revealed is simple: every Caster here has neglected physical training in favor of tradition—of what a Caster is supposed to be."
Her eyes hardened slightly.
"And that assumption has cost you your ranks," Rey said. "Today's assignment is full mastery of your Anima circulation. By the next class, I expect measurable improvement in your manifestation of battle aura."
"Isn't battle aura something exclusive to body cultivators?" Dota Merlyn asked. He was the Caster Hayden Cross had defeated earlier.
"Aura is simply the byproduct of stabilized Anima flow," Rey replied calmly. "Magic Warriors call it battle aura because of how they weaponize it. But all mages—regardless of their cultivation path—can generate an aura through their magic power. Simple Magic is nothing more than the conscious manipulation of that aura once Anima flow becomes stable."
She turned away from the class.
"Dismissed."
The students began filing out of the arena toward the locker rooms, their conversations low and unsettled. Eren lingered behind, replaying Rey's words in his mind. They echoed something Mother Ruth had told him long before he ever took the exam.
She had once said she feared a mage who had mastered Simple Magic far more than one who wielded powerful spells without understanding their foundation.
It made him pause.
Mother Ruth really was a powerful mage—something he had always known, even if he hadn't fully understood it before. With that thought, Eren smiled to himself and finally followed the others out of the arena.
****
Eren was heading back to his dorm, worn down by the day's workload. After Hunter's combat conditioning, he'd gone straight into Anomaly Identification I—a class that turned out to be far more exhausting than he'd expected. The course focused on distinguishing anomalies from natural phenomena, classifying threats under pressure, detecting false dangers and concealed lethality, and determining whether engagement was justified. It demanded constant analysis, draining mental energy as relentlessly as any physical training.
By the time he reached the Orange Dormitory, he was climbing the stairs on autopilot.
That was when he saw Tony.
Below him, off to the side of the staircase, Tony was slumped against the ground while the same idiots from his first class hovered around him, snickering.
Eren sighed.
"Don't tell me this is going to be a regular thing," he said loudly.
They all froze and looked up, startled to see him. Before any of them could react, Eren vaulted off the stairs, flipping backward through the air and landing behind them in a smooth, controlled motion.
Kieran Almoes scowled.
He immediately recognized Eren as a Hunter candidate. While Eren's Scholar rank was lower than his, his Hunter ranking was… uncomfortably high. Far too high for Kieran, whose Awakening had never translated into impressive combat ability.
Still, Kieran had prepared for this.
He let out a sharp whistle.
From the entrance of the Orange Dormitory, two upperclassmen emerged as if they'd been waiting for a cue. Both radiated solid, controlled auras—Acolyte realm, without question.
"Huh," Eren muttered.
"What do you think now, Walker?" Kieran sneered. "Get him."
"I don't know what you did to get on Almoes' bad side," one of the upperclassmen said casually, pulling out his wand, eyes gleaming as he began weaving a spell, "but that's good enough for me."
"Eren—" Tony started, only for Kieran to slam him back against the wall.
"Shut up and watch," he spat.
"This works out," Eren said calmly. "I didn't want to test this on my classmates. But upperclassmen should be able to handle it."
He didn't need his grimoire—but he knew better than to handicap himself.
The Tome of the Devourer manifested in his hand, its presence flooding the area with a dark, oppressive pressure. Eren couldn't feel its malice—it was his own power—but everyone else did. Even the upperclassman forming his spell faltered, his Anima stuttering under the weight of Eren's aura.
[War Domain—activate. Anima Release: Domain Breaker.]
A two-meter radius snapped into place, reality itself bending as Eren's Ability Factor asserted authority. Within that space, the ambient world energy no longer obeyed its natural flow—it belonged to Eren.
The wand-wielder suddenly jerked upward, his body snapping back as if an invisible uppercut had struck him square in the jaw. A second blow slammed into his abdomen. Then another. And another.
Invisible fists.
Shock rippled through the group. Eren hadn't moved. His arms remained crossed, a manic smile creeping onto his face as unseen strikes battered both upperclassmen from every angle. There was no trajectory to track, no spell to counter—nothing they could see. And nothing they could do.
The two upperclassmen struggled to their feet, faces already swelling and bruised from blows they hadn't even seen. Confusion and disbelief were etched into their expressions—unable to comprehend how a mere freshman had dismantled them so effortlessly.
"That wasn't magic," one of them muttered. "That was an ability."
"I'm out," the other said immediately.
They didn't wait for permission. Both turned and fled.
Eren let them go. He'd learned what he needed to learn.
He shifted his attention to Kieran and the others, who were already trying to edge away. They were still trapped within his domain.
Eren moved.
From his brief testing, he'd learned that short-range strikes allowed finer control. His War Domain adjusted its output in response to an opponent's Anima, so by making direct contact, he deliberately reduced his striking force—just enough to shatter bones without causing lasting damage.
They were Ascendants. They would heal.
When it was over, Eren dismissed the domain.
Immediately, his nose began to bleed.
The War Domain had consumed a frightening amount of Anima. He had activated it and followed up with two techniques—far more than what an Initiate should be capable of sustaining, especially after unleashing so many invisible strikes.
"Eren… are you okay?" Tony asked shakily. "I—I can't believe you…"
"I'm fine," Eren replied. He wiped the blood from his nose, color already returning to his face as his core passively siphoned ambient world energy, replenishing the Anima he had burned through. His strength was recovering quickly.
Then he glanced to the side.
"You can come out now," he said calmly. "I'm already used to your Anima."
A blur flashed before his eyes.
Rey Greyron appeared in front of him in an instant. Eren recognized the spell immediately—it was the same one Nox Havok had used before.
Flash sorcery.
Simple Magic.
"It seems you've been holding back quite a lot," Rey said.
Tony visibly stiffened, his body trembling in the presence of someone like her. Eren, meanwhile, studied Rey with quiet curiosity, wondering how long she'd been following him. If not for his domain, he wouldn't have sensed her at all.
"Assistant Professor," Eren said, forcing calm into his voice and carefully layering it with respect. No matter how he felt about her, hierarchy still mattered. "What can I do for you?"
Rey noticed the shift immediately.
The resentment was still there—subtle, restrained—but so was discipline. Eren Walker was making a conscious effort to act like a student addressing a superior, not an enemy. The contrast amused her more than she let on.
"My Master has requested your presence," Rey said evenly.
That was all.
She made no mention of the fight. No reprimand. No curiosity voiced aloud about the invisible blows, the authority-laced pressure of his domain, or the unmistakable familiarity of the power he had wielded—so similar to her own Master's, Master Alastor.
She had questions.
Many of them.
But this was neither the time nor the place.
"You should head to your room, Tony," Eren said quietly.
"O–Okay," Tony replied, still rattled. He scrambled up the stairs and disappeared into the dormitory without looking back.
Rey glanced once at the broken and groaning students scattered near the stairwell. Her expression didn't change. Then she turned and walked away.
Eren followed.
They moved through the campus in silence, footsteps echoing softly against stone paths and lamplit corridors. The quiet stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Eren endured it for a time, but eventually his gaze drifted to her—just a glance.
Reyna Greyron looked exactly like what she was: a scion of a Great Family, a royal by blood and bearing.
She was beautiful in a way that felt almost unreal, the kind that carried weight rather than warmth. Her gunmetal hair fell neatly down her back, bound by exquisite jewel bands etched with faint runic patterns. Her posture was immaculate, every step measured, controlled. Her eyes were sharp. Not cruel—but distant, as though the world around her existed several tiers below her notice. Eren looked away just as quickly.
That strange sensation in his gut flared again the moment he looked at her. It wasn't fear—at least, not entirely—but it was unsettling all the same. Eren didn't understand it, and that made it worse. They arrived at an estate so beautiful it felt unreal. The courtyard beyond the outer wall overflowed with carefully cultivated plants and rare flowers, their colors vivid even in the fading light. A silver gate stood at the entrance, elegant and imposing, its surface etched with subtle sigils that hummed faintly with restrained power. Rey opened the gate and stepped through without hesitation.
Eren followed—then stopped.
His heart lurched violently in his chest. Sweat immediately beaded along his temple as his instincts screamed at him to stay still. A tremendous presence pressed down on him from beyond the gate, vast and overwhelming. It wasn't hostile, not directly—but it was terrifying all the same. This was the aura of an apex predator.
No—worse. An insurmountable titan waited beyond that threshold. Something ancient, absolute. The kind of existence that didn't need to threaten to kill you, because your body already knew it could. Eren felt as if the moment he crossed that gate, he would fall under the influence of a godlike being—one whose mere awareness could crush him.
His hands trembled.
Rey watched him closely, saying nothing. She didn't blame him. His reaction mirrored her own the first time she had stood before General Lexa. Her Master wasn't even releasing their aura now—yet Eren Walker could still feel it. That alone was telling.
Irregular, she thought.
"Are you coming?" Rey asked calmly.
It was a test.
There was no doubt about it.
Eren exhaled slowly. His fear didn't fade—but something else rose beneath it. Defiance. Curiosity. That relentless instinct that had carried him through sealed core, broken limits, and impossible odds.
"Fuck yeah, I am," he said.
He stepped forward. The moment he crossed the threshold, the pressure snapped shut around him like the jaws of a mountain predator claiming its territory. His spine stiffened, muscles locking as his instincts howled—but he didn't retreat. Rey glanced back at him, one brow lifting slightly.
"Fighting your survival instinct already, Walker," she said. "I can't decide whether that makes you a fool… or an idiot."
Eren forced a grin through clenched teeth.
"People say that a lot," Eren muttered. "Besides, I doubt a Magic King would stoop to killing a fry like me."
"Oh?" Rey replied as they continued along the stone path through the courtyard. "And what makes you so certain my Master is a Magic King?"
Eren didn't hesitate.
"I remember your ID badge," he said. "Division Five. Vice-Captain of Squad One. You called Alastor your Master, which meant he wasn't just a mentor—he was your commanding officer. A Kinsway, stationed in Division Five of the Hunter Association."
He glanced ahead, eyes narrowing slightly as the pieces clicked together.
"That narrows it down fast. There's only one person you'd call Master above Alastor in that chain of command. The Commander of Division Five."
They stepped into the mansion's living room.
"…Sword King Alexander."
She was already seated.
Lexa Kinsway reclined in a high-backed chair carved from darkwood, one leg crossed over the other, a crystal glass of red wine resting loosely in her hand. She held it with casual indifference, as though the idea of spilling it onto the expensive carpet beneath her feet didn't even register as a concern. Power like hers didn't accommodate trivialities.
The fireplace behind her crackled softly, orange flames casting a warm glow that danced across the room—and across her.
Lexa's attire was deceptively simple: a white long-sleeved shirt, the cuffs rolled neatly to her forearms, the top few buttons undone in a way that felt effortless rather than provocative. It was the kind of clothing someone wore when they didn't need armor to command a room.
Her skin was a rich, smooth brown, unmarked and unscarred—an almost unsettling contrast to the violence her title implied. Thick curls of black hair cascaded freely around her shoulders, framing her face and partially obscuring one eye when she shifted. There was no attempt to restrain it, no ornamental bindings like Rey's—only quiet confidence.
And then there were her eyes.
Gold.
Not bright or radiant like polished metal, but deep, molten, as if fire had been tempered into something conscious. They caught the light of the flames and reflected it with unsettling clarity, giving Eren the distinct impression that she was not merely looking at him—but through him. She didn't rise. She didn't speak. She simply studied him over the rim of her glass, the faintest curve of amusement touching her lips. In that moment, Eren understood something instinctively. This wasn't the presence of a tyrant. It was the presence of a predator who no longer needed to prove she was at the top of the mountain.
"So, you're Eren Walker," Lexa said with a drawl that implied a laid-back demeanor. Not something Eren was expecting from his idol.