The Grand Hall of Aethelgard was an architectural masterpiece designed to make the individual feel small. Soaring rib-vaulted ceilings were inlaid with glow-stones that mimicked a twilight sky, and the walls were lined with the statues of heroes who had fallen closing the Great Gates of the past.
At the far end of the hall stood the Orb of Evaluation, a sphere of condensed crystalline mana the size of a carriage wheel. It was the only moment where the privacy of a student's System was temporarily breached—a necessary intrusion to categorize the elite into their respective wings.
Alaric stood in the middle of the line, his presence acting like a physical anchor for the chaos around him. Freshmen whispered in hushed, frantic tones, their anxiety palpable. To his left, a boy was shaking so hard his leather armor creaked; to his right, a girl was reciting a mantra of protection. Alaric didn't need a mantra. He stood with his hands loosely clasped behind his back, his telekinesis maintaining a subtle, silent buffer between his uniform and the crowd.
However, the air directly behind him felt different. It wasn't the chaotic anxiety of the other freshmen. It was a cold, focused stillness that seemed to repel the very heat of the room.
Walking beside him, her hand lightly resting on his arm, was Princess Elara von Oros.
She was a vision of imperial perfection—pale, porcelain skin, golden hair pinned back in a sensible yet elegant braid, and eyes the color of a summer sky. To the public, she was the "Kindness of the Empire," a brilliant scholar-princess whose betrothal to the Thorne prodigy was seen as the union of the century. She looked at Alaric not with the calculated interest of a political ally, but with a warmth so deep it appeared almost divine.
Alaric glanced at her and offered a small, sincere smile. "You didn't have to stand in the general line, Elara. The royal privilege would have let you bypass the wait. You could be sitting on the dais with the Headmaster right now."
Elara squeezed his arm, her smile radiant and soft. "And miss the chance to stand by your side on our first day? Never, Alaric. Besides, it's good to see our future classmates up close. I want to know exactly who will be standing beside you in the field."
Alaric nodded, satisfied. He genuinely liked Elara. She was intelligent, shared his passion for mana-theory, and was perhaps the only person who could keep up with his intellectual pace. In his mind, the arrangement was a rare instance of the Empire's bureaucracy producing a perfectly logical, mutually beneficial result.
He didn't notice the way the students several paces behind them—specifically a tall, broad-shouldered boy with the rugged features of a Northerner—were staring at Elara's back with a terror that surpassed the fear of the Evaluation.
Caspian's hand was white-knuckled on his luggage strap. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, audible only to himself. To everyone else, Elara was a beautiful, supportive fiancée. To Caspian, she was the Golden Executioner. He remembered the 304th year, where he had tried to lead a desperate coup against the rising "Tyrant Alaric." He had reached the palace doors with a legion behind him, only to find this "kind" girl standing there alone, barefoot in a white silk dress.
She hadn't used a spell. She had used a rapier, and with her SSS-Rank [Guardian of the Absolute] active, she had turned a legendary Northern army into a slaughterhouse floor in less than ten minutes. She hadn't even stopped smiling.
Don't look at her, Caspian screamed internally. If she detects even a hint of killing intent toward Alaric, we're dead before the ceremony ends. She doesn't need a reason. She only needs a target.
Up ahead, Seraphina—the Holy Maiden of the Lunar Cathedral—placed her trembling hand on the Orb. The crystal flared with a blinding, iridescent white light.
[Name: Seraphina] [Class: Saint-Healer] [Rank: S] [Trait: Divine Clarity]
A murmur of awe rippled through the hall. Seraphina turned away from the Orb, her eyes darting through the crowd until they landed on Alaric. She opened her mouth to speak, perhaps to warn him of the visions that plagued her—but then her gaze shifted to the Princess standing at his side.
Elara's eyes met Seraphina's. For a micro-second, the "Kindness of the Empire" mask didn't slip, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. Elara tilted her head and gave the Holy Maiden a tiny, razor-sharp nod that felt more like a brand than a greeting.
Seraphina flinched as if she'd been struck. She hurried off the dais, her white robes billowing, and took a seat at the very edge of the auditorium, her head bowed in a silent, frantic prayer.
"Alaric Thorne," the Headmaster's voice boomed.
Alaric stepped onto the dais, Elara stepping back just enough to let him take center stage, though her eyes never left his form. He reached out, his fingers brushing the cool surface of the Orb. He didn't suppress his power; he simply focused it, channeling his telekinesis into a singular, dense thread. The Orb didn't just flare; it hummed. A deep, resonant violet light filled the hall, making the shadows of the statues dance.
[Name: Alaric Thorne] [Class: Scholar-Prodigy] [Rank: SS] [Trait: Hyper-Intellect / Perfect Equilibrium]
The silence deepened into a vacuum. The Headmaster stood up, his chair scraping loudly. "SS-Rank..." the old man whispered. "The rumors were understated."
Alaric withdrew his hand, the light fading. He turned to the audience, his expression one of modest, approachable grace. "I am honored," Alaric said, his voice carrying effortlessly. "I hope we can all use these gifts to make the world a little safer than we found it. I look forward to working with you all."
It was a warm, human speech. Half the freshmen began to clap, their fears momentarily forgotten.
"Next," the Headmaster called. "Princess Elara von Oros."
The Princess stepped forward, the sunlight from the high windows catching her golden hair. She placed her hand on the Orb with a delicate, practiced movement.
[Name: Elara von Oros] [Class: Loyal Knight] [Rank: S] [Trait: Sovereign Heart]
The crowd cheered for the S-Rank Princess. Alaric smiled, truly proud of his fiancée's achievement. He saw the "Loyal Knight" class and thought it was a perfect fit for her noble, steadfast personality. He took her hand as she stepped down, giving it a supportive squeeze.
"A perfect score for a perfect Princess," Alaric whispered.
"I only want to be worthy of standing behind you, Alaric," she replied, her eyes glowing with a faint, unearthly light that Alaric mistook for a reflection of the hall's mana-lamps.
They didn't leave immediately. Per tradition, the top candidates remained on the dais to observe the rest of the evaluation, a way for the future leaders to gauge the strength of their year. Alaric pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook, his pen already moving as he recorded the names and traits of every student who registered an A-rank or higher.
He watched Caspian step up next.
[Name: Caspian of the North] [Class: Vanguard-Berserker] [Rank: S] [Trait: Unyielding Bastion]
"Impressive," Alaric noted, scribbling. "A North-born S-rank. His physical density is nearly triple the average. He'll be an excellent front-line anchor."
Beside him, Elara watched Caspian with a different kind of focus. She didn't have a notebook. She simply watched the way Caspian's eyes lingered a second too long on Alaric's throat. Her smile remained, but her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on Alaric's sleeve.
Caspian felt the weight of that gaze. He felt the phantom pain of a rapier through his chest from a future that hadn't happened. He quickly looked away, retreating into the crowd as fast as protocol allowed.
I can't kill him, Caspian realized, his heart sinking. Not yet. I have to wait. I have to find others. I have to become stronger than an SSS-Rank monster just to get close enough to see if he's actually the villain I remember.
For the next three hours, they watched. They saw Ignis flame-burst into an S-rank, Silas record an A-rank in spatial theory, and Leo struggle to a B-rank with a trait for shield-mastery. Alaric recorded it all, his mind already beginning to simulate 5-man team compositions based on the data.
"Everyone looks so promising," Elara said softly, her head resting near Alaric's shoulder as she looked at his notes. "I'm sure the Academy will pick the very best to be in your squad. And I'll be there to make sure no one... disappoints you."
Alaric smiled at her, closing his notebook. "With you there, Elara, I'm not worried about disappointment. I'm worried about whether the monsters in the Gates will have a fair chance."
Elara laughed, a sound like silver bells, and tucked her arm back into his. "Oh Alaric. You're always so concerned about the logic of the world. It's why I love you."
As they began to follow the Headmaster toward the private wing for the Apex Tier, Alaric felt a surge of genuine excitement. The students were strong, his fiancée was brilliant, and the future was a clean slate waiting to be written. He didn't feel like a tyrant. He felt like a man who had everything under control.