Chapter 58: 58. World academy trials – 4

“If there are no more questions, I would like to declare the commencement of the trial,”

the Phoenix professor said in an absolutely bored tone, as if he were announcing the end of a dull lecture rather than the beginning of one of the most important events in the lives of thousands.

He swept his gaze across the colossal arena once more. Not a single hand rose.

The candidates stood frozen, some with clenched fists, others with tight jaws, and many with eyes burning with anticipation or fear.

“Good,” he said flatly.

Then his voice rose just enough to carry unquestionable authority.

“COMMENCE THE TRIAL.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the arena erupted, not with sound, but with light.

Thousands of figures vanished simultaneously in flashes of spatial distortion, pulled away by the academy’s domain formations.

To the audience, it looked as if the arena itself had swallowed them whole.

The spots where the candidates had stood were suddenly empty.

In their place, massive floating projection screens rose into the air, forming a circular array that surrounded the entire arena. Each screen flickered briefly before stabilizing, displaying different regions of the forest domain where the trial had begun.

At the same time, a raised platform ascended smoothly above the central stage.

Two figures appeared atop it, brimming with energy that contrasted sharply with the lethargic presence of the Phoenix professor earlier.

“~HELLOOOO~ LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!”

The voice boomed across the arena, lively and exaggerated, instantly cutting through the tension.

“CALL ME JACK!”

“AND CALL ME DIANA!”

“WE ARE HERE TO MAKE THIS EVENT EXCITING!!”

Their voices overlapped in a practiced rhythm, although they had no idea what they were saying,

yet their enthusiasm was infectious as they gestured wildly toward the massive screens behind them earning loud cheers from the audience.

“In light of the upcoming trial,” Jack continued, “we will be accompanying you for the entire journey!”

“Every ambush, every monster kills, every desperate escape,” Diana added with a grin, “we’ll be watching it all together!”

Both of them were fourth-year students of the World Academy, working under Professor Morgan—the Phoenix professor who had just abandoned the role of host with clear relief.

He had delegated the task to his students without hesitation.

And judging by the crowd’s response, it was the right decision.

Cheers erupted from the audience.

The previously oppressive mood lifted as excitement surged through the stands.

Jack spread his arms dramatically. “Now then! Let’s not waste any time. The trial has officially begun!”

***

Meanwhile, far from the roaring arena, within the academy’s elite lobby, the atmosphere was far more restrained.

A series of private rooms hovered in a separate spatial layer above the arena, each designed to host figures of power who preferred discretion to spectacle.

These rooms were isolated from one another, shielded by privacy formations so refined that even gods would find it difficult to pry.

In one such room, Sword Saint Klaus sat calmly beside Emperor Dalton of Riverdale.

“Where is elder sister?” Klaus asked casually, sipping his tea.

Dalton glanced sideways, his expression thoughtful.

“Ancestor is with the principal, I believe. I will never understand why you insist on calling her your elder sister, and even more puzzling is why she allows it.”

Klaus chuckled softly. “Some habits die hard.”

Despite their public personas, the two men addressed each other without titles here. Once, long ago, they had sat in the same classroom, competing, arguing, and surviving the brutal standards of the World Academy together.

“Unfortunately,” Dalton said after a brief pause, his tone turning serious, “I could not find the divine physique holder in time. Otherwise, we would have used your academy recommendation slot for him and built friendly connections early.”

Klaus smiled faintly.

“Bad news for you, Aurelius,” he replied. “I already have a disciple. I gave my recommendation slot to him.”

Aurelius Dalton froze.

He almost spat the tea from his mouth. “You had a disciple this whole time?” he demanded, staring at Klaus. “Tell me, who is the lucky man?”

Klaus leaned back, clearly enjoying the reaction. “You will see him during the trial. Calm yourself.”

Aurelius leaned closer, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “So you are telling me that we already know who will take first place this year?”

Klaus’s smile turned wry. “If a certain someone does not appear, then yes. He is very likely to claim the first position.”

That only made Dalton more restless.

Before he could press further, a knock echoed through the room.

Both men turned.

The door opened, revealing a human knight clad in heavy golden armor with silver engravings. His posture was rigid, disciplined, and imposing.

“Cardinal Nichole,” Aurelius greeted, standing up. Klaus followed suit.

Nichole was not just a cardinal. He was the acting army general under Pope Winston of the Holy Sun Empire.

As the three settled into their seats, Nichole spoke without preamble.

“I am here to accompany the Saint,” he said sharply, “while he graces the rest of the poor candidates of this trial with his holy teachings.”

His lips curled slightly in disdain.

“I have also come as the flag bearer of the Holy Sun Empire to discuss our cooperation against the evil, disgracing demonic cults.”

He spoke in a single breath, his tone laced with barely contained fury. Veins pulsed at his temples.

Dalton and Klaus exchanged brief glances but did not comment on his emotional state.

both Riverdale and church had a common enemy.

That alone was enough.

***

Meanwhile, in another secluded chamber of the elite lobby, the atmosphere was entirely different from the loud excitement of the arena below.

The room was calm, insulated by multiple layers of soundproof and anti-spying formations.

Soft ambient light illuminated shelves filled with ancient grimoires and floating spell arrays that slowly rotated in place, reacting faintly to the presence of their occupants.

Tower Master Cynthia of the Mage Tower sat upright on one side of the table, her posture composed but her eyes sharp.

Across from her sat the Elven Empress, her long emerald hair flowing freely over a gown woven from enchanted leaves and silver threads.

Despite her regal appearance, her hands trembled faintly as Cynthia spoke.

“…and that is how I found her,” Cynthia finished quietly.

“never had I ever expected her to be at a slave auction, hidden among hundreds of broken souls. countless spirits invisible to mortals were clustering around her uncontrollably. That was when I knew.”

The Elven Empress closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, moisture glistened along their edges.

“So she survived,” she whispered. “All these years… she survived.”

Cynthia nodded but spoke in a grim tone “Barely. Whoever erased her memories was very thorough. If not for her innate resonance with spirits, I would have never caught sight of her.”

The Empress clenched her fingers together. “The elves will not forget this debt” she said firmly. “Nor will we forgive those responsible.”

Cynthia inclined her head slightly. “Seraphine is strong now. Stronger than even she realizes. But the scars of her past run deep in her heart.”

Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken grief and restrained fury.

***

In another room, tension filled the air.

The Emperor of the Babylon Empire, a towering beast folk with leonine features and eyes like molten amber, sat opposite the Dwarven Emperor of the Stone-Forged Empire.

The table between them was reinforced with rune-etched steel, designed to withstand accidental bursts of aura from either side.

“My daughter is not weak,” the Babylon Emperor said slowly, his voice was serious but laced with warning.

“She has hunted A-rank monsters since before she came of age. Yet this… thing incapacitated her.”

He slammed a clawed hand onto the table. “And it did so while emitting the aura of a C-rank creature.”

The Dwarven Emperor leaned back, his thick arms crossed, beard braided with metallic rings that glowed faintly with enchantments.

“I have heard similar reports,” he replied gravely. “strange mechanical constructs, possessing weird capabilities.”

“The demonic cults are the most likely culprits. Only they possess the willingness to violate natural laws of this world so openly.”

The Babylon Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “You believe this is one of their strange and cruel experiments?”

“I do,” the Dwarven Emperor answered without hesitation.

“They already developed pills that forcibly raise a cultivator’s rank by one level. The pills are Crude and unstable, but they provide them an undeniable edge.”

He exhaled heavily. “If they have now succeeded in embedding that principle into artifacts or autonomous weapons, then the balance of power will shift faster than any faction can react.”

***

Will might not know this yet.

But his actions had not merely caused faint ripples in the storyline.

They had shattered the script entirely.

System was right when it said that the direction of fate remained unchanged no matter the magnitude of disruption. Certain events would still occur. Certain figures would still rise. Certain calamities would still descend.

However, both Will and the system had overlooked one crucial detail.

The speed at which fate moved was not fixed.

and speed mattered.

When pushed slowly, even the sharpest blade could be stopped.

But when pushed fast enough, even a leaf could cut through steel.

And fate had begun moving at a rate Will could never anticipate.

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