The doors of the lift slid open with a whisper-soft hiss.

Ray stepped out into the carpeted hallway of the Administrative Spire. The golden steam that had risen from his body in the chamber below had dissipated, but a faint, heat-haze shimmer seemed to cling to his skin for a moment longer before fading into the cool air.

Svane was waiting exactly where Ray had left him, standing guard with his back to the wall. The veteran captain looked up, his eyes scanning Ray for injuries.

He paused. His eyes narrowed.

Svane didn’t sense a leak of mana, Ray’s control was impeccable, his aura tightly spooled inside his core. But Svane sensed something else. Something primal.

Ray walked differently. His footsteps were heavier, not clumsy, but dense. He moved with the grounded solidity of a war-golem rather than a teenage boy.

“You seem… stronger.”

Svane grunted, straightening up.

Ray adjusted the collar of his coat.

“Its just the lingering aether radiation from the chamber, Captain.”

He checked the pocket watch attached to his belt.

“I received the notification earlier while I was down in the chamber, we have forty minutes until the Grand Assembly. I assume attendance is mandatory?”

“The Headmaster threatened to expel anyone who missed it, looks like she is in a mood to celebrate.”

Svane confirmed.

Ray smirked.

“Then we shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

The Great Hall of Solhaven Academy had always been impressive, but today, it was ostentatious.

The floating candles that usually lit the high vaulted ceiling had been replaced by crystalline chandeliers that refracted light in dazzling prismatic waves. The hard wooden benches had been cushioned with velvet. Even the air smelled faintly of expensive incense, sandalwood and crushed mana-gems.

The student body, over more than a thousand students from the three colleges from 1st-Circle Novices, 2nd-Circle Apprentices and 3rd-Circle Adepts of the College of Arcanum, the Bronze and Iron Aegis from the College of Valor to the Tier 1 and Tier 2 students of College of Statecraft and other students from the minor colleges of the academy packed the room. The buzz of conversation was deafening. Everyone could feel it: The Academy was flush with potential.

Ray stood near the front with the other top-ranked Novices. To his left, Eliza was inspecting her student medallion browsing something in it, looking bored, though her foot tapped rhythmically with anticipation. Kaelen was with the Adepts; she stood tall, her posture perfect, though her eyes scanned the crowd for threats out of habit.

“Attention!”

Headmaster Andrade’s voice boomed through the hall, amplified by a sonomancy array.

The room fell silent instantly.

Andrade stood at the podium. She wore formal robes of deep violet and gold, looking every inch the Archmage. She looked out at the sea of students, her eyes gleaming with a predatory ambition.

“For decades,”

Andrade began,

“Solhaven Academy has been the shield of the South. We are known for our scholars, our mages, and our spellswords.”

She gripped the podium.

“But a shield is useless if it cannot strike. And a Kingdom cannot survive on steel alone.”

A ripple of whispers went through the crowd.

“I am pleased to announce,”

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Andrade declared, her voice rising,

“that Solhaven has secured the bid to host the Azure Cup.”

The hall erupted. The Azure Cup was the Southern Regional Qualifier. It meant the top schools from the entire province, Tidal Reach, Iron-Bastion, Viper’s Nest, were coming here.

Andrade raised a hand, silencing them.

“For those that are not aware, the Crown has sent a mandate. The Grand Tournament does not merely seek warriors and duelists. They seek the future architects of the Kingdom. Therefore, the events are in different fields making it holistic.”

She gestured to the air. A massive projection flickered to life behind her, branching out into different symbols representing the various Colleges.

“We are opening competitive tracks for Alchemy & Potioneering, Beast Taming, Runic Engineering, Strategic War-Gaming, and Dueling. Whether you wield a sword, a wand, or a quill, there is a battlefield for you.”

She paused, letting the weight of the opportunity settle on the students from the College of Statecraft and other minor colleges, who usually sat on the sidelines.

“We will not just host it. We will win it. In every category. And to ensure that…”

The projection shifted again, displaying the updated list of rewards for the Internal School Qualifiers.

[INTERNAL QUALIFIER CHAMPION REWARDS]

[1. Academic Access: Full Access to the Tier-3 Vaults: (Includes Restricted Grimoires, Lost Martial Arts Manuals for the College of Valor, and Classified Statecraft Archives and other high level access materials.)]

[2. Equipment: Master-Class Commission: (One custom artifact, weapon, or tool-set forged by academy blacksmith and arcane engineering.)]

[3. Wealth: 10,000 Academic Marks (Per Champion, Per event)

“The Academy has secured a… significant funding,”

Andrade said, her eyes flickering briefly to Ray.

“We are investing it in you. Do not disappoint me.”

The silence broke. The students went feral.

Tier-3 Vaults held secrets that could define a career, Martial Manuals and training insights from previous masters that hadn’t been seen in centuries and political playbooks from the Old Dynasty.

And the money? Academic Marks were the universal currency across the Kingdom’s academies, holding a stable exchange rate of 1 Mark to 10 Gold Sovereigns. Ten thousand marks was a hundred thousand gold. It was enough wealth to buy a small estate, fund a startup guild, or set a commoner family for generations.

“However,”

Andrade continued, the illusion shifting again.

“Because of the high number of students, we cannot allow everyone into the Main Qualifiers. It would take weeks.”

The projection changed to display a massive, chaotic grid.

“Therefore, the Qualifiers will be split into two stages. Stage One is the Open Culling. A mass-elimination event designed to filter out the unprepared. If you wish to compete in any track, you must survive the Culling.”

A nervous murmur rippled through the crowd. The ‘Culling’ sounded less like a test and more like a meat grinder.

“But,”

Andrade added, her voice cutting through the fear.

“Those who have already proven their worth to this Academy will not be subjected to such a waste of time.”

The illusion shifted to display a much shorter, golden list.

“Based on the results of the recent Promotion Trials, the top-ranking students from each year have been granted Direct Entry to the Main Qualifiers. You are free to choose your events without undergoing the ‘Culling.’”

The names scrolled up. It showed the names from different colleges.

[College of Valor Rank-2 Iron Aegis: …]

[College of Statecraft Tier-2 Prefect: …]

[College of Arcanum 3rd-Circle Adept Level: Aris Benassi, Finn Elkin, Kaelen Thorn, … ]

Kaelen saw her name on the Direct Entry list to the main qualifiers and she nodded in satisfaction.

[College of Arcanum 2nd-Circle Apprentice: … ]

[College of Valor Rank-1 Bronze Aegis: Darian Varrus, Kogar Ramsey, Kima Ramsey, …]

Darian and the Ramsey brothers roared the moment they saw their names in the Direct Entry list.

[College of Statecraft Tier 1 Scribe: Gelbard Horral, Eliza Vance, …]

Eliza stared at her name that showed up in the Direct Entry list. She waited for another name to appear but it never showed up, which made her a little disappointed.

[College of Arcanum 1st Circle Novice: Ray Croft, Viktor Garrick, …]

A ripple of murmurs washed through the Novice section. Heads turned toward Ray.

He felt the weight of their gazes. They weren’t all friendly.

“Of course Croft gets a pass, he placed 1st in the Promotion Trials after all.”

someone whispered loudly.

“He hasn’t fought since the promotion trials,”

another voice muttered.

“He’s probably been locked in his room doing ‘research’ while we’ve been grinding in the dueling arena since the start of the school year.”

“Placing 1st in the Promotion Trial doesn’t mean he’s still sharp. He’s an Artificer, not a Duelist. He should stick to the Runic Track and leave the fighting to us.”

Ray kept his face impassive. He understood the resentment. In their eyes, he was the frail genius who used tricks and artifacts to win, and now he was being handed a free pass into the Main Qualifier while they had to fight through the mud.

“Dismissed!”

Andrade barked.

“The Open Culling begins in three days. The rest of you… prepare for the Main Qualifier.”

The crowd spilled out into the courtyard, the spring breeze carrying the scent of wisteria and ambition.

Ray walked with Kaelen and Eliza, intending to head back to the Spire.

“Ignore them,”

Eliza said, flipping her hair.

“They’re just jealous they have to grind through the open qualifiers.”

“It is not just jealousy,”

Kaelen noted quietly.

“It is doubt. You have been invisible for quite some time, Ray. In a meritocracy, invisibility looks like weakness.”

“Croft.”

The voice didn’t boom; it cut through the courtyard chatter like a shard of ice. It was cold, precise, and dripping with aristocracy.

Ray stopped and turned.

The crowd of students parted, not out of fear of a bully, but out of deferential respect for high status.

Standing in the center of the path was Viktor Garrick.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep