Astral Calendar 14523, December 1.

  As the first tendrils of dawn touched the horizon, the silhouette of Aurora City appeared solemn and frigid amidst the thinning mist.

  When Pierce stepped into the central plaza of The Spire Academy, it had already transformed into a vast, dark ocean. Thousands of initiates, clad in robes of varying textures, stood in silence or spoke in hushed tones. The air was thick with an almost boiling sense of anxiety. This was not merely a trial; it was a crimson line that would forcibly sever the mediocre from the extraordinary.

  "Pierce."

  Following that crisp call, Pierce located his colleagues from the Astra Society in a corner of the crowd. Gwen was waving her arm vigorously, while Xavier, Marcus, and the remaining dozen members had all arrived.

  Except for Xavier, who had long since crossed the threshold of a Rank 2 Initiate and remained composed, the faces of the others were notably pale.

  After all, they faced an expulsion rate of one-sixth. Among the total of over 6000 freshmen, the 1000 individuals ranked at the bottom would face the ultimate judgment: the permanent stripping of their right to practice Arcane arts.

  "I don't understand why the academy enforces such a ruthless law of the jungle," Gwen murmured, her lips pressed thin and her fingers interlaced so tightly they turned white. "This is far too harsh."

  Marcus let out a sigh filled with bitterness. "The academy’s resources are not infinite, Gwen. The higher the level of cultivation, the more astronomical the cost in mana stones and materials. This is the logic of the Arcane world—if you cannot prove your worth, you are merely an expensive burden. Not to mention last year’s trials... more than 200 people remained on that island forever."

  Those words caused the breathing of several already nervous girls to hitch.

  Xavier attempted to maintain morale. "As long as we support one another, with our combined strength, passing the evaluation should not be difficult."

  As he spoke, his gaze involuntarily drifted toward Pierce. Having not seen him for over ten days, Xavier was startled to find he could no longer see through his colleague. Pierce stood there silently, a deep, introverted aura seemingly swirling around him, even exerting a faint, inexplicable pressure that Xavier could barely sense.

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  Suddenly, a massive commotion rippled through the crowd.

  The arrival of a certain youth and maiden instantly stole all the light in the plaza.

  The youth walking on the left possessed short hair as pure as frost. His features were so exquisite they bordered on the uncanny, appearing more beautiful than most women. Pierce studied his countenance, and the familiarity born of bloodline allowed him to reach an instant conclusion—this individual was undoubtedly Senior Yuna’s kinsman, the rumored genius, Ingram.

  Beside him stood a girl who exhibited a completely different charm. Thick black hair cascaded like a waterfall down to her waist, and a bright smile graced her pretty face. She appeared both endearingly obedient and possessed a spark of cunning unique to those of high status.

  That was Gwendolyn, followed by the entrance of Silas.

  At this moment, the murmurs in the plaza reached a crescendo. Rumors that these three geniuses had already constructed 12 Will-Runes and that their Spirit scale had crossed 40 units now acted as a heavy shackle upon the hearts of every ordinary initiate.

  Talent and background demonstrated their ruthless superiority at this moment. The core scions of the Five Houses stood at a finish line the others could not even imagine from the day they were born.

  Just then, Silas’s aggressive gaze cut through the crowd, colliding with Pierce’s.

  Detecting Pierce’s direct stare, a smirk of blatant contempt curled on Silas’s lips. He cast only a fleeting glance before turning away as if looking past a mere pebble by the roadside. That all-consuming arrogance was etched into the very marrow of his bones.

  Pierce withdrew his gaze without expression. He knew well that current silence was merely a prelude to a more absolute eruption in the future.

  As the clock struck 9:00 AM, a wave of singular energy, nearly physical in its presence, suddenly swept across the entire plaza.

  Everyone looked up in unison, followed by a deathly silence.

  Above them, the previously empty sky seemed to have its veil torn away by an invisible, giant hand. A floating vessel, so gargantuan it took one's breath away, was slowly emerging from sub-space.

  It was the ultimate war machine of the Arcane civilization—the Floating Leviathan.

  Its hull, forged from adamantine, shimmered with a cold metallic luster. Hundreds of magical cannon ports opened in succession along its flanks like a dense honeycomb. The sunlight was completely blotted out by this iron titan, its gargantuan shadow swallowing the entire central plaza.

  In the face of such a creation, the arrogance of any individual appeared utterly comical.

  Pierce felt a momentary trance. The deterrent power displayed by this leviathan surpassed even the aircraft carriers of his past life's memories. This was the pinnacle convergence of truth and industry.

  "All initiates, heed my command."

  A voice as majestic as thunder boomed across the sky: "Board the vessel."

  In the next instant, the laws of space within the plaza began to warp violently. Pierce felt a powerful surge of weightlessness as his surroundings dissolved into streaks of light. When the sensation of his feet touching solid ground returned, he found himself standing upon the cold deck of the leviathan, etched with countless complex arcane circuits.

  The trials had officially begun.