Year 1466 AD, Royal Capital Shersalon

  The merchant caravan groaned to a halt just inside the massive southern gate. Alaric jumped down from the wagon, his boots hitting the paved stone with a solid thud. He adjusted the strap of his bag, looking around.

  The air smelled different here. It was a mix of coal smoke, expensive spices, horse manure, and the sheer, pressing weight of humanity.

  Alaric didn't waste time sightseeing. He stopped a passing patrolman to ask for directions.

  "Knight Academy?" The guard looked him over, noting his simple clothes but decent gear. "Noble District. Second layer. It's the only place that looks like it costs money to breathe the air."

  Alaric thanked him and hailed a shared horse cart. The city was simply too large to walk—an octagon nested within an octagon, with a square at the center.

  As the cart rattled deeper into the city, Alaric mentally mapped the layout.

  Shersalon was a fortress disguised as a metropolis. It was built in layers, like an octagon nested within an octagon, with a square at the center.

  The outermost layer, where he was now, was the Common District. It was chaotic, loud, and bustling with commerce. Factories, warehouses, and the homes of the working class sprawled out here, even spilling outside the city walls.

  The second layer was separated by another wall, though smaller than the outer fortification. This was the Ring of Influence. It was divided into four distinct sectors. The Noble Residence, the Government District, the Military & Knight District, and the Merchant District for the ultra-wealthy.

  And in the absolute center, protected by the innermost wall, was the Royal Square. The Castle, the Knight Order Headquarters, the Ministry, and the Grand Cathedral.

  The King designed this well..... Alaric thought, looking at the layout. From the center, he has direct lines to every pillar of power. Military, Faith, Nobility, and Coin.

  Reaching the gate to the Noble District was easy. Getting through was harder.

  A bored-looking guard held up a hand. "Permit."

  "Entrance exam candidate," Alaric said, handing over his documents stamped with the royal seal.

  The guard checked the papers, then looked at Alaric. "Another dreamer from the sticks? Good luck, kid. Move along."

  Alaric took his papers back and stepped through the gate.

  Alaric stepped through the gate. The noise vanished instantly, replaced by wide, tree-lined avenues. He didn't take a cart here; the distances were manageable, and private carriages were for residents only.

  When the Academy came into view, Alaric felt a rare spike of intimidation.

  It wasn't a school. It was a town. The Royal Knight Academy was massive, a sprawling complex of stone buildings. To its left stood the Royal Magic Academy, and connecting them like a bridge was the Royal Academy Library.

  The main plaza in front of the Academy gate was packed.

  "Watch it," a candidate grumbled as Alaric squeezed through the crowd.

  There were hundreds of them. Young men and women, the air thick with tension.

  "Alaric?"

  Alaric turned. Standing near a fountain was a familiar face.

  "Jarik?" Alaric blinked.

  The boy grinned. "I knew you'd be here. You were always the scary one."

  Alaric walked over. "Why weren't you here last year?"

  Wasn’t he supposed to participate the previous year when Kellan got selected….

  Jarik’s smile faltered. He looked down at his boots. "I was supposed to go. But..... my mother got sick. The week before I was set to leave."

  Alaric went quiet.

  "She passed away," Jarik said quietly. "I stayed to take care of her and I missed the exam. But the village chief and priest went to the Church of Larethin personally..... They requested them citing the circumstances. They allowed me to defer my recommendation to this year."

  "I see," Alaric said softly. "I'm sorry, Jarik."

  "It's fine," Jarik took a breath, forcing the smile back. "If I had left, I wouldn't have been there for her. I would have regretted that forever. Now..... I just have to make sure I don't waste the second chance given."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Alaric nodded. He briefly thought of his own parents.

  Mother, Father..... wherever you are..... wish me luck.

  "Attention!"

  A booming voice cut through the chatter.

  A man stepped onto the raised platform near the gate. He was older, with graying hair cut short and a scar running through his eyebrow. He wore the uniform of an instructor, but he carried himself like a soldier.

  "I am Instructor Hargan," he announced. "Retired Captain of the Third Battalion. I will be overseeing your selection."

  The crowd hushed.

  "There are nine hundred and thirty-one of you here today," Hargan said, his eyes scanning the crowd. "We have one hundred and twenty seats."

  A ripple of unease went through the commoners. The nobles looked bored.

  "Listen closely to the scoring," Hargan continued. "Your total score is out of one hundred. Thirty points are based on your Recommendation Rank."

  Alaric narrowed his eyes.

  "Royal recommendations get thirty points. High Nobles get twenty-five. Lower Nobles twenty. Military legacy fifteen. And Church recommendations get ten."

  So the game is rigged, Alaric thought coldly. I'm starting twenty points behind a royal. Even if I get a perfect score, I can only reach eighty percent.

  "Twenty points for Academics," Hargan listed. "Twenty points for Magic capability. Thirty points for Combat and Physicals. Based on your score, you will be assigned a Section. A, B, C, or D."

  "Section A has fifteen students. B has twenty-five. C has thirty-five. D has forty-five. The higher your section, the better your resources, and the higher your chance of joining the Royal Knight Order with better rank."

  Alaric did the math instantly. To get into Section A, he couldn't just be good.

  "Written exams first. Inside!"

  The Great Hall was filled with rows of desks.

  Alaric sat down, flipping the test paper over. He scanned the questions.

  History of the civil war..... Geography of the Northern Duchies..... Theory of Mana Flow.....

  It was easy.

  He didn't just memorize the primer, he had deconstructed the spells word by word. He wrote his answers precisely as asked for. While other candidates were chewing their quills, Alaric was already moving to the next page.

  The Magic Exam was held in the training arena.

  There were four lines. The first line was exclusively for nobles, who were already looking at the other three lines with open disdain.

  "We will test three categories," the examiner for Alaric's line explained. "Long-range accuracy. Area of Effect. Close-range utility."

  When Alaric’s name was called, he stepped up to the line.

  "Target is fifty meters," the examiner said, pointing to a wooden post.

  Alaric raised his hand. He didn't want to just hit it. He needed to make a statement to offset his recommendation score.

  "Creo Aqua."

  He didn't make one bullet. He made ten. They hovered in a circle around his hand.

  He looked at the targets. Not just his own, but the ones in the noble lane next to him.

  Fire.

  The ice bullets shot forward.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

  All ten bullets hit the bullseyes of ten different posts simultaneously.

  The examiner blinked. "I..... I see. Area of Effect next."

  Alaric looked at the patch of dirt designated for the test. He didn't raise his hand this time. He just stomped his foot.

  Mana cost..... minimal. The earth is already here.

  No need to cast the spell

  The ground rippled violently, turning the dirt patch into a churning wave of soil before settling instantly.

  "Show off," Jarik whispered from the back, grinning.

  Even the nobles in the next line had stopped to watch. “Flashy peasant tricks," the noble muttered. He stepped up.

  He moved his lips silently, chanting a spell far above Adept level.

  A massive swirl of fire erupted from his wand, a Fire Tornado. It turned the target post to ash. But Alaric frowned.

  He used enough mana to burn a house down for a wooden post. And the heat dispersion was terrible. In battle he will burn down his allies.

  Zip.

  The target post twenty meters away split in half.

  Alaric’s eyes widened. Supersonic?

  Roland had compressed the air into a thin blade and accelerated it past the sound barrier.

  Roland locked eyes with Alaric again. There was a challenge in that gaze. He had done that specifically to show Alaric his place.

  Huh, Alaric thought, feeling a thrill of competition.

  The physical exam followed, live combat sparring and an obstacle course, both with and without Confrima. Alaric breezed through it.

  By lunch, Alaric sat in the cafeteria with Jarik. Two other commoners joined them.

  "That was insane," a quiet boy with messy brown hair said. "I'm Silan. Earth and Water user. I saw your ice bullets."

  Alaric, looking at Silan, also recognised him. He was one of the most competent one while the magic evaluation happened

  "I'm Darsia," another boy with short-cropped hair said nervously. "I hope I did enough on the written part."

  They chatted idly, but the tension remained.

  Late afternoon. The sun was dipping below the academy walls, casting long shadows across the plaza.

  Instructor Hargan returned to the platform, a scroll in his hand.

  "The evaluation is complete," Hargan announced. His voice was final. "If your name is not called, you may try again next year if you are within the age limit. If not, go home."

  Silence descended. Nine hundred people held their breath.

  "The evaluation is complete," Hargan announced. "I will start with Section D."

  He rattled off forty-five names. ".....Miller of the East....."

  "Section C," Hargan continued. "Darsia of Oakhaven....."

  Darsia let out a breath of relief.

  "Section B," Hargan read. "Jarik of Norvale..... Baronettess Elara....."

  Jarik pumped his fist. "Yes!"

  Twenty-five names passed. Alaric wasn't among them.

  "Section A," Hargan said. "Fifteen students."

  Alaric held his breath, waiting for the result.