The moment the Alpha Trial video started, the audience was greeted with an astonishing sight— A young girl, standing alone in a dense forest, surrounded by monstrous hellhounds. At first, there were students who pitied her.


    "She’s all alone? In a trial this difficult?"


    But for some—fear crept in.


    Liam, who had been watching with disdain, suddenly felt a tremor run down his spine.


    That girl…


    That same damn girl who humiliated him in the canteen.


    He clenched his fists.


    ‘There’s no way a woman can ever achieve the same greatness as a man. That’s what my father always says! Women are just lowly beings—meant only to look pretty in a man’s arms.’


    But then…


    She moved.


    And what she did shattered his entire belief system.


    The moment Athena attacked, it was as if the laws of battle changed.


    She wasn’t just fighting—she was butchering.


    Each swing of her blade was effortless, as if she were plucking weeds from a garden—except these weeds snarled and bled.


    She was a lunatic on the battlefield.


    A living nightmare.


    Liam felt his body stiffen, his breath hitching as if something cold had crawled up his spine. His fingers twitched, nails digging into his palm, but he couldn’t look away.


    ‘What in the world… is happening? How can a girl be this strong?’


    His fear deepened when he glanced at the senior seated beside him— Because that senior…


    Was watching intently. His narrowed eyes gleamed with interest, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk.


    ‘This girl is not simple.’


    For the first time, this second-year senior was impressed by a girl.


    Sure, he had heard stories of strong women— Women like Agatha Bellatrix, the First Prince’s wife, who was feared by even the demons.


    But those were exceptions.


    In his experience, most women chose an easier path.


    ‘He’d seen it before—ambitious young women whispering sweet nothings to aging barons, exchanging dignity for power— Instead of fighting their way up.’


    Yet this girl…


    She was different.


    She was fascinating.


    As his lecherous gaze stayed glued to the screen, watching her graceful but deadly movements, there were two other men watching the trial with completely different expressions— A First Prince and a Professor.


    Both of whom had wide grins plastered on their faces. Alexander Arcane couldn’t stop smiling.


    Watching his daughter move, watching her battle instincts unfold before his very eyes— It was exhilarating.


    "Haah… it’s marvelous to see her so happy."


    He sighed in pure contentment. Duke Borghildr snapped his head toward him in disbelief.


    ‘Excuse me—your daughter is not on a picnic! She’s in the middle of a bloody battle!’


    Meanwhile, Alfred Leylani, watching alongside them, chuckled.


    “Keep watching. It only gets better.”


    As the video progressed, what started as awe and amazement soon turned into disbelief.


    How powerful is she—


    To kill that many hellhounds alone? And then—she unleashed her mana. The moment she activated her inherent skill, the audience forgot how to breathe.


    The entire arena fell into silence.


    Athena’s every move was— Elegant. Deadly. Precise.


    It was not a dance for the living.


    It was a dance for the dying.


    She was beautiful, but terrifying.


    Duke Damarius leaned forward, his eyes sharp as he spoke.


    “It’s like she was made for war. Like a war machine—fierce and calculating. Her every movement is calculated—yet she is still this agile and powerful. Truly remarkable."


    Alfred Leylani shook his head and corrected him.


    “Not just that. The skill she’s using—it may look like Angie’s Holy Dancer, but it isn’t.”


    The guests turned to him.


    “It’s a mutated version—a skill called Dance of Bloody Fury.”


    Duke Borghildr raised an eyebrow.


    “Explain.”


    Leylani continued.


    “Angie’s Holy Dancer is gentle yet powerful—a dance of light. Athena’s version? It’s precise. Fierce. Ruthless. She modified it—to suit her own temperament.”


    Meanwhile, among the students—


    Ayden Arcane watched his sister with nothing short of reverence. His olive green eyes were practically glowing with admiration.


    "My sister is so strong and powerful."


    Athena, sitting beside him, simply shook her head.


    "No, I’m not. If I were, I would have ended it in a better way than I did."


    Julian turned to her in shock.


    "Please—don’t be this humble. It’s just us here!"


    Athena pursed her lips.


    Alya, on the other hand, simply smiled. Her eyes shone with admiration, just like Ayden’s. In fact, their expressions were so blinding, Athena felt the need to look away.


    ‘They’re more proud and happy about this than I am.’


    To Athena, this was nothing.


    ‘Compared to my father… I’m still weak.’


    When Athena used Absolute Barrier against the Orcs, Duke Damarius’s eyes lit up.


    “Hey—is it possible to draw an array without a magic crystal?”


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    Professor Leylani immediately shook his head.


    “Theoretically, yes. But in reality—no one possesses enough mana to do it. What’s more amazing—she didn’t just use mana.”


    Duke Borghildr’s eyes narrowed.


    “What do you mean?”


    Leylani’s lips curled into a small smile.


    “She used chanting—to engrave the array directly into the sword.”


    The entire table went silent.


    Frederick Morari was the first to break it—his voice shaken with disbelief.


    "What?! Is that even possible?"


    Alfred shrugged helplessly.


    “It was new for me too. An array can only be drawn using a special tool—by hand. But she engraved it through words— And in the middle of a battle, while completely exhausted. That level of creativity and resolve deserves to be praised."


    Duke Borghildr snorted.


    “Of course you’d praise your god-daughter, even if she sneezes.”


    Leylani chuckled.


    “Oh, just wait. It gets even better.”


    Duke Damarius was stunned.


    “There’s more?”


    His eyes flickered between the giant screens displaying the trial and the First Prince of Arcane, who was sitting smugly in his chair.


    His gaze then returned to Athena— The girl who had single-handedly slaughtered an army and now stood on the brink of exhaustion, yet refused to fall.


    Alfred Leylani’s voice was filled with excitement.


    “Oooh! I forgot to mention— Ayden also has patterns on his body!”


    Sir Morari raised an eyebrow.


    “Patterns?”


    Leylani nodded eagerly.


    “Yes! Ayden’s patterns resemble those of a saint! Meaning— That boy has a brilliant future ahead of him.”But then—he turned his gaze back to Athena.


    “As for her... We’ve never seen patterns like that before.”


    A heavy silence fell among the esteemed guests. Alfred’s next words sent a chill down their spines.


    “There’s a chance that it has a meaning even greater than a saint.”


    Sir Morari let out a tired sigh.


    “Little Highness is perfect, but I wish she hadn’t inherited His Highness’s foul mouth.”


    Alexander chuckled.


    “My daughter has all my best qualities.”


    The two Dukes immediately recoiled in disgust. Duke Borghildr muttered under his breath.


    “If that’s the case, we should be worried.”


    As the battle neared its end, every single person in the arena was on edge. Students gripped their seats, some even holding their breath.


    Then— The Orc Lord appeared.


    The entire arena gasped in horror.


    “WHAT KIND OF TRIAL ASKS A FIRST-YEAR TO KILL A BOSS MONSTER?!”


    Even the esteemed guests were alarmed. Sir Morari, who had been watching intently, suddenly spoke—his voice tight with concern.


    “Is this even allowed in a first-year trial?”


    His eyes flickered toward Alexander— The man who had been smugly watching his daughter’s performance this entire time. But now— His fists were clenched. Even he knew the limits of a first-year. Yet— Athena didn’t yield.


    Even as her body reached its limit— Even as her strength faded— She refused to fall.


    Then, the impossible happened.


    A golden glow erupted around Athena. Just as her body threatened to collapse, it rose, weightless, suspended by a force unseen. And then…


    A third eye—a vertical, golden slit—opened on her forehead.


    A low voice echoed across the arena— A voice filled with divine authority— “All-Seeing Eye of the Truth Seeker.”


    The entire arena fell silent. Not a single soul dared to breathe.


    Because in the entire history of mankind— Only one other person had ever possessed an inherent skill like that.


    The most praised hero of their era. The First Prince of Arcane. Alexander Quinn Arcane.


    A wave of realization hit the crowd like a thunderclap. Students and nobles alike began murmuring in shock.


    “Wait a minute… That red and silver hair… Those skills… That power…”


    The murmuring grew louder—until someone finally spoke the words out loud.


    “DON’T TELL ME SHE’S HIS DAUGHTER?!”


    Their gazes snapped toward Alexander, who was sitting in the guest area, smirking smugly.


    His amused gaze swept over the bewildered crowd. And with a lazy, arrogant drawl, he said—


    “Don’t tell me you just figured that out?”


    The arena erupted.


    ‘If she really is his daughter, then it’s no surprise she’s this terrifying.’


    The announcers, who had returned after the explosive trial broadcast, looked completely stunned.


    One of them finally spoke, his voice filled with awe— “Well... I am speechless.”


    The other anchor shook his head in disbelief.


    “They say our academy is filled with monsters, but this—this is the monster among monsters moment.”


    He let out a dramatic sigh. “Wow. Just—wow.”


    The announcers, clearly emotional, turned back to the audience. “That was a trial worth watching.”


    The first announcer wiped an imaginary tear. “Aaah! Just thinking about saying goodbye makes my heart ache.”


    The second one chuckled.


    “Let’s meet again at the next celebration. Till then, bye-bye!”


    With that, the screens disappeared. The two announcers vanished, leaving behind a buzzing arena.


    As the lights returned, Principal Sylvester’s cheerful voice echoed through the arena.


    “Dear students, I hope you’ve all seen the remarkable capabilities of our new students today.”


    His gaze swept over the crowd, his eyes twinkling.


    “To my dear newcomers—some of you may think that after completing one trial, you’ve conquered the world.”


    A dramatic pause. Then—his smile widened.


    “But this is just the beginning.”


    Murmurs spread through the crowd.


    “You have many more trials ahead.”


    His voice was strong and confident as he continued— “We have talented seniors here—seniors who you will compete with to become the best among the best.”


    His voice rang across the stadium like a decree. “I wish you all good luck.” Loud cheers erupted all around.


    As soon as the principal’s speech ended, a swarm of students rushed toward the first-year talents who had dominated their trials. Athena and her comrades were no exception.


    The first to approach them were Galena and Angela. Both seniors were beaming with enthusiasm. Even the usually quiet Angela was generous with her appreciation.


    Athena, in turn, introduced Alya to them, and the group quickly fell into easy conversation.


    Soon, other seniors began approaching. Some offered friendly challenges for the future. Some simply wanted to congratulate them.


    All four of them felt genuine happiness—not just for their own achievements, but for the acceptance and recognition they were receiving from their peers.


    In the stands, both Prince Alexander and Sir Morari watched the scene with content smiles.


    Their children were being acknowledged.


    They were being genuinely appreciated.


    And for now—that was enough.


    But not all gazes were filled with admiration. Among the proud and affectionate stares— Among the envious and calculating eyes— There was one particular gaze.


    One that didn’t know whether to marvel at this budding talent—Or pity it for catching the wrong person’s attention.


    A voice suddenly called out— “Oh! Professor Blackheart, you’re here. How was your journey?”


    The man, dressed in black robes, turned to face Principal Sylvester. He gave a polite bow.


    “It’s an honor to meet you, Principal.” His voice was smooth, respectful.


    “The journey was excellent.” He smiled faintly.


    “And seeing such extraordinary new talent on my very first day— That was... refreshing.”


    The principal chuckled, engaging him in casual conversation for a while before excusing himself to attend to other guests.


    Professor Blackheart, now alone, turned his gaze back to the princess standing in the middle of the crowd.


    For a moment— Their eyes met. And the moment they did—A sharp jolt of pain shot through his skull.


    He stiffened. ‘Not this again.’ His hand clenched as a dull, throbbing ache settled into his head. Then—


    A voice.


    Soft. Sweet. Familiar.


    But distant— Like an echo from a dream long forgotten.


    “Laron... doesn’t it look beautiful?”